#you can make an argument for Dear Quincy?

[eustassslut]

Hi dear! I don't know if you take requests but I am stunned at your kid pirates headcanons and I would be so happy to read others. So could you please do some for Hop, Disc J, Mosh and Jaguar? I'm sorry if there's a lot to write. Thank you if you will do it!!

hi anon! i do take requests as my requests are open at the moment, but unfortunately since are a lot it takes me a while to get through them all (which is why this took forever to get around to writing). but here are the headcanons you asked for.

Hop:

Loves Hip-Hop music

Her best friend is Hip

Both of them think it's hilarious their names join together to make Hip-Hop

She prioritises peaceful actions over violent ones, so she regularly helps Killer calm down Kid

She's very close with Quincy and they go often go shopping together

They regularly steal from each other's wardrobes

Really likes the colour pink

Will ask you to marry her if you ever wore frilly pink lingerie for her

Was a backup dancer before joining the Kid Pirates

Kid felt bad about dragging her away from her career so converted a spare room into a gym/dance studio

Soft for you and the crew, but cold and aggressive to everyone else

Gives dance classes to the crew

You get private dance classes but they often end with her making out with you

Has really pretty moans

She's very bendy

Can do positions you didn't know were possible

Her original fighting style involves martial arts but Mosh trained her to use a sword

Her sword was a birthday present from the crew that she saw in a shop when the Kid Pirates had stopped at an island

The sword was actually stolen by House and Dive, but no one needs to tell Hop

Will peg you

Has an obsession with the Twilight series

Firmly team Alice and has quotes memorised to use when in arguments

Disc J:

Used to work as DJ before he joined the crew

He still DJs for the crew when they have parties

Big fan of thrill seeking sex

Once had sex with you on a marine ship deck, somehow they didn't catch you both

Has tinnitus (ringing in his ears) because of how loud he plays his music

You have to regularly turn his music down and take away his headphones

His fishnet gloves were a gift from Wire for his birthday

His sex playlist is unmatched, the crew secretly want to ask for the playlist but don't know how to ask

Probably has a devil fruit that is similar to how music speakers work

Regularly has a self care night where he runs a bubble bath and drinks red wine with a face mask on

Treats you to manicures when you're stressed

Everyone else has to pay for their manicures

Would go insane if you wore knee high boots

Will beg you to keep them on during sex

Lived alone before joining the crew so very good at household chores

Makes very good coffee and cakes

Completely worships the ground you walk on and would do anything you ask

Organises afternoon tea for the Kid Pirates on Fridays and plays princesses with Dive

Mosh:

Likes going to raves and drags the crew with him

One of the strongest crew members

He loves having his hair played with

He makes you stand in front of him in mosh pits so you don't get smashed into the barriers and can get personal space from other people

He bought Jaguar's prized electric guitar

Was self-conscious about how tall he is until he joined the Kid Pirates and realised how useful his height can be

Also gets a massive ego boost when you tell him you like how tall he is

He won his katana in a fight before he joined the Kid Pirates but it's handle was too small

Kid altered the handle so it fit him better

Has a big size difference kink and loves showing off to you how strong he is

His favourite thing to do is pick you up and carry you around in his arms

Addicted to picking you up and throwing you on his bed

Very close friends with Wire

Owns a female golden retriever named Cat (he thinks it's incredibly funny)

No one but Mosh uses that name for the dog, everyone else has their own nicknames for her

Cat prefers you over Mosh and likes sleeping on your stomach at night

Has a thing for holding your hands during sex

Regularly bets with Wire on how Kid and Killer's arguments will end

Jaguar:

Can play the electric guitar

His electric guitar is his most prized possession and you are the only one he allows to touch it

The boxing gloves he wears were an anniversary gift from you

Has a preference for Russian Rock music

Regularly dyes and bleaches his hair random colours

Once dyed his hair 2 different colours in less than 12 hours because he was bored

He was part of an illegal fighting ring before he joined the Kid Pirates

Heat saw him fighting by accident and told Kid they needed to recruit him

Genuinely thinks Friends is the best tv show to ever be created

The definition of tough and strong on the outside but gentle and soft on the inside

Really likes giving you head

Has a university degree in history

Became good friends with Nico Robin during Wano

They regularly exchange letters about historical/archeological theories

He became a pirate by accident, he misheard what job Killer was offering

Probably Welsh and has a very thick Welsh accent

Overworks himself a lot and you have to pull him into bed to get him to relax

Really really likes giving you hickies on your chest and thighs

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece smut #one piece fluff #kid pirates #kid pirates x reader #kid pirates smut #kid pirates fluff #jaguar x reader #jaguar fluff #jaguar smut #jaguar one piece #mosh one piece #mosh smut #mosh x reader #mosh op #jaguar op #hop x reader #hop smut #hop fluff #hop one piece #hop op #disc j #disc j smut #disc j fluff #disc j x reader #disc j one piece #disc j op #one piece one shot

[quagarl]

I would like this to be a formal introduction to me, as proof i don't just repost femboy memes all day. My name is Quincy, and I'm 21, Enby, I love baking, and I call myself a writer. I'm not a published writer, and that is a fact that I am incredibly proud of. That's not to say that being a publish author isn't something to flaunt at the Thanksgiving dinner when your parents are wondering what you did with your life and where they went wrong, and uncle Marco is wondering out loud why you're not a conservative like him (and let's be real if your smart you're not going to answer him because that's its own entire can of clams).

I am proud of not having authored a book because *oh my dear* I have wanted to write a book since I was in fourth grade. I can guarantee that I was *awful* in fourth grade.

I was one of those kids who *got* english. I read at a 12th grade reading level at like 10. I understood most of Washingtons inaugural speech by 7th grade.

What I didn't know was what theme was, or what subtext meant, and how important it was to make your dialogue an argument or how to write a metaphor. Setting and pacing and (unfortunately) punctuation were all a little bit out of my scope, and I am still learning the full range of use that they can have.

Does this mean I don't want to be an author because I'm afraid I might know how to write a story better later in life? *A little I guess yeah* but also no! That doesn't stop me from writing like it's going to publish, but the reason I know I can write a publishable book is one very simple lesson I learned in 10th grade thanks to my English teacher. Yaddaw I know you're fruity as hell and you're probably here, if by some miracle you see this, thank you for the five minute free writes. (A fantastic writing exercise that teaches flexibility and creativity btw)

Dont write a book, write a story. Don't publish anything, but write a novel.

It's simple. If you write *solely* to publish the next GoT or acotar or whatever, you're going to write something super forgettable, and you're going to regret it later in life when you finally do publish your art. If you write solely to tell a story, you're going to miss out on super important aspects of the concept of a full story. You need to have balance.

###this is where my advice comes in###

Write three full complete stories when you write one.

Write the surface stuff. Bad guy rides dragon, rides into our heroes village, she finds a dragon and fights the bad guy at the end, and she wins.

Write something genuine -- that really hits home in the uncomfortable parts. I'll go first(hint: this is the most important part): I hate a lot of myself. I hate my torso, I hate my hair, and I view my procrastination as my greatess weakness. I cannot think when I write solely about my work. It drives me to become upset and ultimately abandon my drive to write a story I love.

Then, combine the two. I like the initial idea of a dragon and a village, but let's play with that villain. A hero rides into town one day, ready to save it from a dragon attack. Don't ask why he knows ones coming, because I don't have an answer yet. On his way into town he sees the common signs for a Dragons hunting grounds: dead sheep in their pastures, ruined trees, the outcasts of town have an unusual fear of fire and speak of monolithic beasts plaguing their dreams. Great gouges, twenty years old and scarred in the earth, clue our hero into the idea that these lands have long been the hunting grounds for his wyrm. There is no dragon to save the village from, however, as he comes to realize days after staying in town. The villagers tell him the dragon is real, the evidence supports its existence, yet it is not here and will not present itself to him. Angry that he cannot fulfill his purpose, he leaves and abandons his quest, and commits the village to it's fate. Later that week, the dragon comes, burns the village to the ground. The hero hears of this and returns to the village. The hero returns and, upon finding the ashen remains, swears to himself that he will hunt this beast, and that it must cost him his life. He takes from the village a piece of timber that survived, and the bucket from the well. Our first few chapters are done, and the stage is set for the rest of the story.

There's a bunch here for us to play with, and a bunch of subtext we can include. For me, this could represent procrastination, how our hero leaves and condemns the village to doom despite it's evidence, only seeing the immediate before them. It could represent something more sinister, where the hero wants to have his story as one to be remembered -- the man who avenged the tragedy of [village]. The bucket can represent a number of things, like a metaphor for him dousing the flames with the water of the village. It could be the idea of nourishment, or a vessel for the souls of those lost in the calamity. I've combined our heroine and our villain to make a neutral character, who both is directly responsible for the death of the village and it's revenge, but that raises questions too, like are they responsible at all, and will the death of the dragon absolve them of their crime? This my dears, is nuance, which forms the spine of any story more mature than defining good and evil, and our storys subtext, for me, is the question not only of blame, of responsibility and justice, but also of personal flaws like procrastination, and of the fear of the end of ones story.

Anyways, eat your vegetables, don't feel bad about not being published at 20 or 30 or 40 or 50, and make sure to write your Great Metaphor. Otherwise, it's like to be something you have not shown justice to.

#writing advice #novel writing #writing #fuck you marco polo im still mad about your cool ass name #196

[findskill65]

Why You'll Want To Write Your Obituary Today

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The first baby boomers just turned 65 presently there are 76 million much more their choice. It's going for taking 20 years for this wave to secure through the funeral home industry. Not end up being overly morbid, but begin the process begins while sales person completing a report titled the "Quincy Report" which has an overview of your process, captures key data elements, and includes a story from product sales person's look at. That report is then shared using a team, the Inquest power team. This team, which is made up of fellow telemarketers and other executives associated with company, read the report and then participate in an Inquest business call. During the call, product sales person is definitely the situation and fields questions from the c's. The spirit of the call is to create a learning environment for the aforementioned three entities. Could not a forum to criticize the sales person. If a critique necessary, the sales leader handles that privately their own sales distinct.

One of the methods that effortlessly add more meaning to life in the present moment is to write all of our obituary. A summation on the legacy that we all will leave behind, may perhaps direct an impressive course depending on how we live our life now. Needing to be written at some time, we will as well take some control of ought to be familiar and purchase it reflect who we desire to be while we are still everyday living. If the particular one you is on hospice or perhaps is given fast amount, perfect certainly have a planning conversation with them, if they are able. That way you could be better in order to meet their demands and incorporate them with your planning.

#funeral program

[shapelion46]

Why You'll Need Write Your Obituary Today

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A poem could be a great to help express your feelings at funeral, discharge problem is that there is to be able to find one that really expresses how you are feeling. This can be harder given how many poems there should be choose from. Fortunately there are lots of ways that place find a poem that will be ideal. It was previously only men could be pallbearers. Emily Post in their etiquette book stated this became exclusively something for grownup. Now many women serve as pallbearers too. Abigal Van Buren, the columnist of Dear Abby fame, ran some letters from female readers who had served as pallbearers. Each of them found desirable to be significant and meaningful. Several thoughts occurred if you ask me as I considered this assignment. The first one was: "How do you want in order to become remembered?" Second, I wondered who would write my story, and what they would say. My final thought, which really frightened me more in comparison to thought of writing my own, unbiassed obituary, was: "Will my obituary bring tears to my readers' eyes?" Not from memories of my wonderful life; but from boredom presented by reading a snoozer of an obituary. Let's repeat the victim was 65 yrs . old and really feel he was otherwise healthful. An autopsy might reveal that he previously had massive cardiac arrest. An expert pathologist might be able to argue that because of his massive heart disease, his life expectancy- will see any lung cancer- would have been severely decreased. What's the next logical argument the defense will always make?

The first baby boomers just turned 65 generally there are 76 million much more on their procedure. It's going attempt 20 years for this wave to pass through through the funeral home industry.

Not end up being overly morbid, but more than again begins one sales person completing % increase titled the "Quincy Report" which has an overview of your process, captures key data elements, and includes a narrative from product sales person's take. That report is then shared with a team, the Inquest power team. This team, which includes fellow sales teams and other executives inside company, study the report along with participate within Inquest conference call. During the call, product sales person presents the situation and fields questions from the group. The spirit of the call is to create a learning environment for the aforementioned three entities. This is not a forum to criticize the sales person. Any time a critique necessary, the sales director handles that privately their own sales specific. One of the methods that day-to-day activities add more meaning in our life in the current moment can be always to write many of our obituary. A summation belonging to the legacy that we all will leave behind, this can direct cardiovascular course for a way we live our life now. Having to be written at some time, we will as well take control button of idea of arbitrage . and have it reflect who we wish to be when we're still your life.

If your spouse is on hospice or is given little amount, are able to certainly possess a planning conversation with them, if they are able. That way you can be better to help meet their demands and incorporate them within the planning.

#funeral program

[blackcomma2]

Why Will Need Write Your Obituary Today

funeral template funeral templates the funeral program site the funeral program site funeral pamphlets A poem could be a great to help express your feelings at funeral, the problem is that you have to be ready to find one that truly expresses how experience. This can be a test given how many poems there in order to choose from. Fortunately there are the lot of ways that you can find a poem that will be ideal.

It were originally only men could be pallbearers. Emily Post in her etiquette book stated it was exclusively a project for men. Now many women serve as pallbearers too. Abigal Van Buren, the columnist of Dear Abby fame, ran several letters from female readers who had served as pallbearers. You can actually found appealing to be significant and meaningful.

Several thoughts occurred to me as I considered this assignment. The 1st one was: "How does an individual want in order to become remembered?" Second, I wondered who would write my story, the they would say. My final thought, which really frightened me more next the thought of writing my own, personal obituary, was: "Will my obituary bring tears to my readers' eyes?" Not from memories of my wonderful life; but from boredom on account of reading a snoozer a good obituary. Let's repeat the victim was 65 yr old and we know he was otherwise nutritious. An autopsy might reveal that he had massive cardiac arrest. An expert pathologist might have the ability to argue that because of his massive heart disease, his life expectancy- therefore any lung cancer- could have been severely more slowly. What's the next logical argument the defense tend to make?

The first baby boomers just turned 65 and there are 76 million much more on their procedure. It's going attempt 20 years for this wave to pass through through the funeral home industry. Not staying overly morbid, but more than again begins the actual use of sales person completing a report titled the "Quincy Report" which offers an overview within the process, captures key data elements, and includes a narrative from product sales person's perspective. That report is then shared having a team, the Inquest power team. This team, which is comprised of fellow sales teams and other executives your market company, assess the report following which participate in Inquest conference call. During the call, the sales person is definitely the situation and fields questions from the group. The spirit of the contact is produce a learning environment for your aforementioned three entities. Could not a forum to criticize the sales person. critique necessary, the sales leader handles that privately their own sales person. One of the ways that we add more meaning to life in this moment can be always to write our obituary. A summation with the legacy that we will leave behind, can direct an intense course for a way we live our life now. In order to be written at some time, they might be as well take control button of approach and have it reflect who we choose to be when we're still not really.

If the particular sufferer is on hospice or maybe given little amount, are able to certainly possess a planning conversation with them, if they are able. At once . you can be better in order to meet requirements and incorporate them into your planning.

#funeral program

[bvlavender]

A Story A Day Keeps COVID Away – 05/06/20: Crisis #348

“Goddammit, when am I now?”

I froze. That’s not possible, I thought. You are alone, on a spaceship that is about to crash. Your panic about the engine is just manifesting into voices in your he-

“Ooo, microgravity. It’s been a while since I felt that.”

Putting up my fists, I whirled to face the person who couldn’t possibly be behind me. But the woman, floating towards the engine room door, utterly fascinated by floating fabric of her maroon dress, seemed so real that I nearly-

She was floating towards the engine room. I pushed off the control panel behind me and tackled the stranger into the portside window. Even though I held her pinned, could feel the odd stiffness of her – was that a hoop skirt? – I still couldn’t quite believe that she was there. “Who the hell are you.”

At my words, the woman beamed brightly. “Oh, English. How I missed you.”

In response to that baffling statement, I raised a fist. “Tell me how the hell you got on my ship in the next ten seconds or I knock you into the next solar system.”

She didn’t even flinch. “I get randomly transported to crisis situations in order to prevent and/or mitigate whatever catastrophe is happening at the time. I don’t have any control over it, I don’t know why it happens, and it’s been happening for a very long time, so if we could just skip the surprise and get to the stop-the-disaster bit, that would be great for both of us.”

I could barely process her story. I couldn’t decide if she was an excellent liar, or if the tale was so absurd it had to be true. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance.

Turbulence wracked the ship, slamming us both into the window. Through it, we could see the star that the ship was rapidly falling into. The emergency alarms, which had already been gratingly loud, increased their pitch and frequency. We both covered our ears.

The woman yelled over the sirens. “I presume that, whatever’s wrong here, fixing it is more of a two person job?”

Her deduction was correct. And regardless of the truth of her story, I doubted that she wanted to die a fiery death in the unrelenting heat of a red dwarf. “Do you know anything about flying a CJ-97?”

She shook her head. Of course. I made my way back to the control panel, unlocked one of the compartments underneath it, and tossed her a comms earpiece. As I set up my headset, she followed along.

“Comms online?” She nodded. “Alright. I’ll be going into engineering in a minute.”

Before I left the controls, I deployed the last of the liquid nitrogen reserves into the engine room’s cooling system. Now, the air in there should be warm instead of flesh-melting. Then, I positioned the woman in front of the panel, carefully maneuvering around her anachronistic dress. “Keep us steady towards the bearing on screen. Use the trackball to control the navigation system.” I pointed at the round sphere set into the centre of the control panel. “If we drift too far, use the boosters to put some extra juice into it, but don’t use them too much, the engine’s already about to blow. Lever to the left of the trackball is for port, lever to the right is for starboard. Don’t touch anything other than that. Do you understand?”

She nodded again, placing one hand on the trackball – which immediately slipped off, as the trackball was spinning wildly. Startled, she used two hands to grasp it with more vigor. The ship groaned, but steadied slightly. She grinned at her success. I tried not to hyperventilate at the sight of her obvious incompetence, grabbed my toolkit from under the control panel, and made my way over to the engine room door.

When I opened them up, a blast of hot air engulfed me. I prayed that nothing had caught fire. “Lady. Talk to me.”

“What?”

“Talk to me.” I unhooked my gloves from the side of my kit, and pulled them on. “I do better when I’m talking to other people.”

“Okay. Um. What’s your name?”

“Zaxy Renington. Yours?”

“Kimberly Zhu.”

I started unscrewing the hatch over the auxiliary engine. “Nice to meet you, Kimberly.”

“Pleasure’s mine. If you enjoy conversing with other people so much, why are you out here alone?”

My fingers fumbled on the last screw. “Wow. You do not waste any time. Cut to the chase, huh.” I popped off the hatch, and was buffeted by another wave of steamy vapors.

“You get good at that when you’re always stuck in other people’s worst nightmare. Care to share?”

Hesitating for just a moment, I began to take the aux engine apart. “Dropped my boyfri- ex-boyfriend off at his home station. I was making the return trip alone and… decided to blow off some steam. Made some risky maneuvers.”

“You literally flew too close to a sun!”

“I was trying to get a gravity assist from Gliese 163!” As I snapped at her, something snapped under my hand. A new alarm was added to the cacophony.

“You sure you don’t want me to shut up?”

I rewired the area around the new holes in the aux engine. Two of the alarms went quiet.

“…Alright then. Why’d you break up? You seem like a lovely lady.”

“One, we barely know each other. And two, I’m. not. a lady.”

There was quiet for a long moment. “Ah. My apologies. Is that why-”

“Yes.” I ripped out a piece of tubing harder than I’d needed to, and reconnected it to the main engine. “Even in the era of space exploration, some people are stuck in the stone age.”

“Well, speaking as someone who rarely ever knows what year it is, I think you’re better off without him.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I know. I was the one who decided to make the split. Doesn’t hurt any less.” I screwed the hatch back in place. “Doesn’t make me any less stupid for overclocking the engine while trying to vent my breakup blues.”

“How do you know how to fix an engine anyway?”

“CJ-97s are ancient. I bought this cheap, and then refurbished it myself.” Grabbing the now-spare parts, I made my way over to the main engine. “It’s still a bit of a lemon, but I’m in trade school for a reason. Eventually I was going to learn how to retrofit a proper nav AI into this thing myself, but if I hadn’t put that off for so long, I never would have met you.”

Kimberly laughed. “What a shame that would have been.”

With a final twist, I removed the hatch covering the main engine. “Kimberly. You see the big red button at the top of the panel? Near the screen?”

“Yeah?” Then, she made a distressed noise. “Does that-”

“Press it.”

“Will that cut the engines?”

“Yes.”

“Won’t we fall into the star?”

“Kimberly?”

“Zaxy, we’ll die.” As if to punctuate her point, the ship groaned. More alarms started to blare.

“This is the part where you shut up. Press the button. Once I’m out of the control room and I shut the door, press it again. Please. Trust me.”

There was silence on the comms. Then, all of the alarms went off, and the emergency lights turned on. She had cut the power.

I got to work. I could feel the burn of the engine parts through my gloves, but I gritted my teeth and kept going. The ship creaked and crackled, and I could feel the star’s gravitational pull growing stronger as we got closer.

“Zaxy.”

“Just a minute.” I winced as a half-melted screw nearly seared through my glove.

“Zaxy, we don’t have a minute.”

“Just… a… moment.” Sparks flew from the wires in my hand.

“We don’t have that either!”

“Good thing I don’t need it.” I replaced the last piece, and didn’t even bother to put the hatch back. With a well-placed kick, I flew away from the main engine and through the doorway, grabbing the handle and swinging the door shut as I went out. “Now!”

By the time she had pressed the button, I was at the controls. I grabbed the trackball with one hand and pushed the engine to full throttle with the other. I jammed my leg into a nook behind the control panel, so when the ship jolted from the push of its engine against the pull of the star, I stayed in place. Kimberly, however, crashed into the portside window with a cry of pain.

“You could have warned me!” she yelled, though she was muffled by the glass smushed against her face.

“Yeah, well.” I pushed the trackball harder. “You could have warned me before you showed up.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Then tell me, how does it work?” The bearing we were on previously wasn’t achievable from our current position. I punched in a different route, one that we could get to if I was somehow a better engineer/pilot than I’d ever dreamed. “I work better when I’m talking, remember? And I’ve done all the sharing I care to. Your turn.”

In the reflection of the navigation screen, I could see Kimberly push herself up from the glass. Not quite enough of a push for get her too close to me, but enough for her to not be getting an eyeful of red dwarf. “I do this a lot. Like I said. Get people out of crises, save the day, yada yada yada. And then, once it’s over, I’m gone.”

I wrenched the trackball towards the proper bearing. “Out of your control? No going back?”

“No. Some people have tried to get me to come back, but… it’s not reliable. Lightning can strike the same place twice, but when it happens isn’t your call, you know?”

“I’m about to turn on the starboard booster.” By the time Kimberly processed what that meant, she had already bumped into the engine room door. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you that time.”

Kimberly’s laugh was a bit harsher. I heard the folds of her dress crumple. “No. You’ve got better manners than whatever force is stringing me along.”

We were just about to break free of the star’s gravity. “Hey. If you’re going to leave soon, then I just want to thank you. Pretty sure I would have died if you weren’t there to-”

I stopped. I had turned to look at her, to better see the woman who had saved me before she went to save someone else.

But no one was there.

#astoryadaykeepsCOVIDaway #coronavirus #covid-19 #writing #writers on tumblr #this is one of those premises that could theoretically go on forever without ever not making sense #which is the sort of continuous internal logic that I find very appealing #I’m sorry this is late #but I’m just happy that this time it was just me being dumb #instead of me being demotivated and miserable #also #I can’t believe it took me so long to make a story with characters that are #queer #you can make an argument for Dear Quincy? #but this one’s more upfront

[aboutcaseyaffleck]

Actor Casey Affleck Reflects On The Past And 'The World To Come'

The last time I saw Casey Affleck was after an 8:30 a.m. Sundance Film Festival screening of “Manchester by the Sea,” which left my colleagues and I so emotionally drained we were pretty much useless for the rest of the day. Affleck finds this very funny. “Oh man, that’s awesome,” he laughs. “That was a tough screening. At Sundance I’m usually just going to sleep at 8 a.m.” We’re talking on the phone a few days after the festival’s virtual premiere of his latest movie, “The World to Come,” which made its Sundance debut last month under very different circumstances. “It’s so strange doing these things sitting in front of your computer,” he sighs.

Directed by Mona Fastvold, “The World to Come” is a powerful period piece about a forbidden love affair between pioneer women played by Katherine Waterston and Vanessa Kirby, set in upstate New York during the early months of 1856. Affleck produced the picture, in which he plays a supporting role as Waterston’s uncomprehending husband, and he did his best to soldier through a crowded Zoom Q&A after the Sundance screening, with results pleasant enough, but nonetheless missing that in-person festival magic. “I used to love going to film festivals and talking to journalists and seeing all the movies and talking to other filmmakers,” he laments. “Sitting here alone in a little office in my house is such a drag. But it was nice to know that the movie was getting seen, at least.”

While big brother Ben plays Batman in studio pictures, Casey has exhibited a restless independent streak ever since he was a student at Cambridge Rindge and Latin School. (Our ninth-grade classes competed against each other in the Mass. High School Drama Guild Competition. His won, perhaps unsurprisingly.) A longtime friend of the Brattle Theatre and former creative advisor for the Independent Film Festival Boston, the younger Affleck has always seemed more at home in indies. Not a lot of actors would follow an Oscar-winning role in “Manchester by the Sea” with a microbudget art film like “A Ghost Story.” But then his internalized, minimalist acting style is often at odds with the concerns of contemporary blockbusters. There’s a weird dissonance watching something like Disney’s hokey Chatham sea adventure “The Finest Hours,” with Affleck going full Montgomery Clift while surrounded by CGI silliness.

“The World to Come” is the most ambitious project yet from Affleck’s Sea Change Media, which partnered with Pamela Koffler and Christine Vachon’s legendary NYC indie institution Killer Films for the arduous production that began with a conversation between Affleck and novelist Ron Hansen nearly a decade ago. “When I did ‘The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford’ I got to know Ron Hansen, just because I loved the book so much. Ron has a very unique talent for writing 19th century language. He’s just from another era. I asked him if he had something he wanted to work on together, and I thought he would send me one of his things. Instead, he sent me this story by Jim Shepard. It was beautiful. I said, why don’t you and Jim write the script? And they took about six years, but it came together beautifully. Good things come to those who wait, I guess.”

The film eventually shot in Romania with a break built into the schedule to accommodate the changing seasons that are so crucial to the movie’s rugged, outdoor textures. “We were way out in Transylvania, out in the mountains,” Affleck explains. “We were just in some valley and they built a couple of farmhouses. I like being far away in a new place. It makes you feel outside of your life. And I love working in weather. There are so many aspects of moviemaking that are artificial, but when there’s extreme weather, it’s real. I did this Disney movie about a boat rescue, and it was, like, December in friggin’ Quincy and they were just soaking us with water every single take. There’s not a lot that you have to quote-unquote act. You’re just standing there, teeth-chattering, shivering, just being.” This reminds me of the scene in “Manchester” when he and Lucas Hedges have an argument walking in the blistering cold and can’t remember where they parked. “I forgot about that one,” he laughs.

I’d never say so on the phone, but I consider Affleck’s performance as Lee Chandler in “Manchester by the Sea” among the finest I’ve seen in my 22 years of reviewing films, worthy of discussion alongside Brando’s Terry Malloy in “On the Waterfront” in its aching, inchoate longing. Lee holds his grief somewhere very private and dear, as if to begin to forgive himself would be an act of betrayal. The movie nails a gruff, emotional constipation popular among men of a certain stripe, especially in New England. (My mother offered my favorite review of the film: “Why don’t they just talk to each other? Jesus, this is like watching you and your father.”) Words don’t come easily to most of Affleck’s movie characters, but he chafes at the description of them as inarticulate. “It’s funny, I find the characters in ‘Manchester’ to be sometimes very articulate,” he argues. “There’s misunderstandings, but they end up communicating what’s inside.”

“The World to Come” is rife with such mixed signals and miscommunications, about which co-star Katherine Waterston raved during the Zoom Q&A after the Sundance screening. “It was so much fun to play the scenes with Casey,” she said. “A lot of these scenes are written as dances, where somebody tries to reach out and engage and they’re misunderstood. Inarticulacy is a very interesting thing to see in film. The failed attempts. Failed communications. It’s actually fun to play those things. You don’t know what the other person’s going to throw at you. It keeps it really alive on set. Mona and I felt if we had the money we could have kept shooting this thing for months, because the scenes were so much fun to explore.”

Affleck agrees. “When Katherine’s character writes in her journal or she starts talking to Vanessa, they have this beautiful, expressive way of speaking to each other,” he enthuses, whereas his character “says what he’s gotta say in as few words as possible. He’s very brusque and curt, which I enjoyed. The way that he talks is the communication equivalent when he gives her a birthday gift of sardines and a tin of raisins.”

Indeed, her increasingly florid diary entries — originally intended as a ledger to keep track of the farm’s monthly expenses — become the heartbeat of the film, providing an emotional release otherwise suppressed by the rigid formality of the era and the ugly drudgery of day-to-day farm life. “The World to Come” is ultimately a movie about the need to share our stories, and how through telling them we make sense of ourselves. As producer Koffler explains in the press notes, “Part of the film’s vision is to dramatize a very basic human impulse: to create, to connect, to say ‘I was here, and I mattered.’”

This has become a recurring theme in Affleck’s recent work. In 2019, he wrote, directed and starred in “Light of My Life,” a little-seen but strikingly tense post-apocalyptic road movie about a father and daughter hiding out in the wilderness after a pandemic has wiped out most of the women in the world. The film begins with Affleck telling the little girl a bedtime story that runs almost 13 minutes and sneakily sets up the movie’s major themes. Then in last month’s well-acted but regrettably soggy “Our Friend,” he starred as real-life journalist Matthew Teague, whose soul-baring Esquire story about his wife’s struggle with cancer became a national phenomenon.

“Matt Teague wrote that article and then wanted it made into a movie as his way of processing everything that had happened,” the actor elaborates. “You transform pain into other things as you go through life. That was all him working through it. I like stories about storytellers and I like stories within stories. Obviously, I wrote and directed a movie that starts with a 12-minute bedtime story. I love that. I know that other people don’t love it as much as I do, so I have to be careful about it.”

That kind of love led to last summer’s “Stories From Tomorrow,” a project initiated during lockdown by Affleck and his schoolteacher mom Christine, encouraging children to send in poems and short stories to be read on social media by celebrities like Matt Damon and Jon Hamm, as well as his “The World to Come” co-stars Waterston and Kirby. “That was something I started out at the very beginning of the quarantine as a small project to encourage kids to write creatively, because I know it can be a great way of processing anxiety and working through feelings that you aren’t really talking about or aren’t aware that you’re having. It wasn’t something I thought would go on forever; once the kids are back in school that ought to be where they should be doing all that kind of work. But while they were sitting at home, I thought it would be a good way to get their attention off the awful news and into something more imaginative. And I also got a chance to read all these super-cool stories! Really creative stuff that kids sent from all around the world.”

Finally, as a Boston publication it would be dereliction of duty not to mention the hysterical Dunkin Donuts commercial parody from when Affleck hosted “Saturday Night Live” in 2016, so dead-on in its depiction of a local 'regulah customah' that on one of my critics’ poll ballots that year I tried to nominate the sketch for Best Documentary. Alas, the performer shoots down a pet theory I’ve been hanging onto ever since, that the dirtbag Boston guy in the Bruins hat is secretly a grown-up version of Affleck’s scene stealing, bug-swallowing Morgan from “Good Will Hunting.”

“I hadn’t thought about that, dude. That’s really funny. It never crossed my mind." He pauses before confiding, "I wasn’t that great on SNL… I just wasn’t all that funny on the skits, because it’s live and you’re reading the cue cards and it was my first time. But when we went to make that little pre-recorded short film of the Dunkin’ Donuts ad, I really felt like that was my wheelhouse there. I could’ve played that character in a movie. I could have gone to work and played him every single day, and I would have had a blast. That was really fun to do. I would love to do another one of those. That would be funny to see that character again.”

I bet that guy’s got some stories.

“The World To Come” is now in theaters and will be available via video on demand Tuesday, March 2.

[source]

#casey affleck #the world to come #quote #photo #movies

[akaluan]

5, 15, 32, 45 for erich/kisuke/alexis? (listen i l o v e these three dont @ me (or do))

*amused noise* Yes, they’re Good, aren’t they?

5 - Nicknames? Pet names? Any in-jokes?

Kisuke is the one who gives the other two the most nicknames/pet names. He likes the way Erich wrinkles his nose at the ridiculous pet names and the way Alexis lights up as she laughs. In the end, though, he tends to like sappy things like “Beloved” and “Beautiful” (and has a tendency to call Erich “Beautiful” because it makes Erich turn cute-shy because “That’s not true... Kisuke please...”)

Erich doesn’t tend to go for nicknames or pet names. “Love” is about the closest he gets. Though he has a childhood nickname for Alexis that he still sometimes uses, “Ace”, referencing the fact that she was the best at traditional Quincy arts amongst their age-group, or he also uses “Lexi” for her when he’s being Soft. (He hasn’t really found anything that feels right for Kisuke yet, though “Reaper” is definitely a pet name that he uses when Kisuke is being Troublesome Yet Endearing)

Alexis plays along with Kisuke’s habit of nicknames, smiling and laughing the whole way. She doesn’t tend to get as wild though, usually sticking with a handful of pretty standard pet names -- things like “Honey” or “Love” or “Dear” (sometimes “Dear Heart” if she’s being Soft). More seriously, she teasingly calls Erich “My Lord” (to which he’ll often reply “My Lady”) along with childhood nickname of “Mage” (for how often he was playing with his magic even as a kid) and her Soft name for him specifically being “My Star”. (She likes “My Moon” for Kisuke, which made him sputter the first few times she used it -- “But you orbited us so sweetly for so long, my moon, why would I not acknowledge it?”)

In jokes... hmm... nothing immediately comes to mind, but honestly there’s probably something involving the chaos that Erich and Kisuke can get up to when they go into Inventing Mode together XD

15 - How adventurous are they?

*Amused noises* Okay, non-bedroom answers since there’s actually a specific Bedroom Question, despite that benig where my drunk brain immediately went.

Uhm. Kisuke likes trying new things and investigating, especially with Erich and Alexis with him. Erich is an interesting combination of “I’d really rather not” and “the world is still interesting and I refuse to become stuck” so he does actively go out of his way to find new things to learn. He just... really prefers to Not about things involving war and death (though he does anyway because he prefers not to be ignorant). Alexis shares a lot of Erich’s Feelings about the world at large -- and especially about things that remind her of the War -- but she absolutely LOVES to travel and visit places she’s never been before. She thinks it’s probably the best thing to come out of the interconnected world, the ability to travel all over the world so quickly.

32. - Do they ever get into trouble? Is it serious, or are they just mischievous?

Despite Alexis trying her best, “Trouble” is basically their collective middle name. It’s mostly mischievous trouble at least, though more than once Erich and Kisuke have allowed their experiments to get a little out of hand. Erich tries to pretend to be a straight-laced soldier but Kisuke just brings out the worst in him XD And of course Alexis isn’t REALLY the best at being Voice of Reason when half the time she’s either interested herself or giving them Ideas.

45. - Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets? 

Hmmm...

Dreams/goals: Being a Family, maybe having kids (adopted or otherwise, Erich just... really likes being a father, alright? And Alexis loves seeing kids find their interests and grow. Kisuke is the most uncertain about the kids thing because WHAT IF HE SCREWS UP (”Kisuke you practically raised Nadja with us.” “BUT WHAT IF I--” “Kisuke, breathe. You’ll be fine. Besides, wasn’t the whole reason you hunted me down being our kid from another future? I seem to remember a hybrid child being with you those first few visits...” “THAT’S DIFFERENT.”))

Heartbreaks: Not many or frequently! Sometimes they have some communication problems, but their decades of friendship gives them a good grounding in how to handle misunderstandings and arguments constructively.

Regrets: Kisuke regrets not being truthful earlier in their acquaintance. Alexis forgave him easily enough, but he still sometimes wonders what could have been if he’d just gathered his courage earlier. Erich and Alexis don’t regret much in terms of their polycule, except maybe that Kisuke didn’t feel comfortable enough around Alexis for so long that he kept the truth from her. (Alexis regrets that her attitude towards Shinigami made Kisuke feel so uncomfortable with her. Erich regrets that he didn’t work on softening Alexis’ opinions before she met Kisuke for the first time.)

#ask meme #lilacs reprised #au cubed #everyones-beau #replies

[indomitablekushite]

An interesting post I saw on FB

White women's opinion of black women & a brother's response Please take a moment and read this. I started not to read it with his explanation of what he thinks a successful black man was, and the picture came with the article I found on Google Plus ...anyway Agree or disagree

It seems that an article was written to Sister 2 Sister magazine by a Caucasian woman who requested a response from black men. I'm so glad she got what she asked for (and more) !!!

Dear Jamie: I'm sorry but I would like to challenge some of your Black male readers. I am a White female who is engaged to a Black male-good-looking, educated and loving. I just don't understand a lot of Black female's attitudes about our relationship. My man decided he wanted me because the pickings amongst Black women were slim to none. As he said they were either too fat, too loud, too mean, too argumentative, too needy, too materialistic or carrying too much excess baggage. Before I became engaged, whenever I went out I was constantly approached by Black men, willing to wine and dine me and give me the world. If Black women are so up in arms about us being with their men, why don't they look at themselves and make some changes. I am tired of the dirty looks I get and snide remarks when we're out in public. I would like to hear from some Black men about why we are so appealing and coveted by them. Bryant Gumbel just left his wife of 26 years for one of us Charles Barkley, Scottie Pippen, the model Tyson Beckford, Montell Williams, Quincy Jones, James Earl Jones, Harry Belafonte, Sydney Poitier, Kofi Anan, Cuba Gooding Jr., Don Cornelius, Berry Gordy, Billy Blanks, Larry Fishburne, Wesley Snipes... I could go on and on. But, right now, I'm a little angry and that is why I wrote this so hurriedly. Don't be mad with us White women because so many of your men want us. Get your acts together and learn from us and we may lead you to treat your men better. If I'm wrong, Black men, let me know. Disgusted White Girl, Somewhere in VA RESPONSE

NOW PEEP HIS RESPONSE....... _________________________________________________

Dear Jamie: I would like to respond to the letter written by A Disgusted White Girl. Let me start by saying that I am a 28-year old black man. I graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in Atlanta, Georgia with a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Business Management. I have a good job at a major corporation and have recently purchased a house. So, I consider myself to be among the ranks of successful black men. I will not use my precious time to slander white people. I just want to set the record straight of why black men date white women. Back in the day, one of the biggest reasons why black men dated white women was because they were considered easy. The black girls in my neighborhood were raised in the church. They were very strict about when they lost their virginity and who they lost it to. Because of our impatience to wait, brothers would look for someone who would give it up easy without too much hassle. So, they turned to the white girls. Nowadays, in my opinion, a lot of brothers date white women because they are docile and easy to control. A lot of black men, because of insecurities, fears, and overall weaknesses, have become intimidated by the strength of our black women. We are afraid that our woman will be more successful than us, make more money than us, drive nicer cars and own bigger houses.

Because of this fear, many black men look for a more docile woman. Someone we can control. I have talked to numerous black men and they continuously comment on how easy it is to control and walk over their white women. I just want to set the record straight. I want A Disgusted White Girl to know that not all successful black men date white women. Brothers like Ahmad Rashad, Denzel Washington, Michael Jordan, Morris Chestnut, Will Smith, Blair Underwood, Kenneth "Babyface" Edmonds, Samuel L. Jackson, and Chris Rock all married strong black women And, to flip the script, there are numerous white men, in and out of the spot light, who openly or secretly desire black women over white women. Ted Danson, Robert DeNiro, and David Bowie to name a few. I just don't want a disgusted white girl to be misinformed Stop thinking that because you are white that you are some type of goddess. Remember, when black Egyptian Queens like Hatsepshut and Nitorcris were ruling Dynasties and armies of men in Egypt, you were over in the caves of Europe eating raw meat and beating each other over the head with clubs.

Read your history! It was the black woman that taught you how to cook and season your food. It was the black woman that taught you how to raise your children. It was black women who were breast feeding and raising your babies during slavery. It is the black woman that had to endure watching their fathers, husbands, and children beaten, killed, and thrown in jail. Black women were born with two strikes against them: being black and being a woman. And, through all this, Still They Rise! It is because of the black women's strength, elegance, power, love and beauty that I could> never> date anyone except my black Queen. It is not just the outer beauty that captivates and draws me to them. It is not the fact that they come in all shapes, sizes, colors and shades that I love them. Their inner beauty is what I find most appealing about black women. Their strong spirit, loving and nurturing souls, their integrity, their ability to overcome great obstacles, their willingness to stand for what they believe in, and their determination to succeed and reach their highest potential while enduring great pain and suffering is why I have fallen in love with black women. I honestly believe that your anger is geared more toward jealousy and envy more so than snotty looks. If this were not so, then why do you continuously go to tanning salons to darken your skin? If you are so proud to be white, then why don't you just be happy with your pale skin? Why do you continue to inject your lips, hips, and breasts with unnatural and dangerous substances so you can look fuller and more voluptuous? I think that your anger is really a result of you wanting to have what the black woman has.

BOTTOM LINE: If I were looking for a docile woman, someone I can walk over and control, I would give you a call. But, unfortunately, I am looking for a Virtuous Woman. Someone that can be a good wife and mother to my children. Someone who can be my best friend and understands my struggles. I am looking for a soul mate. I am looking for a sister and; unfortunately, you do not and CANNOT fit the bill. No offense taken, none given. Signed, Black Royalty

Wow!! We must pass this on to make the day of the Black Queens and remind our black kings of what they have

[blurogue86]

White women's opinion of black women & a brother's response Please take a moment and read this. Pretty Deep! Thumbs up to this black man.. Enjoy. It seems that an article was written to Sister 2 Sister magazine by a Caucasian woman who requested a response from black men. I'm so glad she got what she asked for (and more) !!! Dear Jamie: I'm sorry but I would like to challenge some of your Black male readers. I am a White female who is engaged to a Black male-good-looking, educated and loving. I just don't understand a lot of Black female's attitudes about our relationship. My man decided he wanted me because the pickings amongst Black women were slim to none. As he said they were either too fat, too loud, too mean, too argumentative, too needy, too materialistic or carrying too much excess baggage. Before I became engaged, whenever I went out I was constantly approached by Black men, willing to wine and dine me and give me the world. If Black women are so up in arms about us being with their men, why don't they look at themselves and make some changes. I am tired of the dirty looks I get and snide remarks when we're out in public. I would like to hear from some Black men about why we are so appealing and coveted by them. Bryant Gumbel just left his wife of 26 years for one of us Charles Barkley, Scottie Pippen, the model Tyson Beckford, Montell Williams, Quincy Jones, James Earl Jones, Harry Belafonte, Sydney Poitier, Kofi Anan, Cuba Gooding Jr., Don Cornelius, Berry Gordy, Billy Blanks, Larry Fishburne, Wesley Snipes... I could go on and on. But, right now, I'm a little angry and that is why I wrote this so hurriedly. Don't be mad with us White women because so many of your men want us. Get your acts together and learn from us and we may lead you to treat your men better. If I'm wrong, Black men, let me know. Disgusted White Girl, Somewhere in VA RESPONSE Dear Jamie: I would like to respond to the letter written by A Disgusted White Girl. Let me start by saying that I am a 28-year old black man. I graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in Atlanta, Georgia with a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Business Management. I have a good job at a major corporation and have recently purchased a house. So, I consider myself to be among the ranks of successful black men. I will not use my precious time to slander white people. I just want to set the record straight of why black men date white women. Back in the day, one of the biggest reasons why black men dated white women was because they were considered easy. The black girls in my neighborhood were raised in the church. They were very strict about when they lost their virginity and who they lost it to. Because of our impatience to wait, brothers would look for someone who would give it up easy without too much hassle. So, they turned to the white girls. Nowadays, in my opinion, a lot of brothers date white women because they are docile and easy to control. A lot of black men, because of insecurities, fears, and overall weaknesses, have become intimidated by the strength of our black women. We are afraid that our woman will be more successful than us, make more money than us, drive nicer cars and own bigger houses. Because of this fear, many black men look for a more docile woman. Someone we can control. I have talked to numerous black men and they continuously comment on how easy it is to control and walk over their white women. I just want to set the record straight. I want A Disgusted White Girl to know that not all successful black men date white women. Brothers like Ahmad Rashad, Denzel Washington, Michael Jordan, Morris Chestnut, Will Smith, Blair Underwood, Kenneth "Babyface" Edmonds, Samuel L. Jackson, and Chris Rock all married strong black women And, to flip the script, there are numerous white men, in and out of the spot light, who openly or secretly desire black women over white women. Ted Danson, Robert DeNiro, and David Bowie to name a few. I just don't want a disgusted white girl to be misinformed Stop thinking that because you are white that you are some type of goddess. Remember, when black Egyptian Queens like Hatsepshut and Nitorcris were ruling Dynasties and armies of men in Egypt, you were over in the caves of Europe eating raw meat and beating each other over the head with clubs. Read your history! It was the black woman that taught you how to cook and season your food. It was the black woman that taught you how to raise your children. It was black women who were breast feeding and raising your babies during slavery. It is the black woman that had to endure watching their fathers, husbands, and children beaten, killed, and thrown in jail. Black women were born with two strikes against them: being black and being a woman. And, through all this, Still They Rise! It is because of the black women's strength, elegance, power, love and beauty that I could> never> date anyone except my black Queen. It is not just the outer beauty that captivates and draws me to them. It is not the fact that they come in all shapes, sizes, colors and shades that I love them. Their inner beauty is what I find most appealing about black women. Their strong spirit, loving and nurturing souls, their integrity, their ability to overcome great obstacles, their willingness to stand for what they believe in, and their determination to succeed and reach their highest potential while enduring great pain and suffering is why I have fallen in love with black women. I honestly believe that your anger is geared more toward jealousy and envy more so than snotty looks. If this were not so, then why do you continuously go to tanning salons to darken your skin? If you are so proud to be white, then why don't you just be happy with your pale skin? Why do you continue to inject your lips, hips, and breasts with unnatural and dangerous substances so you can look fuller and more voluptuous? I think that your anger is really a result of you wanting to have what the black woman has. BOTTOM LINE: If I were looking for a docile woman, someone I can walk over and control, I would give you a call. But, unfortunately, I am looking for a Virtuous Woman. Someone that can be a good wife and mother to my children. Someone who can be my best friend and understands my struggles. I am looking for a soul mate. I am looking for a sister and; unfortunately, you do not and CANNOT fit the bill. No offense taken, none given. Signed, Black Royalty

#pro black #black in america #racism white supremacy

[ozma914]

Chapter One of Coming Attractions

Ever since we got Coming Attractions up on the website (www.markrhunter.com), I've been meaning to share the entire first chapter, which introduces both main characters and, I think, gives a taste of what's to come. You can also see chapter one on various booksellers' websites, but I thought it was worthwhile to have it right here, where people can check it out if they choose. This is exactly as it appears in print, including the opening materials.

After this I plan to go back to a semi-regular post about writing, such as creating characters, inspiration, setting, and such, starting with how they relate to the creation of Coming Attractions itself. Hey, I was bored. (Kidding! I've got a lot of issues, but boredom is not one of them.)

Remember, whenever you don't read a first chapter, the second chapter doesn't get its pages. (I think that's the line from It's a Wonderful Life. Something like that.)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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Coming Attractions

Mark R. Hunter

Other titles by Mark R. Hunter

Non-fiction:

Images of America: Albion and Noble County

Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or So With the Albion Fire Department

Slightly Off the Mark

Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All

Fiction:

Storm Chaser

Storm Chaser Shorts

The Notorious Ian Grant

The No-Campfire Girls

Radio Red

Copyright © 2018 Mark R. Hunter

All rights reserved.

Edited by Emily Hunter

Cover by Emily Hunter

This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and events in this book are either are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. No popcorn was harmed in the making of this novel.

For book extras and additional books by the author, please visit: www.MarkRHunter.com

In loving memory of

Linda Taylor

Jean Coonts Stroud

Special thanks to the Auburn-Garrett Drive-In;

The drive-in movie theaters still upholding the tradition;

And all the drive-ins of our youth: especially, for me, the High-Vue of Kendallville, Indiana

Coming Attractions

Mark R. Hunter

CHAPTER ONE

Maddie saw trouble ahead as soon as she stepped off the company airplane.

The kid standing in the terminal held a slab of cardboard before him like a shield, with her name plastered in red across its surface. Maybe he was attempting to hide the fact that, beneath the wrinkled black suit coat, he wore a white T-shirt that should have been washed at least two meals ago. More likely he feared missing her, since a quick study of the shaggy haired young man told her he held little stock in appearances.

"Madison McKinley?" He gave her an equally appraising scan.

Stopping before him, she deliberately looked right and left. The closest other people stood at least two hundred feet away, gathered around the airport's gift shop. "Maddie."

Taking that as encouragement, he smiled. "Tupper. Welcome to Fort Wayne!" He still held the sign up.

"Tupper?"

"That's my name—well, my middle name, and that's what I go by. My mother sold Tupperware, and she's pretty hardcore. I don’t know if they still hold Tupperware parties, but if you want her to set one up—"

"I doubt I'll be here that long." Maddie tried not to judge people by appearances, but Tupper looked for all the world like Shaggy from the Scooby Doo cartoon series—without the goatee. Under other circumstances she might have been tempted to smile. "Tupper, were you expecting a company plane?"

"Oh, sure. I've been with the company over a week now."

"And did anyone get off the plane besides me?"

His brow knitted in concentration. "Nope."

"Then do you really believe the sign is necessary?"

Face reddening, Tupper dropped the cardboard. "Sorry."

“Trash can, Tupper—let's keep our planet clean." She blushed a little, herself—it wasn’t fair to take her mood out on him.

When Tupper turned to throw the sign away, Maddie realized he wore a fairly nice pair of navy slacks—and white sneakers. "Are you, by chance, related to one of the partners?"

"I'm Mr. Quincy's great-nephew—how did you know?"

"Family resemblance." Maddie despised lying, but saw no reason to hurt someone's feelings. Nepotism could be a powerful force—why else would this kid be hired by the stuffiest law firm in Boston? "You were to bring a car?"

"This way." Tupper turned, paused, then whirled around. "Did you have luggage?"

"I'm a woman, Tupper." This time she did smile.

He frowned.

"That means yes. Two bags."

After retrieving her luggage, Tupper led the way into the warmth of a sunny June midafternoon. "You'll love Fort Wayne. They have an orchestra, a zoo, a mall, three rivers ..." He trailed off, thinking.

"It seemed a bit small from the air." The poor guy might hurt himself if his brain doesn’t cool down.

"Well, it's the second largest city in Indiana."

As they walked across the crowded parking lot a breeze swirled the folds of Maddie's skirt and blew blonde strands of hair across her face. "Large by Indiana standards? Not a telling argument."

"But you come from Boston. Indiana's a lot bigger than Massachusetts."

"In square miles, maybe," Maddie murmured under her breath. She almost ran into Tupper when he skidded to a halt. "Where's the car?"

"Right here." He pointed to a deep purple Chrysler van.

She stared, trying to fend off a wave of nostalgia for her Porsche. "I asked for a sedan."

"Yeah, you traded up—isn't that great?" He produced a key ring from his pocket and pushed the unlock button. "It's got a digital audio system, sliding doors on both sides, an environmental readout, and you gotta love the color. It's a real love machine."

Such a statement could only come from a member of the Scooby Gang. Maddie stared at him, hands on hips, but held her temper—after all, her temper got her here to begin with. "I realize you've been by yourself here, but since you arrived with just two jobs—to get me a hotel room and a car—could it be that difficult?"

"I didn't actually arrive—I grew up west of here, in New Haven." He noticed her expression, and stumbled backward. "Um, there's a car show at the Memorial Coliseum—by the way, we have a Memorial Coliseum—and Jay Leno's going to be there and all the rental cars were taken and this is the only—"

"Tupper, Calm down." Maddie took him by the shoulder, which made the younger man flinch. "Maybe this is for the best. Don't people going to drive-in movies often take vans?"

He blinked at her. "Yeah, sure. I like to back my truck in, when I'm not working. Why?"

Oh, dear—He didn't know why she'd been sent. "Because I've never visited one, and I might have some free time while I'm here."

Tupper brightened instantly. "The best one in Indiana is about an hour north of Fort Wayne—you'll love it."

She very much doubted that. "Tupper, do you know why I'm here?"

"Um—" He paused, trying to focus. "To expand the agency's influence into business dealings in the Midwest."

"Which means?"

"Got me." He shrugged. "This is my first assignment since I visited Uncle Quincy, but he said it was real important, so I figure I'm on the fast track."

Uncle Quincy? What an image—like Luciano Pavarotti breakdancing. "You are, indeed." Maddie decided she liked the kid, after all. She couldn't help thinking of him as a kid, although he couldn't be more than five years younger than her, and he seemed sincere in his desire to help. Besides, in his own way he was exiled here, just like her. "Do you have transportation?"

“My truck—oh, you mean here?” He gestured to a yellow Volkswagen Beetle parked beside the van. Inside, a girl with spiked green hair waved, then went back to studying her eyebrow ring in the rear view mirror. How entirely appropriate.

"Tupper, you've obviously been working hard. Why don't you take a day or two off? Visit with your family, take a short break, and contact me at the hotel later."

"Really? Wow, thanks! I needed to take off for my part time job soon, anyway." He started to hop into the Beetle, but paused when she called his name.

"It might be helpful to have the information packet your great-uncle promised me. Not to mention the van keys."

"Oh!" Tupper handed her the keys and gestured toward the van. "There's a folder on the passenger seat with maps, directions, your reservation, and a really big book about John Adams. He's my ancestor, you know. I think he was governor, or something."

"Possibly the genes have thinned out since then." Ignoring his puzzled expression, she climbed into the van.

"Well, if you like to go to the drive-in you'll probably see me there. Take it easy!" The Bug roared away.

After a moment Maddie got back out, opened the rear door, and threw in the luggage Tupper had abandoned on the pavement. Sincere he may be, competent he may not.

Maddie spent some time reading the directions and comparing them to the maps. Smiling despite herself, she also leafed through the biography of John Adams. Inside the front cover she found a short inscription: "John Adams called himself obnoxious and unpopular—but he got the job done. Quincy."

Adam Quincy had been named for the second President, and according to rumor was a distant relative. Maddie considered John Adams a role model for his courage and perseverance, but that, and their occupation, was all she and Quincy had in common. Leave it to the law firm's founder to turn a gift into a subtle reminder of who was in charge.

She spotted some brochures in the folder. Tupper apparently thought her job involved sightseeing: He’d enclosed something about every tourist destination in northeast Indiana, from zoos and state parks to an Old Jail Museum. And a drive-in movie theater.

The colorful advertisement declared this to be the 50th anniversary of the High View Drive-In. Two features for the whole family every night, all summer long, plus weekend showings in the spring and fall. Photos showed happy families who munched on popcorn and other snacks while watching the latest flick from the comfort of their automobiles.

Maddie studied every detail, every letter, and then determined the hotel would not, after all, be her next destination. It was getting close to dusk. She had a van, and other than being a bit overdressed for the movies she should go unnoticed.

Yes, a visit to the drive-in was clearly in order. After all, she well remembered one of the first rules from law school: Know your enemy.

Despite her black mood on the airplane, the weather and the masses of greenery Maddie passed during her drive north cheered her a bit. She’d believed as a child that a field was a dirt lot for baseball, and the biggest patch of plant life no more than a Boston city park. Her preteen mind couldn’t have imagined these expanses of woods, or unlimited stretches of young corn and wheat.

It was cool enough to shut down the air conditioner and crack the windows, an act that would horrify her hairstylist. Considering the obscene amounts of money she paid the man, by now he should have come up with a wave that would last through a tornado.

She missed him. She missed her Porsche mechanic, her personal assistant, the doorman, and all the partners with their custom tailored suits, ten dollar cigars, and condescending attitudes. No matter how important this assignment, everyone knew it was punishment. She must prove herself all over again if she ever expected a corner office and her pick of cases.

A few miles after turning onto a two lane highway she spotted the sign, a gaudy red and yellow monstrosity guaranteed to attract attention. The top formed an arrow pointing toward the metal framework of the movie screen, and below the arrow stood a sign advertising a Pixar animated movie and a teen comedy.

To Maddie's surprise half a dozen cars already lined the drive. A van similar to hers waited first behind the closed gate to the ticket booth, with the adult occupants of the other vehicles gathered around it. They looked like they were having a conference, or maybe a tailgate party. A dozen young people, from teens to toddlers, played in a grassy area between the drive and a red fence that surrounded the property.

Maddie stopped behind the last vehicle, wincing at the crunch of gravel beneath her wheels. Clearly, Indiana needed to invest in more asphalt. After the dust cleared, she opened her windows all the way to admit the scent of freshly mowed grass and a far off barbecue, then shut off the engine. Country music played from the pickup in front of her, but it was the sound of kids screaming that made her stiffen.

She scanned around the lawn until certain they were screams of glee, not pain. Why didn’t these parents pay closer attention to their children? Wouldn't it be safer to keep them in their cars, instead of wandering around where they could get hit, or fall, or be bitten by snakes or rabid bunnies or something? Not to mention all the strangers.

Well, she must be the only stranger here, considering everyone else still gathered around the one vehicle. The scene would make someone nostalgic, if that someone held memories of going to the movies. Maddie remembered only a few trips to a more traditional theater.

She’d been led to believe little local support remained for the drive-in, making a buyout easy. Except for one lonely old house along the drive-in property, the surrounding land consisted of farm fields and small tracts of woods, most optioned by the development company her firm represented.

The drive-in's owner remained the holdout, and by bad luck his property made up the bull’s-eye in the tract of land the developer needed. The better his business, the harder her job—and here people already waited, on a weeknight, no less.

Perhaps this made up the hardcore locals with nothing better to do. You couldn't make profit margin with six customers a day.

That optimistic thought faded when an old station wagon pulled up behind her van, pumping rock and roll into the air, as a full house gyrated inside.

With a sigh, Maddie examined the customers. Their dress consisted of shorts or blue jeans, and tank tops or printed tees. She glanced down at her silk print dress, and determined not to leave the van under any circumstances. The average person might not know the difference between her expensive outfit and something from an outlet store, but she would still stand out.

Soon adults began to saunter back toward their own vehicles, while the kids ran, jumping and shouting, to join them. She held her breath until she was sure none of the children would trip or get hit by a car door, then turned to see a woman move the gate aside and climb into the ticket booth. Maddie switched the engine on and wondered if kid movies had changed much since "The Little Mermaid".

Soon Maddie caught sight of the ticket price, painted on the whitewashed side of the ticket booth, and took a sharp breath. It was a third of what she’d expect to pay in downtown Boston. How in the world could this man stay in business, with prices so low? The popcorn must be a dollar a kernel.

The ticket taker held an animated conversation with everyone in line, but managed to keep customers moving until Maddie stopped before her. Then the woman, who wore a white T-shirt proclaiming "The High View—50 years and counting,” did a double take and leaned in for a closer look.

"You're a little overdressed for the movies, ain't ya, hon?"

"The philharmonic was sold out." Maddie gritted her teeth, although she’d expected this reaction.

Now the woman leaned closer, to take in the clean, empty interior of the van. "Just you?"

"Is that all right?"

The woman arched an eyebrow. "Okay by me, just kinda unusual. Why go see a movie by yourself?"

"My boyfriend plays in the philharmonic."

"Well ..." With a shake of her head, the woman handed Maddie a ticket stub, then rattled off an FM radio frequency. "Enjoy the show. Oh! I almost forgot." She gave Maddie a bumper sticker.

Beneath a red, white and blue drawing of the movie screen, colorful letters spelled out: "Save the High View! Half a Century and Counting."

The woman leaned forward and hissed, "Some big company out east wants to turn it into an airport!"

"Oh, my."

"Don't worry, we'll fight 'em and win. You have a good time now, hon."

"Thank you," Maddie answered automatically. As she drove through the lot, she saw similar stickers on all the parked vehicles. The other van, she noted, differed from hers in only two ways: It was black instead of deep purple, and sported stickers on the back and side windows. As she passed it she saw a pair of bright hazel eyes regard her curiously through the rear view mirror, and wondered whether it was because of the twin transportation, or because she drove the only auto in the lot without a show of support pasted on every surface.

Where to park? In the middle of the lot sat a low concrete block structure painted white, with two doors on each side: one for a restroom and another for an entrance to the snack area. Maddie had no intention of abandoning her nutrition plan. Still, she could imagine a need for the restroom if, for some reason, she decided to stay through both movies.

Of course she would stay. She needed to know as much as possible about this business, in order to get it shut down. The best place for her would be at the corner closest to the women's restroom, but, ironically, the other purple van had already staked it out. Maddie settled for a spot at the other front corner.

All the old concrete speaker posts stood empty. Didn’t the ticket taker say something about a radio frequency? Dialing it in produced a crooning Norah Jones, but Maddie assumed she had the right place, left it on, and began watching the incoming traffic.

She made some quick calculations, based on the ticket price, the average number of people per car, and the cost of electricity, payroll, and other overhead. She factored in snacks, then cut food profit in half when she noticed many of the moviegoers brought their own. Despite that, by the time the sun disappeared behind a low, distant cloud bank, the place had already broken even. When the first preview for upcoming movies appeared, it was turning a profit.

On a weeknight. Not good at all.

Maddie sat back, paying little attention to the ads. She leaned forward again when a group of teens walked by, loaded down with nachos, popcorn, and soda. Her stomach began a low, rumbling litany of complaints. When did she last eat? Not dinner. Not lunch, come to think of it, except for a bag of peanuts on the plane.

So much for staying in the car. So much for her diet, unless the snack bar featured something no one she saw had purchased. But it was now too dark for anyone to notice her style of dress, and this could be the perfect opportunity to investigate the operation further. After all, she was here on a job, and if she wanted to erase her black marks with the company she needed to perform it well.

That determination lasted until she reached the door to the snack bar, and realized her miscalculation. Of course it was too dark to see her dress, and the expensive style of her blonde tresses, and the opal necklace and charm bracelet—outside. Inside, fluorescent light made it bright as day.

But with the movie starting, nobody stood before the long counter with its popcorn machine, soda fountain, and snack rack. At least, nobody until she came in one way while, at the same moment, a man burst through the opposite door.

They both froze, regarding each other. She recognized the twinkling hazel eyes and the sandy, disheveled hair at once, although he looked taller when out from behind the wheel. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt with the all too familiar drive-in logo on it, along with the words "Drive-Ins are for Cars, not Planes". Admirably muscled arms clutched an empty popcorn bucket.

The man smiled, flashing teeth so perfect it brought back memories of the thousands of dollars Maddie sunk into her orthodonture, and walked toward her. Of their own volition Maddie's legs also moved, until they met in front of the cash register.

"Are you lost?" His baritone voice sent a jolt up her spine, and suddenly exile in Indiana didn't seem so bad.

"I'm ... um ..." She glanced around to remind herself where she was. "I’m looking for healthy food."

"You are lost." He smiled again. "I meant you don't look like the drive-in type."

If you're the drive-in type, Maddie thought, get me a season ticket. "It was spur of the moment." True enough.

"I've been there." He held a hand out. "Logan. Logan Chandler."

She felt her hand enveloped in his warmth. His touch, firm but gentle, made her catch her breath. She tried to stutter out her name, and found she couldn't remember.

"Maddie!" someone else called.

The idea of anyone in Indiana knowing her came as such a shock that Maddie pulled her hand away and turned, almost backing into the wall. Behind the counter, swathed in an apron that didn't completely cover the drive-in emblem on his white T-shirt, a wild haired young man grinned at her.

"Tupper?"

"I told you we'd meet again if you came to the drive-in. This is my part time job."

Uh oh. Maddie glanced at Logan, who turned from her to Tupper with a raised eyebrow. While Tupper didn't know everything about her mission, it would be easy to put two and two together.

"I guess I assumed you’re not from around here at all," Logan said, eyeing her dress.

"Tupper and I just met today." Good, the truth. But Maddie couldn't grasp where to go from there. "It's a long story, and the movie's started."

"But you know each other?"

"Absolutely." Again, true enough.

Tupper pitched in, "We're like old friends, dude."

"Okay." Smiling again, Logan grandly gestured Maddie forward. "I just need to replace some spilled popcorn. After you."

What? Oh. She turned to Tupper, determined to get out of there before he gave her away. Logan might be a lost Greek god, but she couldn't afford to get involved with him, especially after the last fiasco in her love life. "Perrier?"

"Huh?" Tupper stared at her, open mouthed. "I don't know Spanish."

Behind her, Logan chuckled, making her even more aware of his presence.

"Do you serve any bottled water?" In truth, Maddie craved some decent coffee, but she had a feeling her definition of “decent” wouldn’t fit here.

"Oh!" Tupper grabbed a bottle of water with a brand name she didn't recognize. "This is local. It comes out of a spring well right by a church."

"And a cemetery," Logan offered. She looked back to find him grinning wickedly. "Imagine that."

She did, but took the bottle anyway. "Is there anything to eat that doesn't involve large amounts of sugar or carbohydrates?"

"Uh—" Tupper glanced around wildly. "No."

"Get her some of the world famous popcorn, Tupper," Logan said. "On me."

"Popcorn on you." For some reason Tupper found that amusing, and chuckled as he scooped the white kernels up.

“No salt or butter, please." Maddie felt a touch on her arm, and turned to see Logan smiling yet again.

"No salt or butter? That's cardboard."

Could she make herself look any more out of place? "I'm twenty-nine years old.” When he gave her a questioning look, she added, “I can’t eat whatever I want, not anymore." As if she ever could.

He raked his gaze over Maddie, making her gulp and shiver. "You don't have an ounce of fat on you."

That was a compliment, she assumed. Maddie didn’t have an ounce of fat, not even on her chest—or at least, that had been her ex-fiancé’s biting comment. "I plan to keep it that way. How do you—" Now it was her turn to look him over, from broad chest to white Reeboks, and she gulped again. "—um, stay in such good shape?"

"Hey, I don't eat this way all the time—it's a treat. If you don't treat yourself, how do you know what you're missing?"

"A look at the nutrition label tells me what I'm missing." Desperate to get away—she was much too attracted to this man, no doubt a rebound effect—she grabbed a bag of chocolate covered peanuts from the rack and slapped it down next to the water. "There. Four hundred calories."

"I'm humbled," Logan told her. "You might try sprinkling them on the popcorn."

"Thank you." She shoved a fifty into Tupper's hands and told him to keep the change, which made his eyes pop. "I'll remember you on my next trip to the scales."

"Wait—" Logan held his hand out, but became distracted when Tupper called his name.

"Say, that's a great idea. Chocolate covered popcorn, M&M popcorn, popcorn with nougats—it could be the next taste sensation."

Logan held out his empty popcorn tub. "Remember that one time when I told you to use your imagination? I take it back."

Maddie took the opportunity to sneak out the door, and hurried into the blackness before Logan could catch her. If he said anything remotely connected to getting to know her better, she would melt like the hot butter he kept talking about, and the whole nightmare of dating someone connected to her work would start all over again.

Shivering, she dropped the water and candy into her purse. Balancing the popcorn in one hand, she pulled open the van's door. What a relief to be away from that man—she'd never been so instantly affected by the opposite sex before, not even her ex-fiancé. With considerable relief, she sank into the driver's seat.

Or, more accurately, she sank onto the small body that occupied the driver's seat.

Two high voices shrieked. Maddie also gave a yell and leaped out, ready to run as her imagination conjured Munchkin muggers. But her purse caught on the empty speaker post, and she managed only to spin around.

In the hazy darkness, broken by the flickering reflection from the big screen, Maddie made out two small, round sets of eyes peering at her from inside the van. In the instant that followed, she realized this was not her van and that somehow, miraculously, she still held the popcorn without a single kernel spilled.

Then a much larger body plowed into her. She slammed down onto the hard turf, while someone else fell heavily on top of her.

In addition to the website, there's a list of where our books are available here:

https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2018/12/coming-attractions-is-e-booking-all.html

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