#i finished my junior film for a school screening last week

[starridge]

poto doodles from last week <:]

[weekendwarriorblog]

The Weekend Warrior 10/1/21: VENOM: LET THERE BE CARNAGE, THE ADDAMS FAMILY II, THE MANY SAINTS OF NEWARK, TITANE, MAYDAY, THE JESUS MUSIC

Yeah, so I haven’t had the time over the past couple weeks to write a column, and I kind of hate that fact, especially since I’m coming up on a pretty major milestone for me writing a weekly box office column and reviewing movies. In fact, that milestone comes next week! And once again, I’m struggling to get through the movies I was hoping to watch and write about this week, because I’ve been out of town and once again, very busy over the weekend. Let’s see how far I get...

Before we get to this week’s wide releases, I’m excited to say that my local arthouse movie theater, The Metrograph, is finally reopening for in-person screenings, and they’re kicking things off with a 4k restoration of Andrez Zulawski’s 1981 thriller, Possession, starring Sam Neill and Isabell Adjani, who won a Best Actress prize at Cannes for her performance in the film. I actually saw this at the Metrograph a few years back, and Metrograph Pictures, the distribution arm of the company is now distributing the 4k restoration. There’s a lot of exciting things ahead at Metrograph, including an upcoming four-film Clint Eastwood retrospective, including White Hunter, Black Heart (1990) and A Perfect World (1991) this Friday. Also, Lingua Franca director Isabel Sandoval will be showing her fantastic film from 2020 (a rare chance to see it in a theater and I’ll be there!) as well as program a number of other favorites of hers. Sunday will have screenings of Ingmar Berman’s Scenes from a Marriage (1973) in its full four plus hour glory, Steven Spielberg’s Jurassic Park (1993) and John Carpenter’s In the Mouth of Madness (1994).. In other words, the Metrograph is back!

Moving over to the weekend’s three wide releases, the first one up being Sony’s VENOM: LET THERE BE CARNAGE (Sony Pictures) with Tom Hardy returning as Eddie Brock aka Venom, joined by Woody Harrelson as the psychotic symbiote, Carnage. Taking over the directing reins is Andy Serkis, who has only directed two other movies, Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle and Breathe, but as an actor, he’s been heavily involved with the CG VFX (and performance capture) needed to bring the characters in this Marvel anti-hero movie to life.

Venom has been one of Spider-Man’s most popular villains and sometimes allies for quite a few decades now, starting out life as a cool black costume Spider-Man found on a strange planet during the first “Secret Wars,” which turned out to be an alien symbiote that had malicious intentions. Spider-Man got the costume off of him but it then linked up with Eddie Brock, a sad-sack journalist whose emotions drove the alien symbiote to become the Venom we known and (mostly) love, thanks to one Todd McFarlane. Venom continued to play a large part in the Spider-Man books before getting his own comics, and not before a super-villain was created for him in Cletus Kasady, a vicious serial killer whose infection by the symbiote turns him into Carnage. And that’s who Harrelson is playing.

Being a sequel, we do have some basis to go on, although the original Venom movie, released in early October 2018, also arrived at a time when it was only the second time the character of Venom was brought to the big screen -- the first time being Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 3, in which the character was received without much love as Ryan Reynold’s Deadpool in X-Men Origins: Wolverine. And yet, Venom did great, opening with $80.2 million and grossing $213 million domestically, which is more than enough to greenlight a sequel. (It made over double that amount overseas, too.) For comparison, the Wolverine prequel opened with $85 million but at the beginning of summer, so it quickly tailed away with other movies coming out after it. Venom: Let There Be Carnage has to worry about the new James Bond opening a week later, so it very likely could be a one-and-done, opening decently but quickly dropping down as other big movies are released in October (basically one a week).

I’ve already seen the movie, and by the time you read this, reviews will already be up --including my own at Below the Line. Social media reactions seem to not be so bad though, so maybe it’ll get better reviews than its predecessor, which was trashed by critics, receiving only a 30% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. But if you look at the fan ratings, they’re higher with 81%, although it’s hard not to be

I’m thinking that bearing COVID in mind and the law of depreciation since the previous movie, Venom: Let There Be Carnage will probably be good for around $50 million this weekend, maybe a little more, but however it’s received, I expect it to drop significantly next week, though a total domestic gross of $135 to 140 million seems reasonable.

Another strong sequel to kick off October is the animated THE ADDAMS FAMILY II (MGM), which is following up the 2019 hit for MGM/UA Releasing with most of the voice cast returning, including Oscar Isaac, Charlize Theron, Chloe Grace Moretz, and Finn Wolfhard, as well as Nick Kroll, Snoop Dogg, Martin Short, Catherine O’Hara, and Bette Midler voicing the popular characters from the New Yorker cartoons, a popular ‘60s TV series, and two Barry Sonnenfeld movies from the ‘90s.

The 2019 animated film was a pretty solid hit for the newly-launched UA Releasing, grossing $100 million domestic after a $30.3 million opening, making it one of MGM’s biggest hits since it was restructured under UA and became its own distributor again. Who knows what’s going to happen with Amazon’s plans on buying MGM and whether the latter will remain a distribution wing, but MGM still has a number of movies out this year that likely will be awards contenders. But that doesn’t mean much for The Addams Family II, which will try to get some of those people who paid to see the original movie in theaters back to see the sequel… and if they’re not going to theaters, MGM is once again offering the movie day-and-date on VOD much like they did with last year’s Bill and Ted Face the Music, which opened much earlier in the pandemic (late august, 2020), so it far fewer options to see it in theaters compared to this animated sequel.

It’s highly doubtful that The Addams Family II was going to open anywhere near to $30 million even if there wasn’t a pandemic, and it wasn’t on VOD just because MGM just doesn’t seem to be marketing the movie as well as its predecessor. You can blame COVID if you want, but it’s also the fact they’re distributing the company’s first James Bond movie in six years, No Time To Die, on their own vs. through another distributor, ala the last few Daniel Craig Bonds. But we’ll talk more about that next week, since that’s going to be an important movie to help cover MGM’s expenses for the rest of 2021. (I haven’t had a chance to see this yet, but it’s embargoed until Friday, so wouldn’t be able to get a review into the column regardless.)

We’ve seen quite a few family hits over the past few months even when the movies were already on streaming/VOD, but parents are probably being a bit more careful with kids back in school, many younger kids still not vaccinated, and the Delta variant still not quite under control. Because of those factors, I think The Addams Family II is more likely to do somewhere between $15 and 18 million its opening weekend, maybe more on the lower side.

Third up is THE MANY SAINTS OF NEWARK (New Line/WB), David Chase’s prequel to his hit HBO series, The Sopranos, which went off the air in 2004 but still finds fans on the new HBO Max streamer. Ironically, this prequel will air on the streamer at the same time as it's getting a theatrical release, which probably won't be a very tough choice for fans.

Chase has reunited with director Alan Taylor, who won a Primetime Emmy for his work on the show in 2007 before moving onto other popular shows like HBO's Game of Thrones. Taylor has had a bit of a rough career in film, though, having directed Marvel Studios’ sequel, Thor: The Dark World, a movie that wasn't received very well although there were rumors that Taylor butted heads with the producers and maybe didn't even finish the movie. He went on to direct Terminator Genesys, which honestly, I can't remember if it was the worst Terminator movie, but it was pretty bad.

What's interesting is that because this is a prequel set in the '70s and '80s, none of the actors from the show appear on it, but it does star Alessandro Nivola, a great actor in one of his meatiest roles for a studio movie. It also introduces Michael Gandolfini, son of the late James Gandolfini (who played Tony Soprano, if you didn't know), playing the teenage Tony, plus it has great roles for the likes of Jon Bernthal (as Tony's father), Vera Farmiga (playing Tony's mother), Corey Stoll (playing the younger "Junior” Soprano), and Lesile Odom Jr, as the Sopranos key adversary, even though he ends up coming across like the good guy of the movie. It also stars Billy Magnussen, who oddly, also has a key role in next week's No Time to Die.

I'm sure there's quite a bit of interest in seeing where Tony came from and to learn more about his family, many who were dead long before the events of the HBO show, but will that be enough to get them into theaters when they already have HBO? I already reviewed the movie for Below the Line, and reviews are generally positive, which might get people more interested in this prequel.

As with most of Warner Bros’ movies this year, Many Saints will also debut on HBO Max and unlike some of the studio’s other 2021 offerings, it will actually make more sense to watch this one on the streamer since that’s how most people watched The Sopranos. That seems like a killer for Many Saints, and it’s likely to keep it opening under $10 million, where it might have done better on a different weekend (like sometime over the last two weeks).

This is what I have this weekend’s top 10 looking like:

1. Venom: Let There Be Carnage (Sony) - $50.4 million N/A

2. The Addams Family II (MGM/UA Releasing) - $16.5 million N/A

3. The Many Saints of Newark (New Line/WB) - $9 million N/A

4. Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (Marvel/Disney) - $7.5 million -44%

5. Dear Evan Hansen (Universal) - $4.1 million -45%

6. Free Guy (20th Century/Disney) - $3.3 million -30%

7. Jungle Cruise (Disney) - $1.1 million -35%

8. Candyman (Universal) - $1.3 million -48%

9. Cry Macho (Warner Bros.) - $1 million -52%

10. Malignant (Warner Bros.) - .7 million -53%

Opening in select cities is French filmmaker Julia (Raw) Ducournau’s TITANE (Neon), the genre thriller that won this year’s coveted Palme D’Or at the Cannes Film Festival. It stars Agathe Rouselle as a young woman who has an interesting relationship with automobiles, but she also has psychotic tendencies that leaves a trail of bodies behind her. On the run, she decides to pretend she’s the missing son of a fireman (Vincent Lindon), who has been missing for 10 years, and things just get weirder from there.

I honestly wasen’t sure what to expect from this although I do remember walking out of Ducournau’s cannibal movie, Raw, just because it was so gross, even though so many of my colleagues and friends swear by the movie, and this one, for that matter. Sure, there’s a certain “prove it” factor to me watching a movie that wins the Palme D’Or, because it’s very rare that I like the movies that do win that benchmark cinema award.

After a flashback to Agathe’s character Alexia when she was an obstinate young girl kicking the back seat of her father as he’s driving. They crash and she’s forced to get surgery that puts an odd looking piece of metal in her head. Decades later, she seems to be a pseudo-stripper at weird punk rock car show -- I guess they do those things different in France -- and hooking up with a fellow “model” afterwards. Agathe is actually a very popular model/dancer but when one fan gets too grabby, she pulls a knitting needle out of her hair and stabs it through his ear, killing him. Oh, yeah, she then has sex with a car and seemingly gets pregnant, but that only happens later. First, she goes on a bit of a killing spree and then goes on a run and decides that by strapping up her breasts and breaking her nose, she can pass off this fire captain’s son… and it works!

So the second half deals with acting great Vincent Lindon’s absolutely bonkers steroid-addicted man who seems to be sexually attracted to his own son, and most of his fellow firefighters knows that he’s gay but in the closet, but I’m honestly not sure what that matters. He’s a pretty disgusting character whose 70-year-old ass we see way too much of, and even those who might find Rouselle to be quite fetching, there’s a certain point where her nudity is not alluring but quite horrifying.

Oh, and at this time, Alexia (or Adrien, as she’s now going) has also gotten significantly pregnant, but it’s not a normal pregnancy because what should be milk from her breasts seems to some sort of motor oil. That’s because she FUCKED A CAR earlier in the movie!!! What do you expect when you fuck a car and don’t use protection, girlie? The fact Alexia/Adrien is trying to hide the fact she’s a pregnant woman from a station full of men isn’t even particularly disturbing. The part that really got me was when she broke her own nose to pass off as this guy’s son -- I actually had to look away for that part.

Listen I’m no prude, and I think I can handle most things in terms of horror and gore, but Titane just annoyed me, because it felt like Ms Ducournau was doing a lot of what we see more for shock value than to actually drive the story forward. There just doesn’t seem to be much point to any of it, and once the movie gets to the firehouse, and we see her interaction (as a young man) with her “father” and his colleagues, it just gets more grueling.

It’s as if Ducournau had watched a lot of movies by the likes of Cronenberg or David Lynch, or more likely Nicolas Refn or Lars von Trier, and thought, “I could be just as strange and horrific as those men… let’s see what people think of this.” And way too many people fell for it, including the Cannes jury. While I normally would approve of any good body horror movie, especially one with cinematography, score and musical selections as good as this one, I doubt I’d ever want to watch this movie again. And therefore, I don’t think I can recommend this movie to anyone either, at least no one I want to remain my friend.

As far as the movie’s box office, NEON is opening the movie in 562 theaters to build on buzz from various film festivals, including the New York Film Festival earlier this week. I think it should be good for half a million this weekend, although maybe it'll surprise me like NEON's release of Parasite a few years back. I just don't see this getting into the top 10 but maybe just outside it.

And then we have a few more movies that I got screeners for but just couldn’t find the time to watch, but might do so once I finish this verdammt column.

The faith-based doc THE JESUS MUSIC (Lionsgate) by the Erwin Brothers (I Can Only Imagine, I Still Believe) takes a look at the rise of Christian Contemporary Music through artists like Amy Grant and Stryper and everything in between, featuring lots of interviews of the artists’ trials and triumphs. Even though there isn’t much CCM I ever listen to, I’m still kind of curious about this one, since I generally like music docs and this is guaranteed not to be the sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll of most of them. I have no idea how wide Lionsgate intends to release this but it certainly can be fairly wide, because the Erwins have delivered at least one giant hit for Lionsgate, and I Still Believe may have been another one if not for the pandemic. It actually opened on March 13, just days before movie theaters shut down across the country, so it's little surprise it only made $7 million domestic. That said, the acts in this one have a lot of fans, and if Lionsgate does release The Jesus Music into 1,000 theaters or so (which is very doable), then I would expect it would make between $1 and 2 million, which would be enough to break into the Top 10.

I haven't seen any of the movies based on Anna Todd's YA romance novels but the third of them, AFTER WE FELL, will play in about 1,311 theaters on Thursday i.e. tonight through Fathom Events, and may or may not continue through the weekend. These movies just kind of show up, and again, having not seen any of them, I'm not sure what kind of audience they have, but this one stars Josephine Langford and Hero Fiennes, as well as Stephen Moyer, Mira Sorvino and Arielle Kebbel with Castille Landon directing.

Grace Van Patten (Under the Silver Lake) stars in Karen Cinorre’s action-fantasy film MAYDAY (Magnolia), playing Ana, a young woman who is transported to a “dreamlike and dangerous” coastline where she joins a female army in a never-ending war where women lure men to their deaths. It also stars Mia Goth, Havana Rose Liu, Soko, Théodore Pellerin and Juliette Lewis. It will be in theaters and On Demand this Friday.

The great Tim Blake Nelson stars in Potsy Ponciroli’s action-Western OLD HENRY (Shout! Studios/Hideout) about a widowed farmer and son who take in an injured man with a satchel full of cash only to have to fend off a posse who come after the man, claiming to be the law. Not sure who to trust, the farmer has to use his gun skills to defend his home and the stranger.

The romantic-comedy FALLING FOR FIGARO (IFC Films) is the new movie from Australian filmmaker Ben Lewin (The Sessions), who I’ve interviewed a few times, and he’s a really nice chap. This one stars Danielle Macdonald, Hugh Skinner, and Joanna Lumley, and it will be in theaters and On Demand this Friday. This rom-com is set in the world of opera singing competitions with Macdonald playing Millie, a brilliant young fund manager who decides to chase her dream of being an opera singer in the Scottish Highlands. She begins vocal training lessons with a former opera diva, played by Lumley, where she meets Max, a young man also training for that competition. Could love blossom? This actually sounds like my kind of movie, so I’ll definitely try to watch soon.

The second season of “Welcome to Blumhouse” the horror movie anthology kicks off on Amazon Prime Video on Friday with the first two movies, Maritte Lee Go’s Black as Night (which I’ve seen) and Gigi Saul Guerrero’s Bingo Night (which I haven’t), and actually I’ll have an interview with Ms. Go over at Below the Line possibly later this week. The former stars Ashja Cooper as a teen girl living in Louisiana who has a bad experience with homeless vampires, along with her best friend (Fabrizio Guido).

Also, Antoine Fuqua and Jake Gyllenhaal’s remake of the Danish film THE GUILTY will begin streaming on Netflix starting Friday after premiering at TIFF a few weeks back. I never got around to reviewing it, but it’s pretty good, maybe a little better than the original movie but essentially the same. I’d definitely recommend it if you like Jake, because he’s definitely terrific in it.

Also hitting Netflix this week is Juana Macias' SOUNDS LIKE LOVE (Netflix), a Spanish language romance movie that (guess) I haven't seen!

A few other movies I didn’t get to this week, include:

STOP AND GO (Decal) VAL (Dread) BLUSH (UA Releasing) RUNT (1091 Pictures)

Next week, it’s not time for James Bond, it’s time for James Bond to die… no, wait… there is NO TIME TO DIE! Also, a very, very special anniversary for the Weekend Warrior….

[omgsquee2001]

I’m Not Going Anywhere - Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After his argument with his dad, Donnie rode his bike to school. Gary was currently talking to Principal Walker about postponing the Graduation Ceremony. Principal Walker wasn’t taking it too well. Donnie zoomed in on the two adults talking. 

“There's Dad taking shit from Principal Walker.” Donnie commented. Donnie looked over and saw [Y/N] and Trey walking over. Along with the two brothers, [Y/N] volunteered to do interviews for the video time capsules. 

“Did you two get the last of the interviews?” Donnie asked the pair. [Y/N] shook her head, looking at the Junior. 

“No, we still got a few to do.” She said. Trey smirked. 

“But what we did get was a nice shot of Miss Bell's cleavage. Wanna see?” Trey asked. He showed Donnie the footage. [Y/N] frowned. Donnie sighed. 

“Trey.” Donnie said. Trey shrugged his shoulders. 

“What? You don't get many teachers with a rack like that.” Trey said, pointing to the footage. [Y/N] slapped the boy on the back of the head. Trey flinched. “Ow!” Trey shouted. 

“You deserved that, cut it out. We need to start editing right after graduation.” [Y/N] said. Donnie nodded, looking at the girl. 

“[Y/N]’s right. Dad wants the clips online by the end of next week.” Donnie said. Trey closed the screen of the camera. He looked at [Y/N] and shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. 

“What's the point of doing a video time capsule? Video won't even exist in 25 years.” Trey said. [Y/N] looked at him with shock and disappointment. “What?” He asked. 

“Time Capsules record important events! It’s leaving things behind for the next generation!” [Y/N] said. Trey shook his head, holding his hands out. 

“What next generation? The only next generation is the high schoolers who aren’t graduating yet.” Trey said. [Y/N] gave him a ‘Duh’ look. 

“Exactly! Why do you think we are asking people to say something to the future them?” [Y/N] asked. Donnie sighed, shaking his head. 

“Let's just get it finished. Okay?” Donnie said. [Y/N] nodded. She understood that Donnie was under a lot of stress.

“Yeah. Okay.” She said. She smiled kindly at him. A small bit of jealousy erupted into Trey’s mind. He looked down at the camera in his hands.

“Fine,” Trey said. He looked up again, looking around. “Did you guys see the weather report? Supposed to be a big storm coming. Maybe they'll cancel the whole,” Trey was cut off when [Y/N] elbowed him. He looked to her. [Y/N] pointed at something. That something was Kaitlyn Johnston. 

Trey started up the camera again. “Whoa. There's your girl.” Trey said. Kaitlyn seemed to be talking to Miss. Blasky about something. Miss. Blasky walked away. Kaitlyn rolled her eyes and ran her hand through her hair in distress. Trey smacked Donnie on the shoulder. 

“Oh, dude. Now's your chance, man. Vulnerable girl. Comforting guy. Right?” Trey asked. Donnie sighed and shook his head. [Y/N] looked at Donnie. She also knew of Donnie’s crush on her friend. Kaitlyn was one of the second people, beside Donnie and Trey to welcome her to Silverton. Kaitlyn and [Y/N] immediately hit it off. They were extremely close, almost like sisters.  

“Just go talk to her and see if she's okay.” [Y/N] said. Donnie shook his head. 

“We have work to do.” Donnie said. Trey shook his head. 

“Chickenshit. Come on.” Trey urged. 

“I need to get the last of the interviews, and Dad's, like, on my case about it.” Donnie said. Trey shook his head. 

“Screw Dad.” Trey said. [Y/N] looked at Trey, shocked. 

“Trey!” [Y/N] scolded. Trey looked at her and shrugged. 

“What? It’s true,” he said. “Go do something for yourself for once.” Trey said. [Y/N] sighed. She knew that Trey was just trying to help his brother out. “Bro, [Y/N] and I are literally begging you.” Trey said. [Y/N] placed her hands on Donnie’s upper arms. 

“Just go talk to her. All right?” [Y/N] said. Donnie sighed, knowing he wouldn’t win this argument. Especially against his brother and his best friend. 

“All right.” Donnie said. Trey and [Y/N] smiled. 

“Yeah?” Trey asked. Donnie chuckled. 

“Stop.” Donnie said, starting to walk towards the library where Kaitlyn had gone a few seconds before. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trey and I smiled as we watched his older brother head off towards the library.  Trey laughed. 

“Heh. Have fun.” Trey called in a sing-song voice. Trey looked at me. “He's really doing it.” Trey said, laughing. “We gotta film this train wreck.” Trey said. I looked at him. 

“Trey, leave him, alone for once.” I said. Trey looked at me. 

“Come on, [Y/N]. This is epic! He’s finally going to ask her out!” Trey said. I shook my head. 

“He’s not going to ask her out. He’s going to comfort her.” I said. Trey pointed at me and shook his head. 

“You don’t know that and there’s one way to find out.” Trey said. Before I knew it, Trey grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the library. 

Donnie walked up to Kaitlyn, who was sitting at a table with her laptop out in front of her. 

“And he's pulling into the station.” Trey said quietly. He and I were hiding behind the doors to the library. Trey zoomed in on the two with his camera. 

“Hey, Kaitlyn?” Donnie asked quietly. Kaitlyn looked up and smiled lightly. 

“Hey.” She said back. Donnie pointed to himself, still standing.

“It's Donnie.” Donnie said, not quite knowing if she knew his name. Kaitlyn nodded. 

“Yeah. I know.” She said. 

“Strike one.” Trey said quietly. I smiled lightly and shook my head. 

“Trey, shut up.” I hissed. Donnie, unaware of our presence, set his back pack down. He took a seat next to her. 

“Are you okay?” Donnie asked. “I saw you outside with Miss Blasky.” He said.  Kaitlyn looked back at her computer screen. 

“Right. Uh, I had this application for an apprenticeship, and it had to be submitted by the weekend,” she started explaining. She opened the application to show Trey. “And Miss Blasky checked it for me, and it's just completely corrupted. I don't know what happened to it. It was fine yesterday.” She said. Donnie looked at the application. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that's toast. What was it about?” He asked. 

“The abandoned factory on Garner.” Kaitlyn said. 

“Oh, the paper mill?” Donnie asked. Kaitlyn nodded, looking at him. 

“Yeah.” She said. Donnie nodded his head. 

“Yeah.” He said, slightly awkward. Undeterred by the awkward comment, Kaitlyn continued describing what her application was about. 

“When they shut it down, the state never paid for an official cleanup. So there's all these chemicals and hazardous materials sitting there contaminating the soil and probably running off into the water.” Kaitlyn said. 

“That's what the film's about.” Donnie said, not sounding very interested. 

“Pretend to be interested.” Trey said quietly. I glanced at him. 

“You do know your advice is practically useless when he can’t even hear it?” I asked quietly. Trey rolled his eyes. 

“Anyway, the submission doesn't make any sense at all without it. So I'm screwed.” Kaitlyn said. She ran her hands through her hair again. I really wished that I could be over there comforting her. But, as much as I don’t really like to agree with Trey on this, it was the only way and probably the only chance Donnie had at asking Kaitlyn out. 

“Come on, man. Take a swing.” Trey urged. 

“Trey, shut up!” I hissed again. 

“You're into all this environmental stuff, huh?” Donnie asked. 

“Come on, man. Just ask her out.” Trey urged again. 

“Trey, if you don’t shut up right now, I swear I’m going to duck-tape your fucking mouth shut!” I threatened. 

“Gotta take care of the planet, right? Or else the planet will take care of us, right? Heh.” Donnie said, laughing awkwardly. 

“That was awkward.” Trey said. I growled quietly. 

“Alright, that’s it.” I said. Trey looked at me. 

“You don’t even have duck-tape on you!” Trey said. I shook my head. 

“So? Doesn’t mean I can’t go and find some, come back and then duck-tape your loud mouth shut!” I argued back. Kaitlyn laughed dryly.

“Heh. Yeah. Well, some of us care, or at least are trying to.” She said. Donnie looked at her.

“No. I'm sorry. I can help. I have all these cameras and this editing software and,” Donnie said. Kaitlyn looked at him, her hope renewed. 

“Really?” She asked. Donnie nodded. 

“Yeah.” He said. “Well, this will be easy. We can reshoot this.” Donnie said, looking at the computer.

“It'd have to be today.” Kaitlyn said. Donnie froze. 

“Today?” He asked. Kaitlyn’s eyes widened. 

“Oh, you and [Y/N] are filming the graduation.” Kaitlyn said. “No, it's fine.” She changed her mind.

“No. No. My brother, Trey, he's good with all this stuff too. He and [Y/N] can get that.” Donnie reassured her. While I was perfectly fine with this, Trey wasn’t. 

“No way.” Trey whispered. 

“Like, they can get that footage.” Donnie said. 

“Really?” Kaitlyn asked. Donnie nodded. 

“It's not a problem.” He said. 

“Sure?” She asked again. Donnie nodded. 

“Yes, it's a problem.” Trey whispered. I snickered. Trey glared at me. 

“[Y/N], now’s not the time.” He whispered, causing me to snicker more.  Donnie nodded. 

“I'm sure. Yeah.” Donnie said. Kaitlyn sighed in relief. 

“Thank you so much,” Kaitlyn said. Donnie shook his head. “No. You have no idea what this means for me. I owe you so big for this.” Kaitlyn said. She stood up. Donnie stood as well and shrugged. 

“No. Well, you know, me and the planet go way back, so,” Donnie said. The bell rang. Kaitlyn gathered her things. 

“Thank you. I'll see you later.” Kaitlyn said. Donnie nodded. 

“Cool.” Donnie said. Kaitlyn started to walk away. 

“Thank you.” She said again, this time leaving. Trey sighed.  

“Okay, no.” Trey said. He pushed through the doors, me following after. Donnie looked up and saw the both of us. 

“This is so not cool.” Trey said. I sighed. 

“Trey,” I tried to calm him down. 

“You are kidding me.” Donnie sighed in anger. “What are you two doing?” Donnie asked. I raised my hands in defense. 

“Hey, he dragged me into this.” I said, pointing at Trey. Trey looked at me like I betrayed him. I shrugged. “What?” I asked. Trey looked back at Donnie. 

“What are you doing? You're gonna skip the ceremony?” Trey asked. I had to admit that I agreed with Trey on this one. If Donnie skipped the ceremony, Gary would not be happy. Donnie nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah. You two said do something for yourself, so I'm doing something for myself.” Donnie said. Trey looked at me for help on the matter. I shrugged. 

“We did technically say that.” I said. Trey sighed and pointed a finger at me. 

“Not helping, Squirt.” He said. I chuckled. I knew he couldn’t get mad at me. We were best friends. Arguments and playful banter were bound to happen. 

“Yeah. And leaving me and [Y/N] to do all the filming?” Trey asked. Donnie looked at us. 

“You guys can handle it. Right?” Donnie asked. Neither Trey nor I answered. Donnie’s smile fell and worry crossed his features. “You guys can handle it, right?” Donnie asked again. I looked to Trey then back at Donnie. I nodded. 

“Yes.” I said, confidently. Donnie smiled. I elbowed Trey. He groaned.

“Yeah. Yeah. Totally. Hey. You go for it, bro,” Trey said. Donnie smiled and started to walk away. “But get some skin on camera.” Trey called. Donnie stopped and turned around. “E- mail it to me.” He said. I rolled my eyes. 

“Trey, come one.” I said. Trey chuckled. Donnie smiled. 

“Just get the interviews, all right?” Donnie said. Trey nodded. 

“All right, all right, we’re going.” Trey said. Donnie smiled. 

“Okay.” Donnie said, chuckling. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Y/N] and Trey were in the gym interviewing Todd White, the captain of the Silverton High Basketball team. 

“Yo, Todd. We're rolling.” Trey shouted. Todd shot a basket ball through the hoop. Todd turned to the camera. 

“Yo, what's up, me? How's life in the future, bro? So I just know by now you are playing for the NBA, you're super loaded, and you got a super-smoking-hot cheerleader wife. So why the hell are you watching this right now? Why don't you get up to your penthouse and bang her good, right?” Todd shouted, chuckling. [Y/N] stared at him, not that impressed. 

“That's your time-capsule message, Todd?” Trey asked. Todd shook his head. 

“Why not?” He asked. [Y/N] rolled her eyes. 

“Boys are gross.” She said. Trey looked at her. 

“Hey!” He shouted, sounding offended. [Y/N] didn’t look at him. 

“Not sorry.” She said. 

“A message?” The two Sophomores were now interviewing a construction worker named Frank. Frank shook his head. “Nah, too late for me. Too late for these guys,” he gestured to the other workers behind him. “But my kids? Grandkids? Simple. Study. Get good grades. Or else you're gonna hang around this group of losers shoveling shit all day,” Frank chuckled. He realized that he cussed on tape. “Sorry.” He apologized. [Y/N] chuckled. 

“No harm done, Frank.” She said. 

“Please marry a rich guy. Please marry a rich guy.” A cheerleader named London chanted, her eyes closed and fingers crossed. [Y/N] frowned, confused. 

“Uh, we're rolling.” [Y/N] said. London opened her eyes and looked at the camera. 

“So, what would you like to say to yourself in 25 years?” Trey asked. London looked at the two. 

“That was it.” She said. [Y/N] groaned slightly and pinched the bridge of her nose. High schoolers could be so stupid. Trey placed his hand on her thigh, gently patting it, letting her know that they were almost done.

“Twenty-five years time?” An old man named Chester asked. “Ha! My guess is we'd have blown up the world by that time!” Chester said. His dog sat next to him. [Y/N] chuckled. Chester was her favorite interviewee by far. 

“All right.” Trey said. 

“High school sucked,” Jimmy said. Jimmy was an Honor Role student and what most of the students at Silverton High would classify, a nerd. “Hopefully, it was all worth it. You've got your Ph. D. from Brown. You're doing research and using your skills to help,” Jimmy was interrupted by Todd.  

“Douche-rocket! Ha!” Todd shouted, laughing. Jimmy frowned. Trey chuckled. [Y/N] elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Ow!” Trey winced. “Sorry, man.” Trey apologized. 

“I’m still going to duck-tape your fucking mouth shut later.” [Y/N] said. Trey chuckled. 

“Yeah, good luck with that, Squirt.” Trey said. 

“Am I done here?” Jimmy asked. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry, Jimmy. Thank you for your time.” [Y/N] said, smiling kindly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

The stage was set up on the field for the ceremony. 

“Mike check. One, two, three.” Principal Walker tested the mic. Gary walked across the field, Trey and I following. 

“Where's Donnie?” Gary asked. Trey shrugged. 

“I don't know. Around.” Trey said. I didn’t really say anything, knowing that I shouldn’t get in the middle of this. 

“He knows what time we're starting?” Gary asked. Trey nodded. 

“Yes, Mr. Fuller. Donnie knows what time we’re starting.” I said. 

“Anyway, [Y/N] and I can run the cameras.” Trey said. Gary looked back at him. 

“All three?” He asked. Trey nodded. 

“Well, yes, Dad. That's why they invented tripods.” He replied sarcastically. I sighed. 

“Trey, now really isn’t the time.” I said gently. Gary sighed and looked at Trey and I.  

“Trey, [Y/N] this is important.” Gary said. Trey scoffed. 

“And we can't do it, right?” Trey asked. Gary shook his head. 

“I didn't say that.” He said calmly. Trey nodded. 

“Yeah, you kind of did.” Trey said. He walked away.  

“Trey,” I started. He walked past me. I sighed and looked at Gary. “I’ll talk to him.” I said. I was about to walk off when Gary gently grabbed my arm. 

“[Y/N], you don’t have to.” He said. 

“Yeah, I do,” I pulled my arm out of his hand. “Trey’s my best friend. It’s my job to make sure that he’s alright.” I said and walked off. I saw Trey near the back of the stage. I gently placed my hand on his upper arm. I was a little shorter than he was, reaching up to his nose in height. “Hey. You okay?” I asked gently. Trey shrugged. 

“No, not really. I just wish dad had more faith in me.” He said. I smiled at him sympathetically. 

“I know,” I reached down and started playing with his fingers gently. “I know things have been rough for you all since your mom died. Your dad’s under a lot of stress, and from what I’ve noticed, he has kind of a hard time expressing his emotions,” I said. Trey looked down, nodding. I tucked my fingers under his chin, gently lifting. Trey looked at me. “But believe me when I say that he loves you. He really does. He just forgets to show it sometimes.” I said. Trey nodded, looking down again. 

“Yeah.” Trey whispered out. I gently cupped both sides of his face. He looked at me. 

“You okay now?” I asked gently. Trey placed his larger hands over my own smaller ones and nodded. I sighed. “Come here.” I said. I removed my hands and pulled him into a gentle hug, kissing his cheek. Trey sighed and closed his eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Ceremony had started. [Y/N] was standing in the middle of the row of chairs filled with graduating seniors. 

“To all the students of this year's Graduating Class,” Principal Walker said. “Who have dedicated themselves to the hard work necessary to reach this day, you are now standing on the threshold of adult life,” Gary looked at the other cameras and noticed that Donnie wasn’t there. And let me tell you, he did not look happy. He looked at [Y/N]. Where’s Donnie? He mouthed to her. [Y/N] shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. She lowered her eyes to the camera again. “You are free to take your own path and that path will be different for all of you. But it's now time to create your own lives. To create your own destiny.” Principal Walker continued. [Y/N] looked up at the sky, worried. Dark clouds were forming, thunder rumbling. “I leave you with John Updike's words: "You cannot help but learn more as you take the world into your hands. Take it up reverently, for it is an old piece of clay, with millions of thumbprints on it.”,” Rain now started to come down. Students and parents alike pulled out umbrellas, clearly paying attention to the storm warning on the news. [Y/N] arched her back and blinked rapidly, trying to get the rain out of her eyes.   “Oh, great. I guess we should, uh, I guess we should start finishing up, then.” Walker said. [Y/N] rolled her eyes. No shit Sherlock. She thought. The rain started to come down harder. The clouds got darker. This weather was starting to worry [Y/N]. “Seniors! Stand up! Stand up!” The seniors stood. “We salute you!” Walker shouted. The seniors tossed their caps into the air, cheering. The wind started to pick up. “All right! Ah.” Walker groaned as tornado warning sirens started blaring. Okay, now [Y/N] was really freaked out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sirens kept blaring. “Go inside, guys.” Principal Walker shouted over the sirens. Gary stood up. 

“Stay calm! Move inside in an orderly fashion!” He shouted. I looked around, trying to find either my dad or Trey in the commotion. 

“Everybody, back inside.” I heard my dad shout. I looked around. 

“Dad!” I shouted, trying to find him. 

“To the main building.” Gary said. Trey was still holding the camera. 

“Dude, come on,” he urged. I looked around. 

“Trey!” I shouted. 

“Thing 2!” A familiar voice shouted. I looked behind me and saw Trey. 

“Thing 1!” I shouted. Trey grabbed my hand. 

“Are you okay?” Trey shouted. I nodded. 

“What about you?” I asked. Trey nodded in confirmation. “We need to go, now.” I said. Trey and I quickly rushed to the main building.  Gary was still ushering people in.

“Here we go! Quickly! Come on! Here we go! Come on, this way.” Gary urged. “Everybody! Okay, 90!” Gary shouted, somehow keeping track of how many people were coming in. “Here we go. Here we go. Keep moving. All the way down the hall. “Keep this door open. Come on.” Gary said to a graduate. 

“Move on in, folks. Move in.” Walker said, trying to remain calm. 

“Everybody into the storm shelter area.” Gary ordered. “Keep this hallway clear. Make sure nobody's behind us. All the way down!” Gary shouted. Trey and I raced in. I looked around for my dad. 

“Dad!” I shouted. 

“[Y/N]!” I whirled around and sighed in relief. Dad raced over to me and pulled me into a hug. He gently cupped my face as we pulled away. “Are you alright?” Dad asked. I nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about you?” I asked. Dad shook his head. 

“Don’t worry about me. Go all the way in, alright.” Dad said. I shook my head.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know that Mr. Fuller and Trey are safe!” I shouted. Dad sighed. He knew there was no stopping me. Trey was still near the window, so I would stick close to him.  

“Trey! Where's Donnie?” I heard Gary ask. I looked behind me and saw Trey still by the windows, filming.  

“Uh, I don't exactly know.” Trey said, trying not to reveal the truth.  

“Get away from the window.” Gary ordered. Just then, a whole tree came flying through the window. Dad gently yet quickly pushed me to the wall, covering me with his body. I screamed.

“Tornado!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

//I apologize if Chapter 2 is a little long. If the switching between Third and First person is too confusing, please let me know so I can fix it. I want all my readers to have the best reading experience they can. I hope you all like it.// 

[justanotheronechicagofan]

Previous Chapter

7. The thing that works

series summary - Will the Halstead brothers be able to reconnect with their sister after 5 years? chapter summary - a worried Hailey visits Jay and finds out more about Madeline Jay Halstead, Hailey Upton TW - Mentions of parental death and missing persons investigation

series masterlist  | main masterlist

Several loud knocks on Jay’s door jerked him from his stillness. 

His phone screen flashed back at him - 22:38 and multiple texts from his partner. 

💬 Hailey :) [23 minutes ago] I'm gonna take your lack of response as a no - I'm coming over

💬 Hailey :) [48 minutes ago] You okay? 

💬 Hailey :) [1hr ago] Wanna grab a beer? I’ll buy ... :) 

Shit  - Considering he doesn’t even know where the past hour is gone, he really isn’t in the mood to see people. Especially people that he can’t hide from. Rubbing his face, he quickly made his way to the door. Before he even has the chance to tell her that he’s fine, his partner makes her way into the apartment, his favourite 6pack in tow. 

“Hails-” “Nope. I get you wanna be alone but that’s just not gonna happen” she says, already putting the beers in the fridge. Knowing he’s already lost this, he sighs and goes to grab the glasses. When he turns, he can’t help but smile seeing her struggling to reach for the whisky. “I got it,” he said, swiftly grabbing it.  “Why’d you put it so high?” she huffs. “Because, someone had a little too much and kept fighting me for more last time, remember?” he patronised with a smile on his face as he poured. He’ll never admit it but there’s a little part of him that left it there because he finds it cute.  She gives him a look but a second later, her eyes crinkle. “Still had that hangover though” laughing in the brightest way.  He chuckled and they clinked their glasses together before falling into a comfortable silence. 

They stand around the counter slowly sipping and although there’s a part of Hailey that wants to know, she decides to just join him in the quiet.  After a while he reveals, “That girl from yesterday. She’s my sister”  She suspected it but it still takes her back. Reigning in the questions popping up in her mind, she just asks “What’s her name?”  “Maddie. Madeline Grace” Jay said with a small smile.  “That’s pretty. It suits her” she said.  “Yeah it does. Mom had it picked out way before she knew she was having a girl” Hailey notices how this is the first time in weeks she’s seen him genuinely smile.  “Oh wow. Prepared lady.”  “Hell no. We were both in high school when Maddie was born - Will was a senior!” Jay laughed. “Total surprise after Mom and Dad went to the cabin for their wedding anniversary.” “Well, that cabin does have views,” she said, remembering when Jay invited Intelligence to Wisconsin in the Summer.  “Yeah. Mom was thrilled. I mean she loved us but I think she always wanted a girl. And man did Maddie have all of us wrapped around her finger, even Dad” Hailey chuckled as the image of a teenage Will and Jay trying to win the affection of a newborn popped in her head.  “What?” Jay smiled holding her gaze. “Just trying to imagine how that went down,” she amused.  “Oh it's exactly like you imagine it. Gets funnier when she got into fairies” “Did you join in?” she asked, holding back the laughter even though she knew the answer would be yes.  “Course I did Hails. Tea parties, playing house, being her horse, serious business.” he listed schooling his face before joining Hailey who was bursting.  “Seriously though, younger me would have loved that” Hailey said once they calmed down.  “Yeah?”  “Mhh. I was more into princesses than fairies but my 12 and 9 year old brothers weren’t as keen. They were good when I wanted to join in playing cops though so guess that came in handy” she joked.  “I guess it did,” Jay smiled, imagining a little Hailey running around. “C’mon what do you wanna ask me?” he said when he saw her debating something in her head.  “Uh- The tv the other night. I looked it up and that film- I mean, was she always into acting?” “Mmm. Was a surprise to me too. I haven’t asked her about it yet but I guess she always did liked to perform” “Perform?” she said, cocking her head.  “Yeah. She’s loved ballet ever since Mom first took her - I think she was like 3 or something. Told me today that she’s training to be one” he replied, proud.  “Really? Jay! That’s amazing!”  “Yeah. I’m so proud of her. I mean, Will and I always knew she would” he beamed.  “You have any photos?” Hailey asked, relieved seeing Jay this happy.  

He came back from the bedroom moments later and handed her a purple file folder decorated around the edge with gem stickers. She first picked up the stack of pictures and as she looked through them, the red haired girl in beautiful costumes grew before her, perfectly poised and always smiling widely at the camera.  “Man, you Halstead’s don’t like to go half way with doing things do you?” Hailey joked, perusing through the several clippings of local papers, the word ‘places’ and ‘wins’ jumping out at her in almost every headline. When she got to the last one, she paused at the date. 

_______________________________________________________________________ Carlisle ballerina wins first place in Youth America Grand Prix | 14 January 2013 Madeline Halstead of Carlisle took first place in the junior classical division of the Youth America Grand Prix Regional Semi-Finals held in Pennsylvania this past weekend. The 13 year old who has trained at the Central Pennsylvania Youth Ballet since the age of 7, performed three variations in front of 5 judges and a full audience. Although the Youth Grand Prix is considered to be the world’s largest ballet competition, this was not the first time Madeline captured a win. Miss Halstead first received gold when she was just 10 years old, going on to place in the top 12 in her category every year at the Philadelphia Semi Finals. The spotlight is on for Madeline as she prepares ahead for the NY Finals in April where she placed third in the same category last year.  _______________________________________________________________________

She furrowed her eyebrows as she flicked back through the articles - the earlier ones were mostly about holiday productions held in local schools but there was at least one for every year starting from 2006. Where were the others?  “That’s the last one,” Jay said, reading her thoughts.  She looked back at him confused, but that’s 5 years ago. He meets her with the same indescribable expression she had witnessed that night at Mollys. Jay bore into her as if he was analyzing her trust, then finally placed a file she didn’t catch the first time round in front of her. She tensed as she instantly recognised the front. A case file. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Carlisle P.D. - Missing Juvenile Report  Name: Madeline Grace Halstead  Age:14. Female. White. 5'4", 93 lbs. Red hair, long.  Last seen: Exiting ballet studio at 21:32 on 6/03/2013 walking towards North Street. Reported: 20:36 on 7/03/2013  Reported by: Robert Louis Davis, MD _______________________________________________________________________

Her breath hitched as she read the first few lines of the report. She looked back at him when she got to the reported time. Why did it take that long to report? Who is Robert? He’s a doctor? And where even is Carlisle? 

Hailey watched as Jay downed his drink and slowly began. 

“When Mom died- She uh went to go live with our aunt in Pennsylvania- cause none of us really could be with Maddie. Me n Mouse, we’d just got back, Dad was drinking and - I mean Will didn’t even come back for the funeral.” Hailey noticed the tinge of blame that was there. A smile touched his eyes as he continued, “But Mads loved it in Carlisle. Mamie, our aunt was Mom’s best friend and um she never had kids but she used to come over all the time and she helped us out a lot when Mom got sick. Mads and Mamie, they’d always call or send pictures and me n Mouse would go whenever we could. Mamie and Rob, they really helped me and Mouse out that first year cause- we were just- ” 

Hailey recognised that look in Jay as he trailed off. She always saw it creep up no matter how hard he tried to hide it. She didn’t know where to take this but she figured that him giving her the case file was his way of an invitation. She asked gently, wanting to bring him back. “Jay. She was walking home?” 

Jay slightly shook, bringing himself back and continued, “Maddie always biked or walked there cause it’s like a 15 minute walk and the towns small, safe. Tree lined streets, I mean the actual studios in a college.”

“And Robert? He didn’t realise?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t even look at him because of it then. But I can’t blame the guy - he got home that night at 2am and then slept cause he’d worked 18 hours. The school didn’t call him and Mamie didn’t pick up when the studio called cause she was out of town. Mads usually went straight there from school so he didn’t even know. Only found out when he went to pick her up. They tried but by the time it got reported it was-”

“Nearly 24 hours gone” Hailey thought aloud. 

“Yeah. Didn’t have anything to work with. The footage of her leaving the studio was the last thing, she didn’t show up on any eyes after. Just disappeared. They put out AMBER alerts and reached out to Chicago and New York cause that’s where me and Will were. They thought maybe she ran away but-” 

“She would have shown up on footage” Hailey finished the sentence.

“Yeah.” Jay breathed out, looking down the empty glass. “That and we knew her. She was so excited for the Finals in NY. Case never closed but after a while -” he shaked his head. Hailey watched his body clench as resentment smouldered his features “Not even a year after, Dad started speaking like she was dead. Like she was with Mom. Haven’t talked to him since” Hailey then witnessed the slight, almost imperceptible change in him, but couldn’t quite place it. He inhaled shakily then breathed out, 

“Thing is -”

“I thought she was dead too” 

It made sense to Hailey now. How her partner always seemed to find the cases involving kids the hardest. How he always went beyond helping out families who lost theirs. She wondered if maybe that’s why he joined Intelligence. If maybe in those late nights he stayed even when all the paperwork was done, he was searching for her. And that look she’d seen that night at Mollys. She could name it now. It was a look she would never be able to fully understand.  And as his escaping tears crumbled the wall away, she moved silently and held him. 

She was going to stay with him tonight. 

                                            💙✨🦋✨💙

Next Chapter 

A/N - The characters belong to Dick Wolf and are from the One Chicago universe he created. A longer chapter featuring Hailey and Jay. This was really difficult for me to write so I hope it turned out okay. Thank you so much to those that are coming along on this story with me :) 

[thedeaditeslayer]

Bruce Campbell talks ‘Evil Dead,’ ‘Spider-Man,’ ‘Xena’

mm

The first time Bruce Campbell came across Sam Raimi, they were students at Michigan’s West Maple Junior High School.

“Sam was a year younger than me,” Campbell recalls, “and I remember him dressed as Sherlock Holmes playing with dolls in the middle of the floor. And I remember going way around him. And I found out later that it was Sam Raimi. We didn’t really come into contact until we got until high school.”

What a connection they made. After bonding over D.I.Y. filmmaking, Campbell and Raimi went on to do 1978 shoestring horror-short “Within the Woods” together, which they evolved into 1981 demonic thriller “Evil Dead.”

Campbell would periodically reprise signature “Evil Dead” character Ash Williams in various sequels and offshoots. And appear in Raimi-produced “Xena: Warrior Princess,” portraying slippery “king of thieves” Autolycus on that ’90s-iconic TV fantasy epic.

And then there’s Campbell’s memorable cameos in Raimi’s blockbuster, Tobey Maguire-starring “Spider-Man” film trilogy: the ring announced in the first, 2002 film, “snooty usher” in the 2004 sequel and a maître d’ in 2007′s “Spider-Man 3.”

Of course, Campbell’s made a mark outside that dynamic duo. He drew raves for his portrayal of a nursing-home-bound Elvis Presley in 2002 indie comedy-horror gem, “Bubba Ho-Tep.” Then there’s his role of Sam Axe on USA Network spy drama “Burn Notice.” Not to mention numerous other film, TV, voice acting and even video-game work.

The cult-fave actor will make his first ever trip to Huntsville this week, for Oct. 24 events at Von Braun Center’s Mark C. Smith Concert Hall featuring “Evil Dead” screenings followed by a Campbell-led chat about the film, his life as an actor and beyond. Tickets for these 3 and 7:30 p.m. events start at $32, via ticketmaster.com.

His upcoming projects include a comedy album with actor Ted Raimi, Sam’s brother, called “The Lost Recordings.” Campbell also is readying a book of essays called “The Cool Side of My Pillow,” which finds him riffing on subjects ranging from noise to the environment. He hopes to have both released by the end of this year. More info at bruce-campbell.com. On a recent afternoon, Campbell checked in from his Oregon home for a phone interview. Edited excerpts are below.

Bruce, when you do an “Evil Dead” screening event, do your discussions turn up new things about the film or that you haven’t thought of in a long time?

Every show turns up something new because it puts you on the spot. Someone will say something that will then trigger something that you had forgot. I just sat down the other day before one of these shows with my guy who is my frontman and I was like, “OK, l’m just going to tell the story of making this movie.” It’s not for questions I’m just going to tell you basically what you’re about to see. But yeah, every show triggers some new thing. I’ve seen the movie. I know how it ends. But that is the challenge, finding some new, weird tidbits.

Back in high school how did you and Sam Raimi first bond? Did you share a class or something?

Basically I got into typing class, that’s what started it. I could not believe I was stuck in this stupid class where everyone around me seemed to know how to type. I’m like, “How do you know this?” It was very frustrating. So I went to a counselor for the first time ever – I’d never gone to try to get out of anything.

So I go there and I say, “Hey can I drop this dumb typing class?” She goes, "Yeah, what do you want? I go, “What do you got?” So she comes up with “radio speech.” And I’m like, “Radio speech? Wait they do the morning announcements (at school) and stuff?” and I’m like yeah let me get all over that.

So I got into a class and Sam Raimi was also in the class. And the guy who taught radio speech also directed all the plays. We didn’t know how critical that was. The first year I couldn’t get in anything in my high school. I was auditioning for everything but I didn’t have a class with this guy. By the next year I had a class with him, and then me and Sam were in basically all the plays after that. We found out how the deal worked.

So I met him in radio speech and we’d do the morning announcements together and got to talking about what we do in our neighborhoods. I was making little regular-8 (millimeter film) movies and Sam was making Super-8 movies. So we started to join forces during the course of that high school run, that two or three years in there.

We were very productive. We didn’t really get into trouble because we were too busy like filming parties. We wouldn’t go to the parties we’d film the parties and use them in some way in our little films so it was a great guerrilla filmmaking period.

A celeb or well-known person you were surprised to learn they’re an “Evil Dead” fan?

I heard Charlie Sheen, one of his favorite things was to smoke a doobie and watch “Evil Dead 2,” and Alice Cooper’s favorite horror movie is “Evil Dead.”

If it’s good enough for Alice Cooper it’s good enough for me. You host the quiz show “Last Fan Standing.” What do you make of the mainstreaming of nerd-culture?

Every generation has its deal. In the ’40s most moviegoers were in their 40s and so the actors were in their 40s. Humphrey Bogart and Spencer Tracy and all the guys were in their 40s. You didn’t have to be 21. And then as the audience got younger the actors got younger and the people who run the companies get younger and so they’re really just catering to what’s popular.

Comic books have always been popular but now they’re really popular. Not really sure what that’s all about but yeah social media has certainly helped but I think it’s another form of escapism. Whenever times get weird, people want escapism. During The Depression they did the Busby Berkeley splashy musicals where everyone was happy all the time, when life was really miserable. And some decades where we’re really doing okay, the movies turned introspective and we go after ourselves and figure out why we’re like this and like that. And so I think we’re in a phase where we just want to be taken away to another galaxy and Marvel is very happy to help.

And you’ve been a part of that. In Sam’s “Spider-Man” trilogy, which of your cameos did you have the most fun with?

Well I don’t know it’s hard to lineate because they’re so critical. The first one I named Spider-Man. If I wasn’t in the movie a billion dollar franchise would be called The Human Spider. He wants to get in the theater in the second one, past the snooty usher who won’t let him in because he’s late, because it will spoil the illusion, so I think I’m technically the only character who’s ever defeated Spider-Man. And in part three, a superhero comes to a mortal for help. He wants me to help him propose to his girlfriend so it’s sort of a landmark case where a superhero goes to a mortal for help which is pretty rare. So I can’t delineate because they’re all critical to the “Spider-Man” universe.

Do you have any cool mementos from "Evil Dead or elsewhere from your career? Maybe something like the chainsaw from “Evil Dead 2”?

You know, it’s weird I’m not a hoarder, I’m not a collector. My brother, he has the shotgun from “Evil Dead,” but not because he loves movie trivia, he just likes guns. My brother also has I think the set of keys to the original cabin. That’s a pretty good one. Not sure how he got that one.

I have weirder ones. Like I have a prop from a 1989 movie called “Sundown: The Vampire in Retreat.” I have Van Helsing’s holy bottle where he shakes the holy water at them. And I have what I call my tchotchke shelf, where most people would look at it and they couldn’t identify what importance each item is, but there’s a story for each one.

Some of your favorite actors outside the horror genre?

Oh, I l love a lot of the old time actors. William Holden, he starred in “Bridge on The River Kwai” one of my favorite movies. I like the guys who had to work a lot. In the old days and actor would finish a job on Friday he was under contract, he took two weeks off and started a new movie a couple weeks later. Actors kind of just do one or two movies a year if they’re lucky these days and it doesn’t help them refine their craft.

I feel like the guys who worked a lot got good because they got really used to the process. I’m a fan of the studio system. Not all movies were good and not every actor was happy under the studio system, but I think a busy actor’s a good actor.

For your role in “Bubba Ho-Tep,” what was your process for tapping into Elvis’s vibe?

What guy doesn’t want to be Elvis, you know? So I worked with an Elvis impersonator for about a half an hour and then he gave up on me. He goes, “Look, man, you’re never going to get it.” I’m like, “Wow either I suck or you suck as a teacher but somebody here sucks.”

No, but I watched a bunch of footage and documentaries. There’s a good one, all his Memphis Mafia who worked with him, a filmmaker basically got them all drunk one night and interviewed them all and that’s where the good stories are. You learn a little more of the human side of him. But that’s pretty much it. I’ve never been a stage performer so mercifully there wasn’t that much of it, just in quick flashbacks.

And there’s a part of me, in the back of my mind, I want to know that Elvis' descendants, somebody, a daughter, niece, somebody has watched that movie and approved. We’ll see.

I thought it was a cool creative take on that whole Elvis thing.

I agree. That’s why I did it. It was one of the weirdest scripts I’ve ever read But yet it wraps up though. It has a weird premise but it has a really interesting theme of what do you do with old people. Do we forget these old people? And are they still useful in society, old people? And I thought it had a sweet ending, that these two old guys they kind of rally themselves one more time.

What’s a well-known role you’ve turned down?

Turned down? I don’t have a lot of those. I don’t operate in that rarified air of saying, “Oh I turned ‘Titanic’ down.” I tried to get a part in a studio movie called “The Phantom” and Billy Zane wound up getting the part." And it was down to me and Billy, I was number two for the job, but I didn’t really enjoy the process very much because it seemed more political than actually acting. It was amazing how many people you had to audition for, and you had to go up the ranks and each time it got a little more tense as you move up. So I’m good doing these weirdo little movies.

I read the budget for “Within the Woods,” the predecessor of “Evil Dead,” was a princely 1,600 bucks. What was the most expensive line item, you think?

Food and probably fake blood. Tom Sullivan, who did the special effects, probably needed to mold a few things, so he probably spent a couple hundred bucks on molds. A lot of it was footage because Sam Raimi likes to shoot footage, so we probably bought a lot of rolls of film. And we did go to a cabin to shoot it, so had to get in the car and travel so maybe a little gas money in there too. That’s about it.

What can you tell us about the status of the next installment of the “Evil Dead” franchise?

We’re honing-in, circling the building now trying to lock in a partner. We have a couple of bidders and we’re trying to just find the correct suitor and we have a script written and a director picked. Sam Raimi hand -picked a guy named Lee Cronin, who’s a very good Irish filmmaker. And it’s got a very good modern tale. It’s a modern-day urban “Evil Dead,” it’s called “Evil Dead Rise.” And we’re hoping to do that next year.

You were a producer on 2013 “Evil Dead” remake. What’s the key to making a reboot effective?

Well rebooting can be very confusing and frustrating and not always successful. Reboot, sequel, remake we have all these crazy terms. What we’re doing now is we’re saying," Look, this is another ‘Evil Dead’ movie and that book gets around, a lot of people run into it and it’s another story." The main key with “Evil Dead” is they’re just regular people who are battling what seems to be a very unstoppable evil, and so that’s where the horror comes from. It’s not someone who’s skilled. They’re not fighting a soldier. They’re not fighting a scientist. They’re not fighting anybody more than your average neighbor. This one is going to be a similar thing. We’re going to have a heroine, a woman in charge, and she’s going to try and save her family.

Speaking of a female protagonist, when you’re at a con or meet fans somewhere, who has the most passionate superfans: “Evil Dead” or “Xena”?

“Xena” hits them at an emotional level. Like, they’ll come up to me and Lucy Lawless (the actor who played the show’s title role) and just burst into tears, because her character helped them get through a difficult time. “Xena” is more representative of overcoming your struggles in life. “Evil Dead” fans are pretty fervent but they don’t cry as much.

[rachelstwomoms]

Chloe Flips (Childhood Friends AU): Part 1/?

It’s no secret that Rachel Amber’s got a huge crush on Justin the skater boy. Word spreads quickly in a small town like Arcadia Bay, especially among gossipy middle schoolers. By now most (if not all) of Arcadia Bay Junior High knows all about it. Ever since the sixth grade homeroom teacher shuffled everybody’s desks around after spring break and placed Rachel right next to him, Justin is all that she’s been talking about.

Or at least that’s how it seems to Chloe Price. She may or may not resent her teacher for that.

Sometimes Chloe wishes that Rachel wasn’t so good at everything. In the words of the principal and all of her teachers, Rachel’s a “well-rounded, exemplary student that Arcadia Bay Junior High School is lucky to have.” To Chloe, that’s just fancy, grown-up speak for “overachieving goody-two-shoes.” Perfect Rachel Amber is a member of pretty much every school club and team, and she’s part of a bunch of other stuff outside of school on top of that. Rachel, soccer team MVP. Rachel, model girl scout. Rachel, student council member. 

What about Rachel, BFF to Chloe and Maxine? Chloe wishes that she got to see her more often.

With how busy Rachel is juggling her million extracurriculars and commitments, only rarely does she have the afternoon free to hang out with her friends.

By some miracle, today is one of Rachel’s free days.

After the dismissal bell rings, Chloe’s at her locker deciding which textbooks she needs to bring home for homework and which she can leave at school. The tween is blissfully and willfully ignorant of the fact that she’s a bit of an overachiever herself. Rachel meets her there, all packed up and ready to go, with her hoodie tied around her waist and a pair of roller skates slung over her shoulder. It’s still a mystery to Chloe how Rachel always manages to finish getting ready to leave before her. Every day. Without fail.

“Oh, good. You brought your board.”

Chloe looks at the skateboard at the bottom of her locker. “Rachel Amber, observant as ever.”

“Is it okay if I come over to your house today?”

“But it’s Thursday,” Chloe says, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you have your drama queen lessons today?”

“Drama club,” Rachel emphasizes, “got canceled because our teacher’s at a creative arts workshop in Portland. So, can I hang with you and Maxine until my dad’s done with work?”

It’s not like Chloe’s going to say no. In all honesty, she’s excited to be getting an extra afternoon to hang out with Rachel. She’s not going to let Rachel know that, though. So Chloe shrugs like it’s no big deal, and once she’s done in her locker she and Rachel head down the block to wait for Maxine. Arcadia Bay Junior High School gets out fifteen minutes before the elementary school does, so Chloe and Rachel stretch out in the grass patch in front of the building.

“Chloe.”

“What?”

“Do you wanna stop at the skate park for a little bit before we go home?”

There’s a small skate park with a few ramps and rails near Chloe’s house. William used to take her and Maxine there on the weekends when Chloe was first learning how to skateboard. Now that she’s in middle school, her parents allow her to spend a few minutes there after school, but only if her friends are there too, and only if she calls ahead of time and gets permission first.

“Sure,” answers Chloe, smiling. Rachel’s joined her and Maxine on their afternoon skate park trips a few times before, and it’s been cool to have someone else to skate around with. Maxine doesn’t skate. The younger girl prefers to sit under one of the nearby trees and take photos with her instant camera instead. There used to be a time when Maxine would ride around with her on Chloe’s old kick scooter, but ever since that one day when Chloe convinced her to go down one of the ramps and she ended up falling and scraping up both of her knees, she’s stuck to just safely watching from afar. But with Rachel, Chloe now has someone who can keep up with her on wheels, even if it’s with roller skates and not a skateboard like her. “But I need to ask my mom first.”

Rachel’s already sliding her flip phone over to Chloe. Chloe doesn’t have her own cell phone yet. She’s tried asking her parents for one before, but they won’t let her have one until she’s in high school.

Chloe opens the phone and it beeps in protest. The battery symbol in the upper right corner is completely red. “Rach, when was the last time you charged this thing?” Unsure how much time she has before Rachel’s phone dies, Chloe quickly punches in her mom’s number. Joyce is in the middle of her shift at the Two Whales Diner and won’t be home until later, but luckily she picks up. Chloe lets her know that she’s going to hang out at the skate park with Rachel and Maxine on the way home today.

“Can you tell Daddy that Rachel’s coming over?” Chloe adds. There’s a pause while Joyce says something to her daughter on the other end of the call. “Yeah, her dad’s gonna pick her up after work.” Another pause. “Yeah, we’ll be careful. Thanks, Mom. Bye.”

Right as Chloe’s thumb is about to hit the “end call” button, Rachel’s phone gives one last desperate beep before the screen goes black. Chloe mashes the “home” button a few times, but the device is completely dead. She gives it back to Rachel, who zips it up in the front pocket of her backpack.

The school bell rings and, after a minute, the first kids start to make their way out of the building. As usual, Maxine is one of the last to come out. Wearing her Polaroid camera around her neck, Maxine slows to a stop once she gets outside and slowly scans the schoolyard. As soon as she spots Chloe and Rachel, she breaks into a big smile and comes running over.

“Rachel, I didn’t know you were gonna be here today!” Maxine’s happy to see both of her friends and gets an urge to snap a photo. Her hands make their way around her camera.

Rachel loves being in front of the camera just as much as Maxine loves to be behind it. She grabs Chloe by the sleeve, pulling her closer to her, and poses for the little photographer. “Take one of us!”

At the last second before Maxine takes the shot, Chloe smirks and holds up two fingers behind Rachel’s head to give her friend bunny ears. The shutter clicks. The camera whirrs for a second before ejecting a blank white square, which Maxine hurries to stick inside her backpack out of the sunlight.

“Maxine, me and Rachel are gonna skate around for a bit before we go home. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I just got some more film for my camera so I can take pictures.”

The walk to Chloe’s neighborhood isn’t long. It takes less than fifteen minutes to get from the Price house to school, and even less to get to the skate park because it’s right in between. For younger kids and tweens like Chloe, Rachel and Maxine, right after school is the best time to hang out there. They have free reign of the park for thirty minutes to an hour before the high school kids come and take over.

The trio dump their belongings under their usual tree, but only Maxine starts to make herself comfortable. She takes a seat next to her backpack and fiddles with her camera. Chloe takes off running with her board and stands by the line where grass meets concrete, waiting for her friend to finish putting on her skates. “Hey, Rach, I’ll race you to the far fence! No shortcuts and we have to go through the bowl.”

A competitive grin creeps onto Rachel’s face. “Around the rails?”

“Over.”

“You’re on!” Finished with the last knot in her laces, Rachel hurries over to Chloe and they take their marks at the edge of the concrete. “Alright, Price. You ready?”

Chloe places one foot on the deck of her board, the other out and ready to kick off. “Ready… set…”

“Go!” Both girls shout together.

Chloe kicks hard, propelling herself forward and zipping across the stretch of grey.

Whenever Chloe challenges Rachel to a race, Rachel usually beats her. They’ve raced along this same path and the same sequence of obstacles many times in the past. Chloe’s been able to beat Rachel when they decide to go around the rail, but every time they go over it, she loses every single time. After making it through the bowl and back up the ramp, Chloe has to ollie over the railing before reaching the fence. So far, she’s never landed quite right. Her board tends to get away from her and she loses a few seconds catching up to it and hopping back on. Even if she had been ahead up until that moment, this is usually when Rachel gains on her and slides into first place at the very last second.

This whole week, while Rachel’s been busy with clubs and sports, Chloe’s been practicing. She and Maxine have been at the skate park every day so Chloe could work on landing that ollie at full, racing speed. She’s only done it successfully once.

But today she’s feeling kind of confident that she can do it again.

Approaching the edge of the bowl, Chloe brings both feet onto her board, skillfully shifting her weight at just the right moment in order to drop in smoothly. Years of practice with her dad and Maxine by her side and cheering her on allow her to glide back up the opposite end easily and effortlessly. She comes to one of the ramps and propels herself forward as hard as her legs can, the fact that Rachel still hasn’t passed her fueling her confidence and desire to win. Chloe is tempted to look behind her to see how much of a lead she has, but decides it’s not worth the risk of possibly losing her balance or speed.

Up ahead is Chloe’s final obstacle. The boss fight.

The grind rail.

Chloe keeps her speed as she zips forward and, at just the right moment, she pops the back of her board up and soars beautifully over the top of the rail. Her wheels touch back down, hitting the concrete with a satisfying smack! The skateboard wobbles dangerously under her feet. Gritting her teeth, Chloe resists the instinct to jump off to safety and, instead, bends her legs, keeping her weight low and close to the ground. After a moment, her board steadies.

She did it!

Chloe breaks into a huge grin and lets out an exhilarated laugh, only slowing down once she reaches the fence. Her fists pump into the air victoriously and she spins around, ready to rub it in Rachel’s face. “Oh man! Did you see that? Yeah, I’m awesome!”

But Chloe doesn’t get an answer. Rachel’s nowhere to be found.

“Rachel?” Chloe first looks back along their “race track” to make sure her friend’s not lying on the ground injured or something. Squinting her eyes and carefully looking around, she finally spots Rachel in one of the corners of the park with a small group of boys. Chloe recognizes them as boys from her class, one of them being Justin. “Oh, come on.”

Suddenly Chloe doesn’t feel so much like a winner.

Chloe gets back on her board and skates over to where Rachel and the boys are huddled. They’re crowded around one of Justin’s buddies, Chloe thinks his name is Todd or Tatum or something, watching him play a handheld video game. “Uh, Rachel, what gives?”

“Oh, Chloe! Sorry, I was just saying ‘hey’ to everyone,” says Rachel. She kind of smiles at Justin and it makes Chloe want to gag. “Trevor was just showing us his new game.”

Trevor. That’s right. “You totally bailed in the middle of our race.”

“I guess that makes you the winner today!” Rachel’s tone is lighthearted with absolutely no traces of ill-intent.

It gets under Chloe’s skin anyway. “Yeah, it’s not exactly winning if you’re racing against yourself,” she mutters, arms folded across her chest.  

Rachel either doesn’t hear her or pretends not to. “We’re gonna hang over here for a bit. You and Maxine can join us too, if you want.”

Chloe has never heard such an unappealing offer before in her life. “No thanks.”

“Well, all right,” Rachel says, turning back to Trevor’s screen. “Come and get me when it’s time to leave ‘kay?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Grumbling in annoyance, Chloe starts to ride away. Who comes to a skate park to play video games, anyway? She calls out to the group over her shoulder even though she knows they’re probably not listening. “I’ll be over here. Skating. Because, you know, this is a skate park!”

Chloe returns to the grind rail, wanting more than ever to perfect her ollie so that she never loses to Rachel again. Next time they race, whenever that is, Chloe will show her…

But Chloe’s movements are agitated and clumsy. Her feet seem to be in all the wrong places at all the wrong times. She can no longer get her skateboard to do what she wants. Chloe jumps over the rail again and again, but for some reason she’s unable to stick the landing. She tries over and over, until there’s sweat beading on her forehead and she’s completely out of breath. On her final attempt, she doesn’t even make it over. The truck of her board catches on the edge of the rail, tripping her, and she nearly faceplants. Yelling out in frustration, Chloe kicks her skateboard out of the way and gives up trying.

Out of curiosity, Chloe looks over to the corner of the skate park where Rachel and the skater boys were earlier and immediately wishes she hadn’t. Rachel and Justin have broken off from their group and are hanging out a little ways away, just the two of them. Chloe’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but Rachel skates around Justin in slow circles as they talk. Both of them are laughing and smiling and look like they’re having a grand old time.  

Chloe’s seen enough. Stomping on the tail of her board to make it pop into the air, Chloe grabs it and trudges back over to the tree. At least Maxine isn’t into gross boys yet. With a grumpy huff, Chloe flops into the grass next to her younger friend.

“Can you believe her, Maxine?”

Maxine looks up from the photo album of Polaroids in her lap. “What happened?”

“Rachel blew off our race to go hang out with some dumb boys,” Chloe complains. She gestures in their general direction with a thumb. “She’s over there being all lovey-dovey with Justin now.”

“Oh.” Maxine looks across the skate park and watches them for a moment. “Does Justin like Rachel back?”

“Probably,” Chloe scoffs. “She’s smart, popular and she can skate. Why wouldn’t he?”

Maxine hums, absentmindedly fingering the edge of one of her photos. “Is he nice?”

Chloe doesn’t answer right away. When she does, she first heaves out a sigh. “I mean, yeah, he’s not that bad, I guess…” She rolls onto her stomach and starts to pluck out blades of grass. “He’s not, like, a jerk or anything.”

“That’s good, right?”

Chloe’s voice rises in exasperation. “No, Maxine, it’s not good!”

“Chloe.” With concern in her voice, Maxine scoots close to her friend and leans over, trying to look her in the face. Chloe averts her gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Honestly, Chloe doesn’t know how to reply. She doesn’t know why the thought of Rachel and Justin together bothers her so much. Rachel likes Justin. Justin likes Rachel. It’s only been a few months since Rachel moved to Arcadia Bay, but she’s already one of Chloe’s best friends. And as Rachel’s friend, Chloe should be happy for her.

Right?

“I don’t know, Maxine…” sighs Chloe, rolling onto her back again and closing her eyes. “Maybe I’m just tired. My skating’s all funky right now too.”

There’s a familiar click! followed by the mechanical buzzing of gears. Chloe cracks open one eye to find Maxine with her camera pointed at her. Maxine grabs the photo and stows it away in her backpack. “Sorry, it was a really good angle and I thought you looked nice.”

Chloe can’t help but smile a little. “You’re lucky I make a great subject, Caulfield. Even your camera can’t resist my awesomeness.”

Having Maxine around always makes Chloe feel better. For the next few minutes, the two girls spend a moment of calm together as they look through Maxine’s photo album, Maxine showing Chloe all the new photos she added to it this week. The aspiring photographer usually feels a little uncomfortable letting people see her photos, but not when it comes to her best friend. Chloe’s always been supportive of her dream and always has nice things to say about them. It boosts Maxine’s confidence and makes her really happy.

As Maxine’s explaining the funny story behind one of the photos that Chloe pointed out, Rachel comes back to the tree. She skates over and falls gracefully into the grass next to her friends, wearing a sort of giddy, spaced out smile that Chloe and Maxine have never seen before. Rachel waits until both pairs of eyes are on her before she speaks.  

“Guess what!” Rachel practically squeals with excitement. “Justin’s my boyfriend now!”

Maxine’s mouth falls open in surprise. “Wowser, really?”

“He asked me if I wanted to go out with him and I said yes,” Rachel happily retells her story for her friends. Leaning in closer, her voice becomes softer her cheeks turn extra rosy. “We kissed.”

At the mere mention of the kiss, Maxine’s own face becomes strangely warm and she feels kind of embarrassed. At the same time, part of her is in awe at how Rachel’s already experiencing something that seems so grown up. Before Maxine can formulate a response to the announcement, there’s a thump as Chloe kicks at her skateboard, causing it to flop over in the grass. Thump. Chloe uses the toe of her shoe to kick at it again. She keeps her eyes down, staring hard at the chipped design on the bottom of her board, but she can tell that both of her friends have turned to look at her.

“Justin, really?” There’s an edge to Chloe’s voice. “You locked lips with him?”

“What’s wrong with Justin?” Rachel crosses her arms and her tone instantly changes to match Chloe’s. Sensing an oncoming fight, Maxine shrinks and backs away slightly, putting a safer distance between herself and her friends.

“Duh. He’s gross.”

“And just how is he gross, then?”

Chloe dodges the question. She doesn’t have an answer. “You’re not even allowed to have a boyfriend!”

Rachel narrows her eyes and stares defiantly into Chloe’s. “I can have one if I want to, Chloe Price.”

“Oh yeah? What if I tell your dad?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me!”

Rachel turns her back to Chloe and scoots closer to Maxine, flipping her hair over her shoulder and turning her nose up in the air. “Me and Justin are dating and we kissed and that’s that. You need to get over it.”

Chloe’s jaw clenches and her face burns a hot crimson. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near Rachel right now. Standing abruptly, she grabs her skateboard and starts to stalk away. “Whatever, Rachel! You’re the one with… with disgusting boy cooties!”

“Seriously? Cooties?” Rachel rolls her eyes. “If you haven’t noticed, Chloe, we’re not in kindergarten anymore.”

Chloe’s done talking to Rachel and pretends like she’s not there. “I’m gonna drop into the bowl. Are you coming, Maxine?”

Maxine stands, ready to go after Chloe. Before she leaves, she sighs and looks apologetically at Rachel, who’s now fuming in heated silence. “I’ll talk to her, okay?” Maxine half-walks, half-runs to the center of the skate park to the bowl, where Chloe’s already going in and out. Carefully as not to slip and fall, she takes a seat on the edge, letting her legs dangle down. “Chloe, what’s going on? Are you mad at Rachel for kissing Justin?”

“No!” comes the short, angry reply.

“You’re obviously mad at someone.”

Chloe frowns and lets her board come to a stop in the middle of the bottom of the bowl. “I’m not… I’m not mad at her.”

“It sure seems like it,” Maxine tells her. “I mean, you blew up at her right after she told us about it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re taking her side.” Chloe rests one arm on her hip. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, remember?”

“I am your friend!” Maxine says indignantly. “But I’m Rachel’s too, and so are you.”

Chloe growls and kicks off, circling the bottom of the bowl until she gains enough momentum to come up the side and join Maxine at the top. She plops herself down next to her friend and sits there in silence, skateboard lying upside down in her lap. There’s a troubled expression on her face and it looks as though she has something else to say. Maxine waits quietly, just in case.

A couple of minutes pass and neither girl has said a word. Maxine is the first to break the silence. “Chloe?” Her friend gives a halfhearted grunt in response. “Do you want to just go home then?”

“She doesn’t have time for stupid boys!” Chloe suddenly blurts out. Maxine is momentarily confused, but then she realizes that Chloe’s gone back to talking about Rachel. “You know how busy she already is! Add a dumb boyfriend on top of that and she won’t have any time left for us.”

Maxine doesn’t know what to say. She hadn’t considered that possibility until Chloe brought it up. It’s true that she doesn’t get to see Rachel that often because they go to different schools, except some days after school and on weekends sometimes. Maxine would be sad if she never got to spend time with her anymore. “So what do we do?”

“Let’s just get out of here.”

[belphegor1982]

Got tagged by @kikabennet! 

when did you last sing to yourself?

Yesterday, since I’ve currently been awake for an hour and a half. Might have been either “Bonnie Portmore” or “Here’s a Health (To The Company)”. I’ve been putting a lot of shanties and pirates/sailing-related films soundtracks on to draw to (and hopefully write to) lately. (EDIT: Ooops - yep, wrote that yesterday around 11AM, so make that this afternoon; I hummed while I drew along with the first 3 Pirates of the Caribbean soundtracks. It’s so darn hummable.)

if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?

Who was the Man in the Iron Mask!? (I know better than to ask personal/family truths :S Besides, I’m curious.)

(putting the rest under a cut...)

what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

Being able to speak (mostly) and read/write English fluently.

what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?

When my mum was in the hospital with my newborn baby sister, my dad would take me see them, and before that we’d stop for ice cream and a ride on the merry-go-round. That’s what comes to mind when I read “first happy memory”.

if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?

I’d go see my family and friends who live far away a lot more, and eat a lot more of my favourite things.

do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?

I don’t, really ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

describe a person close to your life in detail

The Best Beloved is tallish (1,77m - that’s… 5′10?), with dark brown hair, green eyes, skin that tans easily even in winter, and glasses. …and that’s as much detail as I’m comfortable putting.

do you feel you had a happy childhood?

On the whole, yes. Could’ve done without the bullying at school and the undermining of self-confidence at home, though.

when did you last cry in front of another person?

Don’t remember, so it must be at least a fortnight.

pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them

My dad, who used to sail with a compass. I don’t think he knows much about constellations, but he’s always willing to share memories, even if sometimes he doesn’t remember he’s told them multiple times.

would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?

Probably. I shouldn’t, though. Strangers being by definition strangers, you never know where that information is going and how it might be used (possibly against you).

when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?

We both were tired and ended up going to bed around half past midnight, so no 3AM conversation, but my friend Sandrine last week.

if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?

…I have no idea? I think I’d concentrate really hard on not dying :S

what is your opinion on brown eyes?

Why would it matter tho I have brown eyes and for the longest time I thought they were boring. It doesn’t help that brown hair and eyes are basically the default where I grew up/live. Then I grew up and moved on.

pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally

George Bernard Shaw’s “Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh.” Life is complicated, all about balance between extremes and absolutes. Don’t trust people who tell you the world is grim and serious just because they are. And while getting the giggles at a funeral/wake is inappropriate, it doesn’t mean you’re heartless.

what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?

Wait, What

what would you do with one billion dollars?

I’d keep half a dozen millions for me (car and house debts), my family and my friends, and give the rest to social services, healthcare, and public services in general.

are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?

Ehhh… It’s complicated. I tend to hold grudges when I can remember why, but I rarely do something about it. On the whole I’m pretty “live and let live”.

would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?

Neither, really. I’m too soft for punk, but pastel’s not really my thing either.

how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain

I’m too much of a wuss to even consider getting either, but they look great on other people. When I get a spot on my tongue I wonder how people with a tongue piercing manage to keep it, though. It’s very distracting.

do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?

As a rule, no, but if I work or if I’m invited somewhere I’ll throw on a bit of eyeliner and lipstick. (I should raid my makeup drawer, really, some of my lipstick cases are almost 20 years old and you should NOT do that.)

talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way

In high school I saw a psychologist (junior high was NOT a happy time and the bad stuff just overflowed at one point) and went to an outpatient clinic every Wednesday. They had lots of activities, like painting on silk, various art stuff, and a band, and I loved that band. I was one of the only ones who’d request songs to sing in English. The guitarist introduced me to the Beatles’ “Something”, which I didn’t know, and to this day when I hear this lovely song I think of that guy who had a great smile, a great sense of humour and a great moustache (think George Harrison on Let It Be) who helped me get better.

list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel

Not to brag, but back in my uni days I did go to a number of them - K’s Choice, Coldplay, King Khan And His Shrines, M, Tom McRae are among the ones I remember. And a couple months ago I went to a rock concert with three bands one after the other. I love live music, it feels amazing. It courses through my body, makes me grin like a maniac, and want to jump and flail around just to vent the excess energy. And all this without a single drop of beer! (can’t stand the stuff :P)

who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?

I’d love a letter from the national loto that says “here’s a giant check even though you haven’t scratched a ticket in years” :P More seriously, I LOVE receiving letters from my Internet friends.

do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?

I don’t really have a workspace. I have a desk, which has the desktop screen, keyboard, mouse/graphic tablet, and a whole lot of mess of papers, pens, boxes, and stuff. I can use either that desk or my laptop in my armchair.

what is your night time routine?

Finish watching the movie/tv show, look at Tumblr a bit (and/or stuff on the laptop, like TV Tropes), go to bed, read a bit on my Kindle, kiss the Best Beloved good night, switch off the lights, and try to sleep.

what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?

Anything about my intimate life, thanks.

if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?

I experimented a bit with henna back in the day, but generally I just have haircuts (I have too little hair to risk harming it). I’d like some reddish highlights one day, though.

pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?

Eehhh... I’d rather stay at home and chill :P Okay, I’d take the Best Beloved and my friends Melody, Nico, Sandrine, and Aldric, and head to Marquèze. (wish their website had an English version, it’d be better.) It’s an ecomuseum about local life in the early 1800s/early 1900s, with preserved traditional houses and people showing skills like dyeing fabric, shepherding, making flour (there’s a watermill) and all sorts of cakes and bread and snacks, and an entire day isn’t too much to visit everything.

name three wishes and why you wish for them

I wish:

I had a decently-paying job from home,

my friend Sandrine’s mum were/will be all right (don’t ask),

we had the house extension built already

what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up

We didn’t have Halloween when I was growing up, it really only started to be a thing in earnest a decade or two ago. Although... One time when we lived in Bordeaux, the Best Beloved and I were invited to a housewarming party on Halloween, so people would wear costumes. I went as a witch, with a long black skirt, long-sleeve thing with black lace (-ish), long black and white wig, and of course black lipstick and lots of black around the eyes. The Best Beloved had made a cloak, a scythe of sorts with cardboard and foil, and had a scary death head mask on. We didn’t have a car and the friend lived in Saint-Médard (which is relevant), so we had to ask around the bus drivers for which bus went there.

So picture the two of us dressed as we were, mask and all, well after dark, asking around for the “S&M” bus. Yep :P (People stared at us during the ride, and unlike the Best Beloved, I didn’t have the luxury of a mask to hide my laughter...)

what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?

The only time I got slightly tipsy I went a little pink and apparently talked a little louder than usual. I’ve never got drunk (too afraid of stomachache later) or high (it took my mum two heart attacks to quit smoking and I’m wondering if she hasn’t taken it up again, I can’t hold a cigarette, tobacco or otherwise).

what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?

Hurt people, probably. If I wouldn’t do it for ten dollars I wouldn’t do it for a million - if you agree to one or the other the rest is just haggling over price.

if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?

I don’t think I have the right face shape for that - my face is too round, longer hair suits me better.

what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?

I live 126 km (78 miles) from the nearest Starbucks, when I walk by one the queue is huge, and the prices are well beyond my range :> But I’d trust the Best Beloved. He’d still ask me, though.

what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?

Being happy and/or stress-free. Also the oncoming Papa Bear Awards nominations in a week and the Eurovision Song Context coming up in May :D

Tagging @radarsteddybear, @rose-of-pollux, @truxi-twice, @myrling-art, @iorvethscommando, and @toooldforthisbutstill! :o)

[sakuurae]

wonder years; preview

» summary: Two years passed since Taeyong made it to a celebrity status. As time flew by, so did the distance between you two, marking the relationship with each other as good as strangers. Before he left, a promise was made when you were both young, and after those two long years he came back with intentions to fulfill it.

❀ pairing: celebrity!taeyong & reader insert || childhood friends!au

❀ includes: fluff, light angst

❀ wc: 2.2k for this preview !

❀ note: This fic will be complete fluff except for some ... minor angsty parts, hahaha. I havent written something like this (a hearty fic) on this current blog, so itll be a little different and i hope the finished product will be as enjoyable for you all as it was for me : ) The final product is estimating to be 20k~ words, give or take ... hahaha.

But heres a small preview for now ! It might seem abruptly cut off but i had to do it there since the rest would reveal how the rest of the story will probably go ! Haha. I also havent written anything in a while ... so forgive me if this isnt my prime adfgfkhgl

Im also still not used to putting ‘sakuurae’ on covers hah this is a sign to go back to ‘honeytaeyong’ huh ... lmaooo

Lee Taeyong was the cynosure of attention these days—well, months to be exact. He had risen to stardom expeditiously, and even the media was barely able to keep up alongside his worldwide activities. From country to country he had partnerships and photoshoots; filmings for commercials and parties by other celebrities on the top of the unspoken hierarchy. Deeming him as a busy man was an understatement, and honestly he strongly despised it. Taeyong missed his old, placid life more often than he should, almost as if he never had a peaceful life when he was young and the thought of a calm way of living was a dream he longed for. In fact, his past was seemingly clouded by a grey haze, for he could no longer remember what the sweet taste of fast food was like or even the feeling of spare time in his hands. Rather, the world was entering his grasp as power and fame creeped into his hands, but, of course, great power and fame came little choices—and it was far too late for Taeyong to escape.

Believe it or not, you had known the rising star Taeyong longer than anyone in the showbiz world had ever. Since you were six, and you had film photos as concrete evidence. Every time you saw his face on the screen and not on your hung picture frames you felt proud, happy for your friend; however, there was another sentiment that loomed desolation upon you. Due to Taeyong’s newfound hustle and bustle lifestyle, the messages and calls he would give you became rare—almost as if you were a fan whose luck was tested for a surprise call from his or her favourite celebrity. Needless to say, that disrupted the friendship and you were unsure if Taeyong and you were still as close as before. And the term “close” to describe your old friendship was too subtle.

Recalling the way you met Taeyong was easy, especially since the encounter was unforgettable. During recess when you were six years old you were on the field picking at dandelions to take home, in the distance you heard a boy yell incomprehensible words towards you. Once you looked up, a soccer ball went straight at your face, knocking you over to the grass. As ugly sobs spilled, a teacher accompanied you to the nurse’s office who only gave you a frozen bag of ice and the two empty words of “It’s okay.” The bump that formed on your head was sticking out protrudently so that the slightest touch made you wince in pain. Thinking about the rude boy at the time, you were furious, telling yourself you will never forgive him. But those silent swears were kept to yourself once the same young child that accidentally kicked the soccer ball to your face sneaked into the nurse’s office to release a string of apologies. Tears were prickling at his eyes as if he was the one who got physically hurt and not you, sniffles were not enough to prevent the upcoming sobs, and he was a nervous wreck. You glared at him in annoyance, aching to push him out of the office—maybe even punch—but before you committed to any actions he mumbled, “I’m really sorry.”

Those three words caught your attention; they were more genuine than the nurse who told you your injury was not as bad as you believed, as a result you stared at the flustered kid who kept on saying sorry. Each time you remained silent, tension thickened in the room. Silence ensued as you remained angry, and caused the boy to spit out, “Can I make this up to you somehow?”

Puffing your cheeks out, you declined and left the nurse’s office to sit in the front. That day you thought it was the last you would ever see Taeyong, but the next day he came into your class before lunch break with a can of soda in hand and another apology. Taeyong trailed you for a couple of minutes once lunch started; he took a seat next to you and offered you some carrots as if the item was a token of forgiveness, and you smiled at his gesture. That day you forgave him, and a friendship had formed. Instead of lingering around his friends, Taeyong spent time lingering by you around the slides of the play structure daily. That continued for a long while until junior high, where you would sit at the same table and chat the respite away childish drama.

You used to patronize his home when you were still young, accepting the love and affection from his family as if you were one of their own from day one, and he committed to the same—given the rare times your parents were both home. Since elementary to junior high, all throughout high school, you and Taeyong attended the same school and spent practically everyday pestering one another for fun. After racing to the nearby park where the loser would have to purchase an icy treat, the two of you always sat down on neighboring slides in the play structure and informed each other about the boring day. The closeness was perceptible to everyone: students, teachers, and strangers. Many assumed the guy named Taeyong was your boyfriend, and subsequently raw shock was their reaction when you both denied the claims.

The thought of you dating Taeyong never crossed your mind until he started to drift away from you after high school graduation. There had to be something more than those races and hang outs that were able to be passed off as dates. Half a day was spent next to him typically, which made the week incomplete if failed to do so. You spent an incredible amount of time by his side, and you wondered why Taeyong and you never became an official item. Of course there was something more than a friendship—even if it was never spoken of, an attraction was active. But nothing changed. Often, you wondered if there was such thing as being too close to the point dating was out of the spectrum?

With his burst of fame, gone were the days of you and Taeyong constantly visiting each other’s houses and eating meals together as a complete family, sneaking into his bedroom through his window to finish one new series on Netflix, and subsequently crawling out through the artful entrance to spend the night out in the town. Once Taeyong was able to drive the nights became longer, and rather than freezing in the cold, situated on the park swings struggling to stutter words through the gelid air, you and Taeyong rested in the back seat of his vehicle and talked about all the stupid things in life. Annoying teachers, petulant drama, and words that reflected a broken heart poured from the lips and strengthened the bond. And sometimes when life became too much, a silence by him was all you needed.

Whenever you gawked at Taeyong at three in the morning, tired eyes fighting to remain open, you recalled how he used to be: physically and mentally. The boy who used to have black hair longer than most, a frown etched on his face to convince the universe he was tough, and an array of flannels had transformed into a man that flaunted an extended quiff and a sparkling smile by senior year. Of course you were not the only being who noticed the distinct change; that was how he was scouted to become the successful man he was today.

The night Taeyong told you he had a couple of auditions for minor roles in movies surprised you; in fact, you never suspected such a day would come so soon. You see, Taeyong was always partaking in theatre activities on-campus and off-campus. He earned thespian awards since he began acting extremely merituous, and soon his name was featured on articles and local news. He was the best of the best, and everyone knew. So once he booked a flight out of the country to fulfill his dream, not many were surprised.

However, before Taeyong had left to fulfill his dreams, he made a promise to you: to be able to make you the happiest in the future. It wasn’t like he pledged to marry you in the future or take your hand accompanied by all the love he could spill; he wanted you to be happy alongside him as friends because life at the time was rough. Stress arrived like no other due to testing and college applications. The struggle to maintain nonpareil grades became a competition—the factor that determined the winner of a four year battle to gain valedictorian. Not only, but you and Taeyong were active participants in on-campus and off-campus theatre. Needless to say, you were both incredibly busy—and as all the stress from family and school accumulated, and so much more, the light that was joy had dissipated throughout the years. With parents kept entirely busy committing to their own service, you never had time to see them, which resulted in the element of trust falling short to speak to them about your issues. Taeyong was the only friend you trusted entirely—your heart and mind craved to vent to him whenever something went wrong—and he felt your pain the more you cried out to him in the middle of the night.

To the insane degree that Taeyong cared for you, everything was given to why he promised to make you happy.

His journey to fame was a long process sprawled throughout two years; nonetheless, Taeyong’s name was finally circulating the world like wildfire. Media wanted to feed off his fresh talents and looks, and other celebrities obtained an interest in the dashing man. Event after event, Taeyong was the name that hopped off everyone’s tongue. Acting modernly in prominence, he became closer to fans and created bonds with strangers, and despite Taeyong becoming closer to the whole entire world, the distance was growing rapidly between you two.

⭒ ⭒

The morning was busier than normal at the corner coffee shop you worked at—especially for a Tuesday morning. Most customers tended to be among the range of adults to elderly, but on this specific day there seemed to be clusters of young teenagers, each ordering the most aesthetic drinks from the menu. There was definitely going to be a boost in sales thanks to the younger group, so there had to be a reason for their spontaneous visit. The shop was extremely packed to the point you had no room to think of extra thoughts like those; all you were able to do was focus on drinks. Since the shop is on the compact side and cozier than most, gossip was simple to overhear.

“Did you see him yet?” said an excited girl who was balancing herself on her tiptoes.

Her friend seemed to shake her head, replying, “No, are you sure the tweet was true?”

“It had to be,” said another girl who was a stranger to the two. “It’s from an official news source.”

“Then where is he?” mumbled someone else.

Holding the tea shaker in hand, you stared at the cluster of curious girls, wondering who and what exactly they were referring to. A bump came to your hips from a fellow co-worker who wanted to snap you back to work, your trail of thought ended. “Focus, (y/n),” he ordered.

“Sorry, Ten,” you muttered, continuing to align the cup for the proper order. “Focusing is hard when there’s a bunch of loud customers.”

Ten laughed in agreement. “Apparently it’s because some celebrity is in town.”

“Did you read that from the tweet as well?” you jested, pouring the iced tea into the clear cup.

“Maybe.” He grinned while topping off his order with whipped cream. “I don’t even know what celebrity would have any business here. This town’s tiny, dingy, and quiet. The person’s changing everything.”

Chuckling, you capped the tea and went to the opposite end of the counter. “Kick the person out your town, Ten.” Reading the side of the cup, you read the black marker aloud, “Two large passion fruit iced teas for Johnny!”

The customer approached the counter and grabbed the drinks and grinned at you before reaching onto two straws. Before you were able to offer him a cup holder, he answered a call on his bluetooth and continued onto his day. “Hello, Tae?” said Johnny, who was clad in a casual outfit consisting of a white shirt tucked into black jeans. “Where are you?”

You stared at the man for a short while, the name that left his mouth lingering in your mind. “Tae,” you whispered. “God, the name reminds me of Taeyong.”

“Everything reminds you of Taeyong,” Ten poked fun, raising an eyebrow in a suggestive manner. “You sure the two of you weren’t some item or anything?”

Annoyed, you scoffed and brushed him aside to continue your busy morning at work. “Very funny.”

“Thanks.” Ten smiled. “My second job should probably be a stand-up comedian.”

[livingmybestfictionallife]

As I See It, Yes --Chapter Three

Tag List: @smilexcaptainx, @1-birdie-1, @bubblyanarocks3, @lilo-1398, @broken-pieces, @yessy2012 (sorry if I forgot any of my permanent tags)

“What do you mean they fired you?” Although Dally’s mouth was filled with french fries and hamburger, he thought the instant I finished my anecdote was the best time to reply. “You’re the best dam employee that dump had.” We sat in the Dairy Queen parking lot, me in the driver’s seat with my knees pulled into my chest, and him stretched out across the passenger seat.

“Karen tried to play the sympathy card,” I said as I took a bite of my junior Hunger Buster. “I said I didn’t want anyone’s damn charity and walked out the door. What a dumbass mistake,” I sighed. “She was going to give me paid leave until I left for school.”

“And you walked out on that?” he asked before sucking down his Coke. I could see in his eyes he was silently chastising me for one of the only moments of brash decision making in my life.

“I’m sick of people looking at me as nothing but a charity case,” I snapped, “and I know I messed up and screwed my brothers over, but...” I couldn’t think of where my sentence was going, and luckily, Dallas filled my silence with shrouded support.

“They’re all a bunch of morons,” he said as I slumped down into the driver seat of my car and folded my arms over my chest. “The world’s full of morons and there’s very few people like you and me who recognize them as morons. All the other’s love them for their ignorant arrogance.” I rolled my eyes and pursed my lips tightly before bringing myself to look over at him in the passenger seat. “I bet you can’t wait to get out of here now, huh?” I shrugged again, still feeling numb and indifferent toward everything that was happening.

“I promised Ponyboy I’d take him to a movie,” I s aid while looking at the clock, desperate to change the subject. It was 12:45 no. I had been sitting with Dallas for over an hour, just talking. I took one last small bite of my burger before handing it to him, which he quickly finished off in less than a minute.

“Yeah, I know you did. Try going home and sleeping all this off,” I flinched as he put his hand on my shoulder while offering a short ‘goodbye.’ I wasn’t ready for Dallas to leave. His company was the only thing keeping me from thinking about everything I’d done and regretting the necessary actions I took to defend myself.

“Nah, let’s just see Sodapop, he’ll cheer my up,” I said earnestly. I drove to the DX and waited for my younger brother to come out and offer to pump gas into the car. Dally got out quickly and went inside to talk to Steve while I stayed outside with the golden headed boy before me. I could see a question itching at his throat, but he wouldn’t ask it. I loved Soda because of that. He’s the type of guy that knows something is going on but always takes into account your feelings. He won’t ever force you into saying how you feel; he lets you come to him.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” I said softly while slinging my arm around his shoulder blades. He nodded but I knew he was starting to get anxious. “Hey,” I cooed to try and cheer him up, “nothing’s wrong, okay? Just a little misunderstanding, that’s all.”

“Between who?” He raised his eyebrow skeptically and my arm slid off his back

“Me and some Socs,” I admitted.

“What’d they do?” he asked while finishing up at the pump and leaning against the car. I tried to think of how to word what happened--I hadn’t even really given Dallas the details about why I’d gotten fired. I was afraid of telling the guys of anything like that, of anything that had to do with someone hurting me in any way. I knew they’d beat the hell out of whoever did anything to me, but they’d also treat me like a fragile, easily damaged porcelain doll. “Austin?” Soda said while lowering his eyes at me.

“Nothing,” I chewed on the word, knowing deep down Soda had already figured out my lie.

“Darry isn’t going to be very happy about this,” he said slowly. I ighed and agreed.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine,” I added. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’ve got a little bit of time to kill before I’m meeting Ponyboy at that movie.” We walked inside, feeling the rush of cols air envelope me the second I opened the door. It was a small, cramped little building that had a little bit of merchandise like candy, cokes, chips, a small variety of fishing bait and some car parts, but on days like these, where the sun bakes everything that lives, the little building was a huge escape.

Steve was sitting down in a folding chair and Dallas was leaning against the wall. He was always doing that. I think he likes to look mysterious and alluring so he always leans up against dingy walls in his dark leather in the heat of summer just to resemble this enigma that needs to be unraveled. Soda sat down next to Steve and I lifted myself onto a counter and let my legs dangle over the edge. For a while, it was silent, with Soda thinking through the worst possible situations i could have been in to cause me to lie to him--probably glossing over what happened and actively shoving it from his mind--with Steve picking at his cuticles and Dallas lighting up a cigarette. I noticed he was standing close to an open window and was blowing smoke streams outside. 

“How’s business?” Dally asked while trying to blow a smoke ring into the wind.

“Slow, but it’s just cause it’s too damn hot for people to come out here,” Steve shrugged. He could be a bit of a jerk to me at times--pretty much just acting like I don’t exist from time to time--but I ignore him. He was a bitter guy and I put that behind me although he gets on my nerves when he treats Ponyboy lousy.

“Shouldn’t you be headed to the movies?” Soda asked as his eyes fell on the clock hanging on the wall over Dallas’s head. I glanced in that direction, catching a quick glimpse of Dally’s dark eyes before turning my attention back to Soda and nodding.

“I’ll see you guys later?” I asked while I twirled my keys around my finger and surveyed their faces as each responded with a ‘yes.’ With that assurance, I rushed out of the DX, got back in my car, and made my way toward the movies where Ponyboy was no doubt walking to or waiting at.

As I anticipated, my youngest brother was early and impatiently tapping his foot, probably wondering if I bailed on him. I felt bad for Pony; ever since Mom and Dad died, he’s felt left out and unwanted. He’d always been especially close with Soda, and at least when Mom and Dad were around and Steve would claim a monopoly on the middle Curtis brother, Pony could turn toward our parents, but now I’m the only one who has enough patience to watch movies with him or just sit in silence as we each read our separate books.

“Did you get the tickets?” I asked while running up to meet him on the sidewalk outside of the theatre doors.

“Yeah, did you want any popcorn or a Coke or something?” he offered.

“I’m fine, bud. What about you? Do you want something?” I asked. “My treat!” He shook his head then looked me in the eyes and called me out, wasting no time in beating around the bush.

“I went to the library today. Where were you? That girl you work with told me you were fired. Is it true? What happened?” The kid spat about a million questions at me all at once and I couldn’t help being overwhelmed with his anxieties about my problems.

“Calm down,” I tried to say as we walked into the movie house and made our way down the hall to the theatre. “Some asshole of a Soc started getting wise with me, so I set him straight,” I said with a small, disappointing smirk on my face. I could tell Ponyboy, like Soda earlier, refused to believe the glimpsed truth I gave him. I was kind of thankful that Dallas was the first person I’d told about what happened. He didn’t pester me with questions regarding my vague explanation and didn’t bother to get details. I knew my brothers were dying to continue peppering me with questions until I cracked and gave them the whole truth, but Dallas was never the kind of person to give two shits about something that didn’t directly affect him...and even then he hardly cared.

“You’re hanging around Dal too much,” Ponyboy whispered as we took our seats and the previews began.

“What makes you say that?” I asked him softly.

“Because that’s a Dally excuse for getting in trouble, not an Austin excuse,” he explained before the theatre lights dimmed even more. As soon as the film began to roll, Ponyboy’s posture perked and his eyes were glued to the screen. I tried to ignore the immature kids tossing popcorn at other people’s heads and the couples that started making out, and turned my attention to the movie as well, carefully taking it in one scene at a time.

All in all, it was a good movie. Ponyboy and I always enjoy a good storyline and I’ve always had a secret affinity for billiards. I know it’s nothing to be proud about, but I’ve gotten into the nasty habit of hustling people out of a hundred bucks or so every other week down at Buck Merrill’s place--like I said, I did a little bit of here and there stuff for a but of extra cash to help my brothers.

Ponyboy and I were walking out of the movie house behind everyone else in the careful cluster of people exiting all at once, careful not to draw attention to ourselves. We made it to the ticket booth before I heard someone calling out my brother’s name. Each of us turned toward the kid inside of the glass, ticket box who offered my brother and me a soft smile. “Your brother told me to give yall this,” he said while slipping a piece of paper through the ticket slot. I caught the boy winking at me as I was turning to read the note over Ponyboy’s shoulder.

Had to pick up the car! I’ll keep her safe. --Sodapop Curtis

          P.S. Austin, I hope you don’t mind, but I told the guy at the booth you’re single.

I rolled my eyes at Soda’s postscript and tried to ignore the chuckle coming from Ponyboy’s lungs as we started on the walk home. My brothers have never been satisfied with my romantic life. If I’m not in a relationship, they question it, saying I’m too much of a catch to not have someone pining after me, but judging by the rare occasions where I’ve been in a relationship, they hate whoever I’m with and do everything in their power to understand “why him?” The gang was no better. About a year ago, a guy came up to me in the hall between classes, asking if I wanted to go to some school dance with him and, to my dismay, Two-Bit had been watching. Before I could open my mouth to respond, Two-Bit had his arm wrapped around my waist and his whole body leaned against me in a successful attempt to make the guy asking me out feel awkward and uncomfortable, inevitably scaring him off by unwarrantedly pretending to be my boyfriend. Who knows what would happen if anyone in the gang suddenly decided they thought of me as anything other than Darry, Soda, and Pony’s sister.

Ponyboy and I had been making our way back to the house, each of us lost in our own thoughts, for almost ten minutes. I was careful to keep my thoughts and emotions locked in my heart and head, for fear of what my youngest brother would say if I were to even question my internal conflicts out loud.

“I wish I looked like Paul Newman,” Ponyboy grumbled as he kicked a stone down the sidewalk, voicing the thoughts he’d been wrestling with since seeing the movie.

“I like how you look, Pony. You’re a real handsome gentleman,” I commented. He shrugged and stifled a smile but I knew he was blushing. Maybe he was Bashful and not Johnny. “You look loads better than Paul Newman,” I said proudly. “All of my brothers do.”

“You have a mighty high opinion of us then,” he stated. “Any girl would die if Paul Newman showed up asking to take her to a movie or something.” I sighed and shrugged.

“Any girl would be lucky if a Curtis showed up on her porch looking to take her to a movie,” I said with a smile. “Besides, I don’t understand the obsession with Paul Newman. Brando, James Dean! Damn I could see losing myself over them, but Paul Newman?” An honest laugh came from Ponyboy’s lips and I smiled, knowing I’d succeeded in cheering him up.

“Shoot, you’re better looking than all of us and you don’t have a fella,” Ponyboy said.

“James Dean was my one and only,” I joked, “until Brando comes for me.” Although I still got a laugh out of him, Ponyboy pestered for a real answer.

“I’m serious,” he sighed, “if you can’t get anyone, why should I think I can?”

“Because, Pony, you’re sweet and kind and a good looking kid. I’m leaving soon so starting something with someone doesn’t make any sense to me. Besides, it’s not like I don’t have any interests,” I said while playfully hitting his arm. He rolled his eyes at me.

“Brando doesn’t count,” he muttered as we kept walking, kicking the rock back and forth between each other for another mile before I bent over and picked it up. I held the rock firmly in my hand, overly aware of the car that was following us. We were almost home. Only a little further to go on Independence before we reached our house, but trouble was already looking for us and didn’t want to wait any longer.

“Are they still following us?” Pony asked quickly. I knew he could sense a change in the way I carried myself, but I didn’t think he had noticed the baby blue mustang that had suspiciously driven past us twice now. I nodded in response.

“Don’t turn around,” I stated. “Keep going this pace and don’t run until we’re where they can’t drive after us.”

“Cut through the alley,” he said while turning quick enough to startle me but not enough to look unnatural. To our dismay, the car was able to follow us down the alley. I heard them park and a hoard of guys rushed after us.

“Run,” I muttered under my breath to my brother. Each of us took off, our feet colliding painfully with the pavement as we tried to get closer to home. With the end of the alley’s cover came sunshine and exposure--publicity. Ponyboy had made it out and I was almost there before I felt someone’s hands fall heavily on my hips and shove me against the side of a building.

“Here she is, fellas!” the voice was too familiar and rage swelled in me again. “The broad from the library.” I looked over to see two Socs standing over my brother with one of their knees driven into his stomach.

“Back off, asshole,” I snapped at him and drove my fist into his jaw hard enough to free myself for a moment, not hardly long enough to reach Ponyboy, but for just enough time to run into the cover of sunlight only to be tackled to the ground by the guy I recognized as Lawrence. I was closer to Pony now. If he and I were to stretch out, our fingers could have touched, but there we were, suffering alone for the other to witness. I wished I had something better than a stupid piece of gravel to defend myself with, but I knew I could make do with what I had.

“Try and run now, bitch!” Lawrence snapped as his open hand came crashing down on the side of my face. I writhed against his hold and was able to shimmy part of myself free, but my nearly overpowering him only lead to another Soc aiding Lawrence in pinning me to the ground.

“Get off of me!” I shrieked.

“Shut her up,” Lawrence instructed the other guy who then pulled a bright red bandana from his back pocket. Shit, I thought to myself while trying to steal a glance at Ponyboy. He was struggling to breathe under the weight of the Soc’s knee and I could see a knife being placed against his neck. SHIT. Quickly, I pulled my knees up to rock Lawrence off my stomach, slammed his head against my shoulder, and kicked him off me for only a matter of seconds. It was in those few seconds that I was able to sit up and hurl the stone in my hand at the small gathering of Socs that loomed over my little brother. As soon as I heard a shout of pain, I gasped. Lawrence had thrown himself back on top of me, this time shoving me across the pavement, scraping my back, shoulders, and elbows, and laying into me in a way that meant only one thing.

“Soda! Darry! Someone help!” I could hear Ponyboy screaming. At that point I could only see one of the four hovered over him. I knew Lawrence was lying on top of me, but I didn’t know where the others were until I felt two hands on each of my ankles and shins, holding me against the ground. Lawrence had gotten a hold of my wrists in one of his hands and held them above my head, shoving my knuckles into the burning asphalt. He was sitting on my stomach, keeping me from breathing in as much as I could, and lowering his lips to my neck and face. I was writhing against his hold, trying anything I could think of to get loose. I kicked and punched until I became so enraged a scream I do not remember leaving my body pierced the neighborhood. I could hear a voice go on for miles...my voice. Nothing was working. I could only overpower so many for so long before exhaustion would set in. I wanted to be stronger, to be able to break his nose or do some sort of significant damage, but I couldn’t. All I could do was swing my elbows and hope for the best, but even then, Lawrence had such a tight grip on my hands and wrists that moving seemed relatively impossible. I was able to momentarily free my right arm and swung a hard fist into the bridge of his nose. Finally, I sighed to myself as I watched blood pool from his nostrils, but having a bloody, possibly broken nose did nothing to slow Lawrence’s pace. If anything, it made him more dedicated to hurting me in the way he had planned.

Lawrence grabbed me again but this time instructed one of the guys holding my legs to hold down my arms instead. His face lowered towards mine again, and I knew this time he wasn’t looking to breath hot threats against my skin. His free hand had traveled along my shirt and was desperately trying to untuck it from my jeans--struggling only because he was sitting on top of it, hindering its release. I turned my head and sealed my eyes shut, not wanting to see his face as I continued to shake and push and kick in every attempt to free myself. The second his lips touched my skin I recoiled into the earth. I could handle the pain from my burning skin and the flesh that was torn away from my body, but the hate filled kisses, the biting against my neck, smearing blood over my body, and the unsettling violation of his fingertips tracing my bare stomach up to my breasts broke me. 

“SODA! DARRY! DALLAS!” I felt another hand strike my face in the same spot someone’s had before.

“No one’s going to hear you, you little bitch!” As soon as he finished his words, a black boot slammed into Lawrence’s side and he rolled off of me, coughing while rushing to get up and retreat to his car.

“Call her a bitch again and see what happens,” someone growled while catching up to Lawrence, slamming his body against the wall, and punching him in the ribs about a million times before throwing him toward the car where the other Socs had scampered off to.

I remained on the pavement, wheezing as I tried to take in as much as possible and correct my appearance in hopes that none of my brothers or our friends could see me in such a vulnerable state.

“Austin!” Ponyboy yelled while running to me, pushing his way past Soda and Darry, who had flocked to him after seeing the Socs run off. I looked up and saw Two-Bit and Dallas walking toward us while Steve was further into the alley after having thrown bricks at the Socs as they drove away. I tried to stand but found myself getting dizzy the second I say up.

“You okay kid?” I asked him as soon as he stumbled up to me. 

“You’re the one covered in blood,” he said, obviously pretending like he hadn’t seen what was about to happen.

“Yeah, but it’s not mine,” I stated. “That’s yours,” I finished while trying to point at his neck while feeling my legs turn to noodles the second I tried to stand. I could feel a pair of arms wrap around my side and saw Two-Bit slinging my arm over his shoulder to help me stand.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly into my ear. “They didn’t... hurt you, did they?” I shook my head ‘no’ but I wasn’t sure which one of his questions I was answering. Either way it felt like a lie.

“You’re elbow is cut up bad,” Steve remarked. I tried to turn my arm to look at it but couldn’t hold it up long enough to see.

“Must have sliced it on that guy’s teeth,” I stated, trying my hardest to keep from stammering.

“Let’s get them in the house,” I heard Darry say, Looking up I only grew angrier, not only at the Socs, but at myself. We were practically in our front lawn when they jumped us. I had known for a while that this town wasn’t safe--hell, growing up with Dally I knew the stupid things teenage boys liked to do--but I wasn’t sure just how far the Socs were willing to go until now. After walking up the porch and falling into the couch beside Two-Bit, I leaned was overly aware of the eyes locked on me and the looks of pity that came with them. Darry was on a hunt for bandages and Soda was busy coaxing Ponyboy down from near tears while Johnny sat beside them, trying to hide his own fear from when he was jumped about a month ago; Steve sat across from Soda and Pony, keeping an eye on the door in case the car decided to come back for us, and Dallas stormed through the house trying to help Darry search for our first aid kit--a couple band-aids, a safety pin, needle, cigarette lighter, antiseptic, and a makeshift bite-guard incase the pain from stitching up your own wounds got to be too much--and a washcloth. I could hear Dally cursing up and down the halls, and working up a real fury about Socs in general and specifics.

“Ole Dal’s pissed for sure,” Johnny said. “I ain’t ever seen him so gosh darn mad.”

“Well, that’s cause ain’t no one ever messed with Austin before. It’s always one of us. He did put one of the Socs that got you in the hospital though,” Two-Bit commented.

 “He ‘bout near bashed that guy’s ribs in with a clean sweep of the boot,” Johnny exclaimed.

“He broke the kid’s ribs for sure,” Two-Bit commented. 

“I’m glad he doesn’t know the kids by name though. He’d do a whole lot more than break a few ribs given what they were trying to--”

“Steve,” Soda hissed. I averted my eyes from my brother chastising his friend for almost saying exactly what was about to happen.

“Is reality too real for you, Soda?” I asked in an all to harsh tone. As soon as the words left my mouth I bit my lip and apologized. His face had dropped and his eyes began to gleam with guilt and sorrow and I knew he was more sensitive than Ponyboy, they were both more sensitive than I was for that matter. After my apology, I turned away from the group and retreated in my room. Not wanting to deal with the humiliation and not wanting to be treated like a piece of porcelain.

I didn’t want to crawl into my bed with blood and dirt all over me, so I dropped to the floor and leaned against the wall. I supposed fighting for my life caused enough of an adrenaline spike to keep me from feeling the pain in my back caused by road-rash. I was quick to peel my back from the wall and chewed my lip once more, refusing to cry. I didn’t want to distract myself with a book. I wanted to disappear, and for once I didn’t want to temporarily disappear into another world. I wanted to fall off the edge of the earth and never be heard from again, but I had too many people counting on me, too many responsibilities and promises to do that, and so I sat and bit my lip, and held it all in until there was a knock at my door.

“You okay?” Darry asked as he leaned against the small desk in the front of my bedroom. Those two words contained so much care and concern and yet I was so mad at him for asking. Does it look like I’m okay? Do you think being jumped on, dehumanized, and blatantly used as nothing more than a piece of flesh--in front of my little brother--something I’d come away from as being just peachy? How thick do you have to be to see I’m living a personal hell? I wanted to say those things, but remembering how I hurt Soda made me realize that, like me, my brothers have no idea on how to handle a situation like this. They don’t know what to ask, they don’t know what to say. They’re doing the best they can.

“I’m fine,” I said apathetically. I knew holding onto everything would drive me to an early grave, but it would save them in the long run, right? “How was work?” I tried to shake off the awkwardness, tried to keep Darry from seeing my weaknesses.

“Austin,” he murmured, “Cut it out.” The color in his cheeks was flushed with guilt and fear of what would have happened if the gang had showed up too late. “How did this happen?”

“The same way it always happens with us, same as Johnny. We were minding our own business, walking home, and they saw a teenage kid and a defenseless looking girl and attacked. What else could it have been?” I asked while holding my arms close to my body. Darry shook his head disapprovingly.

“You and I both know Johnny is much quieter than you, Austin. What really happened?” he stated while narrowing his brow at me.

“A couple of Socs were giving her a hard time at work. She let ‘em have a piece of her mind and they found her later and jumped her.” I looked past Darry, who had spun to see who was talking although we both knew it was Dally. He dind’t have his same matter-of-fact tone that resonated with everything Dallas Winston said. Instead, he seemed to posses a distinctive hatred toward the Socs, one I had never been keenly aware of. I knew Dallas hated Socs, mostly ebcause of what they did to Johnny, partly because of their easy-going, care free lives, but this was a new rendition of hatred. “Don’t worry about it Darry, she’s got it all under control,” Dallas tried to say, but Darry’s heart rate was rising. I could see the veins in his temples pulsing quicker and quicker as the seconds passed.

“Under control? Does this look like she’s got it under control?!” I tried not to pay attention to my older brother drilling into Dallas but I couldn’t look away. Here were the two people who knew me in many different ways than the other did, going at one another over me. “I know you know what could have happened! What they would have done to her!”

“I do!” Dallas snapped, “but you know no one in the gang would let that happen!” I could feel my jaw clench as I sat on the floor, trying to ignore the beating around the bush that both Dallas and Darry were doing.

“What if we aren’t there to help her next time?” Darry asked, his hard eyes driving into Dallas’ icy brown ones.

“Stop,” I demanded. “Darry, you can’t handle any more stress so let’s just put this behind us.”

“Put it behind us?” he gasped while narrowing his eyes at me like Dad used to on the rare occasions he was mad--it seemed like Darry had more of those in the past year than Dad ever did. “Austin, you were--”

“Almost raped? Go on, say it! I’m not a kid, Darrel. I’m only a year and half younger than you! I know shit. I know what could have happened, and I know all of you guys are going to lose your damn minds if you don’t get over it. Just let it go and move on. I’ll be fine and if I’m not, then I’ll talk to someone, okay?” Darry’s soft blue eyes fell on me. I never really yelled at him before, sure when we were kids I’d yell at him for stealing my turn on a toy or pushing me down during flag football, but never in defiance of him. He knew I could be harsh and jaded and he knew I had my own way of dealing with things. I could see the gears click as he finally realized I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about feeling powerless or weak. I didn’t want to think about how far Lawrence would have gotten had Dallas not punted him off of me. I didn’t want to do much of anything, but I didn’t have a choice about that. Darry knew talking about what happened was my choice and so he dropped it. Before he could open his mouth, Two-Bit started howling wildly down the hall while Sodapop’s voice became gravel-like as he struggled for breath. He rolled his eyes at their immaturity and assumed Pony had been feeling better, then ran down the hall without a moment’s hesitation, yelling for Dal to take over with my first aid as he went to break up a wrestling match, no doubt a side effect of becoming a father figure over night.

It took all of five seconds after Darry went down the hall for Dallas to turn to me and lower his eyes. “Cut the bullshit, Austin. If you’re afraid or upset, say it,” Dally demanded while taking up the entire doorway with his tall frame.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Dal,” I stated.

“Would you?” he asked in response.

“Should I?” I pestered him.

“I just figured you didn’t want to say anything in front of Darry,” he said while slumping into my room. I narrowed my gaze at him as he stood closer to me.

“And you think I’d talk to you first?” I asked hesitantly.

“Well, you usually do.” Dallas had put himself on the ground beside me and started to dab the damp washcloth against my back where the ground tore through my already worn out shirt, and the back of my elbow where I was bleeding. The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right. I did go to Dally before telling my brothers about a lot of things. For years I’d found him to be a better confidant than anyone else. He’s cool and collected and can keep his damned mouth shut. Even this morning, I only wanted to get my worries off my chest to him before having to tell my brothers about getting fired.

After the stinging of him cleaning out my scrapes, cuts, and gashes with the antiseptic, he patched up as much as he could and never spoke another word about who the Socs were or what he’d do to them if he ever saw them again, nor did he pester me about whether or not I was okay. “Look, I talked to Johnny and Pony about going to the drive-in to see a movie. You coming?” The invitation came out of nowhere and I nodded, completely caught off guard.

“I guess for a bit,” I said in a soft voice. He nodded as he stood from the floor and offered me a hand. I took it and he hoisted me from the ground before leaning in the doorframe and looking back at me.

“Don’t worry about any more Socs tonight,” he said while looking directly into my eyes, something Dal didn’t do too often with anyone. “They’re dead if they think of touching you again.” Once he finished his words, Dallas jolted his body off the doorframe and wandered toward the living room. I inhaled deeply and then let it out slowly, trying to regain composure before rejoining the gang.

“Hey Dal,” I called out to him before he reached the end of the hall. “I’m okay, really,” I said to him and him alone. I knew what Dallas Winston was capable of and despite how much I hated Lawrence and his friends for the shit they put me through today, no one deserved what Dally could dish out. He nodded his head once and lowered his face closer to mine, closing the four or five inch height gap between us and whispered.

“Sure you are.” There wasn’t an arrogance or an I-told-you-so feeling, just a statement that made me feel...normal. 

I followed Dallas back into the living room and dropped down in front of Soda. I never asked him to rub my shoulders like Darry almost always did, but he always did it anyway. I let my head fall onto my knees and my eyes droop closed. It was nice to just focus on breathing and nothing else , at least for the long moments that my brother’s fingers pushed away the knots under my skin. I focused on the motions of his knuckles and fingers, hearing the dull roar of socializing in the background. Dallas, Johnny, and Ponyboy discussed movie options for tonight. Two-Bit said he would try and come it he wasn’t too drunk by then. Steve was having a conversation with Soda about taking Evie and Sandy out tonight, and Darry was on the phone in the kitchen with the neighbors. Apparently they had watched the attack and wanted to make sure Ponyboy and I were okay. They were much older folks--one used a walker to get around and the other was practically confined to a wheelchair, so I didn’t blame them for not helping. There wasn’t much they could do; in fact, there was nothing they could do that wouldn’t put them in danger.

“The Jefferson’s wanted to make sure you were okay,” Darry said over the noise of the six other voices. “They’re making a lasagna that they wanted me to pick up and bring over tonight,” he added while coming closer and lowering his voice so that the guys wouldn’t hear. I knew he would tell Johnny later. We always shared with Johnny. He had the hardest time finding shelter and food on nights when his parents were fighting. I understand  where Darry is coming from in feeling that he has to help everyone when he gets the chance. I feel that ways too, but sometimes we can hardly provide for ourselves let alone the other four.

It wasn’t too much later that Soda and Steve were off getting ready for their dates, Two-Bit was headed to a party down at Buck’s place, and Darry was lounging in his chair, waiting for me, Pony, Johnny, and Dallas to leave the house already. “You ready to go, Johnny?” Dallas asked the smaller body next to him. Johnny Cade nodded and stood, pulling his denim jacket on and shoving his hands in the pockets.

“Wait, isn’t Two-Bit meeting us?” I asked.

“When he’s good and buzzed,” Pony laughed. He had only drank a couple of times under my supervison. One time we were at a party and he asked if he could try some of his friend’s beer, he ended up hating it, but another time, we invited Two-Bit over to play King’s Cup while Darry was out of town, and we had hard cider instead--which in my experience tastes better. Apparently Curtis’s have a moderately high tolerance for alcohol, so when Two-Bit was rolling on the floor, laughing drunk, Pony and I were just a bit buzzed. Soda is a little more of a lightweight than us when it comes to beers...I guess we all have our weaknesses.

“Be careful,” Darry called after us. I nodded and filed out the door behind the others.

“Darry,” I chirped before closing the door behind me. “You don’t care if I go to Buck’s afterward, do you?” his eyes narrowed at me for what felt like the millionth time today.

“Austin,” he scolded, “you know what you’re doing is dangerous, right?” I nodded. “And that you could get badly hurt?”

“Two-Bit is there right now and I bet he’d want to go back, besides, Buck knows and understands. He’s okay with it and never lets things get out of hand.” Darry frowned a little and folded his muscular arms over his chiseled torso. “We need the money.” The simple statement of truth was all that I needed to say to change his mind.

“Fine,” he said, trying to seem reluctant. I knew he took some pride in teaching me how to hustle in billiards, but he wasn’t too happy with me turning it into a way to make ends meet. I hugged him quickly and then jogged down the street toward the others as they walked toward the drive-in theatre.

[tobns]

                              𝒮𝐸𝒱𝐸𝒩 𝑀𝐼𝐿𝐸 𝒟𝐸𝒞𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅

Jen disappears as quickly as she’d entered, my head falling back against the top of the couch and a sigh leaving my lips. I’ve been dreading this very moment for the last five and a half months, and it’s finally here.

The moment when the loneliness either ends, or really and truly begins.

                           "December days, with my heart like the weather:                                       Cold and unpredictable to me                                            Unpredictable to you..." 

                                                             . . .

                                                   ALEXANDER

“Now that the tour is finished, what’s next for you?”

The interviewer in front of me ever so slightly cocks an eyebrow as she smiles, thrusting her phone back in my direction to capture my answer. I find the gesture intrusive and relatively unprofessional; usually, regardless of the end result’s format, interviews are filmed, not treated as though they’re legal statements being gathered on the steps of a courthouse. Whatever qualm I have with how she does her job doesn’t slip through my façade. I simply rest my hand on top of my ankle, leaning back into the couch.

“Well, I’m headed back home,” I reply after I pretend to ponder her question, my response coming right off the pages of approved statements my publicist has provided me with for interviews. “Spend some time with my family, enjoy being on break.”

She beams, lowering the phone. “You certainly have earned yourself a break, Mr. Ludwig.”

My reminder is gentle in a last-ditch effort to make this whole encounter feel a little more casual than it has been. “It’s Alexander.”

“Right, Alexander,” she corrects. The phone is retracted, and she slides it open to stop the voice memo she’s been recording for the last three minutes. “Thank you so much for sitting down with me, and after your set at that. I know you’re probably eager to get going.”

Not really, I think. Try the exact opposite of that. Who schedules an interview after their concert is over, other than someone who’s trying desperately to delay the inevitable?

Her hand is outstretched, and it takes me a second to realize she’s waiting on me to take it. The handshake I give her is loose and noncommittal, but she doesn’t seem to make any note of it. Probably writing it off as fatigue now that I’m through with the biggest tour of my career, something that she’d deem understandable despite not understanding a single thing about it.

As she leaves my dressing room, escorted by security, I feel myself unravel a little as I slump back into the couch. Touring is not a lonely job, but it evokes a lot of lonely feelings, feelings that I’ve been treading in. As my tour manager, Jen, would tell me, I only do it to myself – I don’t actively try to remedy the loneliness, I just wallow around in it. She’d also tell me that I do a shit job picking my company when I decide that I need it, but I didn’t hire her to point out all of my flaws.

So much as think of the devil and she shall appear, as Jen’s head pops in the door the interviewer has just exited moments ago. “We’re rolling out in fifteen,” she informs me bluntly, her eyes only bothering to meet mine in one short glance. Maybe I’m hallucinating, but it seems like the bags underneath her eyes have grown darker in the last few hours. We’re paces away from reaching the light at the end of the tunnel that has been this tour, which for my team is an uninterrupted twelve-hour sleep in an actual bed.

Jen disappears as quickly as she’d entered, my head falling back against the top of the couch and a sigh leaving my lips. I’ve been dreading this very moment for the last five and a half months, and it’s finally here.

The moment when the loneliness either ends, or really and truly begins.

My dressing room is in total disarray, despite it only serving a purpose for a handful of hours. Water bottles, guitar picks, and spare backstage access lanyards (Jen picked up the habit of simply throwing them at me before each show since she wanted no part in what I’d do with them) are strewn about, three different pairs of shoes scattered across the room and my personal guitar resting up against the wall. I do my best to take my time cleaning up the mess I’ve apparently made – if they’d wanted faster results, Jen should have hired someone to pick up behind me – an anvil sinking lower and lower into my stomach with every step I take.

As I go to put my guitar back in its case, something glints up at me from the velvet lining. The immediate instinct is to slam my guitar down on top of it, close the case, and hand it off to Dayo so I don’t have that blood on my hands. I instead find myself frozen, staring down at a reminder and a death sentence all in one for what feels like an eternity.

The door opens from behind me, Dayo’s voice breaking me from whatever dark reverie I’d fallen prey to. “Dude, you ready to go or what? Jen’s about two minutes away from leaving your ass to hitchhike.”

I turn my head, somewhat startled by the interruption. “Yeah,” I reply, blinking a few times as I come back to. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Before I’ve got time to regret it, I grab the ring out of the guitar case and shove it in the back pocket of my jeans. My guitar goes back into the case, and I slam the lid shut, flipping the locks on it before passing it to Dayo.

“I’m your security,” he laments with an eye roll. “Not a bag lady.”

“Coulda fooled me,” I tease him, lips curling back into a toothy grin as I pass through the doorway in front of him.

Everything has thinned out, very few people left to bump into on my way out to the venue’s garage. True to Dayo’s word, Jen is waiting impatiently by the bus door, arms folded over her chest as she glares at me. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you were late to your own damn funeral,” she tells me, voice scathing. I roll my eyes as I brush past her, pulling the handle on the door open.

“Lucky for you, you’re rid of me the minute we get back to New York.”

I board the bus with Jen and Dayo right on my heels. I’ve accidentally left the television on in the living area, the low sounds of the The Hurt Locker menu screen humming throughout the room. It goes ignored as I beeline to the backroom, not in the mood to deal with Jen now that she’s clearly on the downhill slope or to attempt to conjure small talk with Dayo. Neither of them follow me either, leaving me be. The two of them know, I’m sure, what my own mood’s decline is attributed to.

I sit from the couch opposite my bed, forehead pressed against the glass as the bus stirs to life and I watch Nashville grow farther and farther out of my sight. The lights outside are dimmed by the dark tint of the window, white line dividers rolling underneath the bus in a film reel that stretches for miles and miles and has only one ending in sight – not the happily ever after kind either, I’m sure. Jen and Dayo’s voices are nothing but murmurs, background noise as they discuss god only knows what without me and pierce the bubble of silence surrounding me. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Jen’s more than ready to be relieved of her Alexander duties. Dayo, unfortunately, never gets a break.

On the windowsill, I spot my phone lighting up with a new notification. Picking it up and tilting it in my direction, I can see it’s an email notification from Mark, more than likely a group email with thanks he forgot to hand out and a few post-tour reminders. Post-tour. It’s a chalky pill to try and swallow down as is; add in the dry mouth the thought of tour’s ending continually gives me and my body’s rejection can’t get much more black and white.

The background of my phone strikes a chord of pain down through my heartstrings, and I instantly feel bad for having dreaded this moment for days, weeks, even months. I keep trying to force the pill down my throat that it is back to reality for me as I unlock my phone, tapping on the message app.

It takes a few moments to formulate words, and it takes a few more moments after that to pick and choose which of those words will give me the least amount of grief.

ME: I’ll be home tomorrow.

There’s no response, but I’d only be setting myself up to be severely disappointed if I expected otherwise.

                                                        ISABELLE

I genuinely do not know which is more taxing, chasing after a six-year-old or chasing after Jack Quaid, both of whom are hopped up on a sugar high.

“Jackie, can you please come collect your fiancé?” I beg, leaning up against the kitchen counter as the heels of my hands drag down the side of my face. “I can barely handle my own child, much less when yours decides to join in and encourage bad behavior.”

Red hair slices through the air as my best friend tears her sight away from the laptop where her recipe is pulled up to shoot me a look riddled in exasperation. “Honey, don’t you think if there was a way to control him, I would have figured it out before I let him put a ring on my finger?”

I’ve known Jackie since my freshman year of college – we were roommates at Columbia, product of the one good stroke of luck I’ve ever had in my life. I’d been a bit apprehensive about letting the randomizer pick for me after I’d gotten my building assignment in Furnald (there are no two-in-a-row miracles, I have since learned) and discovered I’d gotten a double, but it worked out better than I ever could have hoped. We were each other’s lifelines at school, both not knowing a single soul in the city. Jackie and I were thick as thieves by the time the second week of classes had ended, and we were going home with one another once fall break rolled around. She’s been my best friend ever since; roommates every single year until I got married, a bridesmaid at my wedding, the godmother to my child, and the source of all my sanity, Jackie is the person I cannot imagine my life without.

Jack, her fiancé, is an entirely different story. We didn’t meet him until we were sophomores and he was a junior, living four doors down from us. He was also the only person on our hall who understood statistics, meaning that we practically lived in his room so he could keep us from falling prey to mental breakdowns and try to make sense of what may as well have been another language. He’d seen us at our breaking points, and that sort of bonding pretty much solidified our friendship with him. He and Jackie didn’t start dating until she was a senior, despite me telling her over Christmas break sophomore year that they were meant for one another. While I consider him something like an older brother, Jack I’m sure I could live without, especially on the days when he does nothing but exacerbate my child when she’s hyper.

“It’s not too late to take it back,” I offer up hopefully. “I can retract my blessing.” Jack had been very diligent before proposing, making sure he had both Jackie’s dad and my blessing before he got down on one knee. The gesture was sweet, but it’s moments like these that plant tiny seeds of regret.

Jackie snorts, rolling her eyes. “Over his dead body.”

“That can be arranged too.”

She goes back to the mixing bowl, index finger trailing down the screen of the laptop to figure out what ingredient goes next in her fourth batch of cookies. “Just take a breath, Iz, you aren’t gonna have to deal with either of them for much longer. I’m the one who’s gonna have to put up with the sugar high and the subsequent crash.”

“And I get the alternative,” I mutter, glancing down at my fingernails.

The mood around us quickly shifts, Jackie's voice dropping a little as she speaks. “What time is that arriving?”

I shrug. “Dunno. Sometime this afternoon, I didn’t get a specific time of when the plane landed.” Looking past Jackie, my eyes flit over the digital clock on top of the oven before falling back down towards the floor. “Any minute now, I guess.”  

Jackie sets down the measuring cup with a dull thud, both hands flat on the surface of the counter as she turns to look at me. “Are you sure you don’t want me or Jack to stay with you?” she asks solemnly. “Or you can just leave with us; I can dump this in the trash, we’ll get out of here before he even hits the city limits, won’t be the wiser.”

I shake my head, still avoiding her gaze and focused intently on the hardwood's pattern. “No, it’s okay. There’s not much more avoiding to be done at this point.”

One of her hands leaves the counter, resting on my shoulder lightly. “It’s gonna be okay, Belly,” she tries to reassure me, a hopeful glimmer of a smile on her face when I dare to look up.

Forcing my lips up into a grin, the only optimism that I can conjure up to appease Jackie cheap and plastic. “Yeah, it’ll be alright.” I don’t know if I’m trying to convince either her or myself with this statement, but I do a terrible job of selling it regardless.

“It will be,” Jackie repeats. “But, we said we weren’t gonna dwell on it until it literally lands on the doorstep. Now hop in here and help me resume your stress baking.”  

I’d known that this day was lurking on the horizon for weeks now, the anxiety building with every passing mark on the calendar. Me trying to be proactive, I had put Jackie and Jack on reserve for today, knowing that their company would be the only thing preventing me from flying off the handle – Jack could entertain my kid (logic that I’m now starting to question) and Jackie could keep me occupied until there was no more avoiding the inevitable. The stress baking, however, had started somewhere around four am when I concluded that sleep was simply not a possibility and a person could only stare at the ceiling for so long before driving themselves out of their mind. I needed to keep myself busy. If I was busy, then I wasn’t thinking, and not thinking is a lot safer when it comes to certain things in my world.  

Jackie had been all too happy to team up with me in the kitchen, and Jack had been all too thrilled to start taste-testing.

Taking over for Jackie at the mixing bowl, I feel a little bit better once I put my hands back to work. Jackie goes back over to oven where our most recent batch of brownies is baking, pulling them out to stab a toothpick through the center. We’ve really outdone Betty Crocker, clearing through several batches of cookies, brownies, cupcakes, and anything else that I have the ingredients for. The only thing we didn’t make was lunch, putting Jack to work and sending him to go pick up our takeout order.

For the most part, the kitchen is quiet, save for the occasional noise coming from the other room every so often. Jackie and I just orbit around one another wordlessly as we work. There’s never been much need for words when the two of us are around one another, seeing as how we’re usually on the same wavelength. Entire conversations have been had before just in our locked eyes alone.

I’m scooping out vanilla chai sugar cookie dough from the bowl with a tablespoon and transferring it over to the same cookie sheet I’ve been using for the last few hours when our kitchen’s bubble of silence is pierced. The sounds of laughter grow louder, footsteps heavy and rapid as they approach.

“Momma, momma!” Like a stray bullet, my six-year-old daughter comes careening through the kitchen with Jack hot on her heels, dark hair fanning out behind her and the ribbons I’d tied in her French braid pigtails already unfurling down her back. She bulldozes straight into my legs, giggling as she positions herself so I’m now standing between her and Jack. Jack has absolutely no interest in going through me to get to her; if anything, he’s only chased her in here so he can swipe another one of the pumpkin chocolate chip cookies that haven’t been out of the oven for twenty minutes yet.

“What, baby?” I ask, giving Jack a look. He simply shrugs, wicked grin snapping onto his face when he spots a small head peeking around my waist. She erupts into another fit of laughs. “Have you not worn Uncle Jack out yet?”

“Of course not,” Jack finishes for her. “There are no quitters; I just came in here to get a little recharge.” As though he’s trying to prove his point, he takes a large bite out of the cookie. His eyebrows raise in question. “What about you, Noelle? Tired yet?” he sings.

I swivel my head around so I can get a glimpse of her, still hiding behind me. “Nuh-uh,” she replies, both rows of teeth bared as she grins. Just looking at the smile on her face is enough to ease my nerves a little, a wave of serenity brushing over me for a split second. Noelle has always been the eye of any storm I find myself trudging through – all I need is one look at the little girl with freckles splattered across her cheeks, minty eyes and a straggled grin that calls me Momma and there’s nothing in this world that can get under my skin.

“I thought you still had a nap time,” Jack muses teasingly, giving Noelle a look as he continues finishing off his cookie. A shrill noise of outrage comes from behind me, and when I look down, I see that she’s got her tongue stuck out.

“Nuh-uh!” she repeats, much more insistently this time. “I’m a big girl now, Uncle Jack.”

He nods slowly. “Right, ‘course you are.”

“Uncle Jack’s just jealous that he doesn’t get cookie dough,” Jackie interjects, moving closer to me and Noelle with her hand extended, a ball of cookie dough that she swiped most likely for herself out of my mixing bowl while I wasn’t looking pinched between her thumb and index finger.

Noelle’s eyes light up as she quickly looks at me for approval, and my lips inch into a smile as I give her the slight nod of my head. The only thing that could possibly make me happier than seeing my own child happy is seeing Jack sulk in the corner at the traitorous actions of his fiancé.

Naming Jackie and Jack as Noelle’s godparents was one of the decisions I've had to make that required no second thought. They’ve always adored her like she was their own flesh and blood, and ever since Jackie found out a few years ago that children of her own will never be a possibility, they pour all the love (and money) they have right into Noelle. It's certainly a reciprocated feeling; Noelle simply cannot get enough of her godparents, and having them around more frequently over the past couple of months has been like celebrating Christmas every single day for her.

“That good?” I ask her, and she nods eagerly. “I bet Aunt Jackie could use your help putting the rest of them in the oven if you asked her.” Jackie beams at the sound of her name, her eyebrows lifting in invitation.

There’s suddenly a knock at the door, an unfortunate interruption to a happy moment that echoes out into the silence that suddenly floods the room. Jackie, Jack, and I all exchange similar glances – it’s a death omen if we’ve ever heard one, and we’re all about to face our executioner.

Noelle untangles herself from my legs faster than I have time to comprehend and catch her. The words to call her back die in the back of my throat, because I know that she knows who’s standing on the other side of the door, and stopping her is futile. All Jackie can do is squeeze my wrist in a show of succor.

My eyes are already burning, heartbeat taking off like a helicopter inside of my chest. I hear the door open, the sound of bags dropping on the ground as Noelle’s delighted shriek rings out through my apartment.

“Hi daddy!”

[imaginesfordayss]

I’ll Be Home for Winter Break

Imaginesfordayss 25 Days of Christmas Challenge

Day 18: Song Fic

Summary: Salim doesn’t even celebrate Christmas, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend it apart from his boyfriend. Too bad he’s on the opposite side of the country. 

Long Distance AU based on I’ll Be Home for Christmas by Leslie Odom Jr.

Warnings: Smut, Cursing

Word Count: 6.8k

Also on AO3

“I'll be home for Christmas

You can plan on me Please have snow and mistletoe And presents on the tree...”

The clock on Salim’s laptop had just ticked over to nine o’clock when he opened Skype and made his daily Skype call. The usual choppy chime came loud through his speakers and he turned the volume down, getting comfortable in his desk chair. Only a few moments passed before the call picked up and his boyfriend’s scruffy face popped up on his screen.

“Assalamu alaikum.” The Jinn said, smiling into the camera.

"Wa alaikum assalaam.” Salim replied, adjusting the screen so his face was properly in the frame, “How was your day?”

“It was long,” The bearded man replied, running a hand through his hair, “I feel like I worked eight shifts instead of two.”

“Two?”

“I covered a morning shift as well as my mid shift. I felt like I would never get to go home.”

Salim frowned, “You must take care of yourself, habibi, or you will burn out and at such a young age.”

The Jinn, or Ibrahim as was his real name, had moved to Los Angeles five months ago, at the beginning of their junior year in college, to complete a film internship with CBS. He wouldn’t say it was his dream or anything, working for that specific company, but it was one step closer to his goal of being a film producer and he couldn’t just turn down the opportunity. The internship was only a few weeks, but he didn’t see any sense in moving out there for only a semester and decided to transfer to the New York film academy’s Los Angeles campus. So, with a heavy heart, he said goodbye to his boyfriend and his friends and made the move from New York to LA.

Since it was the same school, he was fortunate in that his tuition didn’t change, but it was so late in the year he couldn’t find a dorm so he was rooming in a too small and too expensive apartment with a roommate. To cover costs he had gotten a job as a waiter and drove for Lyft when he ad the time. Between that and his internship and also going to school, the man felt like he was exhausted 100% of the time. Salim worried about him working so hard, but also did his best to support him whenever he could.

“Don’t worry,” Ibrahim replied, “I have tomorrow off, so I can sleep in and eat a real breakfast and all those other mundane things you want me to do.”

Salim smiled, “Thank you.”

“And how was your day?”

“Normal. Boring.” Salim said, “Laura showed up to class drunk and got into a row with the professor.”

Ibrahim laughed, “So it was a very normal day then.”

At that moment, the door to Salim’s room suddenly opened, revealing his giant, red-headed roommate.

“That the Jinn?” Mad Sweeney asked, dropping his bag down with a thump.

“Yes,” Salim said, angling the screen to Sweeney, “Say hello.”

“Hello asshole.” Ibrahim said, giving a slight wave.

“Prick.” Sweeney said in greeting.

Sweeney and the Jinn had an odd, tentative friendship. When they were together they more often than not argued and yelled and once or twice even physically fought, but otherwise seemed to enjoy each other's company. They had actually given each other their nicknames. Mad Sweeney’s real name was Finnegan, but due to a drunken night out and some naked wandering by the irishman, he was dubbed Mad Sweeney by Ibrahim and to this day most of the campus knew him as Mad Sweeney. In retaliation, Sweeney had nicknamed Ibrahim the Jinn after he set himself on fire during a film project. It was an odd and slightly dysfunctional relationship, but they seemed to enjoy themselves.

“Don’t mind me,” Sweeney said, plopping down on the couch under his bunk, “You two can go back to eye fucking through the screen.” He put his headphones in and waved dismissively. He was used to this by now. Salim and Ibrahim skyped almost every night since they’d been apart.

Salim turned back to the screen, “I think he misses you.”

Ibrahim rolled his eyes, “Oh I know. No one takes his shit like I do. And it’s not like he can really fight with Shadow anymore now that they’re dating.”

Salim grinned, “You should see him now, he is so dopey around him. He opens doors and holds his hands and is a complete gentleman. Nothing like our usual rude and aggressive Mad Sweeney.”

“He’s a Mad Sweetie, now.”

“Stop gossiping about me when I’m right here.” Sweeney said gruffly.

“I thought you weren’t listening?”

“I wasn’t,” The redhead responded, crossing his arms, “Netflix was buffering. Shitty wifi.”

“Sure.” Ibrahim said dryly.

The three of them bickered harmlessly for a few moments before Sweeney huffed and pointedly watched Frontier on his laptop.

“It feels like years since I last saw you,” Salim murmured softly, “I can’t wait till winter break.”

Ibrahim paused, “About that…”

“What?”

He sighed, “I don’t think I will make it out there.”

Salim’s heart sank, “Oh.”

“I’m so sorry,” He said, “I got an offer to work with this up and coming director in Santa Monica and they’re willing to pay me really well. I’m trying to see if we can reschedule a different time, but he is being very difficult. And he heard I don’t really celebrate Christmas, so he thinks I have all this time on my hands.”

“I understand,” Salim sighed, “You need the money, and I wouldn’t want you to turn something like that down.”

Ibrahim knew he had hurt Salim with this. They hadn’t seen each other physically since August, only texting and regular skyping. Ibrahim knew Salim comforted himself during their time apart with thoughts of the three uninterrupted weeks of winter break, and now he was taking that away. Who knew when they’d see each other next.

“I haven’t cancelled my plane ticket,” Ibrahim urged, “I’ll work this out.”

Salim smiled slightly, “It’s okay if you can’t. Don’t worry, we will work something else out.”

Ibrahim felt something heavy settle in his chest, “Don’t count me out just yet.” He said, trying to lighten the mood.

“I won’t.” Salim replied, but disappointment still hung heavy around him.

“Are you going to decorate your room again this year?” Ibrahim said, trying to change the subject.

Salim looked around. It was only the first week of December, so he hadn’t really thought about it yet, “Not yet, but maybe I’ll go with Laura or Audrey this weekend.”

“You should get a tree this time, a small one. Something to put your presents under this year..”

“Sweeney will probably destroy it first chance he gets.” Salim said, throwing a look at the man still curled up on his couch drooling over Jason Momoa.

“Tell him he’s dead if he does.” Ibrahim growled.

“Cause he always listens to you,” Salim rolled his eyes, “I’ll just put his present from Shadow under it. Even drunk, he wouldn’t risk that.”

“Smart.” Ibrahim conceded.

Salim yawned widely, the long day suddenly catching up with him.

“It’s getting late over there,” Ibrahim said, noticing his boyfriends exhaustion, “You have your 8am class tomorrow, you should get some sleep.”

“You’re right,” Salim said, stretching and yawning again, “I’ll call you after class tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you when I wake up,” Ibrahim said, leaning forward slightly “Ana ahibbak, habibi.”

Salim smiled, “I love you too.”

After he hung up, Salim blew out a long sigh, sitting back in his desk chair.

“Trouble in paradise?” Sweeney asked after a moment.

“Ibrahim isn’t coming home for Christmas break.” Salim said sadly.

“What a dick,” Sweeney said, “You gonna go home now?”

Salim shook his head, “I already told the RA I was staying.”

“Yeah, but almost everyone is staying.” Sweeney pointed out, “This is international housing, everyone lives like light years away. I’m sure she’d rather one more person left.”

Sweeney had a point. Their dorm was specifically for international students like Salim and the Ireland born Sweeney. Most students couldn’t, like Sweeney, or, in Salim’s case, wouldn’t justify the cost of the plane ticket. Especially if they didn’t celebrate Christmas.

“It’s alright, I’ll just hang out here.” Salim said, getting up to change.

“You could come with me to Shadow’s place,” Sweeney offered, “His mom is hosting this big feast for all the witches in Harlem. It’ll be fun.”

“Sure,” Salim said, slipping on his pajama pants, “I always forget that Shadow’s mom is a wiccan.”

“I don’t think she’s actually a wiccan,” Sweeney corrected, “Shadow tried to explain it to me, but I wasn’t actually listening.”

“You’re such a good boyfriend.” Salim said sarcastically.

“I really, truly am.”

Salim finished his nightly routine, brushing his teeth and going through his last prayer. He flopped into bed with an ‘oof’, squirming  around until he got comfortable. Sweeney was still thoroughly engrossed with his Netflix, so Salim through pencils at him until he got up and turned off the light. Sweeney was basically nocturnal, and had been since the pair first roomed together their freshman year, so he didn’t feel bad about making him sit in the dark.

It was a while before Salim fell asleep, sad thoughts of how he couldn’t celebrate Christmas with his boyfriend. He thought back to last Christmas, when their relationship had still been new and awkward. They had been friends for a while at that point, but had only made the step from friends to boyfriends a month ago. Shadow had placed Mistletoe everywhere, and always seemed to conveniently be around to enforce the kissing policy. Salim would shyly protested, but Ibrahim would kiss him sweetly every time.  

‘Don’t dwell on sad things,’ Salim thought to himself, ‘There’s no use in being depressed over things you can’t control.’ Salim grunted and flipped his pillow over, fluffing it with more force than necessary and closed his eyes tightly. He thought of his accounting final, what he still needed to go over to make sure he aced it. He planned out how he would gently turn down Audrey’s offer to knit him a Christmas sweater. Salim went through every dull, tedious thought until eventually he fell asleep.

“Christmas Eve will find me Where the lovelight gleams I'll be home for Christmas If only in my dreams…”

“I wish you had come home for your break, Salim.”

Salim was doing his best not to be pathetic, but based on his current state he wasn’t succeeding. He had barely left his dorm since school had officially began winter break and was steadily sinking lower and lower into a yuletide depression. Salim had been bribing Sweeney in bringing him food so he didn’t need to leave for that, so mostly all he’d done was pray and shower and shove handfuls of Cheez-Its into his mouth from the comfort of his bed.

“It is not like I’d be happier there, Nadira.” Salim said grumpily. In a last ditch effort to cheer himself up, Salim had called his sister. She didn’t seem to be helping much and Salim groaned.

“But you would be with me.” Nadira pointed out, pouting through the tiny cell phone screen, “And what’s better than spending time with your favorite sister.”

“Not much.” Salim admitted.

Nadira was Salim’s best friend growing up, and the first person he’d come out to when he was sixteen. They were only two years apart, with Nadira being older, and had always gotten along very well. Nadira understood Salim in a way their parents never would, and accepted him for who he was.

“It’s too late to come out there now.” Salim sighed, plucking at a loose thread on his pants.

“No it isn’t, I could buy you a plane ticket right now. I could literally be purchasing airfare as we speak.”

Salim laughed, “It wouldn’t be worth it and you know it. Besides, Baba will just drag on and on about moving back to Oman and put an end to my sinning in America.”

“Ooo, what kind of sins are you committing over there.” Nadira giggled.

Salim rolled his eyes, “Beside being gay, not much.”

“Boring.”

“What would you like me to be doing.” Salim asked rhetorically.

“Something!” Nadira said dramatically, “I mean, you are in America. You are in New York! Have some fun, go party, spray paint a building, I don’t know.”

Salim laughed, “You want me to vandalise a building? You think that’s what people do for fun over here. What kind of TV are you watching?”

Nadira huffed, “I only get so many channels over here, do not judge me.”

Salim laughed again and teased her for a bit longer before she had to go help their mother with dinner and they hung up. Nadira had helped raise his spirits a bit so he decided it was time to get up and stop sulking in his dorm. There was a coffee shop a few blocks away that Shadow worked at part time, so Salim threw on as many layers as he possibly could to protect his sensitive desert skin and trekked out into the cold.

It took him twenty minutes to carefully traverse the snowy sidewalks but eventually he entered the peppermint smelling establishment.The place wasn’t packed, but wasn’t dead either. Most of the tables were full, so Salim scooted around a few misplaced chairs and sat at the small bar next to the coffee machines. Looking around, Salim located Shadow sitting at a table across the room, fiddling with his phone.

“Shadow.” Salim called softly, waving to get his attention.

Shadow looked up from his screen and smiled upon seeing Salim. He got up and grabbed his cup and walked over to Salim, “What are you doing here?” He said, hugging Salim briefly before sitting down.

“Figured I should leave my room sometime before everything is closed for Christmas.” Salim said.

“That’s the spirit!” Shadow said cheerfully, “My break’s almost over, how about I make you a drink.”

Salim nodded and Shadow slipped behind the counter and started working with the machines. He did something complicated with milk, coffee beans, and a shaker that Salim was 70% sure was Cayenne pepper before sliding the plastic cup across the counter.  

“Don’t knock it till you try it.” Shadow said, noticing Salim’s wary look.

Salim took a hesitant sip and was pleasantly surprised, “Not bad. I like what you did with the spice.”

Shadow grinned, “That’s why they call me the barista baron.” He said cockily.

“No one calls you that.” One of his coworkers joked.

“Oh I’m sorry, then what does my name tag say?”

Salim peered over and sure enough, ‘Barista Baron’ was printed over the plastic name tag, “Is that why you needed my label maker?”

“Yes.” Shadow said, “And I still can’t get over how you have an actual label maker.”

“Labels are important for organization Shadow.” Salim said, repeating what he said last night.

Shadow rolled his eyes, “Sure Salim, cause just writing your own labels is so hard.”

“Why do that when I can have a little machine do it for me?” Salim said holding back a laugh.

Salim spent about an hour bantering with Shadow and taste testing drinks for him before his manager came out and told him to stop wasting ingredients. His good mood was still going strong so he made good use of it and wandered the streets for a while. He considered going gift shopping for the few people he hadn’t gotten to, but he already had a thing against crowds and this was New York during Christmas and he enjoyed being alive and sane so he did some window shopping before retreating from the cold back to his dorm room.

He did laundry and organized his book shelf and completed his afternoon prayer and skimmed through one of his textbooks for next semester. Salim was collecting trash for a dumpster run when his phone buzzed.

Salim walked over and looked at the caller ID before swiping to answer.

“Hi, assalamu alaikum.” Salim said, cradling the device between his shoulder and cheek.

“Wa alaikum assalaam.” The Jinn responded, “What are you up to?”

“Just cleaning, picking up a few things.,” Salim said, throwing away a bunch of M&M wrappers from under his bed.

“So what you mean to say is you’re picking up Sweeney’s side of the room.” Ibrahim said.

Salim chuckled, “Actually not this time. I’ve let my side get pretty cluttered lately.”

Ibrahim paused, “You are only messy when you are sad.”

Ibrahim knew him too well and Salim shrugged before realising he was talking on the phone, “It’s alright Ibrahim, I know you did your best.”

“Doesn’t mean I still do not feel horrible.”

Salim smiled softly, sitting on the edge of his bed, “Don’t feel bad. I mean, we will have New Years right?”

Ibrahim hadn’t been able to get out of his film obligation, but had worked it out so he could spend New Year's in New York with Salim. It wasn’t as long as he would have wanted, but Salim wasn’t going to be picky about it. All that mattered was spending time with his boyfriend.

“Definitely, I’ll be there no matter what.” Ibrahim said earnestly.

“Good.” Salim said, feeling a bit better, “Where are you? It sounds busy.”

“It’s the traffic,” Ibrahim said, “I’m just walking home from work.”

“You didn’t drive to work?”

“Trying to save gas.” Ibrahim said dismissively, “Hey, tomorrow is Christmas Eve, what are you going to do?”

Salim shrugged, “Probably just watch Christmas movies and skype with my parents.”

“Tell them I said hello.” Ibrahim said teasingly.

Salim chuckled, “I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Alright, I’m going into my apartment now. I’ll have to hang up, I’m getting ready for a night shoot with the director. I won’t be able to Skype tonight either.” Ibrahim said.

Salim didn’t let the sadness get to him, “Okay. Text me when you get home? I’ll be up.”

“I will. Love you, talk to you tomorrow.”

“Love you too.”

Salim hung up and sighed, shaking himself slightly, “I’m not going to be sad.” He told himself. He would see Ibrahim in a week. There was nothing to be down about.

Salim continued decluttering his room until he found himself moving and setting down the same objects over and over again and finally retreated to the blanket nest on his bed. He was always cold during the winter, being unused to the season and all, so over the now three years he had spent in New York he had accumulated an ungodly amount of blankets. Some of them were thin generic blankets  and others were thick ones he had gotten online and he had a few handmade scratchy quilts from friends who knew of his obsession and at least six of the super soft ones from Target. Sweeney said he had a problem but Salim just really enjoyed being warm.

The omani spent the next few hours switching between watching movies and scrolling through Twitter on his phone. Salim wasn’t very active on social media, but he had to keep track of all Trump’s dumb tweets and sent his favorites to Ibrahim even though he knew he couldn’t respond until later. Sweeney hadn’t come home yet so Salim assumed he was staying with Shadow that night, or had maybe passed out in a subway station drunk again. Either way he’d be home tomorrow to give Salim a ride to Harlem so they could hang out with Shadow’s mother for Christmas Eve.

It was almost one in the morning and Salim was dozing in and out of sleep while Polar Express played on his laptop. He kept having odd waking dreams where Ibrahim was in New York and they did a number of cliche holiday activities like skating at Rockefeller. They were good dreams and every time he jolted awake he wished they would never stop.

The buzzing of his phone finally jolted him fully awake. Salim rubbed his eyes, searching through his sleepily for the buzzing device.

“Hello.” Salim said, sleepily.

“Habibi,” Ibrahim said, “You were sleeping, I’m sorry to wake you.”

Salim stretched, careful not to displace his laptop from where it was on his lap, “It’s alright. I told you to call. You are home then?”

“Yes, I am home.” Ibrahim said softly, Salim could hear him shuffling in the background, “It’s Christmas Eve.”

Salim pulled the phone away to look at the clock. It was 1:33. Christmas Eve. “You’re right. Happy Christmas Eve.” Salim said.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” The Jinn parroted back, “You’re in your dorm?”

“Yeah.”

“I called in a favor from your Mad Sweeney. He should have delivered something to your room.”

Confused, Salim sat up, looking around their dark room, “I don’t see anything.”

“It must be outside the door,” He urged, “Check for me please.”

Salim groaned but set his laptop on the desk and rolled out of bed. He flicked on the light before unlocking and opening the door.

His first thought was that someone was trying to break into his room and he startled slightly at the person standing right outside the door. Then he recognized him and he almost dropped his phone.

“Ibrahim?”

The bearded man smiled widely and ended the phone call. Standing before Salim, looking sleepy and warm in a green sweater and thick coat, was his boyfriend who was supposed to be almost 3,000 miles away.

“I am home.” Ibrahim repeated, pocketing his cell phone.

Salim didn’t waste any time and threw himself into Ibrahim arms, squeezing him tightly. Ibrahim held him just as close, almost lifting Salim off the ground.

“You’re home.” Salim gasped incredulously, “What are you doing here?”

“I promised I’d be home for Christmas.” Ibrahim said, pulling back to look at Salim, “And I wasn’t going to let some asshole keep me away from you.”

Salim couldn’t help the huge and bright smile that spread across his face. He cupped Ibrahim face between his hands, stroking his cheeks lovingly. The taller man leaned down and pressed their foreheads together softly before capturing Salim’s lip in a kiss.

They pulled each other close until they were flush against the other, every part of their bodies in contact. Salim basked in the feeling of Ibrahim’s beard rubbing against his cheeks and his lips, the burn making it all the more real.

“Excuse me guys.” A voice said, interrupting the men. They broke apart quickly, both breathing hard. A Japanese girl from the end of the hall was there standing awkwardly, “Trying to get to my room.”

“Sorry,” Salim said, blushing intensely. He pulled Ibrahim back into his room, grabbing his suitcase that he just now noticed was sitting next to him, and waved at the girl gracelessly before shutting and locking the door.

Ibrahim snorted before breaking into loud laughter, Salim chuckling with him after the initial feeling of embarrassment faded. He pulled Ibrahim’s suitcase to his side of the room, leaving it next to his desk.

“What are you doing here?” Salim asked.

“Being with you.” Ibrahim said like it was obvious.

“I mean,” Salim paused, “I thought you had to stay in LA.”

“I worked something out with the director. We’re postponing filming until after the New Year.”

“How long are you staying?” Salim asked.

“Until the 2nd.”

Salim brightened, “Really? I get you for the rest of the year?”

Ibrahim smiled, taking the smaller man's hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, “We get Christmas and New Year’s together.”

Salim gasped and pulled Ibrahim close again, kissing him quickly, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Ibrahim said, “I want this too.”

The Jinn pulled back, giving Salim a smile before walking over to his bed. He pulled of his coat, hanging it on the bed post, and then his sweater, revealing a plain black shirt. Salim stood there as the other man stripped, his blood heating slightly. It had been awhile since they had been together intimately, and his body knew that. Really, there was no helping his response. He moved to sit down on the bottom end of his bed.

“You’re staring.” The Jinn said, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

Salim shrugged helplessly, not even bothering to deny it. The shirt was tight and had ridden up a bit to reveal a part of Ibrahim’s happy trail. The smirk grew under his beard and Ibrahim moved until he was standing in front of the smaller man. Salim’s hand moved on their own accord to rest on Ibrahim’s chest, sliding upwards until he twined his fingers together behind his neck. Salim pulled him down until their lips met heatedly.

Ibrahim groaned lowly before moving closer, bending down as to not separate from him. Salim was only a few inches shorter than him, but sitting on the bed made their height difference all the more drastic and it felt like Ibrahim was surrounding him completely. Ibrahim brought one hand to Salim’s neck, angling him as to deepen the kiss, and the other fell to the smaller man’s waist. Salim felt him stroking a pattern on his hip, with every pass he got closer and closer to his now aching erection.

“I’ve missed you.” Salim gasped, pulling away to catch his breath. Ibrahim moved to his jaw and then his neck, pressing wet kisses anywhere he could. His beard scrapped along Salim skin deliciously, and Salim shuddered as he sucked a mark just under his jaw.

“You have no idea, how much I miss you.” Ibrahim said, pulling back after he was satisfied Salim would sport a decent sized hickey in the morning, “Every day. Every night. When I’m alone and thinking that I could be here, doing this.”

Ibrahim moved his hand from Salim’s hip to the front of his sleep pants, cupping him through the thin material before stroking him lightly. Salim let out a shuddering breath, moaning lowly. His hips twitched, trying to get closer the Jinn’s fondling. Salim removed his hands from Ibrahim’s neck, sliding them down his shoulders and his chest before coming to rest on his ribs, pulling at the black shirt. He pulled it up as far as he could, bunching it underneath the taller man’s arms. He raked his nails lightly down Ibrahim’s stomach, watching him shudder.

Ibrahim pulled back suddenly, removing has hands from Salim to pull his shirt off the rest of the way. He reached for Salim’s shirt, yanking it off in one fluid motion before pushing the other man down on the bed. Salim panted at his rough treatment and scooted up until his head hit the pillows, Ibrahim following him after shedding his jeans.

Salim pulled him down until they were chest to chest and bit at his lips until Ibrahim finally opened mouth to him, twining their tongues together. Salim moaned, pulling him closer until he was putting his full weight on him. He didn’t want any doubt that this was real, that Ibrahim was here and loving him.

Ibrahim kissed him deeply before moving down to Salim’s throat, his collarbones, his chest, his stomach until he was hovering over his waistband. He snapped it playfully, looking up at Salim before inching it down along with his boxers.

“You’re the only man I know that still wears boxers to sleep.” Ibrahim said, locking eyes with Salim as he pushed his last layers of clothing away.

“I have a roommate,” Salim said breathlessly, “I can’t just walk around like that.”

The Jinn smirked, rubbing his hands up and down Salim’s now bare thighs, “I know for a fact Sweeney never wears pants, let alone boxers.” He pressed a long kiss to his hip bone, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Let’s not talk about my roommate right now.” Salim moaned as Ibrahim licked a path from his balls to the head of his cock. He grabbed the sheets with one hand and Ibrahim’s curls with the other, trying not to buck up into his mouth.

Ibrahim took him deeper into his mouth, holding his hips in place. Salim moaned, unable to stifle his voice as he was touched by another man for the first time in months. He pulled at Ibrahim’s hair, losing his breath when it caused the other man to suck him harder. Minutes passed as Salim got lost in the feeling of his boyfriend’s mouth on him. He could feel his release building quickly and he nudged Ibrahim with his foot.

“Ibrahim.” Salim groaned.

Ibrahim pulled off him, just as breathless as Salim was. Salim used his grip on his hair and urged him to move up, until Ibrahim was within reach and he could kiss him hungrily.

Blindly, Ibrahim reached out to the small nightstand next to the bed. He ripped open the drawer and rifled through until he pulled out the tube of lube.

“Condoms?”

“They all expired. Didn’t think you were coming so no use in buying more.”

Ibrahim nodded, kissing him again. He knew for a fact he was clean and he trusted that Salim had been faithful in their time apart.

Salim felt him moving and soon Ibrahim was pressing a lubed finger to his entrance. Salim gripped the arm Ibrahim used to hold himself up and used the other to cup his cheeks, deepening the kiss. Ibrahim pushed in slowly, stopping briefly when Salim’s breath caught in his throat and he squirmed. Ibrahim locked eyes with him, checking to see if he was okay and only continued when Salim nodded.

“It’s been awhile.” Salim said breathlessly.

“I’ll go slow,” Ibrahim replied, kissing the corner of his mouth, “Tell me if you want to stop.”

The Jinn pressed in again, slowly, watching Salim’s reaction. The smaller man took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he got used to the intrusion. Ibrahim pulled out, reapplying the lube before sliding two fingers inside him carefully. Salim groaned, shifting as Ibrahim began scissoring his fingers and stretching him. They hadn’t been together in months and Ibrahim did his best to take it slow with Salim, knowing that he would be out of practice and, frankly, tight.

After a few minutes, Salim groaned again but this time out of impatience. The Jinn smirked, kissing under his jaw. He mumbled something in arabic to which Salim snorted at before he slid in another finger. He arched his fingers and pressed that spot in Salim that had him gasping and arching his hips. A low rumbling sound erupted from Ibrahim’s chest at the sight and he suddenly agreed with Salim’s impatient sentiment.

He bumped Salim’s prostate a few times before pulling out and grabbing the lube again. He slicked his erection, biting back a moan at the contact on his heated skin, and lined up with Salim’s entrance. The Jinn hovered over him, one arm next to Salim’s shoulders and the other on his cock. He locked eyes with the other man, giving him one last chance to back out if he wanted to before pushing in slowly.

Salim winced, trying not to clench up. Ibrahim stopped, waiting for him to get used to him before pushing in another few inches. He leaned down and kissed Salim deeply, biting at his bottom lip and stroking his tongue with his, trying to distract him from the pain. Ibrahim moved his now free hand to Salim’s softening erection, stroking him back to full hardness. He pumped his hips in short thrusts, pushing deeper with every motion, until finally his thighs pressed shaily against Salim’s ass.

He pulled away from the kiss, just leaning his forehead against Salim’s trying to collect himself.

“Why did you stop?” Salim asked breathlessly, his accent thick.

“I’m going to come in ten seconds if I don’t control myself.” Ibrahim grumbled.

Salim giggled, wrapping his arms around him, “I don’t care. I just want you, right now.” He kissed him softly, “Make love to me Ibrahim.”

Ibrahim shuddered, those simple words making him lose what little shred of control he had. He shifted, getting a better angle, and eased out of Salim before thrusting back inside him.

Salim moaned, his head falling back into the pillows. Jolts of pleasure shot up his spine with every push and Salim tangled his hands in the Jinn’s hair and pulled him down into a rough kiss. They gasped and grunted into each others mouths as Ibrahim sped up is pace, rocking into Salim with enough force to rock the cheap dorm bed frame. Salim worried briefly about the dull noise, but Ibrahim grabbed his hips and angled him so he was nudging his prostate dead on. All thoughts after that were white noise in the Omani’s head, and he lost himself in the pleasure.

The Jinn pulled back from the kiss, moving to kiss and bite the other man’s jaw. He buried his face in Salim’s next, biting and sucking a dark hickey at the hollow of his throat. Salim dug his nails into his back, moaning loudly.

“Close.” He gasped out, grinding his hips up to match the pace.

Ibrahim pulled back, leaning on his elbow, never once slowing down. He wanted to see Salim, wanted to see him fall apart for the first time in months. The smaller man’s eyes were fluttering, a blush rising on his cheeks. He tried to bite his lip against the whimpering noises punching out of his chest, but it’s futile when Ibrahim wraps a hand around him and strokes him quickly. Salim tenses, breath catching in his throat as he gasps. He reaches out for Ibrahim, wanting him close when he comes, and just barely brushes their lips together before he’s grunting and shaking with the force of his orgasm.

Salim comes just like he acts in day to day life, quiet yet expressive. He gasps and whimpers, opening and closing his mouth like he doesn’t know what to say. His eyes are locked on Ibrahim’s helplessly and just watching him fall apart triggers the Jinn’s own release. Ibrahim thrusts a half a dozen more times before he stop cold, shooting his release inside of Salim. Whereas Salim is quiet in his throes of passion, Ibrahim is loud. All curses and groans as he falls apart in Salim’s arms. Salim hums as he feels the Jinn twitching above him. With one final grunt, the he falls forward, laying completely on top of his boyfriend. Salim takes his weight gladly, running his hands up and down his back in a post-orgasmic haze.

They lay there for a while, simply enjoying being wrapped up in each other before Ibrahim worried about Salim being comfortable under him and rolled over, carefully as to not scoot off the already narrow college bed. The long day of travelling finally started to catch up with him and he felt himself dozing.

“I love you.” Salim whispered, turning to lay his head on Ibrahim’s chest.

Ibrahim pulled him close, “I love you to, Salim.”

The two men shifted until they were properly cuddled around each other in the center of the bed, the blanket pulled up to shield them both from the cool air of Salim’s room. One last kiss was shared between the two men before they drifted to sleep.

/////////////////////////////////

When Salim first woke the next morning, a heavy dose of fear settled in his chest as he awaked to an empty bed. He calmed once he realised he was naked and there was a dull ache in his hips that definitely wasn’t a product of her active dreams. He settled again into the pillows, stretching out his legs and arms. Salim was just wondering where his boyfriend had gotten off to when the door opened loudly and Ibrahim stumbled in. He was dressed only in a pair of ratty looking sweats and Salim’s too small slippers on his feet.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” The Jinn murmured apologetically.

Salim waved his hand dismissively, “Come back to bed.”

Ibrahim chuckled, “One second.”

He kicked off the slippers before pointedly dropping his sweats before sliding back into bed. Salim was blushing, but laughed at his antics.

“Was that necessary?”

“Absolutely,” Ibrahim said, completely serious, “I’ve gone five long months without you, and I don’t plan on letting anything get in the way of your body and mine.”

Ibrahim pulled Salim closer, fondling his obvious morning wood. They exchanged a heated glance, Salim more than willing to continue the activities from the night before, but an obnoxious knock came from the door.

“Are you guys fucking? Cause I’m coming in and I’d rather not be caught in the splash zone.”

Mood: Officially killed.

Salim pulled the blankets up to make sure everything was covered before yelling to Sweeney that he could come in.

“It smells like sex and the Jinn’s cheap cologne in here.” Sweeney announced loudly as he entered the room.

“Please keep your voice down.” Salim hissed.

“It’s not like everyone in this hall doesn’t know you got plowed last night,” Sweeney said, slamming the door shut, “I’m guessing our neighbors caught an earful last night. Why buy porn when they can listen to genie boy here squawk all night long.”

“Eloquent as always Mad Sweeney,” Ibrahim grumbled, “I have to say I missed you the least of all.”

“But you admit you missed me.” Sweeney pointed out cheekily. He toed off his snowy boots along with his thick coat, “Get up and go shower, we have places to be.”

Salim groaned, “It’s winter break, where do we have to be this early in the morning?”

“It’s almost noon, I Dream of Genie,” Sweeney said,“You promised you would go to Shadow’s house with me for their spooky Christmas dinner.”

“I had hoped you assumed I wasn’t going anymore.” Salim said.

\Sweeney tutted, rifling through the pile of clean clothes he hadn’t put away since he’d done his laundry two weeks ago, “You two can pull out of each other long enough to socialize with Shadow and his hippie mother.”

The trio argued for another few minutes, before the couple finally agreed that they should go out and see their friend. Salim and Ibrahim got up after awkwardly ordering Sweeney to turn around, and entered the adjoining bathroom. They showered together, taking turns washing each others hair, and fended off comments from Sweeney when asked why they were taking so long.

The Jinn combed his hair and trimmed his beard while Salim prayed and got dressed, and then they switched, Ibrahim using Salim’s prayer rug as he forgot his in LA. It reminded Ibrahim of when they spent almost every night together last semester, living in a sort of domestic bliss. Their lives melded perfectly then, and he was more than pleased to see that nothing had changed.

Salim pulled on the thick, slightly too big wool sweater that the Jinn had got for him for his birthday last year, and Ibrahim felt it was physically impossible to not kiss him.

“We don’t have time for a quickie,” Sweeney groaned, “We have to go or we’re going to be late.”

“Afraid you’ll make a bad impression your boyfriend’s mother, Mad Sweeney?” Ibrahim teased, ending his kiss with Salim but keeping him close, “Or should I call you Mad Sweetie now.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sweeney growled, “Ask me how sweet I am after I push you into a snowdrift and watch your genie ass freeze.”

/////////////////////////////////

Christmas Eve was a loud affair at the Moon house, and surprisingly it wasn’t Sweeney to blame. Elaina Moon was much like her son, filled with enough energy and love to fuel a nation, and could apparently host a mean party.

Salim was afraid he’d be stepping into an odd sacrificing ritual, but really there was just a lot of wine drinking and an inordinate amount of crystals and a man named Falcon who read his palms. It was unexpectedly nice and after some mingling and chatting with Shadow, Salim and Ibrahim retreated to a cosy corner in the living room and people watched the rest of the night.

Christmas music played over the speakers and Leslie Odom Jr’s rendition of I’ll Be Home for Christmas filled the air. Ibrahim had Salim cuddled into his side and he felt a warm feeling of contentedness spread through him. Even if this holiday was just another day to him, Ibrahim still appreciated the spirit of family and togetherness that was celebrated. Tomorrow he would probably exchange the few gifts he had brought for his friends and watch too many Christmas movies and dodge Mad Sweeney’s famously laced hot chocolate. It would be fun and filled with all the necessary amount of Christmas cheer, and he’d do it all with Salim by his side. All he needed for Christmas this year and every year was Salim, and as long as he had that, he was home for Christmas.

[objectivesubjectivity]

It’s 2005. I’m a junior in college living in a house with 7 other dudes. Beer cans and cigarette ash litter the common room floor. Nightly Mario Party tournaments and 3 AM disco fries from The Argonaut become a near daily ritual. And every morning, without fail, the theme to “Chappelle’s Show” loops indefinitely on our collegiate fireplace: the 35-inch television we spend countless hours gathered around. In an inebriated, sleep-deprived state, someone forgot to turn it off so the home screen of the DVD collection plays and resets and plays again. It stays this way until someone stumbles out of bed and switches the input to play Shadow of the Colossus or to put on a Godard film for class.

And then it repeats.

It was a time we all remember fondly but would all prefer to keep firmly in the past.

It was during that year I discovered Talib Kweli (along with Q and Not U, Gnarls Barkley, Amy Winehouse, of Montreal among countless others) while we combed through episodes of Chappelle for the 5th or 6th time that month. “Get By” was a more than your average banger: smart, aurally rich, and captained by a sick Kanye West beat. So it was no surprise that, when I eventually got my hands on “Quality,” it knocked my socks off. So much so, that, while listening to it this past week, my current feelings on it threw me for a loop.

I tend to listen to my musical proclivities from high school with a more discerning ear; My brain wasn’t fully developed, I had lower standards, I desperately tried to be “outside of the box.” But I don’t think that way when it comes to college. Sarah Lawrence was full of “outside of the box” people so why should I be as critical of my taste then as I was in the preppy, rich-kid halls of Lincoln High?

But as I listened to track after track of Kweli’s slightly behind the beat rhyming layered over slick, radio-ready production, the wordplay and constant consciousness began to grow monotonous and mediocre, and I had to wonder about where my love of this album originally came from. 

And it led me back to the debauchery and dirt of Slonim 9.

Perhaps “Quality” is best left as an album I’ll always remember fondly but prefer to keep firmly in the past.

Update

I recently came across a copy of Tom Waits’ “Nighthawks at the Diner,” and didn’t quite know what to do. It is, most definitely, not a “studio album,” but it transcends the standard definition of a “live album” as well. Along with this, I have been struggling with whether or not to throw Nirvana’s “MTV Unplugged in New York,” into the ring for a similar reason. The matter is further complicated by the fact that Keith Jarrett’s “The Koln Concert” has been labeled a “Top 100 Contender.” 

So, after some thought, here’s what I landed upon: I’m going to remove the live albums from this quest. After this journey is finished, it may be worth it to comb through my live albums with a similar scrutiny, but that is a separate project. I’m going to stick with my initial boundaries: only studio albums, no compilations, no EPs, no live recordings. 

What this means tangibly is that I’ll go down to 86 albums on the contender list and 1276 listened to in total (before adding this past week).

What I listened to last week:

Top 100 contenders in bold.

Talib Kweli - Quality

Jurassic 5 - Quality Control: The whole album is a bit much, but Jurassic are really an excellent crew. 

Emery - The Question: Up there with Mae for one of the more interesting and least cringe-worthy Christian emo acts. 

The Mighty Mighty Bosstones - Question the Answers

The Vandals - The Quickening

Gym Class Heroes - The Quilt: Once again, Busta Rhymes shows up to throw down: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EuJiPsOEEKs

Catch Up Albums (Albums I missed or purchased/acquired since beginning the quest):

Michael Jackson - Bad

Brian Wilson - Brian Wilson Presents SMiLE

George Michael - Faith

Prince - Musicology: Good News: Prince is fucking great. Bad News: There are 37 more studio albums I now have to find/listen to. 

Michael Jackson - Off The Wall

Albums listened to in total: 1,287

[bearsofair]

Full interview after the cut. ↓

Let’s get the tall bit out of the way first, shall we? Gwendoline Christie is a delicate 6ft 3in tall. I say delicate because, personally, I’m always struck by how dainty the Game of Thrones superhero is. She is all fine blonde curls and flawless porcelain skin. Feminine, girly, graceful are the words that come to mind when I think of the Gwendoline I have known for several years. Gosh, we have had some fun together, this elegant outsider and me. “The world is absurd, Lorraine,” she will often observe with characteristic wry humour, “and if you can’t find it absurd, then I don’t know how you’d get through.” Indeed it is — especially when you look at it from Gwendoline Christie’s perspective. The 38-year-old actress is a composite of opposites, if such a thing exists: an introverted extrovert, a soft strength, the most conventional unconventional person I know. She’s both intellectually intense and wonderfully silly. Time spent with the ever-so-polite and well-brought-up Gwendoline is like going to a spa for your mind: it’s never ordinary, even if it is just having a cup of peppermint tea, as we are for this interview. For most of her life, mostly because of her height, Gwendoline has been on the margins of what is considered normal. From being bullied at her local village school, to the relentless fruitless auditions she didn’t ever get through, she was continually told, as she puts it, “that your outside can’t come on the inside”. How demoralising, but also, perhaps, how wonderful, because if you can overcome those cruel obstacles, you develop a rare confidence that is unbreakable. Then, one day, you wake up and deliver to the universe the gift that is Brienne of Tarth, the one woman who is everything all women want to be. I don’t need to tell you how fantastic Brienne is — the defiant medieval knight, protector of kings and queens, slayer of evil men. One scene, her infamous fight with the Hound, took two months of intense stunt training (she is still seeing a physiotherapist twice a week). It is epic, no other word for it, and even if you are not a Throner, you cannot be anything but grateful that a character like Brienne has been imagined, written and brought to life so spectacularly well. She is, to borrow a phrase, a giant step forward for womankind. “I have loved doing Game of Thrones,” Gwendoline says. Season 7, the penultimate series, has just started on Sky Atlantic. “I’ll be devastated when it finishes. I’m so proud of that part and the way the audience created a connection with the character. Brienne is a different version of what we normally see. She is not just conventionally unattractive, she is unconventionally unattractive. This part was the reason for all my acting training. In a world where we have so much access to these sexy ideals all the time, this was such a subversive role.” Amen to that. But how do you follow Brienne? Captain Phasma in Star Wars was superb, if predictable, casting, but it is the junior detective, Miranda, in Top of the Lake: China Girl, a woman who is the polar opposite of the one Gwendoline has been playing for six years, that I feel will redefine her. Ever conscious of the need to test herself as an actress (she is rigorous in her devotion to the craft and has an accomplished theatre career), Gwendoline has created a new character who is physically and mentally fragile. She has done it with the acclaimed writer and director Jane Campion, with whom she has wanted to work since she was very young. “I asked the universe then — no, I told the universe nicely — to make it come true,” she recalls, after explaining how many buses she had to take across the Sussex countryside after lying to her parents about her whereabouts and sneaking into the cinema to watch Campion’s groundbreaking 1993 film, The Piano. Miranda is a broken, vulnerable, lonely and actually comic police officer who appears in the second series of Campion’s award-winning BBC2 drama Top of the Lake, on screens now. The role was written specially for Gwendoline, and she lived in Sydney for five months while filming it. I have seen the first two gripping episodes, and you are in for a treat — it’s addictive cinematic TV at its best. Elisabeth Moss reprises her role as the steely Detective Robin Griffin to investigate the death of an Asian girl washed up in a suitcase on Bondi Beach. The Oscar winner Nicole Kidman rounds out the cast. “It feels like Jane is always subverting form,” Gwendoline says, “and that’s exciting to me. In 2008, a friend of mine offered to introduce me to her because she felt we would get on so well, but even then I couldn’t do it. When I saw she was doing Top of the Lake, I wrote her a letter — I knew I had to be in it. I can’t tell you what I said, but I kept it for 18 months before posting it. I tried to keep it short, didn’t want her to die of boredom reading it, then she emailed me back about four months after I sent it. We spoke on the phone for hours and she told me she would create a lead part for me. I asked for a challenge and Miranda is a challenge. She is constantly destabilised, she fails at everything, she is on the outside and still continues to be on the outside. This is a new story for me to tell. “It’s great to be a hero, but the reality for many of us is that we feel like we are failing all the time. We’re all trying to find ways to deal with that.” If you watch one box set this summer, watch Top of The Lake — it will give you goose bumps. Everyone is playing the opposite of the characters you expect them to be, so it’s constantly surprising — just like Gwendoline herself. I was editing Elle when we first met on the fashion front row. We got on like a house on fire: she is more than a foot taller than me, though we have the same size feet; the physical comedy of us never fails to delight. Her partner is my friend the fashion designer Giles Deacon, and Gwendoline takes getting dressed as seriously as I do. “I have always been fascinated by clothes and their transformative powers,” she says. “I was about 6ft at the age of 14 — I was enjoying the process of youth, wondering what kind of human being I would grow into, what kind of size I would be, what the dimensions would be as I grew more. “A doctor had told me I would be lucky if I stopped growing at 5ft 11in, but I thought, why stop there? I thought it was brilliant being so tall, and they were quite shocked by that response. I didn’t see what was interesting about conforming to the rule when the rule seemed nonsensical. “I read a lot of fashion magazines as a child. I was fascinated by who the stylists and photographers were. The images were captivating for me. I used to scour second-hand shops for vintage clothes, and I delighted in the different proportions of my size. It doesn’t make sense to me not to embrace being outside the norm. I don’t want to feel inhibited by anything. “I like to experiment with scale. I used to dress up a lot. My male friends would wear women’s jackets, and I would wear massively oversized things I’d found in vintage places. I really enjoy wearing men’s clothes, and often still do. I also liked the way Courtney Love dressed at the time, all those 1990s dresses, but worn with a femininity that had a violence to it. It seemed inappropriate at my height to wear such floaty dresses, so I enjoyed wearing them. I am all for drawing attention to the differences between us and not hiding from them — it is good to be spectacularly different.” When we meet, she is wearing a black Chloé dress, carrying a brown Margiela handbag. She buys mostly designer: Giles, Henry Holland, Roksanda, bits of Marc Jacobs, Miu Miu and more recently Isa Arfen. Gwendoline is a very private person, and I can see interviews are a form of torture for her. She wants to be known for her work and questions about her home life are playfully batted away with humour. It’s understandable given the level of fandom surrounding her, thanks to Game of Thrones and, of course, Star Wars. Plus, she can never hide, never be anonymous in the street; she is someone you stare at, famous or not. Last year when I interviewed Giles for a book about London designers, I asked him what kind of women he designed clothes for. Someone smart, confident in who she is, different from everyone else and happy with that, spirited, unpredictable, a woman who is fun “and looks like she would be a bit of trouble on a night out”, he told me. I think he has described Gwendoline perfectly. And, if I had my way, she wouldn’t be the outsider — we all would.

[gloriousgwendolinechristie]

Press/Video/Photos: Interview - Game of Thrones star Gwendoline Christie

From Star Wars to the new Top of the Lake, Gwendoline Christie has become a screen heroine for our times. Lorraine Candy meets the unconventional actress who embraces the joy of being an outsider

    SUNDAY TIMES STYLE – Let’s get the tall bit out of the way first, shall we? Gwendoline Christie is a delicate 6ft 3in tall. I say delicate because, personally, I’m always struck by how dainty the Game of Thrones superhero is. She is all fine blonde curls and flawless porcelain skin. Feminine, girly, graceful are the words that come to mind when I think of the Gwendoline I have known for several years. Gosh, we have had some fun together, this elegant outsider and me. “The world is absurd, Lorraine,” she will often observe with characteristic wry humour, “and if you can’t find it absurd, then I don’t know how you’d get through.” Indeed it is — especially when you look at it from Gwendoline Christie’s perspective.

  The 38-year-old actress is a composite of opposites, if such a thing exists: an introverted extrovert, a soft strength, the most conventional unconventional person I know. She’s both intellectually intense and wonderfully silly. Time spent with the ever-so-polite and well-brought-up Gwendoline is like going to a spa for your mind: it’s never ordinary, even if it is just having a cup of peppermint tea, as we are for this interview.

  For most of her life, mostly because of her height, Gwendoline has been on the margins of what is considered normal. From being bullied at her local village school, to the relentless fruitless auditions she didn’t ever get through, she was continually told, as she puts it, “that your outside can’t come on the inside”. How demoralising, but also, perhaps, how wonderful, because if you can overcome those cruel obstacles, you develop a rare confidence that is unbreakable. Then, one day, you wake up and deliver to the universe the gift that is Brienne of Tarth, the one woman who is everything all women want to be.

I don’t need to tell you how fantastic Brienne is — the defiant medieval knight, protector of kings and queens, slayer of evil men. One scene, her infamous fight with the Hound, took two months of intense stunt training (she is still seeing a physiotherapist twice a week). It is epic, no other word for it, and even if you are not a Throner, you cannot be anything but grateful that a character like Brienne has been imagined, written and brought to life so spectacularly well. She is, to borrow a phrase, a giant step forward for womankind.

  “I have loved doing Game of Thrones,” Gwendoline says. Season 7, the penultimate series, has just started on Sky Atlantic. “I’ll be devastated when it finishes. I’m so proud of that part and the way the audience created a connection with the character. Brienne is a different version of what we normally see. She is not just conventionally unattractive, she is unconventionally unattractive. This part was the reason for all my acting training. In a world where we have so much access to these sexy ideals all the time, this was such a subversive role.”

  Amen to that. But how do you follow Brienne? Captain Phasma in Star Wars was superb, if predictable, casting, but it is the junior detective, Miranda, in Top of the Lake: China Girl, a woman who is the polar opposite of the one Gwendoline has been playing for six years, that I feel will redefine her.

  Ever conscious of the need to test herself as an actress (she is rigorous in her devotion to the craft and has an accomplished theatre career), Gwendoline has created a new character who is physically and mentally fragile.

  She has done it with the acclaimed writer and director Jane Campion, with whom she has wanted to work since she was very young. “I asked the universe then — no, I told the universe nicely — to make it come true,” she recalls, after explaining how many buses she had to take across the Sussex countryside after lying to her parents about her whereabouts and sneaking into the cinema to watch Campion’s groundbreaking 1993 film, The Piano.

  Miranda is a broken, vulnerable, lonely and actually comic police officer who appears in the second series of Campion’s award-winning BBC2 drama Top of the Lake, on screens now. The role was written specially for Gwendoline, and she lived in Sydney for five months while filming it. I have seen the first two gripping episodes, and you are in for a treat — it’s addictive cinematic TV at its best. Elisabeth Moss reprises her role as the steely Detective Robin Griffin to investigate the death of an Asian girl washed up in a suitcase on Bondi Beach. The Oscar winner Nicole Kidman rounds out the cast.

  “It feels like Jane is always subverting form,” Gwendoline says, “and that’s exciting to me. In 2008, a friend of mine offered to introduce me to her because she felt we would get on so well, but even then I couldn’t do it. When I saw she was doing Top of the Lake, I wrote her a letter — I knew I had to be in it. I can’t tell you what I said, but I kept it for 18 months before posting it. I tried to keep it short, didn’t want her to die of boredom reading it, then she emailed me back about four months after I sent it. We spoke on the phone for hours and she told me she would create a lead part for me. I asked for a challenge and Miranda is a challenge. She is constantly destabilised, she fails at everything, she is on the outside and still continues to be on the outside. This is a new story for me to tell.

  “It’s great to be a hero, but the reality for many of us is that we feel like we are failing all the time. We’re all trying to find ways to deal with that.”

  If you watch one box set this summer, watch Top of The Lake — it will give you goose bumps. Everyone is playing the opposite of the characters you expect them to be, so it’s constantly surprising — just like Gwendoline herself.

  I was editing Elle when we first met on the fashion front row. We got on like a house on fire: she is more than a foot taller than me, though we have the same size feet; the physical comedy of us never fails to delight. Her partner is my friend the fashion designer Giles Deacon, and Gwendoline takes getting dressed as seriously as I do. “I have always been fascinated by clothes and their transformative powers,” she says. “I was about 6ft at the age of 14 — I was enjoying the process of youth, wondering what kind of human being I would grow into, what kind of size I would be, what the dimensions would be as I grew more.

  “A doctor had told me I would be lucky if I stopped growing at 5ft 11in, but I thought, why stop there? I thought it was brilliant being so tall, and they were quite shocked by that response. I didn’t see what was interesting about conforming to the rule when the rule seemed nonsensical.

  “I read a lot of fashion magazines as a child. I was fascinated by who the stylists and photographers were. The images were captivating for me. I used to scour second-hand shops for vintage clothes, and I delighted in the different proportions of my size. It doesn’t make sense to me not to embrace being outside the norm. I don’t want to feel inhibited by anything.

  “I like to experiment with scale. I used to dress up a lot. My male friends would wear women’s jackets, and I would wear massively oversized things I’d found in vintage places. I really enjoy wearing men’s clothes, and often still do. I also liked the way Courtney Love dressed at the time, all those 1990s dresses, but worn with a femininity that had a violence to it. It seemed inappropriate at my height to wear such floaty dresses, so I enjoyed wearing them. I am all for drawing attention to the differences between us and not hiding from them — it is good to be spectacularly different.”

  When we meet, she is wearing a black Chloé dress, carrying a brown Margiela handbag. She buys mostly designer: Giles, Henry Holland, Roksanda, bits of Marc Jacobs, Miu Miu and more recently Isa Arfen.

  Gwendoline is a very private person, and I can see interviews are a form of torture for her. She wants to be known for her work and questions about her home life are playfully batted away with humour. It’s understandable given the level of fandom surrounding her, thanks to Game of Thrones and, of course, Star Wars. Plus, she can never hide, never be anonymous in the street; she is someone you stare at, famous or not.

  Last year when I interviewed Giles for a book about London designers, I asked him what kind of women he designed clothes for. Someone smart, confident in who she is, different from everyone else and happy with that, spirited, unpredictable, a woman who is fun “and looks like she would be a bit of trouble on a night out”, he told me. I think he has described Gwendoline perfectly. And, if I had my way, she wouldn’t be the outsider — we all would.

  Top of the Lake: China Girl, Thursdays at 9pm on BBC2

  Styling: Katie Felstead. Hair: John D at Forward Artists for Tresemmé. Make-up: Stoj at Streeters using Charlotte Tilbury. Nails: Marisa Carmichael

    I’ve loaded the beautiful photo shoot in the gallery. Check it out! I should be adding the scans to the gallery later today.

    Gallery Link:

Photoshoots > Photoshoots in 2017 > Photoshoot 011

  Press/Video/Photos: Interview – Game of Thrones star Gwendoline Christie was originally published on Glorious Gwendoline

[trevorbailey61]

Kraftwerk 3D

Symphony Hall, Birmingham

Tuesday 13th June 2017

The seventies were grim. A decade of industrial unrest and economic meltdown where bankrupt cities decayed as litter would blow their across deserted streets and those who could fled to the suburbs leaving only the homeless, pimps and drug dealers behind. Even those havens on the edge of town offered only slight relief; Britain was a failed state where power cuts and a three day week were followed at the end of the decade by the winter of discontent. Rubbish remained uncollected and bodies were left on slabs in mortuaries unburied. Yes the seventies were grim, at least that is what we are told. This is the version written by those who were to see salvation arriving in the form of Thatcher, rescuing us from malaise into which we had sunk, a version that emphasises the bad and ignores the good. “Never forget the chaos before Thatcher” greets any challenge to the status quo that sees the stagnating wages, diminishing opportunities and falling standards of living for the many whilst a few take an ever greater share of the wealth. This, we are told, is how it has to be, the alternative is to go back to the seventies and that was, as we keep telling you, grim.

Instead of being a version of history, however, this has become the version, the one that is used as a threat to those who didn’t live through it who have little on which to build their own. Each of us, however, has our own memories that create a different story, one in which the decade was far more optimistic and exciting. My story sees me go from junior school to starting university, a decade of exploration, the excitement of discovery and the intensity of emotions experienced for the first time. My horizons broadened as the boundaries that had once marked the extent of my world were broken forever. A time of long warm summer days, where we could stay out long after the sun had set, and short sharp cold winters, the reality of course was very different but these are the memories. By the middle of the decade, I was at secondary school, old enough to be trusted on a night out with my friends, a regular one I am now ashamed to say was disco at a local Conservative club, and to go to football matches without having to be escorted by my dad. It was also where my unhealthy obsession with music started to develop. From the start of the decade, songs were making their way into my young mind, leaving an impression so strong that I still know the lyrics to “In the Year 2525” by Zager and Evans despite not having heard it for years. A few years later, I acquired my first singles, “Hot Love” by T Rex and “Double Barrel” by Dave and Ansell Collins, played to the point of destruction. More followed, some, “Starman”, “Pyjamarama” and “This Town Ain’t Big enough for the Both of Us“ still seem like cool choices, others, “Son of My Father”, “Tiger Feet”, “Blockbuster” less so. As my physical world expanded, so to did did my musical world, beyond the short burst of pop so that albums began to nestle alongside those early singles; my short attention span, however, meaning that they were rarely absorbed in a single sitting. “Led Zeppelin IV” “Dark Side of the Moon”, “The Yes Album” became my challenges, concentration was needed to unpick them, just playing “Black Dog” then moving onto something else meant that the threshold to the adult world was still out of reach.

It is often forgotten that 1975 was a glorious summer, mainly because it was topped by the year that followed it, but it was during those bright sunlit days that the order started to change, that rather than holding a secret only accessible to a chosen few, these behemoths of prog would start to be seen as being a bit pretentious. For me, the catalyst for this came from a very unlikely source. Then, television was a family experience where after a meal we would all sit around to watch the evening’s entertainment unfold, something that usually involved our parents complaining about our tastes but being selfish and stroppy we usually managed to get our own way. One programme we all watched, however, was “Tomorrow’s World” which one evening included a short film about four smartly dressed Germans striking metal discs with what looked like knitting needles. Playing what we now know to be “Autobahn”, the announcer informs us that they have recently managed to dispense with all recognisable instruments and ”next year, they hope to eliminate the keyboard altogether,” The future will see them wearing jackets with electronic lapels that will be played by touch. Now the clip looks bizarre, Florian Schnieder’s last look into the camera is creepy and the electronic music sounds primitive but then it was revolutionary and that single moment inspired many to give up on trying to contort their hands into forming an Fm7 chord and pursue their rock ’n’ roll dream by programming a synthesiser. The single most important event in the evolution of dance music? - forty years on The Guardian identified it as just that.

They never did get those jackets and of the four who featured in the film, three have now departed leaving just Ralf Hütter as the sole original member. The culmination of those plans outlined the their Dusseldorf studio all those years ago, however, appears towards the end of this intensely absorbing show. With just a logo left on the screen informing us that this has been a “Kling Klang Musikfilm” the stage is left in darkness as the curtain is slowly drawn to hide the four lecterns that are lined up across the front. A deep electronic pulse soon resonates around the hall followed by a few clangs and bleeps, eventually combining to form the recognisable introduction to what will follow. Faster and faster it gets as the curtain opens to reveal the source, four red shirted robots staring vacantly out at the audience. Their upper bodies rotate while their arms make slow dramatic gestures, managing to be in sync despite the slow deliberate movements appearing to be a different dimension to the beat of the music. The instruments have gone, no keyboards, no human presence at all, just technology, a possible glimpse into a future where artificial intelligence will keep the music alive long after its creators have gone, “We are programmed just to do, Anything you want us to”.

It is a tempting narrative but it is based on two myths, the first being that Kraftwerk have always been focused purely on technology and secondly that they have always been about the future. True, they often seem to encourage these easy perceptions but even during “Numbers”, built around counting up and down in a heavily synthesised voice, it becomes clear that the importance is not the technology itself but the human interaction with it. As technophiles, the future they saw was full of optimism but in some cases the music has taken on a more sinister meaning that it never had on release. “Computer World” becomes about the dehumanising effects of big data whilst “Radioactivity” has become an elegy to the victims of the nuclear disasters read out in the introduction. Reworked to a faster pace with a trance like beat, the dispassionate reading out of these disasters and Hütter singing some of the lyrics in Japanese, makes it eerily haunting. “Computer Love” sees the human interface at is most vulnerable, isolated staring at the screen, using the computer as a means of finding love, in some ways one of their most prescient songs.

Whilst Kraftwerk were, and in many ways reman, cutting edge, there was always more than a whiff of nostalgia about their future. The VW and Mercedes cars that drive along the “Autobahn” are those around when the music was created and it is doubtful that even German roads were ever that quiet, but then the song has always been about the ideal of the open road rather than the reality. “Spacelab” could be straight out of a 50s sci-fi movie, the 3d glasses worn by the audience likewise, and the effect of the satellite reaching out into the audience is startling, someone sitting a couple of rows in front of me ducks. It also finishes with the spaceship flying over Birmingham and landing outside Symphony Hall, despite their impassive manner, they always did show a wry sense of humour. The music from “Tour De France” is accompanied by images from the race over the years but with added graininess to give even the most recent images a vintage feel.

“Tour De France” also shows that despite producing little in the way of new material for over a quarter of a century, they have continually reworked their music to adapt to changing tastes, the availability of new methods of producing their sound and their own, mostly Hütter’s, relentless quest for perfection. It is “Tour De France” that has changed the most since I last saw them four years ago, becoming a montage of man and machine, trance like rhythms and swirling melodies, it was almost possible feel the sweat. The clear acoustics of Symphony Hall meant the low bass of “Man Machine” vibrated every muscle, so much louder that it had been last time. There were some shouts for the volume to go up but it seemed right to me, loud when it needed to be but also providing quiet moments, the dynamics showing the grasp they always had for the feel of the music. No where was this better illustrated than on the delicate beauty of “Neon Lights”. The pounding bass and crashing metal on metal of “Trans Europe Express” again seemed to leap out of the speakers with more force than before but “The Model” was pretty much as it has always been, perfection needs no reworking.

The last time we saw Kraftwerk was at Latitude festival four years ago, I loved them but many there, including my wife, were soon complaining that they were a bit boring. In fairness, a Suffolk field is not the best place to be drawn into a spectacle like this and seeing them amongst their most dedicated fans in a more enclosed space made it all the more special. Hütter’s never ending quest is to bring music and visuals into one completely coherent work of art, hence the shows being presented in art galleries, and this leads to his constant reworking of the music to achieve the perfect marriage. This does have the advantage of refreshing those songs recorded over forty years ago, making for an exhilarating ride that has even converted my wife into a fan. As for me, I will be doing it all again on Sunday - “Musik - Non Stop”.

[mfmagazine]

Mekenna Melvin

Article by Lauren Weigle

Photo by Polly Cole

How amazing is it to be able to move to Los Angeles following your dreams and actually make them come true?!  Well, why don’t you just ask Mekenna Melvin?  She’s the expert.  As a truly fortunate soul, this gifted actress and spirited girl has made quite a name for herself already on the NBC network.  Sitting down with Mekenna, we asked her just how she realized her dreams and aspirations of being a Hollywood actress.  The answer was simple…Perseverance and hard work… just like anything in life.  You want it; you have to work for it.

Tell me about Amber Lake, your most recent acting endeavor.

That’s actually the film I kind of co-created with my very good friend Natalie and my cousin.  We all kind of just sat down and nothing was really going on, so we started brainstorming about what we wanted to do.  At first we just wanted to do a webisode because it seemed like the most simple and prospective thing to do.  Then we brought my cousin’s husband on board, Joe Robert Cole, and he wanted to just make a feature, so he kind of helped us.  We work-shopped the idea and then made a screen-play.   The next thing we know, we were flying to Michigan to see a feature.  It was like this crazy, whirlwind, amazing thing.  We just finished post-production a few weeks ago and now we’ll just have to see what happens with it.

Any other upcoming films or television gigs currently in the works?

I just finished an episode of Detroit 187.  I’m in episode 6 of that and that was so much fun.  I went to Detroit which was a wonderful experience because the city of Detroit is so amazing.

I’ve never been, but I’d love to go.  Meantime, let’s talk about NBC’s series Chuck.

Yay. (She chuckles.)

So, who is Alex?

Well, Alex is the daughter of John, the daughter that he never knew he had and she was kind of revealed last season.  She’s just really tender now that she’s come to terms with the fact that she’s got a father a father who’s alive when she thought he was dead her whole life.  She’s just embracing this new relationship with her dad, seeing where it can go.  I think John, in the beginning, was a little more hesitant as to where he would play a role in her life.  Then, her and Morgan have a fun little romance going, so yea, it’s a fun storyline.

How easy of a role is this for you to play?  Do you relate to the role personally at all?

I don’t know if I would say easy.  I just have so much fun and she is really close to who I am, that it does make it not a super, huge challenge to go to work every day.  I just go and I get to have so much fun and I get to work with such great people.

In your opinion, is it easier to act in a somewhat comedic setting like Chuck or for a more serious and dramatic series?

Well, up until this role, I usually get pretty dramatic roles.  So, this is kind of my first big step into working on a comedy or action-comedy.  But, there’s different elements on this that are not so much like sitcoms.  There are definitely more elements of truth to it.  But, yea, I’m having so much fun, so I don’t know if I would say one’s necessarily harder than the other.  I kind of love the opportunity of doing both.  Before this, nobody had really seen me as a comedic actress because most of my stuff has been in the more drama episodic world, but it’s been so much fun.

Right, well you just said you like both kind of roles, but what type of roles do you tend to gravitate to more?

I think, overall, when I’m looking at a project in terms of character, I respond to characters that have really solid people.  Like Alex has a really strong past and it’s a really great role… I don’t really look at it as a specific genre I like to do.  It’s more of like in a character that excites me or challenges me.

So tell me about some of the other parts and projects you’ve been involved with over the past couple years.

I mean, I worked on Lie To Me.  That was my first kind of big job in LA and it was just a one episode guest star with Tim Roth.  I got to work with him also, which was like, amazing because you come out here and you have a dream and work really hard and then your first dream is with someone you completely idolize.  It was one of those “Pinch me; I can’t believe this is happening moments.”

How do you feel each acting experience has helped you grow in your career, if at all?

Well, I think, as is anything in life, each gig you have kind of shapes you as a person and you take the good from the bad.  In acting, you hope that you just continue on a good progression and a good growth.  I guess I just kind of look at it as being a chance to do what I want to do and it’s really exciting.  I just know I’m lucky because it doesn’t happen for everybody.

Right.  Well, I know you’re also a singer and a dancer, so how do you juggle those as well?

Well, I guess I kind of have put them on the back burner.  Now they’re more like hobbies.  When I was in high school, dance was huge in my life.  I was in modern or contemporary dance.  There was a time where I thought that that was definitely the way I wanted to go, but you have to make a decision and theatre was my first love and always has been.  It really drew me in, but dancing is definitely something that I still love.  And singing, it’s the same kind of thing.  I sang in a jazz choir and it was definitely a part of my life.  In high school I’d do musical theater every once in a while, so it played a part in there too.  But, it’s just my little side hobby now. (She smiles.)

Speaking of hobbies, I’m told you’re also trained as a first degree black belt.  Do you ever use your skills at the end of a bad date?

(She laughs.)  It could happen!  It hasn’t happened yet, thank God!  That’s so funny ‘cause my dad always likes to use that.  He’s like, “Yea, I don’t have to worry about the guys.  She can defend herself.”  I never used it in real life.  Let’s hope I never have to.  I was actually a big nerd.  I got my black belt when I was 16 on the day of my junior prom.  I didn’t go to my prom.  I tested for a black belt instead and was totally okay with that.  It was nice that I got to use it a little bit on Chuck, which happened last season, and I would love to use it more as my career or acting progresses.  It’s fun.

So, you’ve acted on the big screen, the small screen, and the stage… Which do you prefer?

They all have their differences.  Theatre is my first love.  It’s what I grew up in.  My mom was a theatre teacher.  It’s like being on a rollercoaster, on a journey together with the audience.  With TV, everything is broken up.  You might have the big love scene this day after just meeting the day before and it creates different challenges as an actor.  So, yea, they all have their different things.

Have you ever thought of putting your triple threat talents together and tackling Broadway?

Yes!  Definitely a huge goal.  One day I’d love to do a show.  I don’t know about a musical, but I would definitely love to do straight theatre.  Just some little dreams of mine.

So what are your plans career-wise, goals and whatnot, for the next chapter of your life?

Over the next few years, I hope to just continue to progress in the way I have been.  I mean last year, I was just pulling double shifts as a waitress, so I’m just kind of settling in to it all and I’m really excited to see where it goes.  I would love to do some more TV work, or film, or anything!