#Paul painting a sign for his auntie

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 4 - Manic Monday

IN THIS CHAPTER: The worst counselling session ever, a talk about hair products, and Eddie explains what's in a (nick)name [4.1k]

WARNINGS: brief mention of a deceased parent (more nostalgic than angsty, i promise)

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

And if I had an aeroplane, I still couldn't make it on time 'Cause it takes me so long to figure out what I'm gonna wear

Monday, April 7th - 1986

“You look pretty today,” James said, looking over the top of his newspaper at his daughter who was currently rummaging around the fridge, his mug of coffee halfway to his mouth.

“Thank you!” she beamed. “I have a presentation today.”

“About?”

“Former presidents. I got Benjamin Harrison.”

“I don’t remember that one.”

“Don’t think anyone does.”

“Ouch.”

Dottie sat at the kitchen with her dad, poured milk over her cereal and read her notes while she ate. Occasionally she scribbled on the margins with a pencil and practiced a sentence in her head while gesticulating to no one with her spoon. The radio was turned on in the background, the morning news blending into the kitchen’s comfortable silence. James and Dorothy Burke had no one else in the world but each other, and because of that they had developed a simple but effective routine that included being in each other’s space consistently. Dottie’s mother had passed away before she’d even had her first birthday and Dorothy had been raised by a young single father that had to actively refuse to be consumed by grief whenever his little girl looked at him like the sun shone out of his ass. It certainly helped that all his college friends inserted themselves into their lives, acting as aunts and uncles, babysitters and bad influences, mentors and teachers.

There was Auntie Rachel, who had taken her to the mall to buy her first bra, and Uncle Johnny, who signed her up for free swimming lessons at the community center when she was eight. Uncles Robert and Joseph who let her do her homework on their desks when they had just opened their law firm, her feet never reaching the floor; Aunt Mary Elizabeth - not Mary, not Elizabeth, Mary Elizabeth - who chose her as her flower girl for her wedding day, Uncky Paul who had moved down to Texas for work but still called every Christmas morning at exactly 10:30 am. Dottie had not had a mother, but she had had a loving and dedicated father, a gaggle of extremely cool aunts and uncles that provided her with a myriad of younger cousins to babysit, kind Grandparents in Florida and Pennsylvania that she loved to visit during the summer, and the knowledge that she had been deeply, truly loved her entire life.

Growing up surrounded by young adults who considered her part of their families was, perhaps, the reason Dottie had had so much trouble fitting in at school as a kid. It wasn’t that she had been a complete loner in New York, but it seemed that it was easier to be relegated to the background when your modest birthday parties were always full of then 30 year olds that insisted on wearing colorful party hats and most of your free time on the weekends was spent being a babysitter for your nephews and nieces.

“Aunt Barbara called while you were getting dressed,” James mentioned.

“What did she want?”

“She says that you should call her back when you get home from school and that she is very proud you want to follow in her footsteps and shape the minds of the future.”

“Did you tell her what I really want is to finger paint all day?”

“I thought it’d be better if she heard it from you,” he said, standing up and putting his mug in the sink. “Come on, get your stuff, gotta go to the post office before work today.”

Dottie hurried to brush her teeth and grab her bag from where it was resting at the foot of her bed. She patted the outer pocket to make sure Donny’s borrowed mixtape was there and briefly glanced at her college acceptance letter pinned to her cork board above her desk. Congratulations, said UMich. Thank you, said Dottie, and ran down the stairs.

James was enjoying this new part of their morning routine where he could drive his daughter to the same high school he had graduated from so many years ago. Moving back to Hawkins had been, perhaps, a sudden decision that was born from a call from a desperate ex classmate who knew James had experience working in urban development, but he couldn’t deny that it hadn’t been a favorable experience for both of them. He got extra time with his baby before she spread her wings and left for college, and she seemed to finally be finding her place in the quiet, small town. As they pulled away from their driveway, he put on the tape Dottie had spent almost all Sunday working on and listened to her recite her presentation to him, almost amazed that this young woman in front of him had once been the little kid that had cried so hard she vomited on his shoes after a particularly scary roller coaster ride.

Shit I’m late I’m late I’m late I’m late I’m late was the only thing going through Dottie’s mind as she hurried through the hallways heading to the school counselor’s office. Ms. Kelly was always very understanding when students’ classes ran a little bit late and Dottie had been so anxious while giving her presentation that when the bell rang, she had taken a few extra minutes to unwind and get her breathing back to normal in the privacy of a bathroom stall. She was in such a hurry that she didn’t even register that she had run through the basketball team’s huddle until she heard someone calling out to her.

“Hey, look where you’re going!” one of them had said, a tall brown haired boy standing next to the guy she recognized as their captain.

“Sorry!” she said, head turned towards them as she sprinted before she felt herself collide with a solid but soft mass in front of her.

“You okay there?” she quickly registered the new voice as Gareth’s as she had sat with him during her Political Science class, and realized she had bumped into Jeff’s back in her manic dash.

“Hey!” she beamed at them, frankly happy to see friendly faces. “Sorry, I’m super late, can’t stay to talk, but this is yours,” she stammered at a hundred miles per second, reaching into her bag pocket and pulling Donny’s cassette tape out. “I rewinded it for you and everything so it’s ready to go.”

“Wow, thanks. Did you like it?” he asked nervously. There was such a vulnerable feeling whenever he showed someone his mixtapes, like they were gonna judge him for listening to Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath but also side-eye him because his mixtapes weren’t only comprised of metal songs.

“It was great, we played it in the car all weekend. I hope you don’t mind but I kinda stole some of your songs for a tape I made for my Dad.”

“What songs?”

“Uh, Ace of Spades was one, we both loved that one. The Helter Skelter cover and the Bruce Springsteen song that’s at the end.”

“My Dad loves that one too,” Donny affirmed, knowingly. “Glory Days.”

“That’s the one. Again, thank you, it was a lot of fun.”

“Any time!”

“See you guys around, ‘kay?” she started to power walk away from them when Gareth called out to her, making her turn around again.

“Hey, you’re sitting with us for lunch, right?” a few people turned to see who he was yelling at.

“Uh, sure! Save me a sea-” Dottie managed to get out before she bumped into someone else.

“Woah, where are you running to, princess?”

“Eddie!” she grinned up at him. Now that they were standing practically inches away from each other, he noticed how much shorter she was than him and quickly stored that information in the part of his brain that had been replaying her laughter like elevator music for the past two days. “Gotta go, I’m so late! See you at lunch? Gareth just invited me so you can’t kick me out!”

And with those final words, Eddie Munson stood in the hallway watching her go, feeling as dazed as he had been since he’d formally met her. That girl is gonna be the death of me someday, he thought dramatically before joining his friends, noticing that at the end of the row of lockers, a certain Lucas Sinclair was staring at them with confusion written all over his face.

Ms. Kelly’s office was cozy and inviting, but for the first time since she’d met her, Dottie wasn’t entirely too interested in spending her lunch period hiding away in it. The counselor began the meeting by reviewing her grades as she often did, praising her for her GPA and her glowing reports from her teachers. Dorothy Burke was not exactly a teacher’s pet, but she was a quiet student that kept to herself and worked hard in every class, and the faculty at Hawkins High School was all too happy to provide her with the resources she needed to succeed in her very near future. Not all of them knew she had already been accepted into a great college, but those who did were infinitely proud that someone that had gone through their class was on course for a great career regardless of her future choices.

“You look happier today. Any updates about Michigan?” Ms. Kelly took a guess.

“No, not really. Although my Aunt Barbara wants to talk to me about my major.”

“Have you decided already?”

“I think I’m down to only a couple of options. I like their Elementary Teacher Education program, and my aunt teaches Economics in Vegas so I thought she could answer some of my questions to help me decide.”

“That’s very sensible of you,” Ms. Kelly smiled. “What happened to the English program you mentioned last week?”

“I still like it! I just don’t see myself, I don’t know, being an author?”

“Well, that’s not the only thing an English degree is for. You could be an English teacher if you really like working with children, or you could be an editor for a newspaper. You could even be a reporter if you wanted to.”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it. I don’t think I have to choose the first year I’m there so… I’ll keep thinking about it and take a bunch of classes I like and see where that goes.”

“Okay,” the counselor said, writing down something in her file. “So if it isn’t college news, then what’s going on in your life?”

Dottie wondered how much she should be sharing with Ms. Kelly right now; not because she was worried about being in trouble, but because she was well aware of the optics of her Friday outing. There was a reason Dustin had mentioned the presence of “other girls” when he had invited her to join their club, even if that had turned out to only mean Erica and her relentless sass. She chewed on her lower lip to stop the smile that threatened to break out when she thought of her lunch plans. Ms. Kelly waited patiently for an answer.

“Um. I-I think I made new friends?” she settled on saying.

“Really? That’s wonderful news, Dorothy. Would you like to share more?”

“Do you know Dustin Henderson?”

“He’s a freshman, isn’t he?” Ms. Kelly’s brow raised as she wondered where this story was going.

“Yes, I think so. He… he was really nice and invited me to join his board game club last Friday. It was cool.”

“He invited you to that hell club?” she seemed concerned.

“Hellfire. Hellfire Club,” Dottie sat on her hands and leaned back a little bit. “It’s just the name of the group, it’s not… dangerous or anything. I think they took the name from a comic book? We use dice to battle against monsters and solve mysteries that Eddie writes for us, it’s a lot of fun.”

“Eddie,” she muttered, searching for a face to attach the name to. “Edward Munson?”

“I think he’d be upset if he heard you calling him Edward,” she chuckled.

“Dorothy, I don’t think you shou-”

“I know. I know how this sounds like. But honestly, all the boys were really nice. They didn’t make me feel uncomfortable or anything like that. Eddie is a good leader, he takes care of everyone. And I’m not the only girl there. I promise you it’s really safe. It’s just board games. My Dad knows and he’s okay with it, I told him everything.”

She didn’t understand why she was getting so defensive over a group of people she had only known for a few days but if she was being honest, they weren’t the worst kind of people she had encountered in her life. She used to go to a big city school in New York filled with all kinds of students from all walks of life, and she was certain that a few lockers down her own, there had been a kid that kept a knife hidden behind his balled up gym sweatshirt. Yeah, maybe The Hellfire Club had a reputation. She had heard the news about what the country thought Dungeons and Dragons was, and her dad had laughed and laughed so hard he had choked on his own spit when he heard the words “Satanic cult” attached to what he knew were a bunch of nerds pretending to have magic powers. They were just a group of misfits making up fantasy worlds. Who gave a shit about dumb, ignorant rumors?

“I understand that making new friends is very important to you right now,” Ms. Kelly began, noticing that a door that had been wide open for months had been closed in front of her in a matter of seconds.

“I’m not going to tell you what you should do with your life, you are going to turn 18 soon, and if your father trusts your choices, then what I say really holds no weight for you.”

“They really aren’t bad people,” Dottie said, her voice just loud enough to not be considered a whisper. “They invited me to join them for lunch. No one has done that since my first week here.”

“And that sounds really lovely. All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be so trusting of people you’ve only just met. You’re headed to a great college with a scholarship that a lot of Hawkins kids would love to have. I would just hate to see you get lost right at the finish line.”

She doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about, Dottie ground her teeth as she walked down the hallway to the cafeteria. They are good people. Who cares if they smoke a little weed sometimes? Dad did it in college and still graduated with honors. I’m like 95% sure Uncky Paul was high when he walked up the stage to get his diploma. She hadn’t noticed she was sulking until she walked into the cafeteria and spotted Dustin and Gareth waving at her enthusiastically. The corners of her mouth lifted and she hurried to them, the paper bag containing her lunch (a cheese and tomato sandwich with mayo on white bread, perfectly boring and made with a lot of love by her dad) swinging wildly from her hand.

Dottie sat down between them, instantly tuning into the discussion Mike and Donny were having about a comic book she hadn’t read and knew nothing about. She picked up the tab from Dustin’s soda can that was discarded on the table and fiddled with it while she listened to them. At some point, Jeff burped and the entire group erupted in protests. She felt… cozy. Included. She felt less lonely, less awkward, less invisible. Like she finally belonged somewhere.

“You read comic books?” asked Gareth, who was sitting to her right.

“No, not really. I prefer books.”

“What do you read?”

“Anything, really. Whatever I can get my hands on. I get my books from the library mostly,” she dropped her tone to resemble a stage whisper. “Sometimes, if I’m feeling adventurous, I pick a book only if the cover looks cool.”

“No way,” he gasped dramatically, matching her tone. “What happened to not judging a book by its cover?”

“What can I say, I’m a rebel,” they both giggled, knowing that out of the two of them, Gareth was the closest thing to a bad boy and yet he was still miles away from a regular Danny Zuko. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure,” the boy said, intrigued.

“Do you do something with your hair before you come to school?”

“I shower?”

“That’s it?”

“Is there something wrong with my hair?” he lifted his hand to touch his head, worried about what he could find.

“No, that’s why I ask,” she laughed, reaching to touch his hair too. “Your curls look great. I can’t get mine to be this defined in this weather.”

Gareth’s body began trembling with laughter, his head bumping into her raised hand as he rocked back and forth completely taken aback by her question. Certainly hair care was not in his list of topics to talk about during lunch, or at any point in his life, really. He just used the shampoo his mom bought and called it a day. Dottie laughed with him too, realizing that she was asking a metalhead about curl definition.

“What are we laughing about?” Dustin asked, curiously.

“Hair products. Any recommendations for curly hair?” Dottie said, sending Gareth into another fit of laughter.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” the younger boy said mysteriously. Steve would never trust him again if he knew he had shared his sacred routine with others.

The cafeteria began clearing out soon enough as everyone got ready for class again. First Dustin and Mike, then Jeff, Donny and finally Gareth until the only ones left at the table were Eddie and Dottie. She waved goodbye to the boys as they left, noticing that her being at the specific table she was sitting at seemed to be some sort of must-see sight for other seniors. Dottie was all too aware of the way the two preppy girls that sat to her left in Psych were gossiping into each others’ ears while taking peeks at her on their way to the door. When she turned to the only other person left seated at the table, she found Eddie analyzing her with big brown eyes. He resembled a lost puppy when he tilted his head to the side.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice softer than she’d ever heard coming from him before.

“Yeah. Just, y’know,” she shuffled closer to him so they could chat without the whole table separating them. “The staring. I thought I’d stopped being news around the third week of January.”

“They aren’t staring because you are new,” Eddie crossed his arms. “They stare because you are sitting at the freaks’ table. And forgive me for saying this, darling, but you don’t exactly look like a freak.”

“You don’t know what I look like under the makeup,” she argued.

“You aren’t wearing any.”

“Are you a makeup expert now?”

“I’m an expert in many things,” he leaned forward. The cafeteria was almost empty. “You have English Lit now, right?”

“How’d you know?” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Because I am pretty sure you’ve been sitting like three seats away from me since you got here.”

“Oh.”

Dottie felt her ears grow hot. She’d said a lot of stupid poetic shit in that class without knowing he was there too. She hoped he didn’t remember any of it. Actually, she hoped none of her classmates remembered anything she had said in English Lit for the past three months. All her assignments had been particularly depressing and dramatic lately; one could only be thankful that the teacher didn’t make them read their work out loud.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late and I’m really trying to graduate this time around.”

“This time?” she asked as they walked to their shared class.

“I, uh,” Eddie scratched his ear. “I got held back. Twice.”

“Oh. So you’re 20?”

“19. I turn 20 in May.”

“Well, you know what they say, third time’s a charm.”

“I really hope you’re right, princess. Hawkins High is my own personal circle of Hell at this point.”

Eddie noticed that she was chewing on the inside of her cheek as they got seated for class. He also noticed that she had sat at the table right next to his instead of the one she had been using for most of the semester. No one would bother her, the entire back row tended to remain empty, especially whatever seat was next to his. But still, it was a welcome change, if an unexpected one. Some of their classmates looked at them with mild confusion, but he was positively certain that by the time class started, they’d have forgotten about the new seating arrangement. There was loud chatter as the bell rang and everyone tried to squeeze in their last bits of gossip before the teacher arrived.

“Eddie?” she asked, pulling him out of his trance. “What’s with the nicknames?”

“Huh?”

“The nicknames. You kept calling me princess and darling on Friday, and that was okay, but you’re doing it now too and… you don’t call the guys anything special out of the game. I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not.”

“Does it bother you?”

“That you’re making fun of me?”

“I’m not making fun of you,” he said, suddenly serious.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“Do the names bother you?”

“No. Not if you’re not making fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then they don’t bother me,” she was strangely quiet and detached when she said that, not even sparing a glance in his direction.

Mrs. O’Donnell walking in and greeting everyone dislodged her from her stillness and she busied herself with finding the book report the old lady was requesting would be passed to the front. Eddie noted that his looked significantly shorter than hers, at least by a full page. He lowered his voice so it would be masked by the soft chitchat and leaned towards her seat.

“I like alliteration,” he confessed. “Jeff the Just, Gareth the Great, Dottie the Darling,” she blinked at him, her report still in her hand. “I already used daring and deadly for Dustin and Donny, it was either darling or destroyer for you, so, take your pick.”

“And princess? Because Erica gets to be a Lady?”

“No, I just like seeing you get all flustered,” he admitted, a playful smile on his lips.

She rolled her eyes at him, he chuckled, and all the nervous tension between them dissipated. Neither had noticed that all the reports were being counted by the teacher while they were talking.

“I’m missing two, who didn’t do their homework? Munson?” Mrs. O’Donnell asked, not an ounce of patience in her voice.

Both misbehaving students sprang to attention, sitting very upright and avoiding each others’ eyes. The boy was about to say something to defend his honor when Dottie stood up, snatched his paper from his desk and delivered it to the teacher along with her own. The woman looked at her curiously, noticing that she wasn’t seated at her usual spot; a different boy was occupying that chair today. She directed her gaze towards Eddie who was trying very hard to look nonchalant by staring at his own crossed arms resting on the table.

“Miss Burke, do you want to sit closer to the front?” she asked, her voice low to add privacy to the conversation but the classroom was so quiet a pin falling to the floor could have been heard.

“No, ma’am, I’m okay with my seat,” Dottie smiled confidently, and walked back to her chair. As soon as the teacher had recovered and turned around to start writing on the blackboard, she leaned over to Eddie for one final time. “I like the nicknames, Eddie the Endearing,” he was suddenly thankful his wild hair was covering his red ears, but she noticed his reaction anyways. “Or maybe you’d prefer to be called Master. You seemed to enjoy that one on Friday.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he managed to get out, a mischevious grin spreading on his face. She held back a chuckle and sat back straight in her seat, picking up her pen and starting to copy the names on the blackboard onto her notebook. Eddie stared at her for a few seconds, the gears in his brain spinning at double time, before he too grabbed a pen and began taking notes to force himself to stop looking at her profile like a creep. This is gonna get very interesting, was the last thing he thought before getting distracted by threats of pop quizzes and overinterpretations of what authors had really meant in their prose.

#bunny writes #small town fic #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #hellfire club #stranger things 4 #dustin henderson #gareth stranger things #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #baby's first fic

[zilabee]

Our World Broadcast, 25 June 1967

#the beatles #all you need is love #Ringo sitting next to his puppet man #Paul painting a sign for his auntie #George with a balloon #I swear he only ever looks happy near balloons #John just looking at Paul #thrilled with everything they are #I love them #HAPPY HAPPY DAY TO THE WORLD #our world #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo #john lennon #beatles #beatles day #{} #clippings

[365days365movies]

January 31, 2021: Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985)

Considering this is his last film in the franchise...let’s finally talk about Mel Gibson.

There is one thing that needs to be said above all other things.

Fuck Mel Gibson. Dude’s an anti-semitic, racist douche-nozzle. These things have been PROVEN, and he sucks. But Mel Gibson movies? Ehhhhhhh, hit-or-miss. For every Braveheart and Lethal Weapon, there’s The Patriot and What Women Want. But his breakout role as Mad Max Rockatansky?

...He rules.

Yeah, I hate to admit it, but I may hate him as a person...but not really as an actor. Sure, he’s no Daniel Day Lewis or anything, but the man is good, when he’s in good movies. And Max DEFINITELY is no exception to that rule. He’s good. He’s GREAT, even. Much as it pains me, he’s kind of perfect so far.

Let’s see if he can keep that up in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

We’re immediately plunged into the mid ‘80s as the credits roll, as Tina Turner sings us in. And then, of course...the Outback. And...GYRO!

Bruce Spence is back, but piloting a plane with his son, rather than the Gyrocopter. And that’s because he’s actually playing a different character, a pilot named Jedidiah. I mean...OK, sure. Not sure why you brought back Spence, but I liked Bruce Spence in the last movie a LOT, so I’m not complaining.

Anyway, they steal a wagon of supplies from a desert nomad, revealed to be none other than Max Rockatansky (Mel Gibson). Max makes his way to Bartertown, where many people have come to trade items. In the case of Max, he’s come specifically to find his belongings. Through this settlement, we can see that things in Australia have gotten way...WAY worse. Like, goddamn, these movies show a clear progression from the original film to Fury Road.

After some light threats, Max is told that he may get back his belongings for “24 hours of his time.” He turns in his belongings, and is taken through the town, where Jedidiah has indeed come with his stuff. The barter master brings him up to the lady of the hour, Aunty Entity (Tina Turner). She was apparently nobody until “the Day After,” after which she seized her power. She now stands as the head of Bartertown.

Max believes that he’s been brought up to retrieve his stuff, but has instead been brought to “audition” for a position offered by Entity. This position is to kill a man, without revealing any connection to Entity. This man is MasterBlaster, a two-man unit of Master’s brain (Angelo Rossito) and Blaster’s brawn (Paul Larsson). And yeah, pretty sure there’s a Mortal Kombat based off of these two.

MasterBlaster runs the Underground, a subterranean pig farm that supplies the city’s power-supply, methane. They’re arrogant, and Entity wants them disposed of. And so, Max is sent in undercover to kill the fragment-talking unit. Down in the pig-shit (yeah, literally), Max befriends Pig Killer (Robert Grubb), a convict that killed a pig, as his name implies.

Mas also encounters the power-hungry MasterBlaster, who regularly cuts off the power to force Aunty Entity to recognize his power. This is why MasterBlaster has to go. They force Max, with his mechanical expertise, to fix a machine. While doing so, Max learns that Blaster is particularly sensitive to loud, high-pitched noises.

Max agrees to take out MasterBlaster, and Aunty and her trademaster, Collector (Frank Thring) reveals the way: challenge Blaster in the Thunderdome, an arena of combat. Max picks a fight with Blaster, and they enter the Thunderdome. Two men enter...one man leaves. So says the announcer, Dr. Dealgood (Edwin Hodgeman), and so chants the crowd. Dyin’ time’s here.

As the actual cage match begins between Blaster and Max, called the “Man with No Name,” the two are hooked up to harnesses, and weapons are provided on the ceiling. The doors are locked, and...I love this whole goddamn thing, can I just say?

However, at the end, Max can’t kill Blaster, and Master runs to his side. In the process, he reveals his deal with Entity to kill MasterBlaster. While Master claims that the methane supply will now stop. Blaster’s killed anyway, and Entity sends Max to be punished by the Wheel for defying her and “busting the deal.” 

Max is sent to the Gulag, which somehow involves Entity’s security officer Ironbar Bassey (Angry Anderson) putting a mask on him and putting him on a horse riding in the desert. I get the feeling that there is no Gulag, and Entity just sent him to die. Pretty sneaky, sis. Master, on the other hand, is put under the command of Ironbar, and forced to run Bartertown’s methane supply under penalty of death by pig (yes, really). The Pig Killer, meanwhile, sends Max’s monkey (yeah, Max had a monkey for some reason) out of the farm, with a canteen strapped to it.

Max’s horse dies, and is swallowed by quicksand in the desert. Max escapes this fate, and his monkey finds him with the water. He still collapses later on, only to be found by Savannah Nix (Helen Buday), the leader of a tribe of children living in the desert. She believes him to be a “Captain Walker,” and the tribe of kids take him back to their riverside encampment.

This tribe is fascinating, and I mean that. This is Lord of the Flies combined with an anthropological hodgepodge. They’ve essentially deified “Captain Walker,” and wait for Max to wake up. When he finally does, they confront him with some kind of chanting, and repeat what he says back to him.

More is explained as Savannah and their other leader, Slake M’Thirst (Tom Jennings) introduces them as the Waiting Ones, and explains their history. A plague wiped out much of humanity, and many of them got onto a plane, which crashed in the Outback. Their history was recorded on Viewfinders and cave painting, with the pilot of the plane memorialized as “Captain Walker.” Walker and some of his crew left the settlement and their children behind to search for help and civilization. Told to wait for him to take them home, to “Tomorrow Land,” these children are the descendants of that search party, whom they believe Max to be.

But, of course, Max isn’t Captain Walker. He instead tells them of the truth, that cities like “Tomorrow-morrow Land” are gone, and that this is not their home. He throws the hat up into the air, and a wind blows, as if to signify the passing of their God and beliefs. The children interpret this wind as a sign to leave for civilization, and a mass exodus immediately begins.

The children all head to the site of the crashed plane, believing that Max can fix it and fly them home. But Max just...leaves. He heads back to the children’s oasis, where they eventually follow, confused. Some of them, led by Savannah, believe that they can walk to Tomorrow-morrow Land, where Max must have come from. 

Max tries to prevent them from leaving into more danger, and ends up knocking Savannah out. They tie her up and keep them there, but one of the kids, Screwloos (Rod Zuanic) frees them during the night. The other kids ask Max to get them back from the desert, and he reluctantly agrees. With three children to support him, they head through the desert to rescue the kids. This works, although they do sadly lose one child to quicksand.

Now completely out of water and supplies, the group has to go to Bartertown if they have any chance of making it back. Max’s plan is to get the help of the now-imprisoned Master. With help from Pig-Killer and Master, the group manages to take out many of the guards, Ironbar Bassey included. By the time Entity finds out, the group has already hijacked a truck converted into a train.

Yes. really

This might not be a car-heavy Mad Max, but GODDAMN does this rule.

Bartertown begins to collapse, and the methane plant is destroyed. Aunty rallies the forces of Bartertown to go after them, and NOW...NOW we get our car-stuff. During the chase, we get an obligatory death by truck (Ironbar Bassey, who’s now DEFINITELY dead), and Max manages to save Master from Entity’s grasp. But Ironbar Bassey...WHO’S STILL ALIVE??

Well, he eventually goes the way of Sarah (Blessed be Her Fall), and the group reaches the end of the track, where they’re held up by...Jedidiah’s son. Been wondering where you’ve been, mate. He escapes into his father’s underground lair, where the group follows him. Max FINALLY confronts him, and they fly to safety.

They get chased further by IRONBAR BASSEY, WHAT THE FUCK

CAN HE DIE? WHAT THE HELL, MAN?

As Aunty Entity and the rest gang up on the group, they turn the plane around, and prepare to take off through the gang. Max, however, uses a vehicle to clear the way, allowing the plane enough space to take off. And I think Ironbar Bassey is FINALLY dead. Probably.

Max is captured by Entity, as the kids, Pig-Killer, and Jedidiah escape. But surprisingly...she leaves. Whether she’s leaving him for dead or not, I’m not sure, but it seems that she’s come to respect him after all of this. She bids farewell to the Raggedy Man, and leaves him in the desert.

Meanwhile, Jedidiah flies the kids through a sandstorm in the plane, and takes them to…

The kids were right. Eventually, they bring the others to the destroyed Sydney, where they pass on the tradition, and tells the story of the man that found them, lighting the city up for a night that Max will return home.

FUCK YES, HOLY SHIT, PLAY THIS MOVIE OUT TINA TURNER

...Wow. That was Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. I’m ready to talk about these movies now.

#mad max #mad max 3 #mad max beyond thunderdome #beyond thunderdome #george miller #mel gibson #mad max rockatansky #max rockatansky #tina turner #aunty entity #bruce spence #angelo rossitto #angry anderson #helen buday #savannah nix #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #user365 #byron kennedy #mygifs #my gifs #action january

[justgeorgeharrisonfic]

HAMBURG 8

PHOTOS AND ASTRID’S HOUSE

George enjoyed the photo session. It was completely different to any other times his picture had been taken. There’d been snaps at home during family do’s and parties, but no-one expected him to do anything special for those, they’d just taken the pictures. He remembered at one family party lining up his beloved guitars on the sofa for a proper picture, but his idiot uncle took the photo just when he was taking a swig of beer from a bottle. His mum thought that was funny. Good picture of the guitars though. There’d been a couple with the group, but they had to smile at the camera for those, so they were a bit cheesy.

But Astrid’s pictures were something completely different. She never said “smile” so they didn’t. None of them, not even Paul. And the less they grinned at the camera the more pleased she seemed to be, so by the end of it they were all glaring like mass murderers and she said “Great.” Well, “Sehr gut” really, but that was what she meant. But, it was like they could be themselves. He could be himself. No expectations, no need to put on an act.

George could tell that John was really liking it all, probably because he could look mean. Though in a way he just looked fed up.

Then she said, “Sie kommen in mein Haus?” and no-one knew what she was talking about. But it sounded as if it was something to do with a house. Stu was obviously desperate to go with her wherever she was suggesting; he’d have taken a trip to the docks and jumped in if she’d said. So, after a brief confab, everyone thought they might as well go along and see what happened.  

There wasn’t much room in the little VW Beetle. But she had the roof down so that made it feel less cramped. Stu took the front passenger seat as if by divine right, so John, Paul and George squeezed into the back; of course they put George in the middle because he was the thinnest. They set off from the old dilapidated fairground with all its rusting iron and dirt, and she drove them out of the area they knew, away from the clubs, the bars, the greasy cafes, towards houses with gardens and nice shops. George stared at his first sight of ordinary German people who weren’t strippers or sailors or sadists disguised as waiters. He saw a woman walking with two children and pointed. “Kids!” he said, and John looked at him as if he was soft in the head because there was nothing special about children, they were like any other children. But George was aware that they hadn’t seen anything even remotely resembling ordinary since they’d arrived on these shores, and he stared in fascination as he realised that foreign people looked, in fact, just like English people.

Then, as Astrid drove on, even John and Paul showed signs of interest, as the roads became broader and even cleaner and the houses grew larger and grander and even Stu took his eyes away from Astrid long enough to gawp at what was, for the group from working class Liverpool, millionaire’s row. “Shit,” remarked Paul, as the car drew up outside a palatial double fronted villa-looking place and Astrid parked and turned off the engine. She turned to Stu and smiled, and the three in the back waited for their private moment of longing bliss ended so that they could all get out.



About thirteen hours later

George snuggled down under the bedclothes, as well as one could snuggle with only one blanket. His head was swimming, courtesy of the shots of schnapps he’d knocked back to counteract the prellies, he felt physically tired after seven hours on stage, and there was a happy smile on his face because he felt good and he was having a good time listening to the relentless banter between his two friends, John and Stu. The bottom line seemed to be that John considered it his rightful place to attack everything about Astrid, everything about Stu and everything about any possible relationship between them. The subtext, clear to Stu, and to George from under his blanket, was that John was jealous as hell. It would be difficult to imagine how his comments and suggestions could possibly get any more obscene. At one particularly extreme and anatomically impossible suggestion George chuckled out loud.

Stu’s response was sanguine; he was no doubt shielded from the rawness of John’s aggression by his own cloud of euphoria. The connection between Stu and Astrid was palpable, and John’s attack could do no more than batter ineffectually at the euphoric bubble surrounding the blissful bassist.

George lay, drowsy, drunk and comfortable and, as the war of words continued on the other side of the small room, he reflected on his own impressions of their strange day. The photo session had been fab. The excursion into posh Hamburg had been a real eye-opener; he’d just assumed that the whole of the city consisted of danger and decay and unmitigated sleaze. And then, there was Astrid’s house.

George thought that she was just weird. Why would anyone want a completely black bedroom? It looked daft. If you got up in the middle of the night you’d bash your feet or your head or your elbow trying to find your way out. It was stupid. It was also stupid how different that room was to the rest of the house. The rest was all posh and carpeted and grand, and then you walk into that black hole. He’d stared at it, and then glanced at her and she was looking at him with that look he recognised from some of his old aunties – he had many – who he only saw at Christmas or weddings or things like that. In other words, she thought he was some kind of baby. She didn’t have to say so, she couldn’t have done anyway because she didn’t speak English, but he recognised that look. He’d seen it all his life. There were John and Paul the swaggering big guys, and him.

George had no wish to swagger. George didn’t feel any need to swagger; he wasn’t trying to make any kind of impression on anyone, which John and Paul certainly were. Why would he be knocking himself out trying to impress some strange German bird who thought it was cool to paint your room black and cut your hair really short like a bloke’s. No thanks.

However, her mum was lovely. She’d cooked them up a fantastic lunch and fussed around them, and she didn’t look at him as if he was about five. She looked kind and as if she could be a laugh.

She seemed a bit like his mum.

With thoughts of mumsy ladies and Lennon obscenities and old iron fairgrounds swirling gently around his inebriated head, George finally drifted off to sleep.

#george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #pete best #stuart sutcliffe #the beatles #hamburg