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calypsoff · 3 years

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Fifty Four.

I am actually glad I stayed behind, after all the panicking that Robyn was leaving I am happy I stayed. I have been really busy trying to get a team together, I’ve just had the biggest dealing with Brooklyn Projects, and I am so blessed for it, Dom is a good guy, and I couldn’t be happier for what he has blessed me with. He pushed me to get a spot at the Agenda Show and I did it, I got a spot there which will be in a weeks’ time. I have been busy trying to find a supplier and I did it, I have found it and there will be no let down. I need to start releasing new designs which I am working on, these past two weeks has been hectic trying to find the supplier to fulfil Dom’ order, I was worried I wouldn’t and then I realised it’s Robyn’ birthday coming up which is near the Agenda Show but I assumed Robyn would be back but she won’t and her scan, her twelve week scan is coming up but she needs more time in London but luckily I am busy here so it doesn’t bug me but I would like to see her, so because she will be in London for her birthday I may need to jump on a flight to her, I mean what am I saying, of course I will “get that for me!” I shouted from the office; I have taken over this office space now. The buzzer is going off like it’s nothing, whoever that is “got it” TJ said, I am trying to employ a social media team. I can’t be dealing with service side of things, ok we started small, but we will get big, my phone pinged. Looking over at my phone, it’s Robyn so I need to look at it.

From: Robyn

To: Chris

Can we Skype call? I need to show you some things so let me know?

I wonder what it is, am I in trouble or is she going to tell me she will be there for another month. Texting Robyn back.

From: Chris

To: Robyn

Yeah we can in 10

Texting back and locking my phone “you got a package, shit is a little big” TJ said, raising an eyebrow shocked “for me? Open it, let me know” I mean who the hell knows where I live, I am fairly new so who the hell sent me anything, I shouldn’t think like that. I get in my own thoughts and think stupid “anyways” I need to get back to this, why is it I keep getting women to employ. It’s women that really be in my messages saying they can do things for me, and they can, they be having degrees and shit, they are pretty too “ayo, it’s from Dom” TJ made his way over to me with a card in hand, taking the card from him “To Chris, welcome to the Brooklyn Projects team, I can’t wait to see what we can do together. Please accept this gift of a BMX, my good friend spray painted it for you, Dom” I gasped “oh shit, let me see. You seen it” placing the card down as I got up from the chair, this is so exciting for me. This is my first gift; this has been gifted to me and I can’t believe it that people want to do that for me. I grinned wide, unwrapping the BMX with the biggest smile on my face “oh shit, no way it says Breezy on there. Oh my god, this guy knows me” I stepped back “yo, I am so hype” I jumped up and down “yes!” I spat, this is so dope “let me get my phone” walking off to the office, I am so happy about this. I can’t believe people give gifts like this just for free, grabbing the phone from office desk. Walking back out “do I look good?” I asked TJ “yeah you always do bro” he laughed; You can take a picture of me now. Holding my phone out to TJ to take it for me, walking over to the BMX “this shit is so dope, I am so happy” moving it away from the mess “oh actually take it here cause of that picture, Robyn and her love for the wedding pictures” sitting on the BMX, nobody understands how impressed I am of this.

TJ is my photographer, he takes good pictures “where is Barry?” uploading to two pictures, one of me on the BMX and the other just with it on its own “I don’t know, out” adding the caption ‘Thank you so much @brooklynprojects. for the BMX and adding the extra detail too, thank you. I appreciate brother’ pressing send on the post, I am not even going to front but I look good as hell in that picture “your cheekbones are looking crazy in that” TJ spat, he isn’t wrong though my cheekbones are looking good “so tell me where is Barry? Did he even come back in after you both went out” TJ shook his head, hearing the skype call “oh shit, I got a skype call with Robyn” rushing back into the office, closing the door behind me because this is private because you never know. Sitting on the chair pushing myself in and answering the call on my laptop “took your time and your out of breath, where is the bitch?” I chuckled, Robyn is always dramatic “wow, wait a minute” looking at the door for nothing just to annoy Robyn “tell her to leave, Rihanna is on the call” Robyn gasped “Chris, you better be playing” shaking my head laughing “there is nobody here, don’t worry. How is my twin?” biting my bottom lip staring at her, she seems to be in an office “busy, busy poppa. I miss you so much, I am so sorry that I am not coming back in time for my birthday, but you seem to be busy anyways, I am so happy for you Chris. See what I told you? I believed in you, but I rescheduled the twelve week scan appointment” nodding my head “well you know if I wasn’t busy I would be bugging you, but the Agenda Show is around the same time as your birthday so yeah, I guess we going to skype birthday” Robyn poked her lips out “you can make it up to me right?” shaking my head “mhmm nah not really but guess what, I got my first gift! Dom sent me a BMX, I am so excited” Robyn cooed out “I saw poppa, I got the notification” Robyn is such a stalker.

Jay Brown entered the skype call, his bald headed ass just here. I assumed he would be in London but no “hi everyone, I called this meeting” he said, sitting back in the chair “yeah, Robyn didn’t say what was happening so yeah” he chuckled “ok that is fine, so are you both ready. I have the very first copy of your Vogue cover, this is why I bought you both together. I wanted you to both see it together; it came into the office. Special delivery, we couldn’t let this leak out. I opened the magazine, and I am blown away, the interview was so good, it felt so real, and the pictures are amazing” licking my top lip smiling “already? I mean actually they took their time, when is it being released?” I asked “the date for this release is on Robyn’ birthday but we are releasing the cover, this what I wanted to discuss. We need to timely release images that aren’t in the magazine, once Vogue post it I need you both to do the same. We are going to tease the audience; Vogue has mentioned they are releasing the cover but not the inside content until the release. They are printing more then they usually do too but are you both ready” I feel a little excited “I am nervous, maybe it’s the baby I don’t know. Do we look good?” Robyn said “it looks so good, they did a double print picture, and I have to tell you both look so well” it may be the picture the lady chose of us walking the lobby “well here you are, Mr and Mrs Fenty-Brown” Jay Brown bought the cover to the camera, I gasped and that is not like me “oh my god” I said, that is really Vogue magazine and I am there “oh shit that looks amazing, so they used the picture of us walking down the steps, nah. I like that because it shows off her ring too, I look elegant as fuck there with Robyn” that is crazy “I am really proud of you both” Jay Brown said, I am mind blown.

I can’t believe this shit “man” Jay Brown left the skype call “I am mind blown Robyn, how crazy is that. I am on that cover with you!? How is this even real, I am getting gifts too” Robyn is just looking in awe “Chris your life is about to change in a big way, you need to be ready for this. You maybe not ready but you need to be, once this comes out your life will be officially changed. You think your life is different now? This is nothing Chris, I want you to be grateful and enjoy yourself. So when you go to the Agenda Show, you might have some fans. No female picture taking” I chuckled “oh yeah about that, I didn’t really get to mention it because it left my mind but, the girl I was working with and messaging that you disliked is fired thanks to the fact you complained to Mel and she told Barry, the people I am speaking too are women and I am trying to get a team together for my business but I can’t have this thing of you don’t like it because they are females. I wasn’t happy when I found out because it’s wrong, you deal with men, but I don’t complain so yeah. Honestly I feel like I am running this shit on my own now so I need the help so yeah” Robyn doesn’t seem to care “that is nice to know she has gone but ok fine, I do trust you” Robyn will complain about something, she will not like any female near me.

I am so happy, I can’t believe on the front cover of Vogue with my wife, this is wild to me. Walking out of the office with my phone to ear to ring my mom, I mean of course I am ringing my mom, I need to tell her this. At first I was like ok whatever but seeing the cover just there, the shit is real and it’s actually happening “you are finally taking calls now?” my mother said down the phone “I think you see I called you, since when did you call me mom?” she is a liar “well I did a few days ago and you said not now” letting out an oh “I did, sorry but listen to this mom. I am going to be on the front cover of Vogue with Robyn! I saw the cover!” I shouted; I am so fucking hyper “baby what? You mentioned it but I thought you was joking, oh my god. Do you know how much of a big deal this is? Your sister reads those magazines, oh my god. So I can buy this in the store, my baby on the cover of Vogue. Christopher I am so proud of you, I want you to know this. Me and your dad love you so much and are very proud of you, I will buying that magazine. Christopher I also wanted to mention, please come and visit us, we miss you. Your dad seems to be missing you the most so please come home sometime” sitting down on the couch “missing me that much? I will mom, sooner then you think” I need to get the home for them.

My bump is beginning to take shape, it is so amazing to see how pregnancy be changing your body just like that. Right now the bump is small, but it is there, and you can tell what it is if I wear tight clothing, I just love placing my hand over my bump when I lay down but everyday seems to be different to me, my body is always changing. I am ever so careful with myself while being in London, I just really go to my meetings and come back to my hotel room, I wear extremely baggy clothing here too. Only my team know about the baby, I haven’t let anyone else know about it, but I have been so lazy for the past few days, this is what put me back. I was in bed just not wanting to do anything so that alone put me back, when I feel like that I actually give myself time off. I would never do what I did last time, so if I don’t feel like working then I don’t feel like it so I have rest days, so this is what is putting me back with things, but I don’t care, I rather not push myself when my body is telling me no, never doing that again. I come first in this “are you finished on the skype call?” Tina asked, nodding my head stifling out a yawn “I got you some lunch, a footlong for you” thank heavens “good, I am so hungry” waving her over “you just ate like an hour ago” side eyeing Tina “do not judge me bitch, you can tell everyone they can come back in now” she bought me my food so I will be silent for a few minutes.

Mel touched the prototype of the slides “I have a feeling this is going to sell, you know if these sell how I think, are we going to have Fenty fashion” I smiled with my mouth full of food “this bitch is too into her food right now but I see Fenty fashion being a thing, this Puma thing is going to elevate you” swallowing my food “I am so excited but I am going to push for Fenty Beauty first, makeup as always been so important to me so yes, Fenty Beauty first” I think that is the way forward “you about to make a name for yourself, so what was the skype call for with your husband?” Mel asked “oh, Jay Brown revealed to us the front cover of Vogue, oh my god. It looks so amazing oh by the way, Chris got a little moody because Barry had fired the bitch that was getting a little too friendly in his messages, you know that?” Mel shook her head “all I did was say it to Barry, not my problem. I never said fire anyone” I am glad she fired anyways, I didn’t like the bird so there is that but nobody told anyone to fire the girl.

#chrianna ff #chrianna #chrianna fanfiction #fanfiction #chriannaff #fanfic

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itsjackgilbert · 4 years

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Situation Comedy

INSCRUTABLE MUSIC-VIDEO GENIUS MAKES MOVIE. IT'S VERY GOOD. INSCRUTABLE FILMMAKER DOES MAGAZINE INTERVIEW. IT'S VERY BIZARRE. A VERY SMALL GLIMPSE INTO THE INSULAR WORLD OF SPIKE JONZE, WHERE MAKING AWESOMELY STRANGE FILMS, WEARING FAKE PENISES, AND GETTING BEAT UP (SORT OF) ALL ARE PART OF THE SCENERY

BY ZEV BOROW

"He came to visit me once and when he first arrived I got a phone call that I had to come pick him up because his car had been impounded because he'd been chased by, like, ten cops on bikes after he drove his car onto these little fairgrounds and did a bunch of doughnuts. So, then I had to drive him around all weekend." — Three Kings director David O. Russell

"Actors are more consistent. They tend to land their tricks." — filmmaker Spike Jonze, on who is easier to direct, actors or skaters.

"He wanted his brother to be in Three Kings, so he shot an audition tape with his brother doing the Sharon Stone role in Basic Instinct, crossing and uncrossing his legs. It was the weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen." — David O. Russell

I meet Spike Jonze at the production offices of his new movie, Being John Malkovich, which is a bizarre comedy about a love triangle between three people who find a secret portal into John Malkovich's head behind a file cabinet in an office building where the ceilings are four feet high. John Cusack and Cameron Diaz and Catherine Keener are in it. So is John Malkovich. It's really good and weird and funny, though not always in that order. Spike Jonze directed it.

Jonze is 29 years old and sort of famous for directing some of the best music videos ever made: the Beastie Boys' "Sabotage"; Fatboy Slim's "Praise You"; Weezer's "Buddy Holly"; Björk's "It's Oh So Quiet"; and other really good ones, too. He's also made some excellent commercials and two interesting short films. However, mostly because of the exceedingly cool videos he's done for, mostly, exceedingly cool people, Jonze has also become famous for being exceedingly cool. A wide and deep selection of the hippest people alive dig Jonze. They are his friends. This past July Jonze married actress, filmmaker, and fellow sort-of-famous person Sofia Coppola. Tom Waits sang at their wedding. Tom fucking Waits.

Jonze is small and wiry, with the body and demeanor of a skateboarder, which he is. He is relaxed, unfailingly polite, and has a voice suggesting a 15-year-old boy. When we meet he is wearing a T-shirt and scuffed-up $350 Marc Jacobs shoes. He tells me he's supposed to meet with Knox, an as-yet-unknown guitar player, to discuss ideas for his video and invites me along. But first we go to buy a big bag of cat food for his cat.

Jonze says Knox plays "sort of country-funkabilly-Prince-like music...really beautiful stuff." A friend gave him a tape, he says, and he fell in love with it. We get lost trying to find Knox's house.

When we finally arrive, Knox says he was asleep because Jonze was supposed to arrive hours ago. Jonze says he's sorry, that it must have been his assistant's fault. Knox is tall, with short, dark hair styled vaguely pompadour-ish. His apartment is small. Neil Young in on the CD player. An acoustic guitar rests in the corner.

"I'm the only one in the band, so I do the whole gig," Knox says. "My old man was a guitarist and my mother was, like...well, she was a capable pianist, not great. I'm from Tenness–Knoxville–that's why I go by Knox. My mother ahd a baby two years before me, a little boy, and it died at birth, and I am, like, the copy of that kid. And my little brother almost died at birth 'cause of me, so it's kind of all cyclical. But I'm still tweaking it. So, uh, what kind of ideas do you have?"

Jonze talks about making a video that's not very commercial, about something that's cool in and of itself.

Knox: "I just don't want it to be cute. Don't take this as an affront, but some of your videos are...cute. The 'Buddy Holly' thing was little fucking cute. I was thinking more of an early John Cugar-type of thing. Like 'Jack and Diane.' Maybe with some of the words on the bottom of the screen."

Jonze: "Uh, cool.... But it’s also cool to do something maybe not as literal.” He asks Knox if he wants to be in the video. Knox says maybe just his face, as a child.

Jonze says he could come over with a video camera and they could try some stuff out.

Knox: “Like what?”

Jonze: “Well, I don’t want to just throw stuff out.”

Knox: “Well, I’m not going to steal your stuff.”

Jonze laughs, sort of. There is an awkward silence.

Jonze: “How about a video with Xeroxes, just as a cool medium?”

Knox: “Yeah, well, that sounds schticky. Xeroxes are schticky.”

Jonze tries to say something about form. Knox says he likes “the Jazzercize” video Jonze did.

Jonze: “‘Praise you.’ Cool.”

Knox turns toward me and says he doesn’t think Spike looks very into it. Jonze says he doesn’t want to do anything he’s done already. He asks Knox if he saw the video he did for Sean Lennon.

Knox: “Nah. That guy’s too fuckin’ avant garde for me.”

Jonze: “No, I’m not saying that. It’s just I don’t want to make something silly out of your song, but at the same time....” He trails off.

There’s a tense silence, then Knox turns to me and asks if I have any ideas for videos. I tell him I don’t. Knox says “fuck,” loudly.

Jonze: “Look, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, and if you don’t really like my stuff maybe we shouldn’t work together. I like working with people who are....”

Knox: “Yeah, well...fuck.... Well, if you come up with some ideas, any ideas, call, but I just...shit.”

Jonze: “I should go.”

Jonze gets up. Knox begins to pace. Then he screams, “Fuck!” and throws a small wooden chair Jonze had been sitting on against the wall. It shatters.

Jonze: “Dude, chill.”

Knox: “I think you better leave!”

Jonze: “I was just....”

Knox: “Just fucking leave!”

Then Knox pushes Jonze into a wall, hard. I think to myself: Spike Jonze is about to get his ass kicked. Then, like a panther (or jaguar), Jonze jumps at Knox. They hit the floor. Jonze is on top of Knox, throwing punches at his head. After about 15 seconds, I pull them apart. Knox gets up and screams, “Wait right fucking there!” and runs into a back room. Jonze looks at me and says, “Let’s get the fuck out of here!” and runs out the door, fast.

Knox jumps out from the back room, glowering and holding a baseball bat.

DRIVING AWAY, JONZE MUSES ABOUT HOW “HECTIC” things got with Knox. He repeatedly pushes his face toward the rearview mirror and asks if I think his eye looks swollen. It doesn’t. He says nothing like that has ever happened to him before, except once “with Everlast, but it never got physical.” We pull into a 7-Eleven and he gets a juice and some Advil.

I try to ask some more questions about the movie. “I’m apprehensive about talking about it at all,” he says, “because I feel like it’s going to cloud someone’s opinion. You think about all the movies you had preconceived notions about, about all the ones you read stuff about until you were sick of them before you even saw them.

SPIKE JONZE’S REAL NAME IS ADAM SPIEGEL. He isn’t interested in talking about why, or when, he started going by Spike Jonze, or how much it has to do with Spike Jones, the 1940s band leader, but it’s probably related to the fact he grew up hanging out with a lot of competitive BMX bikers similarly fond of pseudonyms and alter egos. He was raised in Bethesda, Maryland, a well-heeled suburb of Washington, D.C., where his mother enjoyed photography and his father enjoyed being the scion of an extremely successful family-owned catalog company. Jonze is the middle child (younger brother; older sister) and was into skateboarding, photography, lots of Dischord-era punk rock, and, most of all, BMX.

In the mid-’80s, BMXing’s popularity was exploding, and Jonze was spending much of his time at Rockville BMX, a legendary retail and mail-order BMX shop in nearby Rockville, Maryland. At age 15, he accompanied the Haro pro-BMX team on a summer tour of the U.S., serving as part-time roadie, contest announcer, T-shirt salesperson, and using an old 35-millimeter camera, team photographer. By the time he was 16, he was writing and taking pictures for skate and bike magazines. At 17, immediately after finishing high school, he moved to Torrance, California, to work at Freestylin’, the sport’s preeminent glossy. There, he met Mark Lewman and Andy Jenkins, two kindred spirits.

“We were all living together in this apartment across the street from the magazine’s offices, in the Valley, which was like the epicenter of the skateboarding and BMX world,” says Lewman, who was 18 at the time and is now a creative director at Lambesis, a San Diego–based advertising agency that deciphers youth culture. “We’d skate to work, ride ramps, listen to Black Flag and Eric B. and Rakim, and get into adventures drinking Night Train, being weird, and stomping around downtown L.A.”

They’d also make zines. First, in 1991, Homeboy, then, two years later, Dirt. Clever and funny, they became popular with the 25-and-under, proto-extreme-sport, punk/rap-inclined hipster set. During this time, Jonze also started getting hired to take photos for magazines such as Details and Interview. And he began filming skateboarding videos, including one particular deft collaboration with ‘80s skate god Mark Gonzales titled Blind Skateboard Video.

One night, backstage at a Sonic Youth concert, Gonzales gave a copy of that tape to his friend Kim Gordon, who dug it so much that she asked Tamra Davis–who had just directed her first film, Gun Crazy, and had yet to become the wife of Beastie Boy Mike D.–to work with Jonze on shooting some skateboarding segments for Sonic Youth’s video for the song “100%.” He was 21.

Jonze has always lived in something of a rarefied world inhabited by bikers, skaters, emerging rock icons, and movie stars. Even so, he notes, he first met the Beastie Boys through his sister. She and Adam Yauch met in traffic school. The Beasties and Jonze share an appreciation for the absurd. Yauch and Jonze used to do things like rent police uniforms so they could direct traffic in Manhattan.

A few short years after “100%,” Jonze was established as America’s preeminent director of unusual music videos. This fact seemed to bore him. In 1998′s Fatboy Slim “Praise You” video, the one with the dancers in front of Mann’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood, Jonze credited the direction to Richard Koufey and the Torrance Community Dancers. To this day, Jonze denies having been a part of it. Earlier this year, a typed letter arrived at the Spin offices vehemently demanding Spin retract its report that Jonze directed the video. It was signed Richard Koufey and included a detailed résumé for Koufey that stated he was a dancer in the “Thriller” video, the “Love Shack” video, the film Dirty Dancing, and something called “Dancextravaganza” at the opening of a Dellamo Fashion Center.

IN ADDITION TO BEING JOHN MALKOVICH, Jonze has another movie coming out, one in which he acts. It’s called Three Kings and was written and directed by David O’Russell. The two met when Jonze hired Russell to help him write a script for Harold and the Purple Crayon, which was to be a partially animated adaption of the children’s book, and Jonze’s feature-film debut, but never made it into production. Jonze costars in Three Kings with George Clooney, Ice Cube, and Mark Wahlberg. They play four U.S. soldiers who try to steal a secret cache of Kuwaiti gold at the end of the Gulf War. It’s a different, very sharp war-genre picture. Jonze plays a redneck private who is the sidekick of Wahlberg’s more seasoned soldier.

“I’d never really acted before,” Jonze says. “A few little things with friends, but nothing serious. And it’s not like I really want to get into acting. But David was really into me doing it, and Mark was especially supportive. In some ways I feel like I had no right to do it. But it was a lot of fun.”

Russell recalls Jonze’s commitment to the project. “He stayed in character a lot on set, and I think he eventually regretted it because Mark started beating the shit out of him as if Spike was really his tagalong sidekick. We tried telling Mark to go easy on him, but he was in character too. I think Spike was upset that that was happening.

AMONG THOSE IMMERSED IN THE CULT of Spike Jonze, the Weird Al prank is infamous. As partially recounted in an issue of the Beastie Boys’ zine, Grand Royal, Mike D. and Russell Simins, the drummer for Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, interviewed by Weird Al. During the interview, they got the conversation to come around to the Beatles. Precisely at that moment, they had Sean Lennon and Yoko Ono walk by and staged something weird and funny. No one at Grand Royal can remember exactly what happened, but it included Spike Jonze dressed up as a waiter.

I didn’t know of the Weird Al prank until weeks after meeting Jonze. As such, I spent a good portion of my evening immediately following the Knox vs. Jonze incident breathlessly telling friends all about their fight, until a friend, a longtime skater, looked at me and matter-of-factly said: “He staged it.”

Two days after the fight I go to meet Jonze for lunch, and, even though I’m not sure, I tell him I now that the afternoon with Knox was staged. Jonze demurs. “That would be gnarly” he says. “Maybe we should come back to this topic after lunch.

We pull into a Carl’s Jr. Things between us are slightly tense. I keep pressing him on the issue as we walk into the restaurant. Jonze doesn’t say anything until he’s just about to order at the counter, then he says we should walk outside. I follow him into the parking lot toward a parked black sedan. There is a guy in dark sunglasses sitting there, sipping on a Coke.

“Dude, it’s off,” Jonze says. “We’re busted.”

Jonze then reveals that he’d “planned something” for right there, right then, at the Carl’s Jr. We all had back inside the restaurant, where Jonze begins walking around the seating area and tapping on what appear to be lonely Carl’s Jr. diners on the shoulder. There are four of them, strategically placed; two have video cameras hidden on them, on has a regular camera. Two of them, including the guy from the car, who is Jeff Tremaine, the art director of the skateboarding magazine Big Brother, are wearing hidden microphones.

“This was going to be an all-out assault,” Tremaine says. “I was going to walk by and bump into Spike and my drink was going to fall all over me. And then I was going to get all jacked at Spike and knock some shit on him and get into a fight.”

“I was actually going to take a punch this time,” Jonze says, “but I was also going to bite down on some blood pellets.” He shows me two small capsules of fake blood. “I wanted the whole article to be about how I keep getting my ass kicked.”

“I was going to knock over the salad bar,” Tremaine says. “We were going to have the whole thing on tape. I twas going to be a turkey shoot, like Kennedy.”

“You are all extremely fucked up,” I tell them.

Jonze says he started planning for it late last night and tells everyone he’s sorry he didn’t go through with it. Tremaine tells Jonze that he was excited to punch him. Then, everyone tells me some stories of previous pranks, the best of which is described as simply the Hard-On One. It goes something like this:

The guy who played Knox yesterday–a friend of Jonze’s who also pulls stunts like getting himself hit by a car (for a Big Brother photo shoot) and shooting himself with a gun while wearing a bulletproof vest (for fun)–puts on a pair of flimsy gym shorts, out of which sticks a large, fake rubber penis. Then, he goes out and gets into a pickup basketball game. Next, he walks into a guitar store, where, when a salesman hands him a cord to plug in, the salesman is pulled toward the fake rubber penis. After that, he makes a quick stop at a karate studio, from which he is quickly removed. Finally, he goes to get measured for a tux, where, according to Jonze, the tailor exclaims [in a thick Indian accent], “What? You always run around with your dick sticking out?”

“It’s amazing,” Jonze says. “We’ve got the whole thing on tape.”

After Carl’s Jr., Spike lobbies me to concoct a wild, made-up story with him, one I could submit in lieu of the article. He’s got some funny, clever ideas for it, too.

“SPIKE DIDN’T GROW UP WATCHING A TON OF FILMS or even TV,” says Kim Gordon, who has known Spike ever since he worked on “100%.” “So he’s not tied to any sense of history image-wise, the way most people are. He just has a real instinctual feel for what people like. And he’s willing to try absolutely anything.”

“I think he kind of looks at everything like it’s a chance to take a golf cart and make it go 60 miles per hour,” says his old friend Lewman. “It’s always been about having a really good time.” Even so, by all accounts Jonze is meticulous, tireless even, whether it concerns a feature film, or taking down a Carl’s Jr. salad bar. His willingness to go to almost any lengths to maintain the integrity of any project–no matter how seemingly small, trivial, or twisted–is nothing short of spectacular. It is probably the one quality that best portends him making very good movies for a long time. A vast portion of Jonze’s creative energies are consumed by these tiny, hysterical performances that will never make any money, that are solely for the benefit of himself and his like-minded friends.

“But it’s not about being weird for weird’s sake,” Lewman says. “I mean, Malkovich is a movie that, at its heart, is about something everyone can relate to–desperately wanting to be someone else.... I think a lot of how [Jonze] looks at the world might come from skating and biking. You do that as a kid and you don’t look at things normally. You look at a hockey rink and see a place to skateboard. You look at a bench as a thing to do tricks off of.”

I SEE JONZE ONE MORE TIME. HE MAKES IT OBVIOUS he’d rather I not write about the Knox and Carl’s Jr. pranks. Further, he mostly turns off my tape recorder any time I start to ask him anything. He tells me he doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t want to come off as a guy who is lucky enough to make cool movies with big stars but is all petulant about talking to the press. He tells me again how anything he says as far as explanation of his own work is less interesting than someone’s own interpretation of his, or any, movie. About an hour passes. I ask him to name some of his favorite movies and filmmakers.

“I like stuff that is unpredictable in terms of tone,” he says. “I like Tim Burton, The World According to Garp, Being There, all the Coen brothers’ stuff. I feel really lucky to even have the opportunity to try to make those kinds of movies.”

I ask about his movie, about what Malkovich was like.

“He’s just amazing. Really genuinely eccentric. He heard about the script and contacted us, loved the idea. It was weird because he plays himself in the movie, but it’s not really him, it’s the script’s idea of him. Whenever I see him do the Dance of Despair and Disillusionment, I’m like, this guy is my hero.”

The Dance of Despair and Disillusionment is reason alone to see Being John Malkovich. In the movie, John Cusack plays a puppeteer who enters the body of John Malkovich and forces him to give up acting for puppeteering. At one point, Malkovich acts out the dance he wants to be his ultimate master-puppeteer work, the Dance of Despair and Disillusionment. Just out of the shower, he acts it out in a towel. David Fincher, the director of Seven and Fight Club, fellow former music-video director, and close friend of Jonze, calls it “up there with Butch and Sundance jumping off the cliff, as far as greatest movie moments ever go.”

I try to get Jonze to talk about other things, videos, his commercial work. (Jonze often shoots commercials, the most recent being Lee Jeans’ “Buddy Lee” spots.) He won’t. A few days later, we talk on the phone. He asks how I’ve decided to “handle” the article, says he knows I’ll write “something good.” The next day, I call him back, ask him to clear up some factual stuff, dates he worked on things, how he first met certain people. He’s not into it. But, before we get off the phone, he does answer one question.

Me: Where did the idea for the “Sabotage” video come from?

Jonze: “Australia.”

#spike jonze #spin magazine

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lavenderwatercolor · 5 years

Text

Honey, Arthur Fleck x Reader

Ask: Please please please can you write a oneshot of arthur and rich!reader meeting through a mutual friend and she absolutely spoils him with money and gifts and food and anything he'd ever need? With kind of a kinky undertone? Like he's her sugar baby even though he's like way older than her. She just absolutely takes care of him in every way, just wants to tie him up and make him cum and then take him out for a fancy dinner and buy him pretty things ok thank u for reading this mess

Warnings: Cursing, smut, implied mommy kink.

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Reader

A/N: So.. I went a little overboard with this. I didn’t even realize how long it was until I finished. Your request just gave me so much muse! I loved writing this so much. I’m going to put a border on this one, because of how long it is. Don’t want to take up your entire dash!

He was too well dressed.

Arthur knew it as soon as his friend arrived, well, could he really call him a friend? He was more of a coworker, they’d only talked once before he invited Arthur to… whatever this was. Why was he invited? It surely wasn’t just to hang out. No one found Arthur interesting enough to invite out, they never had.

Wilfredo walked down the hall wearing a simple pair of blue jeans and a black hoodie, drawing attention to Arthur’s own outfit. A pair of black dress pants and a button-up white shirt, tucked in, of course. He looked down awkwardly and pulled a cigarette from his pants pocket to try and ease his freshly agitated nerves.

“Looking sharp, my man.” Wilfredo smiled when he reached him, clapping him on the shoulder with a friendly squeeze. Arthur tried not to slink away from his touch and lit his cigarette. “How long you been here? You knocked yet?”

Arthur shook his head and took a long pull. “Five minutes.” He lied, blowing out the smoke away from his face. He’d been there at least twenty minutes, standing in front of the unfamiliar apartment door and staring at the chipped paint. Inside he could hear a few people talking but it was too muffled to make out.

“You could have gone in man, I told them you’d be with me.” As he knocked on the door Arthur continued pondering why the fuck he was there, he wasn’t fooling anyone, not even himself. He’d much rather be at home watching T.V with his mother.

“Hey, why did you invite me?” Arthur spoke flatly, taking his cigarette up to his lips. He narrowed his eyes while he took a drag, not wanting the smoke to get into his eyes.

“I can tell you been stressed lately, Art. I know it’s not easy trying to make a living doing what we do, every once in awhile it’s good to hang out and have a few beers.” It seemed genuine enough, Arthur was almost touched, he couldn’t remember the last real friend he’d actually had. A true friend, not someone who claimed to be his friend to get what they wanted.

“One second!” Someone inside shouted.

Arthur put his cigarette out, sticking the half-smoked length back into his pack. So, have a few beers? Sure, he could do that. A drink or two and then he could go home.

The door opened and Wilfredo was quickly wrapped in the embrace of a freakishly tall man. Arthur furrowed his brows and looked up at him, trying to guess how tall he was. At least seven feet.

“It’s been too long brother, come inside.”

The room smelled like cigarettes, alcohol, and jasmine. Arthur cleared his throat as he walked in, trying to make out the faces in the darkness. A T.V sat in the corner of the room, playing some new horror movie everyone had been raging about. His eyes adjusted and he saw a woman on the couch nursing a beer, she was watching the movie so intently she didn’t even notice someone new had arrived.

Two girls in the kitchen, a blonde who looked like she was one beer short of a six-pack and a girl with box-black hair trying to open a bottle of wine. She was struggling with the bottle and the blonde wasn’t helping, too drunk to properly hold it while the other popped the cork out.

Before he was even introduced to the tall man the two girls in the kitchen squealed, dropping what they were doing to run to the door, pushing past Arthur in the process. He turned to see what the hell was so exciting.

“Oh, Duckie, Cassie, I’ve missed you girls.”

He couldn’t see the newcomer so he turned back to Wilfredo.

“That’s (Y/N),” Wilfredo said and led Arthur to the couch, picking up two beers on the way. “She buys ‘em whatever the hell they want and they kiss her ass for it.” Arthur sensed a hint of repulsion in his voice but said nothing, hoping he would continue on his own. “I love that girl but damn, she does too much for them.”

While Wilfredo began speaking of the film on T.V Arthur took a second to glance your way.

You were so pretty. You stood with grace, this elegance about you that demanded attention from everyone in the room. Even the brunette beside him who had been watching the movie.

Duckie, the blonde, must have said something funny because you laughed suddenly and planted a kiss on her head. Your laugh could be compared to the light whisper of bells or an antique wind chime, the sound of a spoon tinkling against a champagne glass requesting attention at dinner. It would be a horrible lie to say Arthur wasn’t already enchanted with you.

The tall man was introduced to him as Jackson, or as everyone in the room called him, Tall-Jack. He was six foot nine exactly, an older black man with history in his eyes that needed to be told. Arthur would have liked to hear his stories.

“And here’s (Y/N),” Tall-Jack said as you finally parted from the two girls and came to the living room. “She’s as sweet as cherry pie and smells just as nice.”

“Nice to meet you.” You put on a smile and held your hand out to the stranger, taking in his features. He was dressed nicely for such a small affair, you appreciate that. You always dressed your best, as you were now, wearing a slim pink dress that ended at your knees and a rather unnecessary black fur coat. Your jewelry was a whole different story, you loved the way diamonds sparkled so you always went a bit overboard. A diamond necklace, two diamond rings, dangling diamond earrings and an anklet of the same. It’s not like anyone could blame you, if they had the money you did surely they’d be the same way.

Duckie and Cassie both had milked you of what they could, they were wearing their successions. Matching pearl necklaces for both of them and dainty diamond earrings. You loved them to death but knew they were mostly using you for your money. It was hard to turn them down though when they called you crying, showing up at your house with tears in their eyes.

You were a pushover to people in need. Something inside you just wanted to take care of them like a mother would, you’d always been like that. Caring and nurturing to those who needed it, expecting nothing in return. You couldn’t help it.

“Hi,” Arthur took your hand and shook it, his eyes darting down to the expensive rings on your fingers. “Nice to meet you too.” He didn’t exactly stumble over his words but they sure as hell didn’t come out smoothly.

“So, you know Wilfredo?” You asked and sat on the coffee table in front of them, taking a beer that Cassie had brought you. “Thank you, darling.”

“Uhm, yeah.” He watched the interaction, how the two girls acted like you were some kind of royalty. “We, uh, we work together.”

“Oh!” You raised your brows as you took a sip from the cold glass bottle. “Do you? That’s interesting. You’re a party clown too?”

He shrugged, grateful that Tall-Jack and Wilfredo had started a conversation of their own, it meant fewer eyes on him. “Kind of. What do you do?”

“I’m a manager for a few different BMX riders. I do the promotion and sales, set up interviews.”

Arthur’s eyes widened and he leaned forward, now very interested. “Wow, I don’t know anyone who does anything that interesting.” He gaped, hands clasped under his chin. “So, you travel a lot?”

“Oh, you have no idea. I go everywhere they go, it was hard to make it here but I manage.” You laughed and took another sip of beer, licking your lips. Your glittery lipgloss left marks around the rim of the bottle.

You and Arthur talked with each other the entire night. You mostly talked about your job, the places you’d been and the people you managed. He was one of the only people you’d met besides Tall-Jack and Jennifer, the brunette on the couch beside Arthur, that actually listened to you. He breathed in every word you spoke and watched you with all of his attention, not looking away or interrupting you once.

“Oh, god, look at the time.” Jennifer broke your conversation, prompting you to look down at your watch.

“Wow! I should get going.” You stood from the coffee table and dusted off the back of your dress, picking up the fourth bottle of beer you’d opened. “Jack, darling, thank you for a wonderful night. I needed it.”

Arthur panicked as you said your goodbyes, he wanted to know so much more about you, he wanted to see you again, he wanted your number-

“You want to walk back with us?” You asked your new friend, looking down at him with a warm smile.

He looked up and nodded, eyes flickering between you and Jennifer. “Yeah, sure. Uhm,” As he stood he looked to Wilfredo, shutting his mouth when he saw he was blacked out on the loveseat. Cassie, the girl with short black hair, was no better than him, sitting in the kitchen with her head on the table and seven beer bottles next to her.

“You’re leaving already?” Duckie pouted and followed you to the door, it was quite obvious she wanted something from you. Arthur cringed at the sight of it, she looked so desperate. Wilfredo’s words echoed in his head.

“Yes, sweetie, you know how it is.” You reached the door and turned to her, planting both your hands on her shoulders. The way her face dropped made your heart ache.

Arthur and everyone else in the room knew it was an act. He watched with disgust as you promised to take her out soon and buy her a few new outfits.

Jennifer rolled her eyes, something that didn’t go by unnoticed by Arthur. He snorted and looked away, waiting for you to finish your interaction.

“Bye guys, it was so nice seeing you all again.” You said when Duckie finally let your arm go.

“Bye cherry pie!” Tall-Jack waved you off, saying something about how he did this every Friday night.

When Arthur finally got outside the room he felt like he could breathe again. Seeing you get taken advantage of like that made his stomach churn. You deserved better.

“Why do you do that for her?” Jennifer asked as the three of you made your way out of the apartment building. “Her and Cassandra. They’re like leeches.”

You sighed, knowing she was right. “It’s not like I’m buying them houses. I like doing nice things for people. If you’d let me I’d decorate your neck too.”

Arthur walked slightly behind, watching the two of you talk, letting himself be invisible so he could hear your voice go on without his own ruining it. You sounded so pretty, it would be a shame to let his voice pollute the air you blessed.

After you walked Jennifer home you turned to Arthur, realizing he hadn’t spoke the entire time. “Where do you stay?” You asked as he pulled out a cigarette. You reached forward and plucked it from his fingers, almost laughing at how surprised he looked. “These will kill you, you know. Don’t smoke that.” You tsked and handed it back to him, appreciating how he stuck it back in the pack.

You liked that he listened to you.

“I’m uh,” He looked behind you, biting his bottom lip. Should he tell you that he lived in the complete opposite direction? What would you think knowing he had walked all the way to the other side of town just to be with you?

“You live that way? Let me walk you home.” You used your hand to guide him in the right direction.

“Oh, you don’t have to.” He spoke shyly, suddenly feeling exposed. No one had ever gone out of their way for him, it was always the other way around. Always.

“No, darling, I want to.” You smiled at him with your hand still on his shoulder, you decided to give him a soft squeeze of comfort. He was so sweet you had instantly felt the need to treat him the way you did your girls, you wanted to spoil him with gifts and make him smile.

On the way back to his apartment your arm somehow found its way around his shoulders, something neither of you said anything about. He didn’t slink away from your touch so you kept your arm there, pulling him closer.

He savored every step, discreetly nuzzling his face into the fur of your sleeve. You smelt like honeysuckle and oranges, it reminded him of a childhood he didn’t have. While you walked in comfortable silence he allowed himself to pretend it would never end, that your arm would always be around him, keeping him safe, and it would always smell so beautiful.

As you arrived at his apartment you could sense his mood had changed, his shoulders slumped slightly and he walked slower. He didn’t want to go home and you knew it.

“This it?” You stopped with him at the front doors, sliding your arm off his shoulders. He was visibly disappointed but you couldn’t hold him forever, no matter how much you both wanted.

“Yeah.” He sighed, looking through the glass doors with dread. “Thanks for walking me back, you didn’t have to.”

You grabbed his hands in yours, they felt so cold and frail compared to how warm and inviting yours were. He melted.

“I wanted to, sweetie.” You smiled and rubbed your thumbs over the back of his hand, not missing the slight squeeze he gave you. “Is it okay if I call you that?”

Arthur closed his eyes at how soft and warm your voice sounded, it almost hurt. No one had ever spoken to him like that. “Yeah.”

You hummed and looked at his face, taking in the expression of sadness and longing. You’d seen it so many times before and your instincts so desperately wanted to take over and wrap him in your arms. “Okay, sweetie. You ever need anything call me, okay?” You reached in your purse and took out your planner, it was pink and had your name in gold cursive on the front. You tore out a page, the tear so clean it made Arthur wonder how you could do literally everything with such grace and perfection. You wrote out your number and folded the paper, careful not to smudge the ink.

“What would I need?” He chuckled and took the paper, slipping it in the back pocket of his pants.

“Well, if you need someone to talk to. I’m busy most days and I’m not home a lot, but when I am I’ll let you know. You can come over for a drink.”

He nodded and resisted the urge to light a cigarette, instead licking his lips. You were so nice, what was the catch? There had to be a catch, he knew it. No one was this nice for no reason.

“Promise you’ll call?” You teased with a smile when he left you in silence.

He looked at your soft, glittery, pink lips, wanting so badly to taste them. “Yeah. I mean, yes. I promise.” He hated how silly he sounded, but in time he’d learn to love it. He just needed time.

“Good.” Satisfied you leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead, leaving the slightest shimmer of pink on his skin. You had a few inches on him because of your heels, but as soon as they came off you knew he’d be much taller than you. They were your tallest pair anyways, leaving you taller than most people. You found that people took you seriously when you were taller or as tall as them, it was a necessity in the business world.

***

As promised, Arthur called. He called the night of to make sure he had the right number, resulting in a surprisingly long conversation about fruit. He went to bed that night with a smile on his face and cherries on his mind.

The workweek for him was awful. Worse than awful. Monday he had coffee thrown on him, Tuesday someone stole his red clown nose, Wednesday he got a complaint from the shoe store he’d been advertising for, they said he was scaring away customers with his laughter. It wasn’t his fault. Some kid had been teasing him and he had a fit of laughter, making the situation so much worse. The kid fed off of the anxiety and kept going. Thursday his boss told him off for something that wasn’t even his fault, and Friday, Friday was the breaking point.

A group of teenage girls thought it would be hilarious to make a scene, taunting him with their words and going as far as touching him, grabbing at his arms and saying something about him being skinny. He didn’t remember everything. All he knew was that he wanted to see you.

“Happy, you’re home early,” Penny said as soon as he walked in the door, straining from her spot on the loveseat to see him. “Did you check-”

“Yes, mom.” He cut her off as he went to the phone with one thing on his mind. “Nothing. There was nothing.”

She rambled on about the usual but he tuned her out, dialing your number he had memorized. You probably wouldn’t pick up but he could leave a message-

“Hello, this is (Y/N) speaking.” Your voice caught him off guard, he expected the answering machine.

He didn’t plan on you picking up. He swallowed and fought for the words to say, leaving you both in silence.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Arthur.” He choked out and grasped at the collar of his shirt, trying to loosen it. “Are you home?”

“Arthur! Hi sweetie, yes, I’m home.” You sounded so heavenly he felt a little better the more you spoke. You almost sounded happy to hear from him.

“Could I see you?”

“Who is that?” Penny asked, curious as to who he would be seeing. As far as she knew he had no friends.

***

“Of course you can.” You cooed into the receiver and made your way through your house, you had just gotten home from an interview in New York. It was your biggest client, he was about to compete in freestyle competition in California and the press were up your ass for content.

He was Dennis McCoy, on team Haro, one of the biggest names in the industry, so you had been very busy lately. But you always had time for your friends, you made time for them.

“Do you want me to come get you?” You asked as you set down the large folder of posters you’d just picked up.

“No, I can walk.”

“Honey, I’m on the other side of town. Let me come get you.”

After a while of back and forth he gave in and you drove to get him. Once he was in your car he wouldn’t shut up about how you didn’t have to get him, how he really could have just walked.

“Have you had dinner yet?” You cut him off as you drove down the crowded street, having to stop often because of the traffic and people walking in the road.

“Uh,” He inhaled at your question, his rambling had left him breathless. “Yeah, I had a little.” It was a complete lie. He hadn’t eaten at all that day. His medications often left him with little to no appetite, taking its obvious toll on his already skinny form.

You looked at him and raised a brow. “Are you lying to me, Arthur?”

He looked at you and prepared to shake his head, but when he saw the look in your eye he knew he couldn’t lie. It was like you were an authority figure, but not like his boss. He actually liked you, and if he was honest, he liked the thought of you telling him what to do. “Yes. I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t lie to me, sweetie.” You stopped him and looked back to the road, running through the restaurants local to you. “What do you like? There's a steakhouse nearby, a seafood bar, this great Italian place near where I live.”

“Italian sounds nice.”

You settled on Italian, glad he chose that option. It was one of the nicer places to eat, you and your clients ate there often when discussing business.

Arthur felt a little out of place in the fancy restaurant. Everyone was dressed so nice, they all looked like models. He thought you looked like you belonged there, wearing a gorgeous black dress with a pink suede jacket. You had on a different necklace, a dainty gold chain with some sort of pearl pendant. Pearl earrings. Those same diamond rings.

He looked down at his faded blue jeans and cringed. At least he showered.

“How was your week?” You asked over dinner, watching him pick at his food. He had only taken a few bites of his pasta, but he had finished two cups of water. At least he was drinking.

When you asked the question he winced, looking down at his food as the memories of the week came crashing back. “It was fine. How was yours? Tell me about it.”

You eyed him with suspicion but told him about your week, about the interview and the new posters that your graphic designer made. He listened intently, as always, smiling and nodding. You’d told many people about your line of work but none of them listened the way he did, not even Jennifer. It felt so good to finally have someone that was actually interested in you, there had been so many Duckie’s and Cassie’s in your life you’d lost count.

“Is it stressful?” He asked after you finished your plate, he hadn’t even noticed but when you were talking he had been absentmindedly eating. He had about half of his meal gone and he felt full for the first time in forever, and he wasn’t even nauseous. There was something about you that had slowly changed things about him without him even noticing.

“Sometimes. But I love my job. It’s worth it.” You answered with a smile. “You ready then?”

It took a moment for him to realize what you meant, but then the waitress slipped the bill on the table and he nodded. “Oh, yeah, uhm.” He reached in his pocket to grab his wallet.

“Don’t even think about it.” You stopped him, using your firm voice, and pulled your wallet from your purse.

Arthur blushed as you paid the bill, half of him feeling guilty and ashamed but the other half enjoying the feeling of being taken care of. It was something his mother never did for him, she had never taken care of him the way you were. Buying him dinner, making sure he ate, chiding him on his smoking just like a mother should.

The waitress left and came back with his leftovers wrapped up in tinfoil, it looked overly fancy and somewhat unnecessary. But that’s how it was in the world of the rich, fancy and unnecessary.

You took him back to your house. As soon as he walked through the door his jaw dropped, it looked like a mansion to him.

He was adorable.

“Sit down, make yourself at home.” You took the leftovers from his hands, making sure to brush your fingers over his. “I’ll put these up and get us a drink. Do you like wine?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

You went to the kitchen and put away his food, pouring two glasses of your favorite red wine. You came back to the living room to see him sitting on your couch, admiring the centerpiece on your glass coffee table. It was a gold statue of a GT bike, one of your clients gave it to you after they won a competition for the team.

“Here you go, sweetie.” You sat next to him on the couch, maybe a little too close. Your thighs touched and your shoulders gently grazed his. “So, you want to tell me how your week really was?”

He watched you lean back, your arm gracefully laying across the top of the couch. Should he really tell you? Honestly? He sighed and took a sip of the wine, biting down on his bottom lip after he swallowed. “It wasn’t too great. People, people don’t really like clowns.”

You listened to him talk, nodding. When he leaned back into the couch his hair brushed against your hand and he went to move but you stopped him, letting your fingertips stroke the back of his head. “I like clowns. Did someone bother you, sweetie?” You observed how he seemed to fall apart at your touch and continued playing with his hair, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better.

Arthur choked back a chuckle, trying his best to stop the oncoming fit of laughter that threatened to spill from his chest and ruin the moment. “I, aha,” He coughed and gritted his teeth. “Monday, someone threw coffee on me-” And that’s when the fit started. He felt like he’d suffocate on his laughter, it took everything out of him and left him gasping for breath with tears in his eyes.

You had no idea what was happening but stayed quiet, stroking his hair and letting it happen. It looked like some sort of panic attack, one of your younger clients had them often before interviews and competitions.

When the laughter finally stopped he sucked in a breath, filling his lungs with the oxygen he so desperately needed. “And Tuesday,”

“You don’t need to tell me everything, sweetie.” You stopped him and set your glass of wine on the table, turning to face him, your hand still in his hair. You touched his thigh with the other, not missing how his muscles tensed under your hand.

“It was a rough week.” He felt a tear trickle down his cheek and he cursed himself for being so emotional. He didn’t want you to see him like that, he didn’t want you to think he was some helpless idiot who pitied himself.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You sighed and rubbed his thigh, giving him a comforting squeeze.

Arthur swallowed hard when you called him that. Sweetie was one thing, he’d heard you call Duckie and Cassie that name. But baby?

“Can I call you that?” You asked respectfully while you brushed the hair from his eyes, rubbing your thumb over his cheeks to wipe away the tears. “Is that okay?”

Arthur leaned into your hand and nodded, savoring every second of human contact. He was so damn touch starved it was ridiculous. “Yeah.”

“Okay, baby.” You shifted in the couch closer to him, pulling his head against your chest and wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Arthur, for once in his life, was held. He cried into your embrace, letting all the years of pent up sadness and anger spill out.

You knew when you saw Arthur that he was stressed out, you could see it in his eyes. But this was something different entirely, he was so damaged and hurt that it made your heart ache. All you wanted to do was hold him and take away his pain.

You kissed his head as the crying slowly stopped, he had stopped sobbing and was letting out an occasional cough and sniffle. “I should go.” He said weakly, but his body betrayed his words and he stayed wrapped in your arms.

“I don’t think you should, baby.” You rubbed his back with one hand and squeezed his shoulder with the other to keep him grounded with you.

He sniffed and after a moment lifted his head from your chest, looking at you. “Why? I mean, why are you so kind to people? I’ve never met anyone like you in Gotham. You give and expect nothing in return, why?”

You smiled and brushed his hair from his face, cupping his cheek which was still wet and cold with tears. “I like it. I give what I can because I know how it feels to have no one. When I was younger…” You trailed off, then shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. That’s in the past. I don’t want people to have to feel like that when it’s so easy to make them feel better. For some people, they need things to make them feel better. Duckie and Cassie,”

At the mention of their names Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Don’t do that. You don’t know what they have going on behind closed doors. For them, material items make them happy. So I buy them things, I don’t mean to brag, but money isn’t an issue with me, so I do what I can to make them happy. If you wanted something I’d do the same for you.”

Arthur wished he didn’t have to worry about money like you did. But the last thing he would ever do would be to ask you for money, it felt disgusting to even think about it. Sure, it would be nice to have the rent paid off and have food in the fridge for his mom, but he would never. Ever.

At the thought of his mother he looked at the clock. His heart dropped. “Oh, I need to go home. My mom-”

“Alright, let me get your food.” You stood, leaving him cold on the couch without the warmth of your arms.

“About earlier, the laughing, I have a condition.” He said when you came back with his food in your hands. “I can’t control it.”

“I figured as much.” You smiled, handing him his leftovers. “That’s okay, though. I don’t mind it. We all have our vices.”

***

Your relationship with Arthur in the following weeks blossomed into the sweetest and most beautiful thing. You found joy in taking him shopping, you’d bought him countless outfits and jackets that actually fit him, shoes that would last and even a watch. He wasn’t one for jewelry, which was a shame. You liked the surprised look on people’s faces when they opened the felt jewelry boxes and laid their eyes on whatever you’d bought.

You took him to dinner when you could, making sure he ate his fill. You adored him and everything about him.

One night after dinner you found yourselves upstairs in your bedroom, halfway through a bottle of wine laughing about some cheesy romance movie you had playing on the T.V.

“Look what I bought you the other day.” You leaned off the bed and grabbed the gift bag you had laying on your floor. One of your clients had an interview in Arizona and you saw something in one of the gift shops you thought he’d like.

“Wow, that looks heavy.” He said as he sipped his wine, cross-legged at the foot of your bed.

“Here, open it.” You crawled towards him and set the bag in front of him, excited to see how he’d react.

Arthur handed you his glass of wine and dipped his hands into the bag, fingers wrapping around the large gift. He struggled to pull it out but when he did his eyes lit up. “Oh, wow, (Y/N)...”

It was a record player, a very nice one at that. It was black and rimmed with gold around the edges, hints of red in some of the dips. You watched with a wide smile on your face as he looked it over, turning and examining the entire thing.

“How much was this?” He stuttered and looked back up to you like a child getting exactly what he wanted for Christmas.

“I’m not telling you.” You laughed and playfully nudged his shoulder, pleased with how he reacted. It filled your heart with so much happiness you thought it would burst.

He was speechless, he couldn’t think of a damn thing so say.

“Do you like it?” You knew he did but you wanted to hear him say it.

“Uh, yeah?” He laughed at the absurdity of the question, nodding with a grin. “I love it. Thank you so much. I don’t know how to show you how much I appreciate this.”

You hummed and pretended to be deep in thought before tapping your lips with one finger. His eyes flicked down to your lips as he’d done many times before, but this time with a new reason. He looked back into your eyes and furrowed his brows, not sure if you meant what he thought you did.

You looked up, finger still on your lips. “Come on, give me some sugar.”

Oh. Arthur swallowed and tried not to show how nervous he was. He cursed himself for being so awkward and leaned into you, watching you close your eyes as his face neared yours. You were serious. He forced himself to get his act together and pressed his lips against yours.

How his heart soared. He melted into you and exhaled through his nose, and when he finally pulled away, he licked his lips to taste you. Your lipgloss was flavorless, he found, but you tasted like wine.

“That’s how you can repay me.” You teased, watching him lick his lips. “Oh, but how will you repay me for dinner?”

You both knew he didn’t have to repay you at all, just him spending time with you and being your friend was payment enough. But sugar was optional, it was a plus that you didn’t need.

“Do, are you like this with the others?” He asked, still breathless from the kiss.

You narrowed your eyes, considering if you should be honest. “Well, the others don’t like me like you do. They like what I do for them, but they don’t like me.”

“As sweet as that is, (Y/N), I want to know if they… pay you back like this.”

“Well, Duckie and Cassie, they sometimes do.” You decided to tell him the truth, he deserved to know. “I have a few other girls, well, not anymore, but in the past, yes. I’d buy them what they needed, paid their rent, their bills, and they’d… you know.”

“What do they do for you?” The sudden look of lust in his eyes changed the conversation entirely. You knew he was no longer innocently curious, and when your eyes cast down you saw from the bulge in his pants that he really, really wanted to know.

“Cassie, she likes to eat me out.” Your voice was now an airy whisper, only audible to the two of you. “When I do something considerably generous for her she repays me the same way. Sometimes she’ll lick me for hours while I do paperwork. Duckie is on the sweeter side, she likes to give me kisses and have me touch her.”

“Touch her? How is that for you?”

You smiled and touched his knee, fingertips barely stroking him through his pants. “Have you ever touched a woman? To see them come undone with your fingers inside them, well, it does more for me sometimes than Cassie’s mouth can.”

Arthur swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Does touching a man do the same for you?”

You shrugged, running your fingers up his thigh. When he gasped at your touch you smiled, then nodded. “I think it can with you. You’re already doing a lot to me.”

God, how was he supposed to respond to that? He wanted to please you now, he wanted to make you as happy as you had made him the past few weeks. It had been a month at least, maybe almost two. He’d never been happier. He’d never been… happy. But you changed that. You made him feel special and wanted, which is exactly what you were trying to do.

“Can I touch you, baby?” You whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek as your hand rested on top of his hardened length. He was so hard. The fact made you ache.

“Yeah.” He murmured, his face turning to the side as your lips left kisses from his cheek to his jaw. When you pressed them against his neck he thought he’d cum in his pants.

You unzipped his pants for him, pulling them down enough to pull out his cock. Your mouth actually watered at the sight of it, he was long and thick. You found in your life that the skinny, taller guys always had the more impressive cocks. The muscular guys who oozed confidence were… much less impressive.

You stroked him a few times before stopping to move the record player and bag off the bed. But you were back in a second, pressing your hand against his chest and pushing him into a laying position. “You’re so pretty, Arthur.” You breathed, your breath hot against the tip of his cock. You planted a kiss on his head and he moaned, hands reaching for your hair. “No, sweetie. You can’t touch me yet. Hands down.”

Being told what to do did something for him, he moaned in response and moved his hands up to his chest. “I like that,” His voice was a shaky whisper. “Being told what to do.”

They always did.

“Good. Now, stay still and let me taste you.”

You licked a stripe from the base of his cock to his head, flattening your tongue before taking him into your mouth. His precum tasted like salt, but it wasn’t bad. His diet had been healthy enough recently for him to taste fine. You swirled your tongue around the tip, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. When you took him entirely into your mouth he groaned loudly and shuttered.

“I’m, I’m not going to,” He sputtered and tried his best to stay still but his hips bucked upwards. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

“Come for me.” You took him out of your mouth and pumped him a few times, looking down at his face. His eyes were closed and his face was twisted in pleasure, his lips parted as his chest heaved with every breath. “Come for me, baby.” Your mouth went back to his cock and you forced yourself to take him all in, the tip of him reaching down the back of your throat.

“Oh!” He groaned and hissed, his hips jerking up into your mouth. He came quickly, moaning pretty little noises, his cum shooting down your throat. You swallowed all of it, making sure not a single drop was wasted.

You sat up and looked down at him, taking in how beautiful he looked. “You’re such a good boy, Arthur. Now get up.”

He pushed himself up on his elbows, looking at you while he struggled to sit up. You looked so elegant, your lips red from the friction and your eyes glossy from tears. None had spilled, though, he supposed you were too perfect for that.

“Make me come.” You sat up on your knees and raised your dress to slip off your black panties. When they were off you laid back against your pillows and bent your knees, spreading them to give him a full view of your pussy.

“Jesus.” He breathed at the sight and crawled up to you, taking off his jacket. He wanted to remove his shirt as well but your pussy was too tempting to waste time undressing.

Arthur laid down between your legs and nuzzled his face in your pussy, licking once through your folds. You were so wet, it gathered on the tip of his tongue and trickled down to his throat. “You taste so good.” He breathed and continued his work of licking and sucking, gauging your reactions to see what pleased you the most. After a while he fell into a rhythm of licking you, sucking your clit, and dipping his tongue as far as he could reach inside you.

You were breathless. You knew Arthur had no experience, it was obvious given how fast he came and how he had started oral, but it was shocking how fast he learned. He might actually make you come.

He remembered what you had said earlier about fingers and seeing a woman come undone with them. He cautiously slipped his middle finger inside you, jumping at the noise you made.

“Is that,” He thought he might have hurt you.

“Perfect, baby.”

He put his mouth back on you and moved his finger in and out, not sure what felt good.

“Curl them, in and out doesn’t do it for me.”

Note taken, he curled his finger. You burst into heavy breathing, reaching down to tug at his hair. He was so good, so good, he was going to make you come. It was so rare for someone to actually make you orgasm.

“Perfect, oh, yeah!” You gasped and closed your eyes, rutting your hips down on his face. He curled his finger faster and sucked on your clit as you came in his mouth, the noises you made were music to his ears. You laughed sweet, you spoke sweet, and the noises you made in bed were even better. How were you so perfect?

You came hard, jerking and shaking, toes curling. You were the only person who had ever made you come like that, no one before Arthur had done it like you could.

“Oh, baby. I’m going to have to keep you here.” You teased and he rose from your legs, licking the cum from his lips. “You need to stay here with me.”

He wished he could.

Making you come had caused him to harden again. You thanked the gods that you were able to go again so quickly, it was a gift women were blessed with.

“Lay down.” You slipped off the bed and he laid where you were previously, his hand going to his cock like it was programmed. “No, no touching.” You slapped his hand away and went back to what you were doing, grabbing your ties from your bedside table.

Arthur watched you climb back on the bed, on top of him, your wet center grazing his cock. He shuddered and forced his hands to stay at his side as you looped the ties around the headboard. You grabbed his hands and tied them above his head, making sure they were tight enough that he couldn’t free himself but not too tight. You didn’t want to cut off circulation.

“You were so good.” You said once you were done, placing your hands flat on his chest. He looked up at you with adoration, soaking in every praise you gave him. “My good boy, you made me come so hard.”

You leaned down and kissed him, deeper than before, your tongue entering his hot mouth. He tasted like your cum and wine.

With one hand you grabbed his cock and slipped it inside you, your tongue still in his mouth. The way he gasped sent shivers down your back.

You only broke the kiss to take off your dress, pulling it over your shoulders and throwing it behind you. Arthur didn’t know where to look, your chest or your face. Both were so pretty. Your nipples were hard, your skin looked so soft. He wanted so badly to touch your breasts.

Slowly, ever so slowly, you started riding him. One hand on his chest and the other on your thigh, you rose and sank down on his cock. He filled you perfectly, falling just centimeters short of your cervix. Any longer and it would be painful.

Arthur couldn’t even speak. He closed his eyes and moved with you, his hips rising to meet yours with each motion. You felt so good wrapped around his cock, he hoped he would last longer this time. He lost himself in his body, everything felt so perfect.

“Open your eyes.” You caressed his face with your palm, stroking his cheeks with your fingertips. “I wanna see those pretty green eyes when I come.”

He opened his eyes and locked them with yours, it was harder than it sounded, keeping them open and focused. It felt so intimate, he hadn’t felt that, ever. It was like you were looking into each other's souls, all of you belonging to each other, naked and exposed in every way. There was nowhere to hide, no way to lie.

You came again, clenching down on his cock, your eyes still locked with his. The sight of it was so beautiful to him, your mouth hanging open with your red cheeks. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered as he watched you come. “I can’t even tell you how beautiful you are.”

Coming to his praises was such an amazing experience.

You untied his hands with shaking fingers, suddenly overtaken with a more hungry desire. “Now, fuck me. I want it fast, and hard.”

The two of you switched positions and he plunged his cock back inside you, fucking you exactly how you said. Fast, and hard. His hips snapped forward with rough thrusts, hands planted in the pillows beside your head. You locked your ankles around his back, prompting him to go deeper.

“Just like that, baby.” Your moans were choppy from the force of his thrusts.

He fucked you harder when he felt his second orgasm come, burying his entire cock inside you. It caught him off guard and he had to close his eyes, it was too much. “Oh, (Y/N).” He groaned and came, continuing his thrusts. They were sloppy now but you didn’t care, you came with him and shouted his name.

“Oh my god.” He panted when his orgasm finished, leaving him with a few spasms and jerks. He rolled off of you and unbuttoned his shirt to get air on his overheated body. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”

You rolled through the last waves of your orgasm, humming and shaking beside him. “Mmm, yeah, baby. You’re so good.”

After the two of you dressed and pulled yourselves together you drove him home. The whole ride was spent talking about nothing and everything, the both of you still high from multiple orgasms.

“Thank you for tonight.” Arthur said in the passenger seat when you pulled up outside his apartment. He didn’t want to leave but he knew he had to, he had to tend to his mother.

“Of course, honey.” You reached out and brushed his hair from his cheek. “Listen, I’ve got a really busy week coming up. But Friday night I’m going to take you out, okay?”

“Okay.” he was a bit disappointed that he wouldn’t see you until then, but he was glad he got to see you again nonetheless.

“Come here.” You smiled and leaned in to kiss him, slipping a sealed envelope in his pocket. He thankfully didn’t notice. You knew he would refuse the money, but you just wanted to take care of him. You knew he was struggling.

“I’ll see you on Friday.” He said when the kiss broke, reaching for the door handle.

“See you then, sweetheart.”

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x reader smut #arthur fleck fluff #joker 2019 #joker x reader #joker x reader smut #arthur fleck x reader fluff #myfanfic

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theturtlelovers · 4 years

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Hello, may I have a 2016or 14 ship pls? I'm 15, 5ft, female, I have vitiligo, heterochromia (one brown and one green eye), I have dimples. I'm a middle child, introvert and kind of shy. But I do like to BMX race and roller blades. I can juggle, do origami, musician, i like to make song remixes, garden, cook, paint, sing. I'm really nice and try to be social. I have anxiety but super confident when racing or playing music. my favorite color is yellow. i like pizza rolls. Thanks and stay safe!

Kind of embarrassed that it took so long to do this shipping, but I hope I did well!

You are paired with: Michelangelo

Surprisingly, but also not surprising, Mikey ended up falling madly in love with you! He found you very beautiful in his eyes because of how different you are compared to everybody else. From your vitiligo to your heterochromia eyes, he loves it all. You’ll usually see him just staring at you with this lovesick look in his eyes that puts other couples to shame. And when you two are sitting together watching BMX races or just a movie, you’ll feel him lightly touching your skin. He makes small jokes about your height, seeing that he is no longer the shortest person in the clan.

Your shy behavior is understood but very endearing to him. With your uniqueness, he figured that’s why you tend to withdraw to yourself. However, he is an extrovert, and he will get you smiling and laughing till you die from lack of air! He can easily sense when you need to go back into your introverted space, so he’ll simply wait till you're recharged and ready to come back to him.

Mikey is also an artist, so you two usually just sit together and paint/draw away. You can expect to be doing a mural together that will blow his brothers’ and father’s minds away. He also has this non-toxic paint you can use to paint on his shell whenever it so pleases you. You two also make wicked food together! Making food for the others and for yourselves to enjoy it! And make little origamis for this turtle, he will melt inside if you do.

He finds it really cool that you are a musician and can make remixes from songs. You can expect him to make special requests for you to play him something, or try your hand at songs he suggests. He’ll make his own playlists of all of the remixes you make!

#tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt raph #tmnt bayverse #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo #thanks so much for the ask!#thank you anon #thank you #i will go down with this ship

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rogertaylorstories · 4 years

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Tomboy Troubles

Everyone at school thinks that you are a boy, but you are Clare Taylors Best Friend and roger Taylor’s best friend until you moved she didn’t have anyone to go to prom with, and you being older by a few years had nothing to do on a Friday night so you decide to go with Clare. But what happens when you have to meet the Taylor family out of tradition? And show them that you are worthy of taking Clare? (imagine that you have short shaved hair, (Like Ben Hardy’s For example at the Oscars.) or any boy-ish looking haircut for this story to work)

You were the person who moved in next door to the Taylors. You came from America and your parents were both business people. You had no siblings and it sucked. Your mother always wanted a daughter, and your father always wanted a Son. You were never around your mum as much as your dad. You and your dad would fix the car on days off, and teach you how to fight for self-defence he said that you could have the car, If you could fix it. You ended up doing more things that a boy would do instead of a girl. All the kids that were on your street were girls. What they wished for was being a princess and going to meet prince charming and that they were better than everyone else. But no, your dream was to be either in a band, or a race car driver. Maybe a professional skate boarder you said, or a bmx bike rider but you didn’t really care.

You were riding your bmx bike down a street one day, and you heard yelling. You were in your usual baggy t-shirt and a shorts with high top shoes. When you were getting closer, you saw that it was a fight. You being, 8 or whatever you thought that it would be a good idea to go have a look. You biked over and you saw a blonde kid getting kicked up on the floor. They were calling him names, and they wouldn’t stop hitting him. You walked over after putting your bike down and walked over to them. “What do you think your doing?” you say as you pushed the person against the wall. They wouldn’t give you an answer so you threw him against the wall a little bit harder. He said something along the lines of ‘Because he is different and he sucked at soccer.’ You beat all of them up and walked over to the blonde on the floor. “Hi love are you alright?” you ask as you put your hand on his head. He said, “it all hurts, my body hurts.” He said as he started to cry. You then picked him up and started walking to your BMX bike. You but him on the seat while you stood up and started to pedal down a hill. He started screaming while you started to laugh as you went through all the streets until you got to the shops.

“Come with me kid.” You say as you walked into the shop and to the counter where your mother worked part time for more money. “Hey mum.” You say as you walked over to her. “Hey sweetie what happened?” she asked as she saw the blood on your shirt. You helped roger walk over to the counter as he was limping down one isle. “Yeah my friend.” “roger.” He interrupted. “Yeah, my friend roger got hurt and I thought that you could help.” You say as you help roger walk around to the back of the counter so your mum could take a look. “Yeah he is pretty bad, maybe some cream for the bruises and you just need to rest buddy.” She said as she petted his head. You nodded and helped roger back to the bike. You took roger home and that is where it started.

Your friendship blossomed and you were connected at the hip. You were the one that turned Roger Taylor bad. He was that good student at school, but you liked to mess around. You would prank the teachers, get into fights with other people and wouldn’t give a dam. You were a straight A and B student and you would love to play sports. But the day came when you had to go. You were 16 and roger was 15. You said that you would get a tattoo, to remember each other. On your wrist you had Forever is our today and Roger Taylor in cursive writing on your other one. On rogers he had who waits forever anyway? And your name in cursive writing in the other one. When you were leaving you kissed roger on the lips and said, “If I come back, say we will meet with each other or something?” you say. He nodded and said “I love you.” and you said “I love you too.” You then walked to the car and you never looked back, never laughed, never cried.

You are now 22 Walking around at the back of the school/uni wearing a black hoodie and skinny black jeans is what you did every day after school while waiting for Clare. Wearing sunglasses was your choice and when you would smoke girls would look at you wishing that they could have a date. They would ask Clare every time if you guys were together, or if you guys were dating, but all you wanted to be was alone. You didn’t want or need anybody, or that is what you say to yourself because no boy would come up to you and ask you out because you are a ‘boy’ in their eyes. You were good at nearly any sport, and you didn’t give a shit if you break a nail, or if you got dirty. You would stand up for Clare when she couldn’t, and you protected other people when they couldn’t either.

You got snapped out of your thoughts when Clare came running up to you. “Y/N! hi” she yelled as she was nearly next to you. “Sup Clare how are ya?” you say as you keep walking with Clare. “Well the good news is that Prom is on Friday!” she said. “And…” you say sarcastically. “And I don’t have a date.” She said. “No one wants to go with me Y/N and I don’t know what to do!” she said as she was looking at the ground. Until her head shot up, “You could go with me!” she said as she turned to you as you blew the smoke out of your mouth. “What?” you say as you give her a serious look. “Yeah you could go with me! Everybody thinks that you are a boy anyway so why would this be any different?” she said. “everyone thinks that I am a boy, because I wear skinny jeans, and boy clothes all of the time.” You said while you grew nearer to her house. “Yeah but still please!” she said as you got to the front of her house. “Bye Clare, I hope you can find a date love. Bye” you say as you wave to her. “Bye” she said to you as she hugs you. You blew out some more smoke and put the cigarette out with the bottom of your heel. And you walked back to your house.

Every time you would go to uni, the girls that were younger than you we would ask you out to prom, but you said no you are not going. When class is over you go to the fence where you normally go. You pull out a cigarette and light it with you lighter. Then you see someone walking over to you. He had Black hair and he wore the most outrages of outfits. But you didn’t mind. “can I have one Darling?” he asks you as he walks and stands next to you. “Sure thing mate.” You answer as you gave him one. “Are you going to the prom?” he looks at you. “No mate, I’m not. But all of these girls keep wanting to go with me I don’t get it!” you say as you put out your cigarette. “Maybe they find you as an attractive man?” he said as he there away his cigarette. The word ‘Man’ but I’m a woman. “Well what if I told you that I wasn’t a boy? That I was a girl?” you say. “I would say your crazy darling! But who am I to judge?” he said as he started to walk back to his locker.

Friday Night

Friday came along too quickly. Clare said that she doesn’t have a date yet, but she is still going to go, because she doesn’t want to be that person that didn’t go. She said for you to have a good night and that you guys would catch up on the weekend. You got home and lay on the balcony. Your parents are never home, them both business people and going to different parts if the country for work and on business trips. You blew the smoke out of your cigarette, and you looked at the time. You realised that you didn’t have anything to do that night. You knew that Clare wouldn’t have left for prom yet. You walk to you dresser and pull out a suit, you have your ray bans as well. You think to yourself that you clean up pretty well.

What you look like LOL WE ALL LOVE BEN

You go to your garage and pull out your Black Ford Mustang 68. You hop in and drive over to Clare’s house. Clare said that if you are going to be her date you have to have something in common with her brother, so you just threw a pair of Drumsticks in your pocket. You pull up out of the front of her house and you see a green looking mini in the drive way. Must be her brothers you say to yourself. You get out of the car, and you walk up the steps to her house. With some roses in your hand and your sunglasses still on your face you knock on the door. You wait a moment until an older lady comes and answers the door. “Yes can I help you?” she asks kindly. “Yes I’m here to pick up Clare for Prom?” you ask. “Oh Yes but Clare didn’t say anything about someone picking her up?” she said. “Yes, it was a last minute sort of thing.” You said really convincingly. She looked at you for a moment and yelled. “Clare there is someone at the door!” and you hear patter feet down the hallway. “Yes who is it?” she said and looked at you. “Surprise?” you say as you hand her the roses. Your drumsticks sticking out of the back pocket of your pants. “Thankyou!” she said as she hugged you. You even put more effort and put on some boy perfume to make it more convincing. Then a boy with long blonde hair walked down the corridor. “Who are you?” he asked as he looked at you. “I’m Clare’s date.” You say in a duh tone. You see her looking at you while you take her hand and kiss it. She giggled playing along. “Bye now.” You say as you two walked to the car. You thought that he looked familiar but you couldn’t say who he was. You didn’t mind though, you opened up the car door for Clare while she hopped in. You closed her door, and went around and opened your door and got in. Before you could, you could still see the outline of Clare’s brother. Leaning up against the door frame, smoking a cigarette you could see the light of the cigarette light up his face every time. Next you get in the car and start the engine.

When you get to the place, you help Clare out of the car and link your arm in hers. You are walking into the Gym and walk through where you get you couple Photos. You keep your sunglasses on as you two pose for the photo. You guys walk into the gym and you guys are met with The Beatles and a lot of people dancing. You take Clare’s hand and lead her to the dancefloor. You are suddenly dancing and you look around. People making out in the bathrooms, people putting liquor in the punch bowls and all the other lonely people that don’t have a date, that would of been Clare, but being the person that I am, I couldn’t do that to her. You were currently dancing with Clare, when they were going to announce the Prom King And Queen. Yay! I cant wait to find out who they are.

“ok guys welcome to Prom! Now we are going to announce our prom King and Queen! Now our Prom Queen is….” Clare shoved you and you just laughed, “Clare Taylor!” “and the Prom King is…..” you just looked at Clare as they put the little crown on her head. Then the Prom King was announced and they had a little dance. You didn’t care, so you sat on a chair near the back of the dance floor and took a smoke. You looked at your tattoo and ran your hand over the top of the writing. You remembered the time when you first taught roger to smoke, You were around 14 years of age and that made his 13. You chuckled remembering the memory.

Now you were at school, and Roger walks into the classroom and sits next to you. The class was over and the day was aswell. You were in the thetre room and you were just watching something about UK history. You pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. You inhaled and blew the smoke in the air. “Are you even allowed to do that?” roger asked you a he was watching you curiously. “Yeah the smoke alarm doesn’t work and so it doesn’t pick up the smoke.” You say as you blow out more smoke. You smiled at roger and looked at him, “what have you never smoked before?” you say as you run a hand through your hair. “No never been allowed to. My father always did, but I could never, I never tried.” He said as he looked at you. You then stood up and walked behind him. You put a cigarette in his mouth, and told him to hold it. You them flicked on the lighter and lit it up. “Now inhale it a bite and then blow it out.” You say as you just look at him. He inhales and then starts to cough. “Don’t worry, it happens to everyone on their first time.” You say as roger keeps going. You laugh as you keep going.

#roger taylor imagine #roger taylor

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rogertaylorislife · 4 years

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Tomboy Troubles Roger Taylor AU

Just a roger taylor imagine that i wrote nothing big but yeah

Everyone at school thinks that you are a boy, but you are Clare Taylors Best Friend and roger Taylor’s best friend until you moved. Clare didn’t have anyone to go to prom with, and you being older by a few years had nothing to do on a Friday night so you decide to go with Clare. But when you meet Roger after you come back, he had changed For better or for worse? (imagine that you have short shaved hair, (Like Ben Hardy’s For example at the Oscars.) or any boy-ish looking haircut for this story to work)

You were riding your bmx bike down a street one day, and you heard yelling. You were in your usual baggy t-shirt and a shorts with high top shoes. When you were getting closer, you saw that it was a fight. You being, 8 or whatever you thought that it would be a good idea to go have a look. You biked over and you saw a blonde kid getting kicked up on the floor. They were calling him names, and they wouldn’t stop hitting him. You walked over after putting your bike down and walked over to them. “What do you think your doing?” you say as you pushed the person against the wall. They wouldn’t give you an answer so you threw him against the wall a little bit harder “Talk short stack before you cant ask me to stop.”. He said something along the lines of ‘Because he is different and he sucked at soccer.’ You beat all of them up and walked over to the blonde on the floor. “Hi love you alright? You look like Rocky Balboa after he fought Ivan Drago!” you said as you put your hand on his head. He said, “it all hurts, my body hurts.” He said as he started to cry. You then picked him up and started walking to your BMX bike. You put him on the seat while you stood up and started to pedal down a hill. He started screaming while you started to laugh as you went through all the streets until you got to the shops.

Your friendship blossomed and you were connected at the hip. You were the one that turned Roger Taylor bad. He was that good student at school, but you liked to mess around. You would prank the teachers, get into fights with other people and wouldn’t give a dam. You were a straight A and B student and you would love to play sports. But the day came when you had to go. You were 16 and roger was 15. You said that you would get a tattoo, to remember each other. On your wrist you had Forever is our today and Roger Taylor in cursive writing on your other one. On rogers he had who waits forever anyway? And your name in cursive writing in the other one. When you were leaving you kissed roger on the lips and said, “By my little Rocky, we will meet again yes? And if we don’t I will kick your arse when we die, be we will never break the chain right?” you say as you put a silver around his neck you have one exactly like it with your names carved in. He nodded and said “I love you.” and you said “I love you too.” You then walked to the car and you never looked back, never feared, never cried.

Friday Night

Friday came along too quickly. Clare said that she doesn’t have a date yet, but she is still going to go, because she doesn’t want to be that person that didn’t go. She said for you to have a good night and that you guys would catch up on the weekend. You got home and lay on the balcony. Your parents are never home, them both business people and going to different parts if the country for work and on business trips. You blew the smoke out of your cigarette, and you looked at the time. You realised that you didn’t have anything to do that night. You knew that Clare wouldn’t have left for prom yet. You walk to your dresser and pull out a suit, you have your ray bans as well. You think to yourself that you clean up pretty well.

What you look like LOL WE ALL LOVE BEN

Now you were at school, and Roger walks into the classroom and sits next to you. The class was over and the day was as well. You were in the theatre room and you were just watching something about UK history. You pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. You inhaled and blew the smoke in the air. “Are you even allowed to do that?” roger asked you a he was watching you curiously. “Yeah the smoke alarm doesn’t work and so it doesn’t pick up the smoke.” You say as you blow out more smoke. You smiled at roger and looked at him, “what have you never smoked before?” you say as you run a hand through your hair. “No never been allowed to. My father always did, but I could never, I never tried.” He said as he looked at you. You then stood up and walked behind him. You put a cigarette in his mouth, and told him to hold it. You them flicked on the lighter and lit it up. “Now inhale it a bit and then blow it out.” You say as you just look at him. He inhales and then starts to cough. “Don’t worry, it happens to everyone on their first time.” You say as roger keeps going. You laugh as you keep going. And now you laugh as you remember the memory.

By the end of prom Clare soon found out that they put liquor in the Punch bowl. She came walking over to you with her small crown falling off her head a bit and her uneasy on her two feet. “Enjoying yourself Clare?” you say as you look at her. “Can we go home now?” she said as she grabbed onto your jacket. You quickly jumped out of the way to grab her as she nearly fell over. You walked with her hand in hand to your car. You helped her in and you drove her back to her house. When you pulled up to her driveway you looked and saw that none of the lights were on. They all went to sleep. You took your jacket off and checked everywhere for a spare key but they didn’t have one. You jump their fence and look around the back for some kind of opening. You see that someone left their window open so you went back to get Clare.

Once you got Clare you threw yourself over the fence and with your legs either side of the fence you grabbed onto Clare’s arms and lifted her up and over the fence. You laugh as she nearly falls over. You carry her Bridal style over to where you could see to climb up on the house. You saw a few drain pipes, they had a little veranda out the back so maybe something there. You see that there is a wood looking frame, so that was your best option. With Clare drifting to sleep on your back you wake her up and say, “Clare we are nearly there I need your help love to get up.” So you put her on your back as you make your way up the wooden frame, and onto the roof. Once you got to the window you saw that there was someone in there, they had a drum kit and a lot of posters. ‘Must be her brothers room’ You think to yourself. You pulled Clare through the window, and quietly walked over the carpet to the door. It had a British flag on the back and you chuckle to yourself. You open the door quietly and see someone walking across the hallway. You freeze. He had long hair, by the outline. But he walked straight past you as it was dark and walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

“Clare where is your room?” You whisper as she wakes up. She points to one down next to her brother’s room. You walk her in as she undresses and puts on her pyjamas. You sat her on the bed as you took her hair out and brushed a brush through so it wouldn’t be hard to brush in the morning. You lay her down on her bed as she grabbed your wrist as you were walking away. You turned around and you looked at her. “Sing me a song?” She said as you turned around. You nodded and walked over to where she was. You sat on the bed and began to sing

Time Of your Life Green Day

You got up when you saw that she was asleep. You then started to walk to where her brothers room is. You open the door and you see no one is in there. You walk through and you see that the window is locked. Dam. You look around and you see Clare’s brother walk into the Room. You rush behind his bed and you duck down. You hope he doesn’t see you. Then you see he has a gap underneath his bed. You haven’t done this in a while but you slipped underneath the bed. You were met, with records, you lay in a pair of drumsticks, and a pack of cigarettes, you just slipped those in your back pocket. You saw feet walk over to the edge of the bed, you hear some noises and then you see the person’s pants fall to the floor, must be getting ready for bed you think to yourself.

Then you see him walk over to the dresser and you think is he going to open the window? You look and see him open the window and walk back out of his room. You then make your move and jump out of the window. You made a loud noise but you slid off the roof and walked to where their back gate was. You threw yourself over the top and walked to your car. You jumped in and started the engine. You drove off and back to your house. When you got home, you walked upstairs into your room. You walked in and went over to your dresser. You took your suit off and slipped on your pyjamas. Then you slipped into bed, but felt something poke into your back. You sat up and looked at the photo on your bed. You turned your room lamp on and took a look. It was a photo of you and roger when he was 15. You laughed and placed it back on your drawer. You looked up at the sky and fell asleep.

When you woke up, you had breakfast and threw on your normal black hoodie and a pair of Black Jeans. You went to you garage where you had your BMX bike kept. You pulled it out and threw a cap on backwards as your helmet. You rode out of your garage and went rode down your street. You saw that they had a skate park so you were going to go down there and see how good these kids really are. You keep your hood up and you ride into the park. You ride over to the halfpipe is. You go up all the steps and you kick off. Your just doing simple turns and a few turns. You then go onto some of the jump while you then start hearing clapping. You look up and it is a blonde kid with long hair, maybe down to his shoulder blades? And he looked at you. “Wow good skills kid.” He said as he approached you while his friends were standing behind him. “Really? Wow never got congratulated before.” You say sarcastically wanting to drop this conversation. “Yeah so what are you doing at our skate park? Aren’t you a city kid? We don’t like city kids.” He said as his friend stood around you. “So what are you gonna do about it huh?” You say as you look him in the eyes. “I don’t know maybe a little lesson so you don’t come back.” He said as his friends push you over. You then got kicked in the face he came at it again, and you grabbed his leg. You pull it hard at yourself and he goes flying over. His friends then proceed to kick and punch you. You are now on the floor. Only if they saw you as a girl, they wouldn’t do this to you. The blonde kid then makes his friends pick you up, underneath the underarms and lift you up to face him. They take off your hoodie as you look at him dead in the eye.

You then proceed to say, “What is your name?” you say as you spit some blood out of your mouth. “Roger.” He said. “Roger who?” you say and his friends start to laugh. “Roger Taylor.” Then it finally clicks. The person in front of you is Roger Taylor, your childhood friend and boyfriend when you were 16. You look at him and he looks you in the eyes. “Now I’m gonna make a mark that you would never forget.” He said as you brings a pocket knife out of his pocket. His friends throw you to the floor, while you hit your head. You stand up and his friends form a circle around of you two. They wanted you to fight. Yay!

Roger was never good at fighting, when he fought you he never won. “are you sure you want to do this roger?” you say as you look at him in the eye. “Done it thousands of times.” He leans on his right leg more so he is most likely going to use his right for everything. Make his left hurt. He came at you with the knife as you ducked and sent his doubling over and face to the floor. He got back up and he sliced your arm with the knife. He then proceeded to try and punch your head, but you hit the knife out of his hands and sliced the inside of his thigh.

You then grabbed the knife as you jumped back on him and smacked him In his left rib. He ends up hitting you while you just keep hitting him. You feel his punches getting weaker and his face being more pale. You saw more blood come out of his nose while his hands are up trying to defend himself from getting more hurt. You stand up while he tries to grab your leg you just kick him harder so he went flying back to the ground. You didn’t mean to do this to your best friend but he tried to hurt you first, all out of self-defence.

His friends fled while he was just left lying on the ground helpless. You looked at him, he had hurt on his feature, blood on his face and his eyes were closed. He looked like a beaten angel. You picked him up while you biked to the shop. He woke up while you were riding down a hill, but this time he just looked up at you. You put your hoodie on him, because he was just wearing a white T-shirt. You pulled the hood over his head, and you pulled around the corner. Roger looked at what you were doing and he saw your wrists. Then Roger had flashbacks to when you guys were kids.

After I got hurt, I looked up and I thought I saw an angel, she asked me if I was alright I said yeah and she picked me up. I looked up at the sky and I saw her look down at me. Then my eyes fluttered closed and I fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke I was in someone’s chest and it smelt like male perfume. I looked up and it was the angel that saved me. We were speeding down a hill and out of memory I screamed when I felt myself tilting downward and the wind flying past me faster than ever. When I looked at the girl her hair was being pushed back by the wind. And showing all her facial features. I knew I fell in love with her then.

“Is that you y/n?” roger said in a whisper that nearly no one could hear. “Yes I’m here mate? You got beaten pretty bad how you holding up?” you say as you speed down another hill. You then stroke your hand though his hair and laughed at how cute he looked in your black hoodie. “What happened? How are you here?” Roger said as you turned another corner. “well let’s just say you tried to fight me and failed and I moved back here a few months ago, and I never saw you around so yeah.” You say as you stop at the shop. “Isn’t this the shop where your mum used to work at?” roger said coughing a bit out of pain. “Yeah It was, are you alright what hurts?” you say as you walk down an isle. “Everything.” He said grabbing onto you with every step he took. You went and grabbed some bandages, disinfected and some patches. You went up to the counter and also brought a backpack and a pack of gum. You threw it all on the counter and you pull out some money.

You pay for the stuff and help Roger out of the shop. “I can’t go back to my house looking like this, if my mum sees me like this she will make me go through x-rays for a whole week!” roger said as he grabbed onto you more. “Yeah that sounds like your mum. Did Clare go to Prom?” you ask as you sat roger down on your lap on the bike. “Yeah she did, she went with this guy I didn’t catch his name but she seemed happy.” You just laughed as roger held onto you for dear life. He was so precious. You got back to your house as roger nearly fell asleep. You picked him up bridal style as you brought him into the house. You opened up the door and you lay him on the couch. You woke him up and started to treat his well cuts. You took off his shirt and you caught roger looking. You flashed him a smile while his cheeks flushed Red. You laughed and hit his chest playfully but started to instantly apologize as he started to weez.

Once you cleaned roger up you walked back into the living room and found him snuggled into the couch, and searching for warmth as he looked cold. You went over to the couch and when you sat down, roger instantly snuggled into you. You chuckle and look down at him. He opens his eyes and looks at you. “I love you.” Roger said as he put his face in your neck. “I love you too love.” You say as you hold him in your arms.

#roger taylor imagine #rogertaylor #Roger Taylor #Roger Taylor Tomboy Troubles #Roger Taylor Tomboy #Roger Meadows Taylor

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alarriefantasy · 5 years

Note

Hey there! Do you have any punk au recs? Can be either or both boys! I know you have a bad boy Harry rec but I’m hoping for a little Louis mixed in too! Thank you so much 💕

Here you go, darling!!! :) Hope this is enough, but let me know if you want more! :)

Punk H/L Fic Rec

Punk Harry

oops, i like you by say_thanks

Words: 5k

He thrives in the attention, at the knowledge he makes these boys with their tattooed dicks and pierced whatevers, so hot and bothered. These boys with their confident smirks and broad shoulders and hands, touching Louis wherever they can. Louis reduces them all to a wet, moaning, mess, every time.

Usually he doesn’t see those guys again. It’s not generally part of the plan.

But then Harry tightens his grip on the back of Louis’ neck and Louis ducks his head to taste the sweat beading under Harry’s chin, kissing the ink curling up Harry’s neck, then kissing his way down to get his mouth on the god forsaken nipple piercings. He listens to the way Harry breathes his name, and for the first time silently asks, Can I keep him?

Clusters of Stars by Hazzalovescarrots

Words: 5k

Louis doesn’t have the best history with guys. When Harry shows up, totally different and covered in tattoos, things change. Liam and Zayn don’t really approve but it’s none of their business ey?

leave this house and i’ll burn it down along with myself by orphan_account

Words: 6k

“So I’m simply your guest, am I?” Louis asks, before leaning up and kissing Harry.

“Nope. You’re not,” Harry mumbles into his mouth, and he tries to ignore how Louis’ body arches against his, “you’re not even my living partner. You’re the princess I captured and now I’m going to keep you here, in the forest, all for myself.”

Purr Like a Cat by floatingsalad (orphan_account)

Words: 6k

harry wears eyeliner and listens to loud music and lives in a constant mess and sprays his hair with fifty cans of hairspray every morning when zayn interrupts his perfect sleep. this changes when the innocent cat-boy named louis enters into his life, flipping everything upside down.

It’s In The Love. by SS98

Words: 19k

AU in which Harry is sorta punk and never stops staring at Louis.

These Constant Stars by stylinsoncity

Words: 31k

Louis’ career has nowhere to go but up. He’s living at the height of New York City on the precipice of an epic promotion. Life is good and only getting better. And then one day, things turn disastrous.

Can I Make It Any More Obvious? by slashter

Words: 35k

[AU where Louis does ballet and Harry is the epitome of everything Louis’ friends want him to stay away from]

Beauty Behind The Madness. by ZiamsLarry

Words: 59k

Harry doesn’t meet the worlds perspective of looks, causing him to be judged every time he leaves his house. He never lets it get to him, because he knows that when he gets home at the end of the day he has the most beautiful little girl waiting for him.

So with just her and the lovely old lady down the hall who babysits her, Harry thinks his life is good enough for him.

Of course it all changes when the appartment across from him gets new attendants.

A Place To Call Home by Snowy38

Words: 90k

Louis rides a BMX and works in a diner all the hours god sends to keep his little brother Alex with him. Since their parents died, Louis has become mother and father to his sibling but he’s missing out on love.

Harry is a motorcycle gang member with a mysterious past but his vulnerability soon becomes evident as the two men’s worlds collide.

Louis becomes embroiled in a more-dangerous way of living but he helps Harry finds what he’s been missing all along- a place to call home.

Baby Heaven’s in your Eyes by theboyfriendstagram

Words: 120k

Or a sixth form!AU where Harry is the fucked up bad boy with too many problems, Louis is the perfect rich boy with too much money and their schools are right across from each other. They meet at a party and that’s the last (and maybe the only) thing they need.

Punk Louis

Sun-kissed Hurricane, Perfect Storm by iwillpaintasongforlou

Words: 7k

Harry is the quiet kid in the back of his statistics class who writes a lot and dreams about Louis’ cheekbones . Louis needs a statistics tutor ASAP before he flunks and the quiet kid in the back of the class seems like a good choice. Harry wants to help Louis however he can and Louis wants to see how much he can make Harry blush.

Forget Your Ex by PwoperNinjaElf

Words: 9k

When Harry’s boyfriend of two years leaves him for someone else, it’s fair to say he’s rather a bit upset, but his friends have a solution for him. Nick and Niall are hosting a start of term house party at their flat, having invited everyone they know from uni. Who knows, with a bit of luck Harry can find a rebound shag and finally forget his ex…

but he cant be what you need (if he’s eighteen) by lingerielarries

Words: 10k

the one where harry is sick of getting bullied and casts louis as the hot punk boyfriend to scare them away. louis needs harry to return the favor.

Opposites Attract by louisgrindsonharry

Words: 11k

Or, the AU where Harry’s an innocent little preppy kid and Louis has lots of tattoos and piercings and Harry wants wants to know why he cant’ stop thinking about the boy who walked him home.

In All Its Imperfections by BriaMaria

Words: 15k

From: Louis TomlinsonTo: Undisclosed Recipients

Hello!

I’ve asked the front desk and you lovely folks are the ones who are on the same level as me in the car park. I found a to-do list today that looked somewhat important because it has lines of poetry scribbled at the bottom that seemed like they might be for a card project. The stationary has a moose in a canoe at the top of it (and he is quite adorable). Let me know if it’s yours!

Cheers!

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Harry whispered, his eyes darting over the sentences again willing them not to make sense. They did, they did make sense. “Oh. My. Bloody. Fucking. God.”

The next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring at the ceiling, with a very concerned Liam hovering over his head.

“What happened, mate?” Liam asked.

Harry just pointed to his computer.

Liam bent over Harry’s desk to read the email. “What? This isn’t bad. Is that your to-do list? Did you finally come up with the inside text for those cards?”

“Leeyum" he groaned. “It’s what’s on the list.”

“Oh,” Liam paused for a beat. “Is it dirty stuff?”

Harry nodded.

There was more silence. And then, “Dirty stuff with Louis?”

You’re So Square (Baby I Don’t Care) by mmaree

Words: 15k

Or a summer camp au where Louis tries to sort out whether he wants to murder or snog his perky co-counsellor.

Can We Talk for a Moment? by lululawrence

Words: 15k

Or the one where Harry is a shy, nerdy alpha, Louis is a loud omega punk, and there’s more to both of them than their reputations.

Saturday Detention by FallingLikeThis

Words: 15k

Five boys with nothing in common end up together in Saturday detention. Maybe if they can get past their first impressions, they’ll realize they’re not as different as they thought.

Or The Breakfast Club Au that was dying to be written.

the love is ours to make (so we should make it) by lingerielarries

Words: 19k

the one where louis takes some time off from life to return home, only to be met with a strange boy in pink and a flowercrown as the nanny of his siblings.

The Moments When My Good Times Start to Fade by paintsplatteredteardrops

Words: 23k

Where Harry is a flower child who works in a bakery and Louis is a guitarist who has no idea what it is he wants.

In Dreams by dolce_piccante

Words: 23k

AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.

i’d burn this city down to show you the light by you_explode

Words: 23k

Harry’s a sheltered rich kid and Louis’s a punk with a heart of gold. They meet when Louis breaks into Harry’s house, Harry obtains an instant and all-encompassing crush, and they spend the summer falling into a whirlwind romance.

Life Saver by objectlesson

Words: 30k

Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

Open Up Your Broken Heart (and Keep on Wanting) by alistoney

Words: 49k

Louis works in a tattoo shop and rides a motorcycle

Harry wears flowers in his hair and does yoga in the morning

Somehow they fit

if my heart was a compass, you’d be north by cheekiestcheeky, heartsoftlouis

Words: 55k

Or the one where punk Louis likes to think he’s not clumsy, but he suspects he’ll have to accept it when he falls face first into a relationship with a head full of curls and his tiny human.

Give Me Truths by iwillpaintasongforlou

Words: 110k

Or, the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

Lights Will Guide You Home by Cafelesbian

Words: 137k

Louis Tomlinson is his school’s resident bad boy and easily the most liked person there. He’s loud and confident and popular. He spends most of his time abusing his parent’s money or partying or playing football. He also spends a good deal of it obsessing over the quiet curly boy in his English class, but no one really needs to know that.

Harry Styles is more or less invisible at the same school (unless he’s being harassed). He’s shy and painfully insecure and quiet. He spends most of his time crying on his bedroom floor with a razor pressed against his skin or trying (and failing) to think of reasons to stay alive.

So, of course, it’s inevitable that they fall for each other.

#ask

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romancandlemagazine · 5 years

Text

An Interview with Wig Worland

If you walked into a WHSmiths during the 1990s, then chances are that you will have seen the high-calibre work of Wig Worland.

As a photographer at seminal skateboard magazines like R.A.D. and Sidewalk, his sharp eye helped capture a relatable world of British skating, a million miles away from sun-drenched California schoolyards.

First question - when did you start taking photos? Was there something that set you off with it?

I started in school when one of the better teachers realised I wasn't going anywhere academically and lent me her camera. I don't think there was anything else I could have done to be honest. I started to assist photographers straight out of school.

How did you end up doing skate photography? What was the camera set-up back then?

I grew up near an adventure playground. One day in the early ‘80s a quarter pipe with 'Skatopia' written on it appeared there. We would ride our BMX bikes on it. A few weeks later a guy called Wurzel appeared - he literally dropped over the fence.

All of us, including Wurzel, rode bikes for a bit but as the world transformed around us we all got into skateboarding. One of my best friends at the time was London street skating legend Phil Chapman. He let me take pictures of him and I got better at it.

It’s funny how when you're young it just doesn't occur to you that those are the formative years, even though that’s what every older person is saying to you at the time.

My first camera was a Canon FTB with a 24mm lens - I couldn't afford a fisheye lens. I then wasted more time and energy on a 17mm lens. It was really terrible, but I did get my first picture published in RAD using it.

What was that?

A guy called Doc with a chuck on handrail at the bus station in Milton Keynes in an article in R.A.D. in 1990. In the same article came my second and third published picture. It was such a pivotal moment in my life but just like buses, three came along at once.

Do you remember the first photo you took where you thought, “I’m getting quite good at this”?

Not any single shot, but I think when I got to shoot Manzoori or Channer or Wainwright, I was beginning to shoot people who were making great pictures all the time. The trips back and forth to the lab became less fuelled with anxiety and worry about what I was doing.

So something must have been going right, maybe I knew enough about the dark art of shooting on slide film that I could relax into it. A bit anyway.

The late 80s and early 90s are quite a while ago now. What are some things people forgot about that time?

There was no Instagram! There wasn't anywhere other than the monthly magazines (and of course books) to get any information about anything. It really is odd to say it now because we are all so used to finding anything out that we want to know immediately.

My sister has a theory that technology is making us all more stupid. We simply don't have to retain any information anymore. To get from place to place you don't even need a sense of direction, just flick on 'Waze' or whatever and it tells you where to go.

How weird was it to be a skater or a rider in the late 80s? Obviously now skating is going through another 'cool wave', but how much stick did you get back then for it?

We got so much hassle from everybody at the time. It’s ridiculous when you think about how 'cool' it all is now. We didn’t care at all though. We knew what we were doing was way more important than simply school or fashion or T.V. or whatever else our other friends or peers were into. We were involved in making something happen.

R.A.D. was split fairly evenly between skating and riding. Was there much of a divide at the time? And what were your opinions on the other avenues of raditude?

I'll fully admit it; I went from BMX to skateboard. I was probably a little too young to catch the first wave of skateboarding in the UK. I was six or seven and my mum wouldn't let me have a board, though my best mate at the time had much older brothers so I can claim to have ridden a Logan Earth Ski in the 70s.

By the time BMX hit I was a little more in control of my life. I saved up my lunch money for an entire year so I could buy a Kuwahara ET. My friends and I had so much fun knocking about on those bikes in the 80s — it was amazing. Before I knew it I'd given up BMX 'racing’ and was getting more serious about BMX 'freestyle' (which really is an oxymoron when you stop to think about it).

Within a year or two I had switched to a GT Performer and I was entering freestyle 'contests' and wearing ever more dodgy clothing. Obviously we didn't know it at the time but they really were the formative years of my life.

A good friend from that time, Lee Reynolds moved to California and went on to become a very successful freestyle pro rider with Haro. Back then we all hung out at Mons ramp like one big happy family, and that’s where I started to meet more people.

As BMX started to die, I just moved my attention to skateboarding. There was just so much to get into. You can do way more stuff with a skateboard than a bike! Sorry to the entire BMX community.

What were you looking at for inspiration back then? Even your early photos had a definite style.

I was looking at BMX Action and BMX Plus from America that would appear periodically in the newsagents near my school. Then Freestylin' and Transworld, and Thrasher when I could find it. Back then Thrasher wasn't quite so appealing — it was half a music magazine with really cheap paper, and was scrappy compared to glossier titles of the day. It’s amazing how Thrasher has outlasted them all.

I loved Spike and Windy, and, obviously J Grant Britain, but I also really love TLB's pictures. He really was an amazing complete photographer - properly trained and much better than me. Now I have had a chance to see the stuff in the RAD archive, I can't begin to say how amazing it is. It might not have looked all that good in the mag but that was because of the awful print quality. When the book comes out you’ll see what I mean.

R.A.D. faded into the shortly-lived Phat in the early 90s. How did Sidewalk come about?

Andy Horsely and I were doing a magazine called The System during the last days of TLB R.A.D. When R.A.D. was sold to yet another publisher that was out of town, Tim didn’t want to leave London. He thought it was a dead end. By a series of strange occurrences Andy Horsely and I managed to get ourselves in the door at R.A.D. There’s a bit more to this story, but the full version will be in the book hopefully.

Whereas early skate magazines had their fair share of day-glo high-top fashions and boned-out, high-zoot grabs, Sidewalk had a much more British look. Was this intentional? Or was this just a reflection of the times?

It was absolutely intentional. We wanted it to look like a British skate magazine, and perhaps naively, we wanted it to feature all British people, in Britain. The US skate magazine culture was, and still is, so dominant, but we wanted to showcase the UK.

At the time the world was beginning to see Rowley, Penny and Wainwright but we knew there was so much more. Making an all-British magazine was way more difficult than any of us imagined and I'm not sure how sustainable that idea was (and still is). We tried our very best given the resources we had.

Was there things you wouldn't photograph - maybe dodgy outfits or questionable moves?

We had an unspoken ban on the Benihana at Sidewalk. Ha! I wonder if anyone else would admit to that. Everything else was totally fine. We even put Dan Cates in the mag with all his craziness for heaven’s sake!

The mid-90s seemed like the real glory days of magazines. They were thick, they came out once a month, they had all sorts of mad stuff in them… and they could all be bought from WHSmiths for a few quid. Why do you reckon there were so many good mags around at this time?

It was really the only way to communicate before the internet really took a grip. Nowadays, you put your tricks up on Instagram and let the world judge you. Back then, we shot the photo, we took it to the lab, and then it was sent off to be printed in cyan, magenta, yellow and black on paper.

After a lot of fuss and bother, the magazine hit the shelves and the rest of the world could see the moments that I had had all to myself. It really was an incredible moment. I'm not sure I'd go back to it though! It was pretty insular and created some difficult politics. It's probably a bit more democratic now. If you don't like what somebody is doing, you 'unfollow' them and that's that.

What was a typical day like back in the early Sidewalk days? Was there a typical day?

Probably wake up late and head to the office via the lab, to pick up the film from the previous day. Maybe pet the dog when I got there for a bit. Horse would invariably arrive later than me and we'd get lunch. After looking through some pictures on the light table I'd head out to shoot skaters in various parts of the country.

One day I'd be in Hull, the next in Birmingham and the next in London. It was a pretty insane schedule to be honest.

I’ve said this before in other interviews but I’ll say it again, I hated driving up and down the motorway system in the UK, but I loved the people I met along the way. I really don’t think there was anyone that I didn’t like — it was incredible. A good example of this is driving to Hull, which is a really long way from anywhere. But when I got there, there was Eggy and Banksy and Scott. Amazing people.

This might be a bit of a camera tech guy question… but imagine I’m stood at the top of that flatbank hip at Radlands and a young Tom Penny is cruising towards me… how do I capture the action? Should I pan? Is my flash mounted on the top of my camera… or on a cable… or on a stand? What film should I use?

If you're at a comp it's best that your flash is mounted on your camera, because if you’re trying to be clever like I was in the 90s trying to use an off-camera flash on a lead (Windy Osborn/Spike Jonze style) you're going to miss a lot of shots. Yes, always pan with the subject if you can, it's just better and I'd use whatever film you can afford. It’s really expensive and you only have 36 to 39 shots depending on how clever, or stupid, your camera is.

If it’s not contest day then spend a little longer on your lighting. But not so long that you forget to shoot the scene, the look of the place and the informal portraits of the skaters. You’ll regret that later on if you don’t shoot that stuff. Ahem…

Sidewalk did a very good job of making some fairly drab looking spots pretty good. That photo of a lad named Cookie gapping from a Carpet Right car park in the rain comes to mind… something like that could easily look pretty depressing in lesser hands. What were your tricks for making these fairly everyday places look decent?

Bring your own sun — a portable flash. Oh, and a little jiggery pokery with the slide film we were using as well. Also, know what you’re doing, and how the film is going to react to the light. Photography is all about various kinds of lies to create the shot you want.

I’m glad you remembered that Cookie shot because it is pretty special. He was such an amazing, positive person. Never mind my photograph, but how did a person stay positive when you had such terrible conditions to skate in! It’s not exactly California.

Pretty much sums up how we should all approach life, the Cookie story...

I don’t know if I’m looking into this too much, but a lot of the Sidewalk stuff celebrated British culture rather than disguise it. I’m not sure where I’m going with this question, but do you think it’s important that people embrace their situation, rather than endlessly dream of California?

My entire life’s philosophy is to draw out what you can from the place where you are, rather than dreaming that somewhere else has the answer. This ridiculous dreaming is the reason that the air is so polluted these days with people crossing the world on long haul flights to wherever and with people driving from perfectly fine A, to almost certainly nearly the same B.

Of course all this is fine for me to say, I don’t have a car but I live in London where there is a brilliantly sophisticated Public transport system. I grew up in Milton Keynes so it wasn’t a shock to get to California and see the state they’re in, but I truly believe the car has ruined a lot. Not least for our children who can no longer play in the streets primarily because of the number of vehicles on the road. Rant over.

Haha fair enough. What were some of the hassles of making a magazine back then? Any camera mishaps or blatant errors come to mind?

Radio slaves were terrible but they still are. That’s the nature of radio waves in a very wet country. There was some dodgy kit but you could usually spot it pretty quickly and pass it on. I did have all my cameras stolen from the boot of my car once which did feel like the end of the world at the time. Grant Brittain very kindly sent me one of his old cameras and a fish eye to start me off again and Pete Hellicar rang round all the big names in the industry in the UK asking for donations to get me started again. Really kind, amazing people.

The problems were always with the printers or repro people. Handing over your precious photographs and layouts to people who aren’t as invested in the project shall we say. Having said that, there weren’t that many problems, only ever issues that the editor or I would notice.

I’d say skate photography fits under the documentary category, but how far would you go to get a better photo? I know moving the occasional rucksack out of shot is fairly commonplace, but I’ve heard stories of photographers carrying around brighter clothes for people to wear so they stand out more.

There are a few skaters who would bring their own brighter clothes for the shoot. Have a look through my shots and see if you can guess who they are for a fun game. I think this is brilliant.

I don't think that skateboard photography is documentary at all. It’s a collaboration between the skateboarder and the photographer to produce the best image they possibly can.

What about the days when nothing happened? Surely there must have been a few afternoons when no one was feeling it, or did the fact you had a big camera bag egg people on a bit? It rains a lot in Britain, I'm sure you've noticed. On those days, if you were lucky, we'd sit about in the local Skateshop. If we were less lucky we'd get caught at the local indoor skate park and wait for the rain to stop. I remember thinking then that I would never get that time back, now of course if I had that time back I would do just the same thing. Amazing days. I'm sure people did feel motivated by having a magazine photographer in town to shoot pictures of them yes, but that just makes me wonder what it's like now? You can literally shoot a picture whenever you like and upload it anywhere.

Do you think these advances in technology have improved skate photography or not?

I would have killed for a digital camera back when I was shooting skateboarding every day. I’d not only have been able to see what I had in terms of stills, but shooting sequences would have had a lot less pressure involved as well. A couple of people have said that seeing the used rolls of bails lining up on the stairs or pavement beside me gave them extra incentive to land the trick, but it made for some pretty heated sessions.

The Chris Oliver kickflip off a bus stop into bank with another drop springs to mind. Fair play to the ginger genius though, he bloody landed it, and he can say he did it on film as well. So, so sick.

Did you enjoy doing sequence shots or was it just a case of documenting the new tech?

I wasn't really interested in shooting sequences to be honest, I always thought that was the job of the video camera. In some ways I wish I stuck with that attitude and concentrated on the style of the skater rather than the high tech that they could put down. I think that would have made for a more interesting back catalogue.

This is maybe another fairly camera-orientated question, but I’m interested, so the casual readers will have to suffer… you were maybe one of the first skate photographers to push the studio-lighting style out into the real world. What led to this development?

Ollie Barton thinks I was the first to do the studio on the street thing. I guess other people had tried using flash slaves off camera before, but I made it my own. I was the first out there with portable studio flash which had more spread of light than the dedicated flashes made by camera manufactures. I'm sure I was responsible for keeping the Lumedyne brand going for a while. Lumedyne really are the most terrible looking lights that have ever come to market, made from bits bought from Maplin or Radio Shack, but they worked quite well and everybody had them in the early 2000s.

Did setting up multiple flashes in ropey areas ever become a problem?

It's funny you know, I never felt odd about setting up lighting anywhere. If you’re prepared to pop a light out on a dodgy estate then you’re serious about getting something done. I think most people whoever they are respect that, some are even interested in it.

There were a few hairy moments — like a car taking out a light in downtown Stockport while shooting late at night. But the light was in the middle of the street, so that one was on me. Nobody ever picked one up and legged it. Not once, but as I said they don't look expensive so maybe that was enough.

Maybe a bit of an obvious question, but do you have a favourite photograph you’ve taken? And are there any photos which you wish you took?

As I rather flippantly alluded to earlier, I don’t feel I shot anywhere near enough incidental stuff. I was too interested in making the lighting right to capture the trick perfectly. If I could go back I’d have a point and shoot with me at all times and I’d use it constantly.

I don’t have a favourite photograph. There are just too many, of so many amazing friends and brilliant talented people. I couldn’t pick one above all others.

Today it’s easier than ever to take a photograph. Is this good or bad? Has the advent of phone-based camera gadgetry devalued the art (or at least the science) of photography?

No, it hasn't devalued it. Because more people have cameras, more people are interested in photography. If you want to lug around a huge old school view camera to shoot pictures then there are sub-genres of sub-cultures that can more easily facilitate that stuff nowadays. Of course more people think they can do it, but it's still the case that only some people do it well.

Have you got any wise-words you’d like to add?

No, just enjoy life as best you can. We’re not all going to be famous or millionaires, so don’t believe anyone when they tell you to follow your dreams — real life might conspire to not let you get there. Life just happens to most people.

#Interviews #photography #sidewalk #wig worland #skateboarding #skate

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houseofvans · 6 years

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ART SCHOOL | Q&A with ALBERT MERCADO

Lover of art, BMX and pickles, artist Albert Mercado aka Box Palm creates colorfully rad drawings that not only had us laughing for more, but also curious about the man behind the broccoli riding the bike. We’re exploring some of Albert’s works as well as chatting with him to find out more about his artwork, what he listens to when he’s drawing, and what his experience was like using the Vans Custom shop to create his own one-of-a-kind Slip-Ons.

All photographs by Justin Kosman.

Introduce yourself? Hi, Im Albert Mercado. I’m from sunny San Diego, California. I’m a Professional BMX rider and the Illustrator behind Boxpalm! I love pickles and if you ever brought me one (or a jar) id be forever grateful.

How would you describe your artwork? Puns personified? Basically taking anything that I think would look silly on a bike. I keep them light hearted and playful. Some based on BMX riders, current events, my friends, and a lot of is based on FOOD.

When did you start really getting into drawing? When I was younger, my two older brothers and I used to all draw together. It was really fun and one of my favorite memories. I kind of fell out of it for awhile because I spent a lot of time riding bikes, but then I slowly got back into it over the last few years. It took a second to get the hang of digitizing everything, but that’s the direction I really wanted to go.

What’s your process like? When do you find you are the most creative? Morning or night? I carry a sketchbook around with me most the time. If I have time, I’ll sketch out a funny moment I saw or take a quick note on my phone. I feel more creative in the morning for sure. Fresh morning energy and a giant cup up coffee usually gets me going. Don’t get me wrong though, I spend a lot late nights doodling. Creativity is hard to pin down down. It’s a wild creature.

Would you say that your personality is reflected in your drawings? Absolutely! Growing up I always imagined people as inanimate objects or inanimate objects as people. It’s a blast to be able to translate that into art.

You draw a lot of bikes in your stuff. When did you start seeing this crossover with art and bmx? I’ve been riding BMX forever. Its pretty one sided of me, but bikes surround my life, family, friends, travel, and my day-to-day is all about bikes! I love it. It was only fitting to have my art based around bikes. So a few years ago, when I started getting back into art, I decided I was going to mesh my worlds together and create Boxpalm!

You recently did some amazing Vans using the Vans Custom Shop. Can you tell us a little about the design and how the process was for you? Thanks! The design is based around a handful of my favorite Boxpalm characters. I’ve always wanted to create a pattern with them. Vans Customs were the perfect opportunity to bring that idea to life. I am stoked on the outcome! The shoes came out so rad.

What do you do to overcome drawer’s block? I usually just get outside. I’m always inspired by pedaling around on my bike. Sometimes all it takes is a little fresh air and a quick session at the skatepark to reset my brain and get me back into the creative spirit. After all my first creative outlet was BMX.

What do you do when you’re not drawing? When I’m not drawing, I’m usually riding BMX, I spend a lot of time pedaling around San Diego. With all the constant construction and renovations going on it’s pretty easy to catch a session just about anywhere in the city.

What kind of music are you jamming to when you’re working on something? Arcade Fire, Pixies, Of Montreal, Clap your Hands Say Yeah, and tons of stuff in that genre. I mean the list is endless haha. Mostly relaxing melodic music that’s easy on the brain, that’s usually what vibes with me.

If you could own any piece of art, what would it be and why? Thats a crazy question! My first thought was to have some crazy priceless art from hundreds of years ago. Then I thought I’d rather have some originals from one of my all time favorite artists, Jim Houser.

What are your favorite Vans? Old Skool Pros for sure. To me they are perfect shoes to ride in and they are stylish. Just high enough to have ankle support and not low enough that I feel so exposed. Can’t go wrong with a pair of those bad boys.

What are you super excited about that is coming up this year? Oh lots! New Sticker packs will be out soon, I’m in the process of sorting out some new tees and accessories, and I plan to bring back prints this summer! All fun things coming real soon. Also I have a major collaboration coming around August. I really can’t speak on it, but I’m super excited to show everyone!

FOLLOW ALBERT | WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #Vans BMX #Art School #Albert Mercado #boxpalm #drawing #interview #bikes

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blogoffshore304 · 3 years

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Bmx Supergoose Characteristics

1980 Mongoose Supergoose BMX 21157 11 5. 1980 Mongoose Supergoose SupergooseScrambler 3 2. 1980 Mongoose Supergoose PKTripper 4 2. 1980 Mongoose Supergoose RedGoose80. 4) Did the Supergoose ever come in chrome as well as nickel? 5) Were all the Teams only ever produced in colors? 6) Were Teams always color over chrome? (if yes, why would BMX Products do this?) 7) What years were the Supergooses made? 8) Can a 1st year Supergoose have only one hole in the brake bridge?

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Ive got a (i think) 1982 supergoose. im not sure if all parts are original but i know the frame is an original chrome moly supergoose frame. First off can someone help me identify the bike, and second could someone help me find the value. serial number is j2008703

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According to this website your Mongoose was manufactured in October of 1982. It may or may not be a Supergoose though. If you scroll about 3/4 of the way down the page you'll see 'Serial numbers from 1981'. Under that heading it explains that the full cro-mo Supergoose had 3 holes in the brake bridge (2 slotted/ 1 round). If your frame doesn't have these 3 holes, then it's not a Supergoose. Also, it's hard to tell, but from your picture it appears that your fork may not be the stock one. The Mongooses of that era had the dropouts directly below the fork leg.

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Bike Check Instagram @tkeck74

Thanks a lot for the info. Would you have any idea what a ballpark price would be?

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I'm glad that I could help. Were you able to determine which frame you have? Sorry, but I'm not able to put a value on your bike. You might want to ask the guys over here though. They should be able to give you an idea what your bike is worth.

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Bike Check Instagram @tkeck74

The bike only has one hole in the brake bridge. :/ would this decrease the value any?

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10/7/2014 8:46 PM Edited Date/Time:10/7/2014 8:48 PM

According to the brake bridge info on the Vintage Mongoose website your frame is not a Supergoose then. That being the case, I would guess that yours is a Motomag. The Motomag had what is referred to as a tri-moly frame. This means that the frame's front triangle tubing is chromoly while the rear triangle tubing is mild steel. This will most likely decrease the value but it's still a vintage frame and it will be worth something to a collector. As I said before, ask the guys over at BMX Museum and check out ebay to see what Motomags are currently going for. I hope this helps. Good luck and let us know what you find out.

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Bike Check Instagram @tkeck74

Looks like you just have the frame, cranks and chainwheel. Maybe seatclamp. All the other stuff looks very average. Good news. Os goose prices are on the rise. Maybe wait until early 2016 if want to sell. Holidays coming.

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Everyone had a Mongoose in my neighborhood developing up. Mine was a silver chrome moly with steel moto mags. Most people had the plastic tuff-wheel rims. We however remember nearly all of my buddies bicycles and their shade combinations. The redlines, chefs brothers, and diamon backs were considered elite bicycles of times because tghey were lighter.. But Mongoose had their particular special forces bicycles called the supergoose and staff mongoose.

Mongoose are monster great bikes final ages Everyone loves my mongoose subject i will do j hops onto it and back flips and front flips used to do have a haro nonetheless it fell apart

While I happened to be driving done bmxing consistently really light my mates one is truly heavy his is wearethepoeple

I've a mongoose! I'd state it really is one of the best bmx bikes I've ever endured. It's very comfortable to drive and easy to-do tricks in. I loved my Mongoose and I state that in the event that you are planning on getting a new bmx you need to get a mongoose since it it one of the better. Basically had to speed the bicycle, on a scale from 1 to 10 i'd provide a 9.8.

My partner has a mongoose in which he gave it for me as he got a differnt one an I had it for around a-year now and there has been no scratches and I also go directly to the skate playground every friday saturday and sunday. in fairness all bmx bike have their characteristics but in my estimation mongoose is the best you could argue the toss but its pointless it really is my estimation

Mongoose bmx bikes are actually good because of their high quality and appearance, i've one and its own great no issues on it. It should be when you look at the top just like WTP

Mongoose is the greatest i've rode a Haro, Diamond back and a redline and my mongoose 540 is the best out-of all of them it's really simple to do tricks on and when I-go towards skate playground we took the stickers away from it and folks say it is a really good bicycle so that they ask myself what sort of bicycle it's and appearance on the website faces is amazing these are typically just shocked. from everything the mongoose is the greatest i've had it for a year but still no issues with it but I keep switching parts to personalize it. The frame may take a big beating and now have letter problems with it anyway mongoose 540 is the greatest bike We have ever endured

Sincere good bicycles! I've a mongoose 80s show and t has not smashed on me yet I've undergone Haros, Gts, an such like and mongoose is the most trustworthy so far! So many people present crap cause you have a mongoose... only laugh at all of them trigger their particular bicycles will breakdown faster then yours!

I've a couple of mongoose's and I also love them to death and out of the mongoose's I've had I've just had one issue together with them at it absolutely was one from Walmart plus it ended up being the bearings had been eating the inside of my rim but all my various other bicycles are from cycle stores plus several had been custom made

I have a mongoose cycle, it is the most useful cycle ever. I've next-door neighbors which have a bmx thruster bicycle and all agree totally that my cycle is much better and two of those attempted to take it when I allow them to ride it. Laugh aloud mongoose bikes will be the finest in my opinion. :P

One of the better bmx designs ever before we possess one my self and I love men and women be telling me that i obtained a really great bicycle I be getting plenty of compliments of my bike almost were I go almost always there is some body informing just how great my bicycle is gotta think it’s great

Amazing bikes from a cycle shop but somewhat crap from walmart or something along those outlines. I adore my mongoose to bits as it is amazing I can't do tips at this time but i am getting there its creature

I don't know numerous bicycle brands but We have heard about this and I also've heard it's a fairly good brand also. Therefore I imagine i am voting for good one-man this thing takes permanently to let me post it!

Is a truly good cycle however the chains are not good in it if you're looking to purchase a bicycle purchase this but ensure that you have a spare tool system and bicycle string with u if u drive the bicycle since it is so terrible without a chain i understand from individual experience.

Ridden my mongoose professional when it comes to past 15 years and has virtually never ever had problematic apart from a few scratches and popped tires. Best all-rounder, durable cycle ever before, and had been most likely one of the first giro bikes made..

You actually believe a walmart bicycle is 4 hell no diamondback 's been around for such a long time they know very well what's an excellent cycle and I've had two mongooses and additionally they lasted just one half provided my diamondback

So excellent bikes the product quality is amazing and brakes and all from it can be so great. Truthfully, some things might be improved here and there though - thebestnbafan

Mongoose is a great bicycle just the only thing wrong is that there freestyle bike is some regarding the significant which if u have previously rode one it makes it hell of difficult to do thing and restrictions u to what number of tricks u can perform

Had a Mongoose Capture 2013 for half a year now and I'll be damned if I can break this thing...! Tough as nails n truly light weight (once you scrap the railed chair letter brake system that is) could not do any benefit for the money 10/10

I had a mongoose for 6 many years and I put it through likely to college twice everyday 5 days per week nonetheless looks good and I get skate parks and woodlands with it and it also supports well worth it I think

We have a mongoose article and it is truly light. It weighs in at about 11kg.

They've been well-made powerful and light as they are well worth the money

I am 11 and I Got My Uncles Old Mongoose From When He Was My Age When I had been 9 and everybody Asks Me why not Get An innovative new bicycle, Because I adore My Bike Its My Uncles Old Bike And Its Superb To drive! - willowtimes

We has actually a mongoose and my buddies all have actually we the peoples and they're heavy and never great for tips. They truly are inexpensive bikes and well worth the income.

Light and a great framework Advantageous to skate-park top cycle available crazy models. Have to get one many people i understand has one

I have a mongoose and it's less heavy than all my friends. Bicycles like fit and gt. Mongoose are great to-do tips on and rave with

Supergoose Frame For Sale

I do believe mongoose rides smooth and there are good mongoose bicycles and you can find bad people

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aussietraveller-1 · 3 years

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My Earliest Memorys

Shannon Bubba Howell

BURTON AGED 0-6

The earliest memory snippet I have, would have to be living in Burton in the northern suburbs of Adelaide South Australia.I lived with my Mother Sue and My Stepfather Gary.

I would have been 3 or 4 years old. I remember if it was Christmas and I received a red and yellow BMX bike, I also remember not being overly excited about the bike as a dog we had recently passed away.

From memerory i was fairly upset over this. I remember this event as follows, I was sitting on my brand-new BMX on the footpath out the front of our Burton home thinking to myself if God was real or not. Well if he was i thought! why did he take my pet dog away from me? Was it something I had done wrong?

I remember speaking to God in my head and saying God if you are real and you have taken Lady from us because I have done wrong, how am I to know what it is I have done, I was so sorry for whatever it was, Please God is there any chance I could return my BMX and you could then return our dog isaid in my head hoping he could hear me. I promise to be on my best behavior and do everything my mum asks me to for the rest of my life.

The next memory snippet would be one day from the child care center I attended. I do not remember the incident but I remember the teachers telling me they were calling my parents to come pick me up. They screamed at me, yelling get to time out right now. I remember sitting in the time out room waiting for my to pick me. I can not remember this but i was in time out because I had hit a girl over the head with a chair. I do not remember committing this act or even my parents picking me up or whether or not I even got in to trouble for it.

I remember attending day care two more times after this incident one was when these so-called doctors come in and done all sorts of these tests on me and once more when the center had cake for my birthday.

My memory of this is very basic. I remember it was a teenage mutant Ninga turtle cake and I remember where I was sitting at the table when everyone was singing Happy Birthday to me and that is all I remember from daycare in Burton.

Between then and when we moved to Lewiston when I was 6 years old I have very few memories.

One from my first day at school, one from when I wasn’t allowed to go see the Ninga Turtles at the shopping center another learning to weld in the carport with Gary and one more being in a car accident with mum while she was pregnant with my baby brother Kyle.

#lifememories

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challengerbmxmag · 6 years

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Sam Waller Interview

Sam Waller co-runs, the UK based Central Library, “a shop in the North West of England that sells zines, DVDs and other interesting bits and pieces.” He’s also part of the current resurgence of quality independent BMX media with his Red Steps magazine. In addition to that he finds the time to contribute to Challenger with his quarterly column, ‘Notes From A Fancy Island’ and of course, ride. And, when you talk to Sam, you can tell that riding reigns supreme.

Sam and I email back and forth fairly often because of the column but also about other random stuff like old spots, concrete skateparks, music, etc. It’s fun to email with Sam so I figured it would also be fun to ask Sam some more in-depth questions. Hit the link below for the full interview.

All photos by Gaz Hunt. Thanks, Gaz!

I know you live in Manchester, England now but where did you grow up and what is your BMX origin story? I grew up in the complete middle of nowhere in a place called Colton in the south of the Lake District. Whilst the countryside in film and television is often shown as a tranquil, quaint place, the reality is a fair bit different, and Colton in particular seemed like a hotbed for strange stuff going on. Only recently a large farmhouse was burned down by a wild woman who owned loads of pigs. She was exiled from the county, but the pigs remained to cause havoc.

Anyway, my older brother has played guitar since he was six or seven, but as I was a useless at it and couldn’t get my hands to move properly, I felt obliged to find a similar all-encompassing past-time.

I was mad on Formula 1 racing for a while (thoughts go out to the Schumacher family), and I went to a karate lesson once (a hobby quickly scrapped after the whole hour was spent being taught how to bow honourably), but up until the age of 12 or 13 it just felt like I was dawdling about.

All of this changed when, for some reason I’m not entirely sure of, me and my friends decided to make some jumps and drops and stuff to ride on our mountain bikes in some woods near a dual carriageway.

One of my friends knew some older lads from nearby who had proper bikes and Little Devil hoodies, so I think they must have planted the seed of raditude with him, but I think at that time I was just happy to be out the house and not playing Tekken 2. We later found out that the woodland we’d chosen was a popular dogging site frequented by truck drivers (I'm not sure if 'dogging' exists in America - maybe look it up), and quickly moved our spades and everything into another forest. By that point the damage was done and my mind was snagged.

After a bit of bouncing about on a mountain bike, I then splashed out on a second hand Standard that someone had painted post-box red, affixed some stunt nubs and never looked back (or lookbacked, for that matter).

The nearby town of Ulverston had a pretty big riding and skating scene, but thinking now about us lot trying to lay down ‘street style’ in this small historic market town, we may as well have been the Jamaican bobsleigh team — the rough ledges were strictly for stalls, and the closest thing to a flatbank was a grass verge round the back of a Texaco garage.

What were some of your biggest inspirations as a kid and what about now? I always think about how the 16 year old me would probably make fun of some of the things I'm into now. Is that the case with you at all? Apart from the receding hairline and the slight increase in responsibilities, I think I’ve stayed pretty much exactly the same since I was 16. Back then I think my favourite film was probably Natural Born Killers, and my favourite album was maybe something like Bad Moon Rising by Sonic Youth. Whilst I’ve maybe expanded my interests a little, I’ve pretty much been in a rut since then.

I’m not into memes or internet humour in the slightest, but I remember someone once showing me a video of a wrestling fan in America crying and shouting, “It’s still real to me, dammit.” That’s how I feel about a lot of things I was into back then. A lot of people who I went to school with moved on from being into music and films and pissing around on bikes, whilst I’m still snagged on it all, listening to The Minutemen and wearing check shirts. It’s pretty stupid really.

What's The Fancy Island? Good question. Just next to Strangeways prison and only a mere stone’s throw from Manchester’s slick centre, lies a true rat-pit of questionable activity. I’ve seen loads of stuff happen here, such as an aggressive man chase a prostitute with a two-by-four and a creep lying in an alley trying to lure small boys into his lair.

In amongst all this, there’s loads of naff wholesale shops that sell everything from low-end Halloween costumes to fake Air Jordans made out of cardboard and fuzzy felt. All these shops have mad names like EEZZEE and Vibe Centre.

Getting to the point now, coming up with titles for things is pretty difficult, so a few years ago when I was cobbling together a zine, I nicked the name Urban Mist from one of these shops, and then, when I went to set up a Tumblr during the carefree pre-Instragram era, I nabbed ‘Fancy Island’ from a similar establishment.

I think Fancy Island has closed down now, but it’s no doubt been replaced with yet another shop with a daft name selling cheap batteries and t-shirts with swear words on the front.

Whilst I’m explaining names, I’ll state that Red Steps is a classic spot in Manchester that I ride past on my way to work every day. It boasts a rusty, needle-thin flatrail, a few small stair-sets (that are indeed red) and a large flow of gormless students to crash into. I’m not too sure why I named a magazine after it, but it just struck me as a funny name for a spot and I was struggling to think of anything else.

One thing I struggle with is balancing how to take BMX seriously while balancing a sense of humor about it as well; i.e. it's pretty goofy but is also this amazing vehicle for new experiences, ideas, and a pretty incredible community. Do you ever think about this? Like with most things in life (except crucial necessities like eating and breathing), riding bikes is pretty stupid and abstract if you try and think about it too hard. That said, I don’t see why bike riding should look goofy (apart from actual goofy-footed grinding - as a self-confessed goofy grinder myself I’ve got a lot of time for George D, Ralph and Dave McDermott) — riding is loads better than pretty much all other activities, but it’s constantly being made to look daft, when it could so easily look dope.

I think to stay juiced and not turn sour, you’ve got to completely ignore most things going on with riding and stick firmly to the bits that you like. I treat riding like music or films or anything else. In the same way I don’t go to the cinema to watch big summer blockbusters, I don’t spend my free time watching Corey Martinez edits or endless hours of footage from some zany mega-comp.

I’m a simple man. As far as riding is concerned, I like smith grinds, bottles of Heineken, Galaxy chocolate, black and white photos, sitting on benches and talking complete nonsense. The rest of it is irrelevant to me.

I constantly hear/read people complain about the lack of BMX magazines but there's so much cool stuff being printed right now. We've discussed this in email a bit but it seems weird that people are complaining. It's almost like people just have an idea of what they think a magazine should be and if it doesn't have look or read a certain way they are just confused. How do you feel about all of this? A solid group of people do buy things and support these independent projects and whatnot, but I think it’ll take a while for the loud-mouthed Instagram warlords to come to terms with the fact that the new magazines around might have different names to the ones they used to subscribe to 15 years ago. I suppose it’s maybe easier to talk about the lack of magazines out there than actually go to the effort of seeking them out, but having said that, it’s not exactly hard to find stuff these days.

I remember years ago hunting down anything beyond Dig or Ride was an absolute hassle involving a lot of e-mail mither and blind faith - but now with yourself, Berks St. and 90East stocking interesting stuff in America, me and Clarky doing Central Library over here and the newly formulated Wiretap down under, it’s easier than ever for anyone to get their hands on zines and DVDs and all that.

The new stuff that’s coming out now is ten times better than Dig or Ride ever were anyway. Endless contest reports and dull bike checks have fallen by the wayside, and I haven’t seen a photo of Jimmy Levan’s zebra-print leggings in years. Things are really looking up.

What do you do for work? Thoughts on pursuing money via BMX and also what's the best job you've ever had? By day I work in an office writing stuff for a clothes shop. As you can imagine, trying to come up with an interesting way to talk about the 659th blue shirt you’ve seen this week can get a bit tough, but I can’t complain too much really. The office is fairly warm and there’s a kettle in the kitchen.

As for pursuing ‘serious wonga’ via riding, I’m one step ahead of you. Central Library has just received big investment from Duncan Bannatyne and Deborah Meaden (of Dragon’s Den fame), meaning we’re finally able to stock all those bizarre Caramac-coloured tyres that real bike shops seem to stock. We’re also expanding our print line to offer crime fiction and the Goosebumps novels. My main aim in life is to become one of those creepy industry characters who spends their time sniffing around young and naïve talent in the hopes of flogging a few ‘dad caps’.

My finest job was probably working for my dad in the family trade of dry stone walling (which explains my surname). I’m not sure if dry stone walls exist in America, but they’re those fairly humble looking stone walls you see dividing up the fields and forests around the English countryside.

Anyway, building them isn’t too bad as far as manual labour goes. When it’s raining and you’re miles up some hill wallowing in the mud lugging big stones around with nothing more for lunch than a chicken and mushroom Pot Noodle and a Penguin biscuit, then it’s a little miserable – but on a good day when the sun is shining and you’re working with ‘good stone’, it’s hard to beat.

The best days were when my dad would fall asleep just a few minutes before the end of the lunch hour, basically extending the break for at least another 45 minutes. Thinking about this job now, I’m not sure why I ever gave it up.

Do you have any other hobbies besides riding? Yeah, but I’d say the lines were pretty blurred. This is maybe a pretty boring answer, but I suppose riding lends itself to other hobbies pretty well. I might be wrong, but I don’t think keen swimmers or budding javelin-throwers get into photography or making videos in quite the same way. It’s sort of like the ‘pillars of hip-hop’ or something – riding, taking pictures, messing round with video stuff and generally snooping around all fits together nicely (or at least it does in my peppered mind).

It’s not like I’m slipping on my Etnies t-shirt for my weekly two hour power sesh and then the next night I’m wearing some short-shorts down at the climbing wall. Even when I’m on holiday with my wife, I’m still just snooping around the same way - we’re not buying tickets for some naff rollercoaster or dining out at exclusive restaurants with Abe Froman.

Are you able to take time off of riding and not feel like you're missing out or feel guilty? I have one friend who really goes in on the guilt tripping if I don't ride. Related: You said you like sitting on benches. Can you do that on a nice day? At the age of 28, I’d like to feel like I can just about deal with a few missed sessions. Obviously I still need a comprehensive run down of spots seshed and feats accomplished when I’m away, but it’d be mad if I was out all the time. The human body can’t handle that much raditude.

Fear of things going un-photographed does creep in sometimes, but Clarky will have filmed it anyway, and Gaz and Wozzy are better photographers than me, so if they’re about then hopefully someone caught the action.

Moving onto the subject of benches, these babies really come into play during my dinner break at work. I get on fine with everyone there, but when the clock strikes twelve I’m not going to be sat in the office spilling reheated chilli over my keyboard… I’m straight out into the city centre on full sit-off mode – hopefully getting into some daft conversation with one of Manchester’s many vagabonds.

A few months ago I was sat in town when I was approached by a fairly scruffy gentleman who was bleeding loads from his forehead after someone kneed him in the skull. The rest of my lunch break was spent trying to sort him out a bit. One meal deal, some wet wipes and a pack of king-skins later, he seemed alright. You don’t get these hijinks sat inside all day.

I was just thumbing through the new Red Steps (nice job) and I just realized how much I enjoy your interviews -- what is it that you like about interviews? Not trying to stroke the ego here but you are really good at it... Cheers. Any ego strokes are much appreciated. This maybe sounds a bit daft, but I want to know everything. This is probably evident to the people who know me, but I’m a complete mither, completely hassling everyone with questions all the time.

This pesky nature extends into everything, meaning that I spend a lot of time reading a lot of interviews about the things that I’m into. I buy a lot of old copies of magazines like Wire, Ray Gun and Sidewalk on eBay, and even though the interviews contained within those pages might have been conducted in the corner of a pub maybe 25 years ago, they’re still worth reading today.

A proper interview with a little intro and some photos laid out nicely on a page… it’s mint – it’s a finished thing – sort of like a well-edited video or something. I know a lot of people are into ‘podcasts’ these days, and that’s fair enough, but to me – they’re not complete enough. I don’t want to hear people say ‘um’ and ‘err’ all the time, and I want something sick to look at (and by that, I don’t mean a load of pundits sat around a table with headphones on).

I’m going to rattle on here whilst I’ve got the chance. Anyone reading this who gets the opportunity to answer questions for an interview, a ‘bike check’ or anything else…don’t just write a lazy sentence for each answer – go mad. Tell some funny stories. Or if you’ve got nothing to say, just make something up. No one cares about how responsive your headtube angle is or how you ‘usually just cut the bars down’. This could be your only chance to air your thoughts into the wider world, and you’re going on about what PSI you put in your tyres? COME ON PLEASE TRY HARDER YOU BORING GIMPS.

(above) Spread from Sam’s zine, Latvia Photos. (below) Cover of Sam’s zine, Around Town.

You also make photo zines/books not related to riding. Do you have any high art aspirations with this stuff? No real aspirations I’m afraid. Wine gives me bad heartburn, so I generally try and swerve anything resembling a gallery opening schmooze-off. As I was sort of saying before, making photo zines is just an extension of everything else. I like taking photographs, so it makes sense to put them together. It’s all pretty small-time really – it’s not like I’m getting thousands printed.

To be honest, it’s all a complete faff that I could easily avoid by not bothering and just sitting around watching American power-dramas, but it’s good to have stuff to look back on – even if it’s just a 40 page zine that nine people will see.

Crouching under a tattered old curtain processing rolls of film every night whilst being mithered by my cat isn’t particularly glamorous and I’d imagine there are probably easier ways to get cosy with the artistic elite.

What's your favorite slang word? Going back to my walling days, my dad uses some pretty intriguing slang terms. Unlike inner-city slang, which will usually be documented in music or useless BBC3 comedies, these more rustic words don’t get much recognition. I don't use these terms myself, but I certainly respect them. Here’s a few choice cuts…

“A few skins on the job” – a large workforce “Keitel” – a fairly humble work-jacket “Bait” – lunch “Bray it – hit it “Kessen” – when an unclipped sheep falls over onto its back and can’t get up due to its weight. This happens more often than you’d think.

You can buy scoop up a copy of Sam’s magazine, Red Steps, in the Challenger web shop here, look at the online shop, The Central Library, that Sam runs with Clarky here, and check out some of his other photo zines/books here.

#BMX #manchester #Colton England #sam waller

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jf3co · 7 years

Text

FADE IN

INT. EMPTY ROOM - DAY

In an empty, white room, a man, MARK (fit, 30’s), paces in front of a brass intercom panel.

MARK: So let me get this straight... I’m dead?

A VOICE from the panel.

VOICE: That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.

Mark runs to a door and pulls the handle... no luck. He paces then calms.

MARK: So where am I then? Is this Purgatory?

VOICE: You’re dead. You’re in a pause. That is all.

Mark looks at this watch hand... not there.

MARK: How long will I be here?

There is a shuffling of paperwork. The sound of a person getting up from a desk. The door buzzes then opens. A well- dressed man, PETER (slim, 30’s), enters the room with a clipboard.

PETER: You can’t possibly understand how unimaginably fast this is happening.

MARK: Uh?

Peter tucks the clipboard under his arm and extends his hand.

PETER: Oh, I’m Peter. Pardon the intrusion.

MARK: Did Bobby put you up to this?

Peter shakes his head.

PETER: You’re a pragmatic one, aren’t you?

Peter lights a cigarette with a match. ****noteworthy - items just appear when Peter is off-camera.

PETER (CONT’D): Smoke? No? I’ve been doing this long enough. Most people fall into a handful of categories... you got the maudlin, simpering self-pitying type... the deniers... the ones who completely freak out... and then your type: the pragmatic ones: “OK. I’m dead. Next!”

Peter now sits in an office chair.

PETER (CONT’D): Problem is, your type is the most time-consuming. Not that it matters. We have all the time in the world. But, occasionally, your type does introduce a philosophical quandary given your calmness provides you the ability to ask the most sanguine and poignant questions. The other types just involve a measure of calming them down, convincing them they are dead, then pushing them through the paces.

Peter proffers an empty couch for Mark to sit down on. Peter swivels the chair, crosses his leg, and settles the clipboard.

PETER (CONT’D): In any case, I am here to take tally, to close the books.

Mark reluctantly sits.

MARK: Does that make you... Saint Peter?

PETER: Oh fuck, you’re one of those? This fucking dossier says nothing about...

MARK: Wait, you can curse here?

PETER: No. I am not Saint Peter. I am merely an entity. A proxy. What I was is not what I am now part of. And fuck yeah, you can curse here. Most of the curse words were established in the Middle Ages and derive from Anglo-Saxon, whom at the time were considered a dirty people. At least that’s how I think it went. So if you choose to curse, do so. I like the emphasis of it. If you don’t, because you think it’s bad, then you’re a fucking racist.

MARK: Well I’m glad you speak English.

PETER: This exchange is merely a matter of convenience that happens at the luxury of your capability to understand.

MARK: Do animals pass through this process?

PETER: Of course they do. Don’t bore me.

MARK: OK then. How did I die?

PETER: How the fuck should I know? Weren’t you paying attention?

There is now a water pitcher on a coffee table - Peter pours a glass.

MARK: I guess not.

PETER: Well maybe that’s why you’re dead!

MARK: Touche.

... a tray of assorted pastries.

PETER: Pastry? It’s from a Patisserie...

Mark takes one. Peter chews and talks.

PETER (CONT’D): I promise you it will all become clear in a bit. I’ve been through this. All living things go through this - even salad. And this discourse does not affect the outcome. It is too late to change anything. This is simply the last step. A matter of paperwork.

MARK: What do I need to do?

PETER: Just to listen up. I’ve gotten pretty good at this... plants, microbes... roadkill! Humans are my personal speciality.

MARK: Roadkill?

Peter laughs.

PETER: Yeah. You chase them around the room and then out the door. You ready?

MARK: I guess so... I kind of feel like I need to go to the bathroom though.

PETER: Fuck if I know. Try and hold it?

Peter pivots.

PETER (CONT’D): Have you ever used Excel?

MARK: Uh, yeah. I was a data analyst for a mutual funds company.

PETER: Good. Your type usually comes from an office background. OK, so you’ve used Excel. You’re familiar with databases, and comfortable with the quantification and codification of events as data, right?

MARK: Right.

PETER: Well your entire life has been tallied this way. Each and every action, interaction, choice and outcome.

MARK: Neat! Choices I didn’t make?

PETER: Irrelevant. Never actually happened. But good question. Now all this information is stored up, normalized, and, in a sense, we query the database and hand you back a report of your life. Condensed. From this we make the determination of what the next phase of your existence will be.

MARK: You gotta be shitting me!

PETER: I shit you not.

MARK:So, and this is me being whimsical... wait, hang on a sec... how much do you actually know about me?

PETER: I know absolutely nothing about you.

MARK: Hmm. Well maybe I should preface my next statement: I’m a little... skewed. I dabble in the irreverent. Before we go any further, am I allowed to noodle around?

PETER: Knock yourself out.

MARK: Lessee... can you tell me how many times I farted in life?

PETER: Of course... 801,239.

MARK: Holy shit!

PETER: Holy shit is right! The average is...

Peter shuffles a stack of paper on a clipboard.

PETER (CONT’D): The average tally for a lifetime of farting is roughly 730,000 times. You farted way more than the average person. And you died young! And like IQ there is a bell curve that tapers off precipitously. You’re in the 99th percentile!

MARK: Masturbation?

PETER: OK - I see where you’re going. Let me embellish this one a bit for you - noting first that you are completely average there. You ejaculated 7,427 times in your life. You first masturbated at age 13... skewing slightly late for a male. And you are in the plus 50% of males who attempted to do so once a day; Mazel.

MARK: Sex?

PETER: You’ve had a higher than average number of sexual partners. Men in your bracket hover around ten, you handily beat that, in one year even, when you were thirty. All told you came in at seventy-four. You could have broken a hundred if you went for it. But you like to maintain a “stable”, so to speak.

MARK: Go Phillies?

PETER: Yeah. That too. The number of people who seethed at you being a douchey sports fan in public was eighteen. That’s high. You’re a douche at baseball games.

MARK: ...

A woman, MUSE (knock-out, 30’s), walks in wearing a high office skirt, white blouse, hair in a bun, and delivers a clipboard. Mark gapes. Peter turns his body to watch her leave.

PETER: Love this job!

MARK: I think I know her.

Peter checks his sheet.

PETER: You don’t. According to this. At least not yet...

MARK: Huh?

PETER: Let’s get back on track, shall we?

Mark gives a dubious look then pivots.

MARK: How many times was I in love?

PETER: Love is ephemeral, esoteric, not quantifiable - how many times were you in love?

MARK: A few, I guess... but I...

PETER: Go on.

MARK: I’m not really sure I ever met ‘the one’. My soulmate.

PETER: A romantic, huh? You didn’t.

Mark stares blankly.

PETER (CONT’D): I do know who’s meant for who.

MARK: Why didn’t I meet her?

Peter makes a cross-wise gesture.

PETER: Your paths didn’t intersect.

MARK: Where was she?

PETER: In time. Your paths didn’t intersect in time.

Peter flips to a pink sheet. Chuckles.

MARK: What?

PETER: Nothing.

MARK: What? What are the pink sheets?

PETER: Oh, these are the times you almost died.

MARK: Almost died?

PETER: Yup - people almost die all the time... quite funny actually.

MARK: Well... pick one and tell me.

PETER: Says you almost died... on a zip line? Mark chuckles.

MARK: Oh yeah. There was a zip line in Big Pine Key, Florida over a canal. It was just a metal cable with a pair of BMX handles on a pulley at the top of a pine tree. My brother and I got the idea to go on together. But instead of setting up appropriately and easing on to it, he jumped, soaking wet, onto me from the platform and we both took a header from thirty fee up. Cleared the edge of the canal wall by like two feet.

PETER: Says here it was four centimeters.

MARK: Holy fuck!

PETER: See? Almost died.

Peter lifts another sheet and chuckles.

PETER (CONT’D): You almost died having sex too...

MARK: How’s that now?

PETER: You, uhh, had sex on the roof of a house?

MARK: Oh shit - yeah. He was away and I had to take a girl somewhere. We got naked on his top floor deck then decided to climb up on the roof. But we didn’t slip or anything?

Peter tracks his fingers across the paper.

PETER: Ah. A near myocardial infarction. At that age? You were on cocaine at the time.

MARK: Yes.

PETER: I see.

Peter reads.

PETER (CONT’D): How the fuck? Skiing across grass?

Mark laughs again.

MARK: Well... yes and no - the grass was wet and my friend was, uhh, driving across the baseball field at our school. So I, decided to get out and get on the hood... but then started “skiing” across the slick grass on my shoes while hanging onto the door.

Peter rolls his hand - hurry up.

MARK (CONT’D): Long story short - he decided to ‘round the bases’ and when the car turned from first to second, I got batted to the outfield when the bumper came around.

PETER: Impulsive behavior... prone to accidents. It all making sense.

EXT. FIELD - DAY

We are now in a field with the same furniture set up. Mark blinks.

PETER: Let’s take a break, shall we?

Peter stands, lights a smoke, and starts to walk away.

MARK: What should I do?

PETER: Dunno. Take a walk? Beach is that way...

Peter indicates to some stairs. Mark blinks again, shrugs, and heads toward the stairs. Peter calls after him.

PETER (CONT’D): Nice to have met you!

Mark pauses, confused, and gives a half-wave.

EXT. STAIRS - DAY

Mark walks down the stairs to the entrance to a tunnel. Mark enters.

INT. TUNNEL - DAY

We SEE a white light at the end and the shadow of an angel that resolves into a woman. Mark approaches. It is Muse. She wears beachy clothes - flowing white skirt, lacy midriff, yellow shawl. Mark stumbles out of the tunnel. She holds out her hand... Mark accepts and emerges from the tunnel directly onto the beach.

MUSE: Looked like you needed a hand.

EXT. BEACH SEQUENCE - DAY

-- We SEE Mark walking on the beach with distance. We SEE she is silent and he is

Muse from a constantly talking.

-- We SEE Mark and Muse sitting by the surf - they tunnel their hands under the sand a meet in the middle.

-- We SEE Mark and Muse take a circuit of the beach - Muse is breathtaking, ethereal, hair blowing in the breeze.

-- We SEE Mark and Muse wind up back at the tunnel entrance... Mark does not want to go - but there is a force pulling him back. ~ film this backwards, struggled walk.

-- We SEE Muse watching the sea, hair blowing in the breeze - she looks out at a foggy horizon; everything goes gray.

INT. OFFICE - DAY

Back in the drab white office, Mark is alone. The intercom panel hisses.

MARK: Hello? Hello? Peter?

The voice is garbled, static-filled, far away.

PETER: (through intercom) Don’t you take a hint?

MARK: What? I got sucked back into the tunnel.

PETER: Goddammit! Gloria? Gloria!

We HEAR one-half of the conversation.

PETER (CONT’D): How the fuck should I know? ...That button?!? ...That’s hardly a button! ...“Dump Cache?” ...What does that even mean? ...Yes! ...Hundreds of times! ...

The intercom clicks off for a few seconds, then back on.

PETER (CONT’D): Ahem. There’s a button...

MARK: Button?

PETER: By the door.

MARK: There’s no button by the door!

Mark turns to look - there is indeed a button.

MARK (CONT’D) (shakes his head): This place.

Mark walks to the button - right before he gets there...

PETER: Mark...

Mark pauses.

PETER (CONT’D): She needs you to explain it to her.

Mark pushes the button.

EXT. BEACH - DAY

Back on the same beach, Mark exits the tunnel. Muse turns around.

MUSE: Where is this place? Is this a dream?

MARK: Let’s walk... and talk...

Muse smiles and takes his hand.

EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

On a sunny, tree-lined street, Mark walks whistling absentmindedly past caution tape into a construction site with an apartment wrapped in scaffolding. Muse turns the corner opposite, equally absentminded. They collide and make eye-contact; it’s love at first sight.

EXT. APARTMENT FACADE - DAY

A CONSTRUCTION WORKER opens a sandwich with distaste. He peels off two tomato slices and tosses them over his shoulder - they land on a plank. Another WORKER slips on the tomatoes and upsets a palette of bricks - the bricks fall.

VOICE (O.C.): Look out below!

Mark and Muse look up and...

FADE TO BLACK / FADE IN

INT. BATHROOM - DAY

Peter stands in a towel, fresh out of the shower. He wipes the mirror and fixes his hair. In the background we hear his MOM ask a question.

MOM (O.C.): Peter? Peter! What’s wrong with the WiFi?

PETER (shouts): Mom, I’m getting ready for work!

THE END

FADE OUT

#tally #writing #stuff #short stories #screenplay #screenplays #author #metafiction

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