#hot gimmick girl meets boy packs

[gongchanida]

☆ hot gimmick: girl meets boy packs ☆

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[thesmokingguns]

Tous Les Jours

word count: 1472

Requested: “Hii💖 can i request a fic where their s/o is in a band like baby metal and at first their like “how cute girls dancing to metal” but then they see how heavy it is and how much control they have over the crowd” I don’t know who requested this but I hope you like this. It was super fun to write!

“Salut, Salut, Salut! We are Les Petites Souris from Paris, France! Comment ça va, Los Angeles?” The crowd roared to life at the opening act. Dressed in feathers, bedazzled corsets, and fishnets it looked like Vegas showgirls and very out of place for the opening act to a rock and roll show. “This is our song Tous Les Jours!” Nikki looked up, confused from the bar where he was currently being bumped into by people trying to rush closer to the stage. Tommy and Vince both looked absolutely out of their minds excited besides him.

He had been promised to see the hottest band in LA at the moment and a huge competitor but what looked like three hot French Burlesque dancers were on stage. WHen the music started his eyes furrowed together. Heavy bass lines and drum beats mixed with great guitar riffs, and then they were singing. The lead singer was pretty blonde with long legs that she was using to do the Can-Can with her backup singers. BUt her voice was angelic. Nikki watched the three girls in their synchronized dance moves. The high energy of the girls were like a mix of pop stars on MTV and strippers. The way that they danced to their music, that was way heavier than he could imagine for them. He stood in almost shock as they performed, well TBone pretty much went nuts beside him.

They sang a few songs before the crowd started to get wild and try to surge forward. It was like a fight club as people pawed at the stage. Nikki felt like he was watching Beatles Mania happen. The lead singer finished her song, giving the crowd a look over that made them fall silent. Tommy elbowed him, in awe of the stage presence from the petite singer.

“Que faites-vous, mes amis?” she tsked at them and Nikki felt his eyes glued to her as she walked a few steps towards the crowd. The way her hand went to her hip and she looked out at them like she was scolding children, “This show is for everyone but we will not sing if you keep acting like this, d’accord?” though they didn’t know what she was saying they all agreed with her anyway. The way she smiled at the audience had them all cheering as she walked over and started dancing again.

Nikki loved watching the way the three girls bounced around the stage like they were just having a lot of fun. It didn't feel like they were acting but it also felt like a full performance. It was a gimmick but they could actually perform and all of them had great voices that sounded right over the heavy music. By the time that the show was ending he understood why the guys had wanted to come to see the band so badly. He was surprised at the end of the show when he was thinking about how he didn’t want it to end. He enjoyed watching the girls dance to the heavy music, their bright smiles, costumes bouncing at their silly moves, and the way they drew the crowd into them.

At the last song it got so loud he could see his whisky shake in the glass. The crowd was absolutely losing their minds for them. The girls all clasped hands bowing to them and giving them all waves as flowers, bras, and even what looked like a pair of boxers all made it up onto stage. The singer once more stepped forward waving at the crowd and trying to get them to quiet down so she could talk.

“Merci, mes amies. Once again we are Les Petites Souris. We are selling some merchandise in the back of the club. Hannah, wave your hands so they can see you, mon amour.” Nikki turned to see the girl waving her hand. “We also will be playing at The Roxy tomorrow night. You can find me at the bar before the set and buy me a few drinks, oui?” she smiled as there were catcalls and whistles from the crowd, “Merci, mes amies. Until tomorrow, bonne soiree.`` She departed the stage and it took a few minutes for people to realize they were done and not coming out for an encore.

It was crazy how the crowd was already leaving when they hadn't even been the main band for the night. Vince and Tommy were already finishing their drinks which the bassist knew meant they were going to try to head backstage to meet the new chick band on the club scene.

When they made it backstage they had no problem finding the dressing room since they had all played here before. T-Bone wanted to just walk in but they managed to restrain him as Nikki knocked. The door opened and there was the blonde, looking him up and down.

“Do I know you?” She asked and he smirked that her accent had been real and not just part of the show. Her eyes rolled away from him to the two men that were with them. He could hear someone say something to her in French and she responded lazily with a Hand wave.

“I’m Nikki Sixx, this is Vince and Tommy. We saw you play tonight and just wanted to invite you out.” Her eyebrow rose and she turned to look in the room of girls relaying the messages. Two heads poked it looking at the men and they were all chattering over each other in what seemed like a game of pick your date. Nikki felt the heavy blue eyes on him of the blonde.

“So you come to our dressing room after our show without flowers, without champagne, without anything about our show and you and tes sales amis want to take us out tonight? Tut-Tut, Monsieur Sixx.” She walked away from the door replaced with another blonde who was making eyes at Tommy.

“Do not pay Charlotte any mind. Come back in an hour, yes? We will be ready then.” She shut the door leaving the boys all standing around. Nikki told the boys he’d be back in a little bit leaving the club, feeling like he had a challenge ahead of him.

The hour passed and when then girls came out they were changed from their stage costumes to more casual jeans and leather jackets. Nikki handed Charlotte a bouquet of roses watching the way her eyes danced in amusement.

“Great show.” He said, a smile blooming over his face. He watched the way she cracked the flowers bringing them close and inhaling the sweet scent.

“Merci, Monsieur Sixx.” Her hand went to her forearm lacing their arms together as they headed out and into the waiting limo that the band had.

That night turned into six months later and the pair had been pretty much inseparable. Nikki would take out the French singer as often as possible. She basically lived at his house, throwing parties and laughing loudly with all his friends. The way she managed to get everyone to befriend her with almost the trance-like control she held on stage never stopped impressing him.

The cult-like following of the band had them headline large arenas  where seats were packed to watch the cute girls dance to the metal songs. Everyone seemed to forget they could perform with a full range or dance moves and musical talent until they were seeing it live. The way the girls were in cotton candy pastel burlesque outfits contrasted to the heavy metal playing in the background.

Nikki had seen them dozens of times, loving to support his girl, and still he would be sucked into their performance. The cute dance moves, the heavy music, and the sexy outfits all seem to add to the band. He loved watching them can-can to the heavy baselines and the elegance they brought to the music. Just like he was hooked on seeing them he was hooked on their lead singer.

Nikki had known after the first night when she pulled cognac from her purse to splash liberally in their coffee after dinner that she was the girl for him. She made them all feel like they were in the presence of something great and lifted them all up to feel great as well. He loved that when he was having jamming sessions to figure out new songs she’d pick up her guitar helping him come up with the melodies to his music. Or how she’d sing his lyrics and he could finish a song after she had hummed out a few lines. The chemistry they had was something he had dreamed of.

He knew he loved her and he planned to keep her around so that he could continue to love her. Tous les jours.

[mrwinterr]

Happy

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: You meet your favorite artist and get more than what you bargained for. 

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual and protected sex, oral [male and female receiving], vaginal fingering, belly bulge, light degradation) dirty talk/language and recording. Mentions of drugs and alcohol and a tiny bit of angst.

Disclaimer: I don’t smoke regularly, so anything that has to do with drugs mentioned are techniques I’ve outweighed based on what I’ve been taught by different people. I don’t know which method works best nor am I encouraging the activity. It just came with this fic’s territory. It’s not that deep. You do you, boo. 

Title Inspiration: “Happy” by The Maine 

A/N: I might or might not have based some of this on true events. All I can say is, life is short, shoot your shot! Enjoy! 

A/N #2: There’s a Part 2 now!

“You owe me.” Your friend next to you said for probably the third time this hour. You learned earlier in the day to tune her out. She had been saying that since you persuaded her to accompany you on the weekend long road trip to the neighboring state just so you could see your favorite band…again.

Growing up your parents thought this was just another phase, but as your teenaged years passed on by and you’re now well into adulthood, you’re still a bigger stan for The Avengers as ever.

The Avengers consisted of three members: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Everyone had their take on each of the guys, Steve was the nice one, Sam was the goofy one and Bucky was the bad one. It was silly. They weren’t *NSYNC or The Backstreet Boys, but the fangirls will be fangirls.

Their music wasn’t exactly mainstream, but they did very well within in their genre’s scene. They graced the covers of a couple of magazines, garnered thousands, close to millions, of views and streams online, were featured on TV every now and then, toured around the globe, sold a bunch of records, even independently, but despite all that notoriety, they stayed true to their sound and that’s what kept you around as a fan.

That and the band’s front man Bucky Barnes. 

He was hot – plain and simple. Ok, maybe he was just that to most, including your friend who couldn’t deny it, but you didn’t want to objectify the man. What their music had done to get you through the years, they were more than that. There was a level of respect there. You also didn’t buy into the “bad boy” gimmick the fans have dubbed for him. They were human beings just like the rest of us. Imagine being called something like that by the public? They just so happened to be fortunate enough to share their talent to the rest of the world.  

“You’ve already seen them. I don’t know why you think you need to for what a tenth time?” She clearly wasn’t amused by your infatuation with the band, but she was still your friend and she would always be by your side through thick and thin even if she didn’t have the same taste in music as you. You loved her for that. Who else would stand for hours in a dark room full of loud, sweaty, smelly, rude even, and sometimes drunk people with no self-control for you? She really was the real MVP.

And she was right though. You’ve already seen The Avengers perform. It was probably more, but you’ve lost count. Whenever they’re in your city or two to four hours in the next one over, you loved this band alright!

You both were polar opposites standing next to each other in line waiting for the venue doors to open. She was calm and still, arms crossed with an unamused look on her face – she could almost play as the “mom that tagged along and didn’t want to be there” – but you knew she wasn’t really mad. There was a bar inside she could occupy herself at. You on the other hand were trying to contain your excitement. You tried your best to not fidget around in anticipation so much. You didn’t want to sweat off your makeup that you managed to apply on point or get an embarrassing stain on your clothes.  

“It doesn’t matter,” was always the response you gave her, “their music means everything to me. I’ll always come out to support them.”

She playfully rolled her eyes and scoffed a bit at that. She wasn’t trying to knock you down. She knew you deeply liked the band, but she also knew another side of you, and she liked to pick at it. “Yeah that and you’re into Bucky,” she said and just flat out poked at the side of your breasts. The bra that you chose to purposely wear tonight gave your boobs an extra push and it didn’t go unnoticed by her. They were out there, tastefully, since you were hardly the flashy type. 

“Okay, but who isn’t?” You flare back swatting her hand away and trying to shut her down. You didn’t need to have this conversation with her while other fans were around. You didn’t want to sound like a fangirl. You weren’t 13 anymore.

“Chill.” She said raising her hands up in surrender. She wasn’t going to fight you on this one again.

When the top of the hour hit, the roar of the crowd signaled the doors had opened. Once inside, you hit the line to the bathroom considering you’d been outside for a few hours. You didn’t just have to pee, but you needed to freshen up. Your cheeks were a bit flushed from standing in the heat. You dabbed lightly at your face with a small blotting sheet, sprayed a bit of body spray and finished putting every hair back into place before finding your friend, who was already at the bar.

You sported a 21 and up paper wristband that was handed at the entrance, however you weren’t planning on drinking. Usually you had one or two drinks at most, but you were assuming you would be the designated driver tonight. You just always flashed your ID to the bouncer for the wristband to emphasize that you were of age. Unfortunately, some bands have had a bad reputation of fooling around with underaged girls, who lied about it.

She held up her drink to you with a smile on her face. Yeah, you were going to be the one driving back to the hotel, but at least she’s happy. She tried to coax you into ordering a drink of your own, but you only shook your head at her nonsense and stood away from the crowd.

As an avid concert goer, you’ve been to enough shows that you’d been in every section of the crowd. Hell, you’ve even gone crowd surfing before! Plus, you couldn’t hang with those vicious and hormonal fans in the crowd anymore, so you learned to enjoy the show from the back with a full view.

The opening bands were decent. You’d never heard of them, one was probably local, but you always believed live music was just as good, if not, better than opposed to being recorded and remastered at a studio. 

During their sets, you caved and bought a drink from the bar, hoping it’d help to pass the time before the headliners came on. Your friend was seemingly on her phone when a random guy approached you asking if he could buy you a drink. The house lights were on. Did he not see the can of beer in your hands? You politely declined his offer and further advances until he gave up and walked away.  

“Girl. He was cute!” Your friend said shoving you lightly.

“I wasn’t interested,” you shrug and taking a swig of your drink. 

“You’re not being fair,” she started and seeing that you weren’t catching on continued, “you can’t wait around hoping that one day Bucky will notice you. Honey, he came here to play a show and make money not look for a girlfriend.” Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh, bursting your bubble like that and all, but her intentions were good. Bucky Barnes just set the standards too high.

She wasn’t wrong. Guys like Bucky meet new people every day, met girls probably way prettier than you. The majority of their fans were female because let’s face it, the guys had sex appeal and you know what they say…sex sells.

Looking around the venue, you took in the kinds of girls you were going up against. There was a mixture of women of different backgrounds and sizes decked out in different styles, but the ones who won most of the time were the ones that looked good dressed in risqué clothing and heels. Some of them probably even wore less make-up than you or none at all. You couldn’t understand how it was effortless for some people.

It wasn’t that you had low self-esteem. You had your fair share of internal struggle, so sometimes your insecurity played its part. You had your good days and you had your bad days.

You decided upon wearing something simple that you would be comfortable in while still serving a look. And the only other significant thing you did to your make-up was add in a little more shimmer. Yeah you wanted to impress, not sell your soul to the devil.

“Okay, but I just really wasn’t interested,” you said again hoping she’d understand. She did, aware you wrestled with that demon in your head always taunting and ridiculing you that you could look better when you’re perfect just the way you are. With an added bonus of telling you that Bucky was missing out if he hasn’t noticed you already, she ordered another drink in time before the lights dimmed and ear-piercing screams erupted to alert that The Avengers finally took the stage to headline the show.

Like each of the shows you’d previously attended, they were amazing. They poured their hearts out with each beat and belt. Every lyric resonated with you so deeply. There was just so much raw emotion packed into their performance. The beauty of concerts was that they were designed to let you forget about all the bullshit happening in the world for a few hours. They were therapeutic for you.  

If you hadn’t known any better, you’d say your friend secretly liked The Avengers’ music because she broke you out of your shell and had you swaying along with her to their songs…that or it was the alcohol taking over her. You didn’t fight it and you allowed yourself to let loose.

You tried to give each member equal attention, watching them as they played, but you couldn’t help but keep your eyes on Bucky the most. They were just trained on him. His cheeky smile and onstage presence were electric. The mere sight of him, all sweaty as his clothes stuck to his skin accentuating his toned body so well, all but had you shuffling trying to ease your body’s frustration and mind.

The only time you looked away was when you swore you thought he looked at you. Making eye contact with someone on stage was kind of awkward sometimes, but with him it was almost intimidating. Believing he was probably staring at the girl behind you, you downed the rest of your drink, pushed that thought away and tried to enjoy the rest of the show.

A full set of songs that showcased their albums and a two-song encore later, you were driving yourself and your buzzed friend back to your hotel room. It wasn’t that far from the venue, electing to stay within its vicinity. Upon entering the room, you tossed the shirt you bought at the merch booth on your bed before removing your leather jacket while she face-planted down on her bed, arms wide open, letting out an exaggerated sigh of relief. You couldn’t blame her. It felt great to rest right after standing on your feet for hours.

Your back rested against the headboard, you knocked your boots and socks off a while ago and had your bare feet up on your bed. You hadn’t changed out of the rest of your clothes or even wiped off your make-up yet. Instead, you sat there skimming through the timelines of your social media accounts while you waited for your friend to get out of the shower.

You had posted a few photos and videos of the night to your story, like your outfit, a few of you and your friend sightseeing, and of The Avengers’ set. You refreshed your timeline and noticed Bucky’s account pop up before everyone else that you followed. It’s no surprise that you were following them on social media. You liked seeing them share the personal moments of their lives. They used to be interactive with their fans. Bucky had even once commented on the old photo you had with the band years ago.   

You met them after a show when they were just starting out with their first full-length album debuting that summer. Now, they hardly came out because all it took was one crazed fan to ruin it for everyone else. Their popularity sometimes deemed it unsafe for venues to let them stick around so late, restricting them from meeting their fans.

You click on Bucky’s account and go through his story. There was one of a view of the open road from their tour bus, a clip of a song he liked, a cryptic quote with a deep underlying meaning to it, him getting ready to go on stage and then of the show.

He had taken a photo of the crowd towards the end of the set, asked fans to tag themselves if they could, because the crowd was amazing…as if they didn’t say that in every town they played in.

His caption read: “Awesome crowd tonight! Probably our best show yet!” topped with how much he loved the city. Sometimes you wanted to reply to his posts like he was one of your friends, but then you second guessed yourself knowing he’d never see the message, or he would and just ignore it because he was busy. You knew it was a long shot, but what did you have to lose and what is it that they said these days? Shoot your shot.

You didn’t linger on the body of the message for too long, settling with a “Great show tonight! You guys were amazing as always! :)” hitting send and closing out the app thinking it would conceal any embarrassment that might come out of it. It was a ridiculous thought.

After surfing through the channels of the TV and picking at the food you had delivered to your room, your phone pinged. You saw that it was a notification from your social media account, but once your face unlocked the phone and the subject appeared, you nearly choked on the drink you were sipping on.

Bucky Barnes sent you a message.

Your heart pathetically started beating really fast. The phone almost slipped from your hands as you opened up the toxic app again to read what he said. He probably just sent you an emoji or something.

“Thanks for coming out.”

That was it. Okay, what did you except? A proposal. That was a fair response. He probably had some downtime and was able to reply to people. You couldn’t be that special…but thinking you could strike gold again, you started typing up a response.

“Of course! Will always be out there to support you guys! Hope the city treats you well and have a safe rest of the tour.” Yeah, that was a good one. You say to yourself thinking that would be the end of it…except it wasn’t.

“Appreciate it. You know of any good spots around here?”

Nope. You did not. Do you look up some recommendations for him? No, that’s too much. Great, you’re having a conversation with him through DMs and you can’t even genuinely contribute enough to hold it down.  

“No, not really. I’m not from here actually. My friend and I drove here just to catch the show. Maybe YELP?” Shit. You just might’ve effectively got rid of him with turning him to the Internet instead.

“No way! That’s love. Good thinking.” They came through in separate text bubbles.

Why were guys so short? You couldn’t work with that. You thought about it for a while but came up with nothing, so you sent the sassy ‘girl sticking her hand out’ emoji as a reply. Damn, you were really bad at this.

Several minutes passed by and thinking you were really done with him; you got another message. It was Bucky again and he sent you a photo. It was from your own feed; the group photo of you and his band mates all those years ago.

“I thought I recognized you.” You sat up straight as you read that message over and over, eyes bugging. Thankful your friend was taking her sweet time in the bathroom, so she wouldn’t see you all strung up.

What? There’s no way. That was a long time ago. Your thoughts spiraled at his words that had you blushing. He’s pulling your chain.

“Impossible. That was forever ago!” I guess two could play this game then.

“I swear. You tripped and fell into my arms that night.”

What the hell? He actually remembered that? Yeah, that did indeed happen. You had been waiting outside surrounded by a bunch of other chatty girls, pushing and shoving their way to get to Bucky first. By the time he turned to you and you stepped forward, you lost your footing and fell straight onto him. He played it cool, but then you heard Sam, who was trapped in his own circle of girls, signing and taking pictures away, that Bucky has girls falling for him all the time.

“OMG. That was so embarrassing, and I was so awkward!” You couldn’t even speak to him when you managed to hold your own ground. You were young then, you thought you effectively put that behind you.

“You weren’t awkward! You were cute and that’s what has stuck with me since. One of the most memorable moments.”

Yup, he was definitely pulling your chain. While you were ecstatic that you were interacting with your favorite artist, you couldn’t help but wonder why you. He was a public figure and you were just a fan.

“Is this weird?” Came through as his next message after your silence. 

Oh, no. I hope I didn’t offend him. You might as well tell it like it is and get it off your chest.

“I don’t know...just a bit. Probably because I’m just a fan? I feel like you should be careful. I mean I should be too…” You really did wonder though. How was it that people of his status were willing and freely open to people they barely knew only to get threatened of being leaked and blackmailed by their own nudes or messages? What made them trust the other party so easily with that kind of stuff? They couldn’t be that dumb. Well, you got your answer.

“I don’t think of you or anyone as just a fan, but you are right…at the same time I feel that you’re grounded enough and a good person that we can trust each other. If that makes sense.”

You weren’t sure if it did. He still didn’t really know you.

“Awe, well that’s really flattering. I totally understand that because that’s how I feel.” Did you? There was a pause between that message and the next that would come.  

“What’s your cell?”

Really? It was just that easy? Oh, okay then. Nonetheless, you still gave him your number. The DMs stopped and transferred over to text messages. You have Bucky Barnes’ phone number. What fan fic were you living in? Shit like this doesn’t just happen, does it?

The texts between you and Bucky went back and forth, some playful and some slightly suggestive, but you were completely oblivious to them thinking that was just in his nature. You found out the band was staying in for the night before heading back out on the road tomorrow afternoon off to the next city. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath when you stared at his most recent text asking if you wanted to hang out. It was kind of late, but you didn’t get a guy like Bucky Barnes asking you to hang out on the regular.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questioned breaking your train of thoughts. You could see her from your peripheral that she was towel drying the ends of her hair even though you’re still staring at your phone.

“Bucky sent me a DM inviting me to his hotel room.” You answered in a stoic demeanor, but it felt really strange coming out of your mouth.

“Okay. How long was I in the shower?” Your friend asked with her hands on her hips wanting an explanation.

You recount the details and show her the messages you and Bucky had been sending to each other. She scrolled through each of them and you could see the look of apprehension forming on her face.

“I don’t know,” she said her words trailing before giving you a worried look, “shouldn’t you be the slightest bit concerned?”

“About?” You ask taking your phone back from her.

“All of this!” She exclaimed her arms outstretched in exasperation and not understanding why you were so blinded by Bucky. “You briefly met the guy, years ago might I add, and you decide it’s okay to meet him at his hotel room in a city you don’t even live in?”

Alright, it did raise a couple of red flags, but you were a consenting adult and you lived a life of being cautious and in fear a little too much you wanted to be reckless for at least one night.

“I know you’re only looking after me, but I got to go for it. You know I like him! Sure, I may not know him on a personal level, but I’m allowed to have some fun, right?” You try reasoning with her. Just how different was all this compared to what people around the world were already doing with each other anyways?

She was a bit skeptic before reluctantly agreeing and letting you go but with the promise from you to be careful, share your location and his room number with her just in case she needed to save you or come after him. You thanked her for understanding and assured her that you’d be back before check-out in the morning.

On the drive to his hotel room, you thought about how you always imagined the different scenarios of what it’d be like when you’d ever meet Bucky again. What things you’d do differently or say. How you’d make sure to not trip or do something to embarrass yourself the next time. How you’d be more confident.

Parking was a pain in any city’s downtown, you ended up having to pay for parking twice in one night. Not surprising to you, they stayed in a nice hotel. It wasn’t over-the-top nor was it fancy, but it was definitely clean and a slight step up than of what was in your budget for booking a room.

When you’re finally at his door, you wonder if you were going to be catfished. Were there other people in his room? Were you really that special? Fuck it. Was the final thought, putting an end to the rest, and knocked at his door.

You hear a click and sliding of the chain door unlock, then you’re face-to-face with Bucky. He’s dressed down in sweats and a zip-up hoodie. He shoots you a smile and steps aside for you to come inside, there wasn’t much light offered to illuminate the room other than the ones the lamps attached on the wall between the beds and what little the TV could provide.

“Oh, thank God. You’re real.” Motherfucker. Did you really just say that?

Bucky laughed at that and you explained, honest with him, that this whole thing just felt surreal. He nodded in agreement, offering to take your jacket from you and a drink. It was alcoholic. Not denying him, you accepted it and waited to see what he would do next.

You watch him sit down on the king-sized bed with his feet up, one foot over the other. You’re standing there next to the dresser that also served as a stand for the TV he was watching a random show on. Not sure what to do, you set the drink aside, kick off your boots, leaving them next to the luggage rack, and sit on the spot next to him with a considerable amount of distance between your bodies.

It’s quiet and you’re trying to hush the voices in your head. Did he really invite you to just watch TV with him? Is this awkward for him? Oh, no. He’s going to realize I’m boring.

You feel the bed shift and you see Bucky is leaning over, opposite of you, to grab something from the nightstand. You don’t see much of what he’s doing as your view was blocked by his large back. When he changes positions, a brief spark of a flame emits from his hands. Your eyes trail up from his hands to his lips and notice it was a blunt. You were pretty sure this was a non-smoking room, but it wasn’t under your name, so it didn’t really matter in the end.

Of course, he did that kind of stuff. It was part of the lifestyle to be exposed to it. He took a steady hit and you watched as he exhaled slowly, a cloud of smoke disappearing into the air in front of him.

“Want a hit?” He asked passing and offering you the blunt.

It’d been a while since you last smoked anything. You tried it a few times and even then, you didn’t think you did it right. You stare at the neatly rolled blunt in between his thumb and forefinger, but not too long as to not let it go to waste and ash up all over the bed.

You steadily take it from him and carefully attempt to take a puff. Wrong. That puff was anything but steady. Not realizing how close you were actually sitting next to Bucky, when you tried to exhale you ended up coughing – terribly. Bucky’s face scrunches up as he braces for the impact of white smoke to hit his face.

“Oh my God,” you say covering your mouth in disbelief, but it was a bad idea because your body didn’t like that, and you ended up coughing even harder.

“I’m so sorry,” you manage to get out in between your coughing fit while passing him back the blunt and trying your best to waft at the smoke. Well, if you thought your first encounter with Bucky was embarrassing. This had to take the cake. It wasn’t proper etiquette to blow smoke in the other person’s face.

He waves it off letting you know that it wasn’t a big deal before taking another hit. He even begins to give you a few pointers to inhale in increments, until you get used to the smoke. You don’t even notice the long looks Bucky gives you hit after hit. You take a second to let the smoke stay in your mouth before you give it a second inhale, letting it process through your system before gently exhaling. It was a lot of fucking steps to remember.

“Don’t try to put too much emphasis into the exhalation,” he said as he watches you take another hit, almost perfecting it and with each puff and pass being deeper and longer than the previous, “see, you’re getting the hang of it!” He whimsically lifts his hand up for a high-five that you softly pat in return, but he seizes that moment to hold your hand instead, intertwining his fingers with yours.

The more you breathed in the more your body started to relax. All the edge was taken off and you felt good. You and Bucky continued to pass the blunt, smoking whatever was left of it and what he had with him, as you told random bits of information about yourselves to one another. By now, you and Bucky were leaning on each other, backs against the headboard, the TV barely audible as it continued to play a rerun of whatever that was on earlier.

“You know I really do remember you?” He says causing you to turn your head to look down at him. He has his gaze fixed on your hands, his thumb barely grazing the back of your hand. He’d been playing with your hand, drawing random shapes on it.  

“That’s hard for me to believe,” you answer back truthfully.  

“Why?” Bucky questions while looking up at you. He was in a slouched position, his hoodie and shirt rising up, allowing you a thin glimpse of his skin, while you sat a little higher up than him. 

You admired his handsome face, the crease lines in his forehead, the faint and not so faint marks scattered all around it, his wet lips that shone when he ran his tongue over them and the stubble that surrounded it all down to his adorable nose. Then there were those blue eyes that once put you in an overawe of intimidation, were now a bit alarming in a new sense. They were swirling and growing darker.

“You meet new people every day, Bucky. There’s no way that I could’ve been that unforgettable to you.” You just couldn’t wrap your mind around that. Staring at him, you tried to read him, but you were too faded to concentrate.  

“But you were,” he tells you in a low voice just before you notice his eyes shut and he leans in to place an experimenting kiss to your lips. He pulls back to quietly study your expression, and when you don’t show any sign of disapproval, he goes in for another.

This time with added pressure, more emotion, Bucky pulls you down by the back of your neck and casually slips his tongue in your mouth the moment your lips parted. Your heart started racing when you reciprocated his kiss, trying to keep up with him. He definitely liked to dominate. You could even slightly taste the blunt you both shared moments ago as his tongue tangled with yours.

He slips off his hoodie leaving him in a dark gray shirt. Navigating his body over yours, he pulls you down into a more comfortable position. He’s cradling the side of your face as your lips continue to move one another, getting hungrier and hungrier.

The movements cause your top to ride up, exposing your midriff. His hands wander down to caress your skin before you feel his fingers grip at the waistline of your jeans. You instantly grab his hand and stop him. This was moving all too fast for you.

Bucky didn’t press on it for too long and slipped his fingers out, running his hand back up your side and this time underneath what your tank top was covering left of your upper body. His hand snuck back out and started tugging at the material bunched underneath your breasts. When your top was finally discarded to reveal your red bra, he latched onto your neck, kissing up along your jawline and nipping at your ear, the sound of his harsh breathing sent a tingle at the contact and shivers through your entire body.

You winced when you suddenly felt one of his hands at the back of your head, yanking a handful of your hair causing your head to snap back. It gave him more access and you closed your eyes letting the sharp pain run its course and turn into something pleasurable as he practically devoured your neck. You could feel him inhale deeply, getting high on you, and possibly the lingering aroma of the drugs, and sucking tiny splotches onto your skin then licking to soothe them.  

He pushed aside the straps of your bra as his lips travelled down your shoulder before stopping at the curve of your breasts. You briefly opened your eyes to see him fixated on your chest. He uses both hands to grope them.

“You think I didn’t notice these from the stage?” He asks now looking at you, squeezing and releasing them before pulling your bra down, your breasts spilling out of the cups. He instantly latches his mouth onto a nipple, while the other hand digs in between the mattress and your back to unclasp the bra. His tongue swirled around the nub, teeth lightly grazing and sucking at the skin around it.

You run a hand through his hair, it was a little sweaty and you couldn’t blame him. It was getting hot; you could feel the heat radiating off of him. It became even more apparent after he got rid of his shirt and you feel his clammy skin on yours.

He pulls back, straddling your waist, most of his body weight falling on his knees, careful to not to crush you. Your hands cascaded down his chest and rested at his thighs. You gave them a shy squeeze, something you’ve always dreamed of doing and you were only slightly satisfied.

Bucky flashes you another smile before he braces one hand next to your head and leans back over to fish something off the nightstand. When he pulls his other hand back you notice he’s going through something on his phone. Curious, you look at his face trying to get another read at him, but this whole night was just full of surprises. He finally looks at you before speaking.

“Can I ask you something and you promise not to freak out?”

It depends.

“Yeah…” Who were you kidding? You’d gladly get on your knees for this man. He swooped in for another hard kiss, your mind turning into mush just before you could get anything else out.

“I think it’d be so hot if we recorded ourselves,” his face was so close to yours making sure that your focus was on his and only his. He must’ve felt you shift because he allowed more of his weight to drop; he was closing in on you and it was like you almost had no chance of escape. You weren’t going to lie. The way his weight was crushing you and sinking you deeper into the bed felt really nice. You were speechless. He wanted to record a sex tape with you.

“I travel so much,” he starts listing off reasons why while still cradling the side of your face again, your hand bracing his forearm, and starts kissing your face, “it gets really lonely being on the road.” At this point, he’s probably kissed every inch, “I’d love to have this...it’d be so much easier for me to come thinking about you.”

Motherfucker. His dreamy voice speaking those words into you did one hell of a number because you were aching down there plus the way his hips dragged at your still jean-clad lower region didn’t offer much relief.

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate for a bit. What if his phone got hacked and the footage leaked?

“It’s just for me, baby. I swear,” he asks with hopeful eyes.

Sure, you could’ve had the strength to say no, but you were more than willing to be everything he desired. With your consent, he sealed it with another wild kiss. The magnitude of it setting you ablaze.

Bucky sets his phone back on the nightstand, propping it upright, camera on front face mode to display the both of you on its screen, and at the perfect angle he hits the red record button.

It’s showtime.

He revisits the mission of removing your pants and is this time successful. If you both weren’t so faded, he’d probably have an easier time taking them off, but they were tight, and you were grateful he didn’t clumsily break your ankles in the process. Chucking them somewhere off to the side, with his fingers, he traces the top pattern of the matching red lace panties you had on.

He let out a faint chuckle commenting on how red is his favorite color. Oh, you knew. You precisely chose this set just in case you got lucky. He plants kisses to your hip bones, his lips evading the area that cried out for his attention the most, and slithered down the bed, so he had your calves now placed over his shoulders.

Bucky laid gentle pecks on them and came back up to start nipping at your inner thighs, most likely leaving his mark there also, until you felt the tip of his nose hit your center. Your panties were definitely a deeper shade of red at this point. He pushed your panties to the side enough to get started.

You feel the pads of his fingers begin to rub circular motions at your clit. The first wave causing your hips to jolt involuntarily. You feel the smirk that formed on his face against your thigh at your body’s response.

“So sensitive,” he says pushing your hips back down to continue his task at hand, “and so wet,” he added while pulling his fingers away to examine your arousal that coated his long digits. You don’t take your eyes off him and you almost forget how to breathe when you watch his lips wrap around his fingers, noting his eyes closed and how his cheekbones become more prominent on an already perfect jawline as he sucked them off clean.

When Bucky opens his eyes, they’re darker than before, clouded with lust. He roughly yanked at your panties, still in his other hand, effectively tearing the overpriced garment. After giving it a few more tugs, it was long gone. Headfirst in between your legs, Bucky craved for more of you. He licked a broad strip, down up, to your clit. His tongue teased your folds before dipping inside you, the intrusion causing you to gasp. Your body withered around desperately searching for a path to release. Bucky kept at it, his nose nudging your clit with each plunge his tongue made.

Not denying you of a finish, he adds his fingers into the mix, curling them to find that spot. Noting that your eyes had closed sometime during the act, he stills, and you whine at the sudden halt. Your hand aimlessly reaches out to his face. When you find it, you open your eyes and pick your head up to find out why he had stopped. Bucky offers one of his hands for you to hold on to before speaking.

“Baby keep your eyes on me,” he orders, and his eyes don’t leave yours as his head lowers back down to your pulsing heat. You struggle to keep your eyes open and head from lolling back in ecstasy because you desperately wanted to come. Fuck, he was so talented.

The noises as a result of his onslaught were downright sinful. Bucky’s hips started to ground into the bed trying to relieve some friction of his own. His moans tremble across your entire body. There’s no warning when you come, and you don’t even give him a chance to escape your thighs that clamp around face. Not that Bucky minded, feeling you clench around his fingers as he drank in more of what your body had to offer. Bucky only then emerges when your legs fall limp against the bed.

He plops back down next to you, but as he does so, he pulls you on top of him. Your lips reattach themselves with his and the raw nature of tasting yourself on his lips drive you both mad. He hadn’t even wiped around his face, so you feel the wetness on his chin scrape across yours, staining you with your own arousal.

Your hands moved on their own from planting themselves on his firm chest then working their way down the ripples of his abs, through the trail of hair leading to the top of the waistband of his sweats. You tauntingly pulled the drawstring to loosen it before letting it go and instead grip him through the soft material. Bucky grumbled at your actions, but let you carry on.

You palmed him, getting a feel of how thick and long he was. Bucky was growing whiny with each passing move your hand made, he took matters into his own and grabbed your hand, shoving it into his pants. Your hand instinctively wraps around his hard cock and you give it a light squeeze and a few strokes, generating long drawn out moans to spew from Bucky’s mouth.

His cock felt even better with nothing separating you two. Bucky’s pants and boxers easily slide down his muscular legs, which spread apart to give you room. You maneuver south to lie on your stomach, still in between his legs, and grab his member that was curved resting at his stomach and bring it your face.

“Wait,” he says almost breathlessly. Your mouth is only inches away from the head already weeping profusely. He sits up to rest on his elbows and retrieves his phone from the nightstand. Oh.

“Okay, smile for me,” he directs, and you follow his lead before your tongue darts out at his slit and follow the ring around the tip of his cock. You pull back to savor his taste for a moment, your hands spreading the pre-cum around his shaft. Your strokes are then accompanied by the long licks you give at the sides and to his balls that your other hand had been playing with. Bucky’s head rests on his pillow so his other hand could rest on the back of your head and guide you down his length. Your mouth immediately started to water, but it made it easier for you to bob up and down. He let you move at your own pace for the most part. Bucky pushed your hair off to the side, away from your face to get a better view of the outline of his cock poking at the inside of your mouth. You let his cock drag across the inside of your cheeks a few times until it audibly popped out of your mouth.  

“Fuck me. I knew you’d be perfect.” His words mixed with his incessant moans were like honey pouring into your ears. He loved the way your eyes looked directly at him through the camera lens when you come up with a long tantalizing lick to the underside of his cock and crawling back up to straddle him.  

Bucky gets a good shot of your flushed face and breasts that had some of your drool combined with his pre-cum running down your body before dropping his phone beside him. He sits up causing you to fall back down at the other end of the bed. He picks out a condom from the nightstand and you watch as it rolls down the length of his cock. You bite your lip watching it twitch.

He’s on his knees, but sitting on the balls of his feet, you are lying down patiently waiting for him. He swipes his cock through the wetness of your pussy, prepping himself to slide in. He’s watching your reaction with each pass his dick makes. Your body is yearning for him to be inside of you, to hit that fucking spot over and over.

Just when you think he’s about to do it, he’s reaching over for that damn phone again. Out of habit, you cover your face with your hands. Not only showing the last shred of humility you had left, but also because you probably looked like a fucking bitch in heat.

Bucky pulls your hands away, he still has the phone in his hands, and he’s got it angled to playback from his point of view before he finally pushes into you. He’s big, much bigger than what you’ve experienced, you think you need a moment to adjust, but he never gives you that opportunity and you find that it doesn’t matter when he feels so good. Too good that you find it hard to breathe with each thrust he’s making because he’s hitting it so deep. You push your hands out in front of you to his lower abdomen and attempt to slow him down. Bucky shakes his head and knocks your hands out of the way.

You let out an abrupt yelp at his retaliation to your failed efforts in trying to stop him with a particularly harder and much forceful thrust. Instead, your hands grab fistfuls of the hotel bed’s white blankets and just let him have his way.

“So beautiful,” he says spreading you further then coming down on you to reclaim your lips with his. He rips your hands from their tight grips on the bed sheets to pin them down next to the sides of your head. You don’t care where his phone went, just happy to have both his hands on you. The skin-to-skin contact just hit different sometimes.

The kisses become so feral you start to feel a burn around your mouth from his stubble. Bucky rolls his hips into yours deliciously, a damn true artist, the rhythm he’s got going sends you just about over but never fully beyond the edge to prolong the climax.

Much to your dismay, Bucky withdraws away from you again, back into his previous position, a new idea popping into his wicked mind. With his hard cock still inside you, he slides his hands under your hips and hoists your lower half up towards him, resting your ass on his thighs, effectively bottoming out. You don’t hold back at the way that made you feel and let out an embarrassingly loud moan. He holds still for a second and you’re not quite sure why. You try to move by wiggling your hips, but he holds you still.

He’s staring at how close your bodies are, connected, he moves just the slightest. It causes your pussy to contract and your stomach to tighten up. He does it again in different intervals, his eyes surveying the entire thing. The next push is a little harder and when you see the devious smile breakthrough his face, he does it even more. The thrusts are much sharper and almost painful, but it quickly subsides when you feel the head of his cock probe at the right spot.

Bucky lifts your hips up higher, your back arching in bridge fashion you weren’t aware you could even do until he resumes his new pattern of thrusts again. This new position aided his cock in hitting your sweet spot a little better. He’s filming you again and resting one of his palms on your stomach. He’s not only watching, but he’s feeling the bulge in your belly from the distension caused by the jabs of his cock.  

“That’s my girl,” he praised, continuing to pound into you, “you take this cock so well.” The sight boosts Bucky’s ego and for you it actually probably wasn’t a good thing, but you’d be damned the angle did so many wonders to you right now.

“You love watching your cock go deeper and deeper inside me, Bucky?” You ask trying to look up at him from that position. Where did that come from? Your words cause him to freeze momentarily, but you could still feel his cock throbbing inside of you. He liked that.

Another impish thought running through his head, Bucky pulls out, picking you up so you’re also knee-height with him, giving you another searing kiss, then he’s behind you. He gently pushes you down, you on your elbows, Bucky leans over behind you, his soaked cock sliding up your ass resting on the small of your back as he places his phone back on the nightstand in the same position it had been in the beginning.

You don’t dare look at the screen in front of you, so you look down until you feel Bucky enter your pussy once more from behind. Your head rises and it wasn’t due to the surging pleasure, but because Bucky uses your hair as a rope to bring your body upright with his.

He thrusts up into you while he mutters incoherent slurs and lewd noises into your ear. He peppers the side of your face with wet and uncalculated kisses, his hands massaging your breasts before one of them migrates down to cup your pussy. His fingers dip in and starts another assault to your clit. You’re already tethering off the edge and on the brink of succumbing to him, but he just knew when to let up and keep you starved for more.

“Look at you,” he says, using his other hand to turn your head to face the small screen, the numbers continuing to go up. “You’re such a fucking slut for my cock,” you don’t argue with him and instead moan his name. “You like watching yourself fuck this huge cock, don’t you?” You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore; watching the two of you was hot. Your uncontrollable moans now muffled into Bucky’s palm. And he just kept egging you on, “I know I do. It’s gonna remind me just how tight this fucking pussy is.” Damn him. 

“You want to come, baby?” He asks, the speed of his fingers picking up a notch.

You pull down Bucky’s hand to respond, “Mmm, yes. Fuck! Please let me come, Bucky,” you don’t know what has possessed you, but it spurs the both of you on even more. Your next words do it for Bucky, “I want to come all over your cock,” and he’s immediately coming and spilling into the condom, still inside you, you feel his release pump through him. He’s biting your shoulder, some of his weight coming down on you, his thrusts becoming erratic, but one did the trick for you and you finally let go.

And what drives Bucky even more wild, is that you don’t stop. You keep rolling your hips into him, riding it all the way out. Bucky’s trying to hold on, with a bruising grip on your waist, his forehead resting on your back; the aftershock of his release proving too much. Your release pours out freely, you feel some of it slide down the inside of your thighs mixed with sweat.

You sag against Bucky, each of your body weight balancing against the other. You feel him scatter lazy kisses up your back and pull your face towards him to press one against your lips, moaning in satisfaction. He slowly pulls out of you with a low groan, your body feeling numb when you fall forward to lie down on the bed. Bucky discards of the condom and shuts his phone off before settling next to you.

He pushes the hair out of your face, and you, facedown, peek an eye open. He has a more than content look on his face, you notice his eyes were back to their normal color. He allows some time to pass for you both to calm down. Sleep wants to overcome your body, but it doesn’t when Bucky’s touch puts you on notice again. He runs his hand up and down your back. He’s insatiable, but he didn’t anticipate your comeback in the end and put him in a daze. He could get addicted to you.    

“Is it weird if I fly you out to Brooklyn?” He said out of nowhere. Brooklyn was thousands of miles away from where you lived. He wanted to pay your way to see him again. It was such an outlandish request. You’re starting to regain a more balanced sense of perception and thought, and you ponder on this for a few seconds. “Never mind. You think it’s weird,” he says lifting the blanket over his head turning his back to you. You could tell he was just trying to be cute.

“Oh, come on! You caught me off guard. You can’t blame me!” You respond, but he doesn’t budge. You muster up enough strength to sit up to lean over the side of his body, resting your chin on the top of his shoulder, and try to grab at the blanket. You pull it over his head and see the lazy smile etched across his pretty face. All you do is return the smile and close your eyes, basking in the post-coital bliss.  

“Stay for the night,” came as his last request and turning to lie on his back, wrapping his arms around you.

You don’t think about your car, that’s still parked nearby or care if the parking rate is probably going up by the hour and start eating at your bank account. You don’t think about how pissed your friend would be when she wakes up in the morning and you’re still not back in time. You just think about how tomorrow he’d be far away. You scoot up to give him one more kiss before laying your head to rest on him and make the best out of the present. Happy that you went with your gut on this one.

A/N: This could flop. At first, it was easy to write, but then the ending tripped me up. & while I have your attention, please let me know, anonymously or not, if there’s an interest in a Chase Collins fic? Charles Blackwood smut, anyone? Anyway, I hope this delivered! Thanks for reading!

[vermaxen]

Hot Gimmick: Girl Meets Boy (2019) - :(

I knew I was going to hate this film, as I have spoken before about how much I hate this manga, but thanks to the magic of Netflix and an algorithm that says “hey you watch a lot of Asian dramas, I bet you’ll love this!” it popped up for me front and center.  Normally, I can’t stay away from live action adaptions of media because they tend to be wild no matter if they stick to the source material or not.  Sometimes it’s amazing, (i.e. Sailor Moon, Hana Yori Dango, etc.), sometimes it’s a horror show, (i.e. Avatar: the Last Airbender, Dragonball, etc.) but the draw is very real.  So despite saying I wasn’t going to watch it, somehow I still found myself sinking two more hours of my life into this wretched story and in some respects it was really interesting.  However, even interesting ideas about how to present material artistically can’t save it from it’s own horrid source.

Hatsumi Narita is thrust into a weird love triangle between several boys, none of whom are really right for her, and only one of whom is actually kind or considerate towards her.  Between Ryoki (her bully), Asuza (her childhood crush), and Shinogu (her adopted brother) there’s a race to the bottom between Asuza and Ryoki.  Who can be the worst to Hatsumi the fastest?  Just wait and see!  Plenty of horrible things to go around: drugs, revenge porn, blackmail... it’s like the worst of the worst in the mix and match your own abusive relationship trope.  Meanwhile Hatsumi is an empty shell of a person who doesn’t have enough self awareness or self respect to keep herself from getting used by these horrible boys.  To top it all off, if you haven’t read the manga the plot of the movie is probably barely comprehensible since even in two hours they pack event after event in and then confound it with pseudo intellectual language and art direction.  The way they framed shots was often intriguing, but the shift in perspectives got dizzying sometimes.

The only leg up this movie has on the manga is that Ryoki, although still horrible, is less horrible than his manga counterpart.  While he’s still a bully, he also buries compliments into his insults so while he’s telling Hatsumi she’s stupid he’s also helping her study and reminding her she has potential to be amazing.  Ryoki is also the only person who tells Hatsumi that to find value in herself she needs to stop listening to other people’s opinions of her (true), and that she should stop letting other people direct her life in general (also true).  So if you really have to experience this festering pile of plot devices, then pick the movie over the manga.  While still greatly desiring to, you’ll feel far less like slapping sense into the cast of characters that way.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Lost Reel

A JSE Fanfic

I like playing with the idea of an outsider’s perspective of the events that happen to the boys. Because, really, what would things like this look like if you didn’t know what was going on? A bunch of missing persons cases, that’s what. Silent film actors don’t just disappear...do they?

Chase was pretty sure that making a seven-year-old do a community service for a grade was not a good teaching practice, but when Bobby came up to him and begged him to come with her for this project, he wasn’t about to say no. So he found himself driving a rental car through the east side of the city to an address Bobby had given him. Apparently she’d volunteered to help an old lady clean out her house—though maybe “volunteered” wasn’t the right word, as it had been the last project available that “wasn’t boring,” according to Bobby. Now, the two of them were standing on the doorstep of a tall, narrow house, Bobby holding his hand while he rang the doorbell.

“You okay, Bobby-girl?” he asked her. “You’re squeezing pretty tight, there.”

“I’m okay,” Bobby said. “I just don’t want her to be one of the mean old people.”

“Well, if she is, we won’t be here for long.”

A thin, wavering voice came from inside: “The door is unlocked, come in!” Chase looked down and gave Bobby an encouraging smile, then pulled the door open.

All the houses on the east side of the city were built the same. Upon opening the front door, there was a hallway with a narrow staircase leading up to a second floor. A door to the left led to a parlor, while two doors to the right led to the kitchen and dining room. Chase had been in a house like this many times before, he knew what it was built like. So when the voice said, “I’m in the parlor, dears,” he led Bobby to the left. She edged her way inside the room.

The parlor was decorated in a style that was decades old, with an old-fashioned sofa and matching chairs, paintings on the walls, and tables with doilies on them. An old lady was sitting in an armchair in the corner, with a teapot and four teacups on the table next to her. She was dressed in a simple yellow dress and white cardigan, and her curling silver-white hair was cut to chin-length. Her brown eyes peered out from their place in between wrinkles, and she smiled warmly at Bobby. “You must be the student from the local primary school,” she said sweetly. “My, you’re awfully young, aren’t you? But I’m sure they wouldn’t have sent you if you weren’t up for the task.”

Bobby puffed up at the compliment. “Yeah, I’m up for it! I’m Bobby, and this...” she tugged on Chase’s hand. “...is my dad. Are you Ms. Honey?”

“Oh, just call me Cherry, dear. All my friends did, back in the day.” She glanced up at Chase. “It was a bit of a joke between us, picturing cherry honey. Can you imagine what it would taste like?” She laughed. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Oh. Um, I’m Chase. It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am!”

“Chase? What a lovely name for a lovely man.” Ms. Honey gestured to the teapot. “As you can see, I’ve just made tea. Would either of you like some?”

“No, thank you,” Bobby said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, I think we’d better get started. Thanks for the offer.” Chase cleared his throat. “So, Bobby told me you needed help cleaning out your house?”

“Oh, yes. There’s a large storage room underneath the stairs that’s full of all sorts of clutter. I rented one of those Stor-It places at the edge of town and have people who volunteered to take the clutter there, but I would like to move everything out to the street for them. If you find anything interesting, feel free to show me. I’d love to talk about it.”

The door under the stairs opened with a creak and a puff of dust. Chase coughed, then reached inside and pulled on the dangling string that would turn on the room’s single light bulb. “Man, she wasn’t kidding about the clutter,” he muttered. The room was packed full of boxes, chests, old knickknacks, and piles of loose clothing. “Well Bobby-girl, where do you wanna start? Think you can lift up that trophy by yourself?”

Bobby didn’t answer. She was too busy staring at a framed poster on the wall. “Dad, is that Ms. Honey?” she pointed toward it.

The poster was one of those old movie ones, back before photographs were a thing and they just painted the actors. It looked pretty old. The woman taking up most of the poster had long strawberry blonde curls, and her brown eyes were staring off into the distance. Despite the heavy makeup and lack of wrinkles, there was no mistaking Ms. Honey.

“I think it is.” Chase leaned closer. “Yeah, see, there’s her name: Cheryl Honey. That must be what Cherry is short for. Huh. The date on this thing is 1934.”

Bobby’s eyes widened. “Ms. Honey is really old!”

Chase laughed. “Yes, she is, but don’t say that to her. Some grown-ups get upset when you call them old. Now, we should probably get going. Your mom wants you home before five.”

Bobby nodded seriously. She reached over and picked up the trophy Chase had mentioned earlier. “Dad. I did it.”

“You did! Wow, that’s amazing!” Bobby giggled at that.

It took them a couple hours to move everything out to the street. Bobby took care of the multitude of smaller objects, while Chase moved the heavy boxes. He made a game out of it for her: see how many objects you could stack before it started to tip. Then, take down the stack and make new stacks out of those. Bobby seemed to enjoy the challenge of it. Soon, there was only one chest left in the storage room, tucked away in the corner, its wooden corners battered. Chase picked it up, expecting it to be as heavy as the others, but was surprised when the chest lifted easily into the air. He could also hear a single object sliding around inside.

“What’s in this?” he said. “Bobby, what do you think?”

Bobby looked at the chest seriously. “It’s clothing-sized.”

“But there’s no clothing inside. That would be soft, and we wouldn’t hear this.” He tilted the chest, and something hit the wooden side.

“Let’s open it!” Bobby said, suddenly excited. “Like pirates!”

“Ha, alright, Bobby-girl.” Chase set the chest back on the ground, unlatching the clasps. The hinges squeaked when he opened the lid. Sitting on the bottom of the box was a roll of old-fashioned film. The end of which had been, or at least looked like it had been, burned. “Wonder what that is.” Chase carefully picked it up, holding the film up to the light. He could see the vague shape of a man sitting at a table, but it was hard to tell in the dim illumination from the room’s single light bulb. “Should we go ask Ms. Honey, you think? She did tell us to bring her anything interesting.”

“Do you think she’s gonna tell us an old-person story?” Bobby asked, making a face.

“Maybe. But don’t knock old-person stories, you can learn valuable things from it.” Chase picked up the chest again, setting the film on top. “C’mon, let’s go ask her.”

Ms. Honey was in the exact same chair in the parlor, having finished her tea and now reading a book with glasses perched on her nose. She looked up when the father and daughter reentered the room, her eyes glimmering. “Have you two finished already?” she asked.

“Yes, we have, actually. There’s just one thing.” Chase put the chest on the floor and held up the film reel. “We were wondering what this is.”

Ms. Honey’s face fell. “Oh dear. I’d almost forgotten about that.”

“If you don’t want to tell us, you don’t have to,” Chase hurried to say.

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant.” Ms. Honey marked the place in her book and set it on the table. “It might be good for me to finally get it off my chest. But it’s not a story for young children.”

“I can take it!” Bobby lifted herself up onto the sofa and sat there, legs swinging. “I know a lot of grown-up stuff. Dad let me watch a 12A movie with him and didn’t tell Mom.”

“And we’re still not gonna tell Mom about that,” Chase said, sitting down next to her with the film reel on his lap.

Ms. Honey sighed. “Alright, I can see there’s gonna be no stopping you. But young Chase, I’m going to ask you to cover your daughter’s ears at one point.” When Chase nodded in agreement, she continued. “Now, where to start? I suppose some background would be helpful. You see, long ago, I was rather famous in the motion pictures.”

“You were a movie star!” Bobby gasped. “We saw your poster!”

Ms. Honey smiled. “Yes, I started in the movies before there was sound. Eventually the talkies came and I moved on to those, but the silent films will always be dear to me.” She settled back in her seat. “I was a great comedic talent back in those days. And I had a partner. He was a sweet man, always kind and willing to make others laugh. You kind of remind me of him. But one day...well, he wanted to try a new sort of gimmick for a film. A short sort of skit, if you will. He convinced the studio head to lend him one of their cameras for it. I helped him in some spots, but I had another appointment that night, and left him to finish it on his own. The next day, however...”

Mr. Merrick, the studio head, had never been a patient man. Forgiving? Maybe. Nice? Usually. But patient? Never. So when filming was delayed due to one of his stars not showing up, the star that had taken one of his cameras the previous night with a promise to return it in the morning, he began to get a little hot under the collar.

“I’ve given that man two hours now, if he won’t show up soon enough I’m going to recast him altogether!” Merrick blustered, storming about the set.

“That would be fairly inconsistent, wouldn’t it?” pointed out one of the camera men. “We’ve already filmed scenes with him.”

“Inconsistencies be damned, we’re on a deadline here!” Merrick hollered.

“Now, come, Mr. Merrick,” Cherry stood up from the chair where she’d been sitting on set and walked over to the agitated studio head. “You know James wouldn’t be late if he didn’t have a good reason. Maybe a family emergency came up.”

“I tried calling his home, you know,” Merrick said. “If he was on his way here, he wouldn’t have picked up! But no, the other line was picked up, alright. Whoever it was didn’t say anything, and then the line went dead! He must have heard me, and hung up on me!” He shook his head in disappointment.

“Well, of course he wouldn’t say anything,” Cherry drawled. “Use your common sense Merrick.”

Merrick stalled in his pacing. “Of course. Of course,” he sighed. “I suppose I forgot about the obvious problem in my rush. Why does he even have that line, then?”

“He told me it was so people could call him and update him on situations,” Cherry explained. “For emergencies. And also, it came with the house.”

“Miss Honey, ma’am?” Cherry spun around to see that boy was standing behind her. Or, not boy, since he’d turned sixteen two months ago. “D’you t’ink somethin’ mighta happened to him?”

“You mean, something dangerous, Flynn?” Cherry frowned. “No, I don’t. James would never get mixed up in anything like that.”

“But accidents happen, Miss Honey.”

“The boy’s right,” Merrick interrupted. “If you wouldn’t mind going to check on him? I know he’d open the door for you.”

Cherry frowned. “Fine. I still think you’re just bulling the situation, but if you insist, I’ll go check real quick. It’s not too far a walk from here.”

“Miss Honey?” Flynn piped up. “D’you mind if I come wit’ you? In case t’ere has been somethin’ up? You need someone to protect you.”

Cherry laughed. It was true, the young lad had proven himself handy in a fight, seeing how often he’d come out on top from the ones he started. “All right, Flynn, but I swear to you, it’s fine. I saw him just last night. I’m sure something has just got in the way.”

Of course Cherry knew where her partner’s house was. It was in the same part of town as hers, the western side, where all the nice townhouses were. It really didn’t take too long to walk from the studio near the city center. Only forty-five minutes later, and Cherry was insistently ringing the doorbell of his house while Flynn was bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes darting up and down the street looking for trouble.

“He’s usually more prompt in answering the door,” Cherry muttered, ringing once again. Another thirty seconds passed, and she rang again. Eventually she resorted to leaning on the doorbell, before finally taking her hand off and banging on the door. “James! I know you’re in there, there’s nowhere else you can possibly be! If you don’t open soon, I’m going to come inside and see what the fuss is!”

“Doesn’ he lock his door, ma’am?” Flynn asked.

“Not usually,” Cherry answered. “He has been making more of a habit of it lately, though...” Now worried, Cherry frowned at the doorknob. She reached out and twisted it, and the door swung outward easily enough. “Alright, guess we’re seeing what the fuss is. Come along, Flynn.”

The first thing Cherry noticed was that all the lights were on. The second thing was that the strange decorations James had set up had fallen to the floor. They were ripped up dreadfully, torn apart as if someone had spitefully thrown them into a bed of knives. She’d asked him what they were for at one point, and he’d merely replied protection. He was sort of superstitious, apparently. “James? Are you in here?” she called. Of course, there would be no answer.

“Isn’ that kinda pointless, Miss Honey?” Flynn asked, carefully stepping into the house. “’S not like Mr. Jackson can answer.”

“No, you’re right,” Cherry sighed. “Instincts kicked in. We’d better search about with our eyes, then.”

They checked the parlor, the kitchen, the dining room, and even the spare room in the back and the storage under the stairs. Nothing. “Ma’am, you said you were wit’ him las’ night,” Flynn said after their final failed search of a room. “Where was he? D’you t’ink we should’ve checked there first?”

“He was upstairs,” Cherry said, chewing her nail as she thought. “It was for the idea he had, about the seasonal short film. We were filming up there. I helped him set up the camera, and helped with some of the moments, but then I had to meet Harvey Kelsie at the dance hall and he told me he could finish on his own. He wouldn’t...still be in that room, would he?”

Flynn shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s jus’ havin’ a bit of a lie-in. Wasn’ yesterday his birthday? Bit of celebration.”

Cherry rolled her eyes. “Not everyone celebrates the way you people do.”

“Well, then, ev’ryone is boring!”

Cherry let out a breath of a laugh. “Alright, we’ll check upstairs. Starting with that room.”

The room in question was the first one on the right. The door was shut closed. Cherry turned the knob and eased it open, peering inside. “James? Are you—” she stopped. There were no words. She could only gape at the scene.

“Miss Honey? Ma’am? I canna see.” Flynn pulled the door more open, enough to poke his head through. Then he, too, stopped. “Holy jesus,” he muttered.

The two of them entered the room at the same time, slowly. On the surface level, it looked the same as it had when Cherry had been there last night. A table against one wall, two chairs that had been pushed against the other. There was the studio’s camera on a tripod in the middle of the room, pointing at the table. There were some candles and a pumpkin on the table too, very seasonal.

But what had changed was that there hadn’t been blood before.

A knife was stuck deep in the pumpkin, and there seemed to be chunks missing, like the pumpkin had been viciously attacked. Dribbling down the side of the pumpkin, across the table, and onto the floor was a puddle of congealing, drying red. Upon seeing it, Cherry just knew that James wasn’t in the house. “We’ve got to call emergency,” she said, backing away.

Flynn, to the contrary, took a few steps forward. “You t’ink the camera caught what happened on the film?”

“What? I don’t know, maybe? But I don’t think it’s important right now.”

Flynn spun around to glare at her a fierce light in his eyes. “Look, if someone bumped off Mr. Jackson, then the film can help us see who ‘t was, right? That wou’ be helpful when the coppers arrive.” He spun back around and walked toward the camera. Cherry watched, wide-eyed, as he fiddled with the reels on top. “...now this is strange,” he muttered. He pulled on the film, showing how it had been melted, burned, straight through the middle. The ends were still emitting smoke. “What coulda done this?”

“Flynn, this is giving me the heebie-jeebies,” Cherry said, her voice wavering a bit. “I’m going down to the first floor’s phone room and calling emergency. You’re welcome to come if you want.”

“Alright, alright, fine ma’am.” Flynn dropped the burnt edges of the film, following Cherry back out of the room and down the stairs.

The police arrived soon after. Both Cherry and Flynn were questioned extensively as to what happened, but were deemed not suspicious in the end. The police then started searching the nearby area, either for James, or for a body. Cherry walked back to the studio and told Mr. Merrick what had happened. Then she went home. The filming they’d had planned that day was cancelled anyway.

The next few weeks seemed to pass in an anxious blur. Waiting for some news. Not getting any. The studio hurriedly recasting the role, only for Cherry herself to resign from the picture. She couldn’t believe her partner was actually gone. Maybe he was in trouble, but he wasn’t...he couldn’t be. But what sort of trouble would he even be in? James was a sweet person, always kind and considerate. Who would want to...?

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized something had been...off these last few months. James had been jumpy, always telling her he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Paranoid. He would get random nosebleeds that would affect the filming schedule. He’d disappear in the middle of the day. And there was one time, just last week, when he...smiled at her. Not in the normal, gentle way he normally did, but...like a twisted, distorted, too-wide way. Maybe he really was in trouble, and the stress was getting to him. Or maybe he’d just gone mad.

It wasn’t until a month after the discovery of the crime scene that Cherry got any sort of clue as to what happened to him. She was back at the studio, auditioning for a new role, when she ran into Flynn again. Or rather, Flynn found her. He cornered her in the hallway to her dressing room and said, “There’s somethin’ I need t’ show you.”

Cherry sighed. “Flynn, I don’t really want to do this right now. I just want to go home.”

“No, no, Miss Honey—Cherry, ma’am, this is abou’ Mr. Jackson,” Flynn said in a rush.

“Really? I asked the police to contact me with any leads they had.”

“Well, they don’...exactly know abou’ this.” Flynn stared down the hall, making sure that nobody was listening, then looked back at Cherry. “So, y’remember that burnt-up film from that day?”

“Of course.”

“I...may have taken it.”

“Wh—” Cherry gaped at him. “You stole evidence from the police?!”

“‘T wasn’ evidence at the time! They weren’ even in the room yet! I jus'...took it. Somethin’ told me I was s’posed to.”

“Shawn Flynn!” Cherry reprimanded. “That could have been very helpful in their investigation! You basically took a clue from them!”

“Well, consid’ring they ruled it a suicide two days ago an’ closed the case, I doubt this woulda done much,” Flynn said dryly. “I jus’...wanted somethin’ to r’member Mr. Jackson wit’. He was always very nice to me. But I’ve been t’inking, and...I t’ink we should watch it.”

Cherry sighed. She couldn’t blame Flynn’s impulsive nature. It was just how he was. “Maybe I could watch it tomorrow. I don’t have the energy right now.”

“‘M not gonna be here t’morrow, Cherry ma’am,” Flynn said softly.

Cherry stared at him. “What do you mean?”

Flynn wrung his hands. “I bough’ a ticket, a while ago, for a steamer trip ‘cross the sea. I...I always wanted to be in the film business and...in America, that’s where all the film business is. This was a good startin’ poin’, but now that Mr. Jackson’s gone I can’...stay here anymore. The boat leaves t’morrow, so this is my last chance to watch the film. And I figured to invite you alon’ to watch it.”

“Oh...” that was all Cherry could say. She’d never really been that close with Flynn, but James liked him. And after seeing the scene together, she felt connected, somehow. Knowing he was leaving put a whole new spin on the matter. “Alright.” She nodded decisively. “I’ll watch it with you. We should be able to use one of the projectors in the studio.”

They set up in one of the projector rooms alright, plugging the reel with the burned film into said projector and watching it roll out onto the blank white cloth that served as the big screen. A lot of the film was just normal filming stuff. The version of a film before they cut out all the unnecessary parts. The camera had been pointed at the table the whole time, so that’s all it showed. James would walk in and out of frame. The very first time he did it, Cherry felt an ache deep in her chest. Her partner—her friend. And he was gone. She saw herself pop in and out too. In between James doing his fun skit thing. She was mostly in charge of running the camera, but at a few points she climbed under the table and made a deal of being a disembodied hand giving James stuff. And then she left. She was on screen, her mouth moving as she explained the situation to James, which he waved off with a smile and a nod. Everything from there was new.

She watched him finish carving the pumpkin, making a big deal of showing off the finished product. Then he went to clean up, putting away the materials. Except he didn’t put away the knife. He stabbed the pumpkin again with a look of vague surprise on his face. He went to pull it out, but the knife almost twisted on its own, slicing open the palm of his left hand. He jumped back, staring at the wound in naked horror.

And then things started to break. The film must’ve been reaching the burned section, because things weren’t making any sense anymore. There were dark frames, with white spots that almost looked like writing. The frames that were fine were distorted at the edges, even...colored? That was impossible. And James. He was jumping all over the place, changing position rapidly, stabbing the pumpkin, missing, hitting his arm instead. And smiling. An unpleasant sort of smile, for people who laugh at pain. It wasn’t him.

And then the film burned away. Cherry and Flynn stared at each other in mute shock. After a while, Cherry stood up and said, “Th-that did nothing. It was—was just the film. It got all broken at the end, and we learned nothing useful.”

“Are you fucking kiddin’ me?!” Flynn stood up too. “Yer gonna just ignore the evidence of yer own eyes, then?”

“Evidence of what? It showed nothing. Nothing at all.” Cherry walked over to the projector and pulled the film reel off it.

“Oh, it showed a hell ofa lot!” Flynn made the cross symbol. “I t’ink Mr. Jackson was in over his head, wit’ t’ings that were best left alone.”

“Demons don’t exist, Flynn!” Cherry shrieked. “They—they don’t! They can’t! James can’t have—have been—it was just this burned reel!” She shook it like it had offended her. “Nothing more!”

Flynn shook his head. “Fine. If ya need t’ believe that, I won’ stop you.” He sighed. “’t was nice knowing you, Miss Cherry.” He stuck out his hand.

Cherry hesitated for a moment, then took it, shaking it firmly. “You as well, Flynn.”

They parted ways that night.

“...I never knew what to do with the reel, so I just kept it.” Ms. Honey shook her head. “I suppose it was sort of what Flynn made it out to be, a sort of way to remember him. But...” she gave it a thoughtful look. “It’s not doing me any more good. You may take it if you want, or you can leave it to put in the storage with the other clutter. Your choice, dear.”

Bobby made a soft wow sound. “That was cool!” she said. “You never figured out what happened?”

Ms. Honey shook her head. “No, never for sure. Hmm, young man, are you alright? You’re looking rather pale.”

Chase was gripping the reel so hard, his knuckles were turning white. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “Just...reconsidering letting my kid hear all that.”

“I didn’t hear all of it...” Bobby grumbled. “You didn’t let me hear what happened in the room, or what was on the movie.”

“Yes, and you’ll be happy. Maybe I’ll tell you one day, when you’re much older and won’t have nightmares about monsters.”

“This was a lame monster! It didn’t do anything!”

“Heh. If you say so.” Chase stood up, checking the time on his phone. “Oh, would you look at that. I gotta get you back to your mom. Thank you for your time, Ms. Honey.”

“Oh, my pleasure, dear,” Ms. Honey smiled. “I so rarely get company anymore.”

“What about the guy?” Bobby asked, jumping to her feet. “Flynn? Did you ever call him in America?”

“Oh, phones back then couldn’t travel across countries. He sent me letters for a while. But they became less and less frequent, and, quite frankly, more cynical, until the last letter I got in ‘38 was about how he was going to quit his job, and then I never got another one. I hope his story had a happy ending.”

“I’m sure it did. Maybe you could look him up, now that the Internet’s a thing.” Chase clutched the reel close to his chest, then looked down at Bobby. “Ready to go, Bobby?”

“Aw, do I have to? I wanna hear another story! A good one, like that!”

“Mmm...don’t want to make your mom mad. Maybe we can visit another time.” Chase looked back toward Ms. Honey. “Thanks for your time.”

“I have far too much of it anyway, Chase dear. I do hope you visit again.”

“I’m sure I will. Goodbye, Ms. Honey.”

“Goodbye, dears.”

A few days later, Ms. Honey was once again in her parlor. That was where she spent most of her time nowadays, she didn’t have much else to do, being over a hundred years old. It was a miracle she’d lasted this long. She always wondered when her time would finally come. Maybe not for a while, after all, her doctor told her she was in excellent shape for her age.

The doorbell rang. As always, Ms. Honey called out, “The door is unlocked, come in!” She heard the front door open, and then that nice man from a few days ago...Chase, that was his name, poked his head through the parlor door. “Why hello there, young man! I wasn’t expecting to see you again this soon, if at all.”

“Hi, Ms. Honey.” Chase looked nervous about something. He glanced over his shoulder and asked in a low voice, “You’re sure about this? Absolutely? Alright...” then he turned back around. “I have a friend who wanted to, uh, meet you. You’ll probably recognize him.”

“I will?” Ms. Honey was mildly surprised. “From where? The television?”

“Uh, in a manner of speaking. But, also, a bit more...personally.” Chase stepped inside the parlor, holding the door open so another man could duck inside. He looked a lot like Chase, but considerably better dressed, with a thick black mustache on his face. He was holding the burned film reel tight to his chest, like he was afraid it was going to escape. His eyes locked on Ms. Honey, and they widened. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, so he covered it with one hand.

Ms. Honey, for her part, gaped right back. This was impossible. Or a trick. There was no way...was there? “James?” she asked. “Jameson Jackson, is that you?”

Jameson nodded. His eyes were lined with tears.

“I...I must make sure. Jameson, do you remember the first thing you said to me when we first met?”

At that, Jameson laughed, but no sound came out except the whooshing of air. He tapped his throat with one hand. It was, actually, the very first gesture he’d made when they met.

Cherry realized she was crying. But she was smiling as well. “James, you little rapscallion, what have you been up to? Come in, come in, sit, and your friend can too. We have a lot to talk about. I...I missed you, old friend.”

JJ beamed. He made a few gestures Cherry couldn’t understand, but the meaning was clear: I missed you too.

Chase watched the two of them with a goofy grin on his face. They must have a lot of catching up to do.

[whitelightning9999]

Secret Santa

Prompt: Something Parapines!

Word Count: 1225

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Dipper sighed, letting his gaze wander. His fingers nervously tapping the table.

Across the road he spied Mabel giving him a thumbs up through the bushes.

This is so stupid he thought. Aggressively sipping his coffee. He was 16, for goodness sake, he didn't need Mabel's help finding a boyfriend.

"Dipper?"

Dipper swung around in his chair, to find Norman.

"Oh hey." Dipper smiled.

"Hey." The boy looked around, frowning. "Can I sit"

"Yeah of course, man" Dipper smiled, happy to no longer be sitting at an empty table.

"Thanks. I'm um... waiting for someone, you know"

Dipper nodded. "I hope they show up soon. Not that I don't like your company it's just- Ugh sorry."

Norman chuckled, sitting across from him, eying his drink. "Is the coffee any good here?"

"It's ok, not the best but-"

"I guess I shouldn't expect much from a shop who's only gimmick is zombies."

Dipper laughed. "Yeah. You know if you get hot chocolate, they give you these marshmallows shaped like brains."

"I'll have to get some with my date."

Dipper's smile fell. "Oh, I didn't know you were dating"

“Yeah Neil recommended him”

“Oh, that’s awesome dude. How long have you been going out?”

Norman blushed. “This will be our first date”

“Oh, Oh! Shit I’m sorry man, let me just.” Dipper quickly stood up, only to have his phone go off.

“It’s from Mabel” He said laughing. “I should take this.”

Dipper didn’t wait for the boy’s response, rushing behind the building. “Mabel!”

“I thought I told you to wear the red shirt Dipper!”

“What? Why does it-“ Dipper blushed as everything clicked into place. “You set me up with Norman!”

“Well it’s not just me…”

“Mabel!”

“Anywayhavefunonyourdatebro!Tellmeallthedetails!Bye!”

Dipper groaned. His sister could be a real handful sometimes.

“Dipper?”

Dipper jumped, blushing at Norman.

The other boy held out a cup. “You forgot this”

“Thanks” He grabbed it, drowning the rest of the cup.

Norman nodded. “Isn’t that hot?”

Dipper coughs, his throat burning a bit. “I’m fine”

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yes. I’m- I’m fine” Dipper looked up meeting Norman’s eyes. Blushing he looked away. “Hey man so… about your date”

Norman blinked.

“He’s not coming.”

“O-oh…”

Dipper looked back at Norman who was trying to disappear into his scarf. “Oh?”

Norman nodded. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised anymore I mean all of town knows I can see ghost.”

“What man? No, he. He’s just a jerk”

Norman peeked up at him.

“Yeah he’s a big jerk. I mean look at you, your like the cutest thing on the planet! Not to mention brave and super cool. And-“ Dipper’s brain caught up to him. Embarrassed, the boy took another sip of the coffee only to find it empty.

“Do you really think that?”

“Sure man. I mean we’ve fought monsters together! You’re part of the Mystery Kids. And if you don’t believe me just ask Raz or Coraline!”

Norman gave the boy a small smile.

“And you know what screw that guy! If he wants to ditch you then that’s his loss! You and I can have ten times more fun on our own without him anyways!”

“Okay”

“H-huh?”

“I said ok.”

“Oh um… alright.” Dipper blushed, not expecting Norman to accept his offer. “So, um… What do you want to do?”

“I… I don’t really know I was told my date would be planning everything, so I didn’t think about it”

I’m going to kill Mabel. “Really? Well um... what about a movie? That new zombie movie came out this week, right? Or we could go to the arcade. Or um… Um…”

“What about the centaur migration?”

Dipper paused. He had been talking about the centaur migration for a while now. He had been looking forward to it ever since Ford had told him about it. They had been planning on going up there together. But luck was not on his side. A week ago, Ford had fallen hurting his back. Ford told him, that the others would probably go with him, but Dipper never got around to asking.

“Yeah that could work.” Dipper nodded. “It’s a three-hour hike though.”

“Sure, it sounds like fun.”

Dipper smiled. “I’ll go get ready. Meet you at the northwest statue in an hour?”

Norman nodded eagerly.

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

Dipper smiled, looking over the cliff. The setting sun was casting light on the valley below. Millions of centaurs, young and old, walked through the valley. It was nice.

“I brought some coffee” Norman said handing him a thermos.

“You brought coffee on a three-hour hike? Wasn’t it like really heavy?”

Norman shrugged sipping his own thermos. “It wasn’t really that heavy.”

“Still thank you.” Dipper took a sip. “Hey this is really good!”

“I hope you don’t just down it like the last one.”

Dipper blushed. “Y-yeah right.”

The hike had been pretty nice. They had both gone back and forth about different theories and books that they had read. Norman had given him more to read over the summer, but hey a book is a book.

“Hey Dipper?”

“Yeah man?”

“Thank you”

“For what?”

“For all of this!” Norman threw his hands out. “If you hadn’t offered to spend the day with me, I would have just been back at base, crying into my pillow.”

“What no way man. I should be thanking you. If you hadn’t offered, I would never have come here.” Dipper smiled. “So, I should be the one thanking you.”

Norman nodded. “Today has sure been a great day. I’m glad my date didn’t show up.”

Dipper frowned, watching the half man, half horse creatures. He needed to tell the truth.

“Hey Norman.”

“Yeah Dipper?”

“About your date.”

“What about him?”

“I’m the one who stood you up.” Dipper continued, feeling the other boy’s eyes. “Mabel set the whole thing up and when I found out I just. I couldn’t go through with it and I’m sorry. I know I should have told you earlier but I was afraid and I-“

Norman turned his head, kissing him.

“Y-you”’ Dipper leaned back. His face like a tomato.

“I know Dipper.”

“You what!”

Norman looked down. “I know about the date. Neil told me.”

“Oh…”

Norman nodded. “Dipper I really like you but if you want to remain friends.”

“No!” Dipper shouted, surprising himself. “I mean… I like you too Norman. Your really smart and funny and I- I love to be your boyfriend.”

“I’d like that too.”

The two leaned in for another kiss.

“Mission accomplished!” Mabel screamed, leaping out of the bushes.

“Mabel! What are you- Have you been watching us this whole time!”

Mabel stared at her brother. “See you back at the house Bro!” She screamed, running down the trail.

“Mabel!”

Norman chuckled watching his new boyfriend running after the girl. With a sigh, he started to pack up. “You guys can come out now.”

The rest of the Mystery Kids groaned stepping out of the bushes. Coraline walked over helping the median.

“So, you and Dipper are a thing now huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good, I’m proud of you Norman.” The blue haired girl punched him in the shoulder.

Norman smiled. “Thanks for the help.”

“Hey what are we here for?”

Norman nodded blushing.

“Come on we should get down there before Dipper catches Mabel.”

Norman smiled following the other kids.

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@mysterykidscasefiles @maydaygirl-save-our-ships I was your Secret Santa this year! Enjoy!

[melyaliz]

Fandom: DC

Summary: Tea and Roy were just having a bad day

Notes: Based off the fact @speedypan and I were having bad days and wanted to beat someone up. Also, she wanted some Tea x Roy friendship. And OF COURSE, I had to add her Maia because I love her. So not my best writing but I just needed to blow off some steam.

Warning: A Lot of cursing Mostly Because Tea is my little sailor mouth.

Facecast-

Roy: AJ Apa

Tea: Chanel Iman

Jason:

Maia: Kaya Scodelario

Tea was having a bad day

One of those days where everything kept going wrong and you just have that unstable anger that you can’t seem to control.

Alcohol didn’t help.

But the guy who grabbed her ass did.

Or more like his face as she pounded him into the cement.

“I would ask but I feel like he deserved it.” Tea looked up to see Roy.

Dressed like he had just walked out of a Peter Pan porno.

“What the actual FUCK are you wearing?” The dark haired girl asked standing, knuckled bloody from the pounding she had just handed out.

“What? You don’t think I look hot?”

“Lost a bet?”

“This time.”

Tea laughed letting the man fall to the ground. “I’m having a shit day, wanna blow something up?”

“Rick? What the hell!?!” another jacked up biker dude said 'coming out of the bar. Tea recognized him as the ass graber’s friend.

“You’re dickass friend here thought he could grab 'em by the pussy so I beat his face in.” Tea said flashing him a toothy grin. Just daring him to come at her. Or begging.

Ok, she was begging him to.

“BITCH! You and your Fairy Dust friend are going to pay!”

“What did you call me?” Roy asked Tea took a step to the side giving Roy a clear path toward the gangster.

“Be my guest Neverland.”

“You’re right, this does feel better,” Roy told Tea standing over the groning leather clad gangster. Tea was about to respond when some bright lights cut her off. They both turned to find themselves face to face with several bikers.

“Well, what do we have here?”

“My night just getting a whole fucking lot better.”

Roy laughed cracking his knuckles, “You can say that again.”

Their fight leads them to a warehouse. Apparently, the ring was supposed to meet to do a huge drop off weapons to one of Gotham’s many crime lords.

“I think it’s the Penguin.”

“Not enough bird related things.”

“What about Two-Face?”

“Isn’t he in Arkem?”

“You would know hero. Who do you think it is?”

"Nice costume Peter Pan.”

Roy and Tea turned to see the Red Hood standing with several of his men. Arms folded. Roy could almost see that annoying smirk from under the helmet. Laugh it up, Jason. Laugh it up.

“Wait for Red? You have got to be kidding me!?!”

“You know this fucker?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, his name is Red and he has a dumbass red helmet? Does Gotham have any normal villains or does everything have to be a God damn gimmick?”

“The names Red Hood and watch what you say about our boss” one of the henchmen snarled. Tea looked unfazed, maybe even a little bored.

“If I call him Red condom will you come over here and fight me?”

The Red Hood laughed, “I like her”

“You didn’t say you were bringing friends” They turned to see the bikers ride in.

“Trust me, they aren't friends.”

“That’s them!” one of the guys, the ass grabber snarled pointing to Tea and Roy. Their leader sighed.

“You mean to tell me that you were beaten up by a little girl and a man in a gay Peter Pan outfit?”

“I always saw him as a Robin Hood myself.” Tea said turning to face the gang.

“Are these people with you Red Hood?” the biker leader asked ignoring Tea as Roy slowly reached for his arrows. Oh man, he was so ready for another fight.

“Not really… but I was about to deal with them.”

“Well allow me.”

Red Hood looked over at his men who just shrugged. “Sure why not.”

They fight.

Fists to faces.

Roy could have used his arrows but honestly, he was enjoying just beating people. Venting out all his frustrations of the week on the weak-willed men. I mean only the scum of the earth ride in packs and defend a man who molests a young woman.

Tea could have forced the men to her will, using her empathic powers to chase them away. But there was something about just breaking a guys nose with the heel of her shoe that made all the shit of the day just a little more bearable.

“Watch out PAN!” Roy turned almost too late as a huge thug lunged at him. However, an arrow flew through the air exploding into some rope wrapping itself around him. As the thug fell Roy couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Willow standing a few feet away bow raised.

“Maid Marian! What’s up sexy?”

“Tea! How are you?”

“Fucking great now that I’m bashing in some heads.”

Maia punched a Thug laughing. “Good to see you found my lost boy.”

“This is your fault I’m dressed like this”

“But you're ass looks so good,” the female archer said winking at her partner. Roy just laughed making sure to lean just a little deeper into his punch showing off those beautiful glutes. Feeling Maia’s eyes on him.  

Soon there was nothing left but the leader. He turned toward Red Hood snarling.

“You didn’t even try to help us!” he yelled.

“Why should I?” Red Hood asked, “If you can’t even take down three small heroes why should I sell my guns to you?” The leader snarled again, basically foaming at the mouth. Taking a few steps toward him but Red Hood pulled out his gun cocking it. “Now should I finish you off or do you want to run away like your men?”

The leader spit at him before turning and jumping on his bike riding away.

“Now, what should I do with you three?” Red Hood asked eyeing his friends, “You just cost me a lot of money.” his henchmen lifted their guns. Tea smiled cracking her neck ready to take on a few more, even if she was slowly starting to run low of stamina

“Buy us drinks? We just saved your street cred?” Maia asked winking at Jason who laughed waving his men down.

“For now I’ll let it go, just get out of here.”

“Till next time,” Roy said slinging his bow over his shoulder.

“I look forward to it Pixi dust.”

“Drinks?” Maia asked throwing her arms over Roy and Tea. Both nodded.

“Desperately.”

“Oh my GOD! You guys look like hell!” Jennifer gasped as her three friends walked into the bar.

“Yeah but I feel fucking great!” Tea said plopping down on next to her. “Bartender! Your top shelf tequila please!”

“Make that three!” Roy said scooting next to her.

“And charge it to Roy’s tab!” Maia sang taking the seat next to Jennifer who shook her head as Roy rolled his eyes.

“Trust me Maia, your cute but not THAT cute”

“Awww but Roy I saved your ass from getting kicked all the way to Neverland.”

Notes:

Tagging: @royslittleharper  @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @daisyboobear @werewitchling @nightwing-rules @jayne-writes  @guns-n-lilies @pinkwitch21

[soap3rz]

Plan your visit (and reservation requests) accordingly!

The given address goes to a Steampunk cafe specializing in games and coffee–another novelty era ripe for nostalgic yearning but not the one we were looking for. Where the hell is this place? The first time I had visited Volstead’s Emporium in Uptown, Minnesota I was accompanied by a friend who was already privy to the location. Half the appeal of a secret speakeasy hidden away in a niche part of town already known for it’s fanciful coffee-shops, coin operated video game arcade clubs, and ‘hot yoga’–is that it’s a destination prided on the fact that you kind of already need to know where you’re going. Like being a member of an Eyes Wide Shut sexy, Eleusinian Mysteries kind of cult meeting or a pirate marauding around the Caribbean looking for the Isla De Muerta–an island that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is. Being ‘in the know’ about Volstead’s Emporium adds a lot to its notoriety. Going to their website offers no assistance–there is no address, no online menu, no pictures or an extensive proselytizing ‘About’ page. It’s tough to know this place even exists, or what it is, unless you become one of the initiated via word of mouth.

We were driving around Uptown one evening where, during a traffic stop, I recognized the location we were at–and that down that seedy, familiar-looking alleyway nestled behind the Steampunk cafe was the secret speakeasy I had wanted to take my boyfriend to for ages. It felt like a re-discovery and I hastily tried to remember where it was for next time, when we would plan our visit and get to transport ourselves to a faux, 1920’s era den of libations.

~

For those who need a quick History lesson to refresh–the Temperance movement in the United States won a political victory from 1920-1933 when the entire country went “dry”. Meaning, the 18th Amendment to the Constitution was drafted and the production, sale, and transportation of alcohol was banned. To enforce this draconian rule, the government passed the Volstead Act (Where our friendly Emporium likely took its name from) which went a step further in defining the intoxicating substances that were banned and the punishments that came with breaking these laws. The rise of bootlegging, gangsters, and speakeasies–secret law-breaking establishments selling banned booze–became a direct consequence and the 1920’s is forever remembered with these associations. 

~

Unfortunately, memory is only as good as it is served. Turns out, when the summer construction is hazardous and the Happy Hour besought motorists are honking more persistently than a skein of geese, it can be a bit frustrating to try and remember a scattering of location markers after finally getting lucky finding a parking spot. Had I known that the large, neon gleaming sign for beer and bratwurst king New Bohemia resided across the street from our desired crime scene alleyway, our journey on empty stomachs might have been easier to bear. Once found, walking down said alleyway gives off an appropriate air of sleaziness, and as sweltering as the heat often gets in the summer, I was just thankful it wasn’t garbage from the line of dumpsters that marked our path. Hanging a left midway, there’s a smattering of apartment balconies claustrophobic-ly clustered together and in the small back of the building obstructed by vents, there resides a large bolted metal door with a creepy red serial killer light hanging above it. A most welcoming destination, if I ever saw one.

Yeah this seems…

…safe?

 “It’s all you, babe.”

I took this initiative with the fervent composure of a Flapper girl, who had likely already spent most of the evening dancing the Charleston to extinction, and rapped the door with my knuckles like I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. The slot in the door opens and a pair of eyes greets you–“Yes?”

“We have a reservation for two!”

“Name?”

The door is unbolted and we entered into a stairwell devoid of any identifying features aside from the bookie wearing a surprisingly dapper get-up. “Enjoy” is all he says as he goes back to manning the door. It’s up to us to take ourselves down the stairs and to the basement where we stand momentarily confused, there are at least three doors to choose from–not one of them marked with a sparkling Go Here to Drink sign to help us out. We could just make out the muffled sound of chatter and glass clinking enough to try Door Number 1–which ended up leading us into a time machine.

Managed to capture before the place got packed!

An oft overlooked aspect of any dining experience is the ability to transport a patron. This can happen with really good food–it’s much easier to feel like you’re on the coast of Sorrento enjoying a bowl of pasta in a white wine sauce when the spaghetti is al dente and the clams are cooked to perfection and you’re even given a shot of limoncello to chase it all down with. But atmosphere is just as important too and at Volstead’s–you do feel like you just stepped into a 1920’s speakasy which would make even the most classy of bathtub gin stirrers proud.

There are no windows and the establishment is dimly lit, there’s a piano and a jazz player in the back corner strumming soft melodies with the tempered line of the bartender shaking drinks. People are laughing uproariously all around, likely amplified by the low ceiling and general jovialness that comes with a really well mixed cocktail. It’s welcoming–and cuts the tension had while trying to find the place to begin with.

The Old Fashioneds here are one of my favorites in the state: Bourbon, applewood smoked demerara, and house blend bitters.

We were seated at a booth across from the parlor tables, draped with curtains we could easily pull for more privacy. It felt like we were only missing poker chips and the acrid smoke of cigars hanging in the air to set the mood into one in need of a police raid. For another brief moment, I felt like a femme fatale who was clandestinely meeting with a surly detective across from me, who was cloaked in a make-believe fedora and interrogating me on my whereabouts the night Tommy the Gun was murdered–all under the veneer of a heavy sepia filter. Or that was just the Old Fashioneds talking.

Volstead’s is a novelty experience, a way to feel like you’re in a piece of history for the night–surrounded by good drinks and food to boot. There’s a library room where you could sit and partake in a re-imagined game of Clue wearing monocles and dinner jackets, a large dial safe loitering under the stairs where surely the funds of nefarious mobster money ventures is well hidden, and there is even a telephone booth in the back by the restrooms for even the most ardent Doctor Who fan to enjoy. Voldstead’s is straight up cool so put that in your pipe and smoke it.

The scene of the crime, where Mrs. Peacock allegedly bludgeoned Colonel Mustard with a copy of Marie Kondo’s Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.

No one warned us about the framed mirror on the wall of our booth, that it would swing open and the waiter would grin as we jumped in surprise, serving as a portal in which to take our food and drink orders. I think the waitstaff probably finds most of their amusement in this gimmick–and it’s certainly a fun experience to team up with your waiter on. There is a buzzer under the mirror when you’re ready to order and there was at least one more incident where the frame creaked open like a horror movie prop with no waiter to be found, only for him to pop up into view a second later and ask what we’d like–to more jump scares from us. It’s hilarious.

Bwaaaahm

Now all of this is fine and dandy, right? But the main attraction of any dining establishment is the food. And oh boy, does it not disappoint. The first time I went to Voldstead’s, I chose a guilt-free zucchini carbonara with added shrimp that was surprisingly complex and topped off the evening with warm, gooey bread pudding. This time, I went with the usual favorites my boy detective and I usually partake in at other restaurants–the first test for us being the charcuterie plate. I finally learned how to properly pronounce “charcuterie” when I embarrassingly ordered it incorrectly and my windowed waiter set me straight–not sure whether he was smirking at my inability to speak French or because I was recovering from another fun jump scare. Not to be a gerkin (no old fashioneds were consumed in the making of this dad joke), but I’m pretty easy to satisfy when it comes to charcuterie plates–the server had me at spicy salami, spec, and capicola. I was so excited I didn’t even pay attention to what the cheeses were.

Mmmm, gerkins

Next, I ordered the most basic sounding ‘Steak & Potatoes’ which was anything but and I got it cooked a beautiful, medium-rare despite ordering it just medium, but hey–they were just looking out for me and my philistine steak preparation ordering ways. This is one of the better steaks I’ve eaten and I didn’t need to drop a $500 tab at Manny’s to enjoy it–this gorgeous hunk of meat is up there with the bavette I had at 112 Eatery and the steak I had at a (now closed) restaurant outside of New York City I had visited in high school that was apparently one of Elvis’ favorites.

8oz Bavette, herb potatoes and grilled asparagus with peppercorn cognac sauce. #NeverForget

Though any sane person would be full at this point and I was working on my second cocktail (Like Clockwork–Cognac, Bourbon, Dolin dry, Amaro Nonino, Orange Bitters, Expressed Orange–definitely got me all good and “bezoomny”!), a place can’t be sufficiently done and tried until you order a dessert and a regular, black coffee. Now, it should shock no one to know that I can be a bit of a pedant about certain things–and coffee is one of those things. I’ve worked in and out of the coffee industry for the better part of 8 years as a barista and on the corporate level slinging office work. It’s not particularly hard to find quality, well-sourced beans and it is even easier to brew them right. A restaurant can tell me a lot about how much they care about every aspect of their commitment to quality and food by how good their regular brewed coffee tastes. I’ve been disappointed in establishments that otherwise provide good meals but then serve up bitter, black water mudd that tastes like it had been sitting for more than 2 hours in back. I move from disappointed to irritated when this crime is committed by an authentically-declared French or Italian restaurant where ending your meal with a good coffee is tantamount to the cultural experience. One sip from Volstead’s chosen brew and I knew this place really was every bit as great as I knew it to be.

Tiramisu because I’m ‘basic Italian’

The tiramisu I ordered for dessert wasn’t bad either–and as your resident swarthy Italian-American, I’ve had plenty of tiramisu in my day. The only thing about it I found particular to note, was how the lady fingers weren’t soggy and absolutely drowning in booze and/or coffee. Unlike me this evening, of course.

So, dear reader, consider yourself well and in the know about Volstead’s Emporium in Uptown, MN. I’ve now passed on the secret to you–and if you’re in the area or visiting the Twin Cities, I hope that you take a moment to stumble around W. Lake St. attempting to find it. But shhhhh–don’t tell your dinner companion(s) about the mirror window.

Volstead’s Emporium: A Hidden Speakeasy in Uptown, MN The given address goes to a Steampunk cafe specializing in games and coffee--another novelty era ripe for nostalgic yearning but not the one we were looking for.

[placetobenation]

As many of you are aware, WWE Network is pretty packed with all sorts of content. And as you may also know, we here at Place to Be Nation love long term, in depth projects. So, as part of this initiative, members of the PTBN Staff are choosing programs that coincide with this week in history and after watching each program, they will share their thoughts, notes and recommendations with our readers. So, settle in and enjoy this epic ride through wrestling history!

Show: Smoky Mountain Wrestling – 4/30/94 & 5/7/94

Best Segment:

Dave Hall: As seen with both shows, it was clear that these pre-taped interviews were the best segments on the show. Both men had a charisma and polish that no one else on either show had, and they really sold the matches they were building up. Their interviews made me wish I could actually get a video of the May 20 event they were promoting; they were that good. I could not separate them.

Calum McDougall: There was a lot of segments in both of these shows, especially the second episode, but I have to say that the Jake Roberts promo in the April 30th show was great. I like it when guys don’t ignore past achievements in other companies, which is admittedly easier in smaller promotions like SMW, but it was a good promo hyping the big show.

Jacob Williams: I’m going with the campy Thrillseekers music video/montage, and not just for funny ironic reasons. I loved how earnest it was. Seeing a couple of Canadian boys pounding brewkis in Tennessee bars and Econo Lodges was entertaining stuff. It built them up as goofy party boys that were still legit athletes, and it was a nice contrast to all of the serious promos. It made me really want to root for the Seekers.

Brian Bayless: I’ll go with the Jake Roberts promo on the Dirty White Boy from the 5/7/94 show. Jake did a fine job of running him down, like saying he was right ten years ago when first meeting the DWB and thinking he’d never make it, and making fun of his eye injury to hype up their title match in a couple of weeks.

Michael Cook: I was originally going to go with the Jake interview, but after watching the second one, I could not get over that stupid little mic thing they had to hold, plus I think the second part ruined the first part of it for me. So, I will be going with what will be the common thread for me and say the Thrill seekers video mainly because of Jericho.

Steve Riddle: Jake Roberts’ promo was classic stuff and he looked like he seemed to be back on track after being out of the spotlight for a couple years.

Chad Campbell: Both of these episodes were really segment heavy and we had some strong promo work by especially heels but I am giving the nod to Jake Roberts’ promo on the 5/7/94 episode. Jake is at his old man pervert creepiness down to the windsuit and sneakers he is sporting. He delivers a very cerebral promo against Tony Anthony and shows no sympathy for his injured eye. Jake was a bit of a desperado in 1994 traveling from territory to territory and participating in big programs at each stop. With promos like this and the 4/29/94 one, it is easy to see why.

Best Match:

Dave Hall: Thrillseekers vs. Well Dunn was the only decent match on the two shows, and it was all thanks to Chris Jericho. Jericho bumped around like a madman for Well Dunn, and sold their offense really well before mounting his comeback. Lance Storm looked really green in the ring, but Jericho looked very polished for someone so young in his career. Well Dunn were a little sloppy at times, and one of them nearly dropped Jericho on his head when he performed the springboard moonsault, but in the end it was an acceptable television main event for the time.

Calum McDougall: In amongst all of the promos and pre-tapes there were actually some matches, but these were low in terms of quality. Out of them all I’ll go for Thrillseekers vs Well Dunn because it has Storm and Jericho and it was decent enough.

Jacob Williams:Not a very high bar on these two shows, as there really weren’t a ton of matches, and most were squashes. Thrillseekers vs Well Dunn was a solid, energetic tag match. Jericho had some nice selling as the face in peril, and Storm led a nice comeback. Even Well Dunn brought the energy and played their role well. The Seekers’ double roll up was a pretty slick finish, too, and though you could tell they were still rookies, you could also see what Cornette saw in Jericho and Storm.  

Brian Bayless: The Thrillseekers vs. Well Dunn match was the only thing close to decent on this show and it was still nothing special. Well Dunn looked slower here than they did several months prior when they made their WWF debut. Jericho sold well and Storm had good fire off of the hot tag. The finish was attack by Well Dunn afterwards sets up for a rematch too.

Michael Cook: If anyone else picks something different I will have 1000 questions. There really is only one match to pick, and to be honest I would say it is only by default: Thrillseekers vs. Well Dunn. Unlike most of my counterparts in PTBN I do not really notice little things like calling spots, botches, or other small things. However, with this match (and everything else on these two shows) you could not help to notice everything. The match was not really that good, but it was what it was. It furthered a story line, and on a positive note you could see a young Chris Jericho and see that he had it from the beginning. Also, I did like how the show ended with a cliff hanger so to speak. 

Steve Riddle: There wasn’t much to choose from since each show was only an hour and each one had just three matches which was pretty normal for the time, but the easy choice for me would be the Thrillseekers and Well Dunn. Even at this point in 1994, you could see that Jericho and Storm were going to be something special whether as a team or as singles stars, and despite the fact they were booked like bums, Well Dunn were a solid team and worked well together. It was clear this match was just to really begin a feud between the teams as they barely get six minutes and the Thrillseekers get the clean win, but Well Dunn attack them afterward which means they were being set up for a rematch down the line and you hoped they would get some solid time to put on a really good match.

Chad Campbell:  Real slim pickings for this honor as all but two matches were squashes. I am going to give the nod to Tracy Smothers vs Bruiser Bedlam as I thought it did a decent job of pushing Bedlam as a monster. He kicked out of Smothers’ finisher with the back elbow and was getting a monster push and needing credibility. Smothers was an established stalwart in the promotion that didn’t take many easy loses so him losing here on tv in eight minutes was a shock.

Most Cringeworthy Moment:

Dave Hall: I know that hindsight is 20/20, but I really struggled with Tony Anthony’s racist comments regarding Kendo the Samurai. I was very surprised that WWE network kept such comments in the show, and also surprised they did not have their disclaimer before the telecast.

Calum McDougall: The obvious answer to this one is Dirty White Boy’s pretty damn racist promo against Kendo the Samurai, however I’d like to give a mention to Kendo’s, ahem, “Martial Arts”. That was awful for different reasons.

Jacob Williams: A dude named Dirty White Boy (who is the face here) throwing a bunch of racist names at a samurai wrestler takes this by a pretty big wide margin.  

Brian Bayless: Even considering the era and where the promotion was based from it was still in extremely poor taste having babyface champion Dirty White Boy use the type of racial slurs he did against Kendo the Samurai.

Michael Cook:This happened early on, it was when Anthony Michaels came off the top rope against Well Dunn and the way his head hit that mat, I am shocked that he ever got up, then to add insult the finish was concussion worthy.

Steve Riddle: Lance Storm may be one of the best wrestlers in the world even in 1994, but he clearly needed work on promos as he nearly called SMW “Rocky Mountain Wrestling”.

Chad Campbell: Different time and place and all that, but Dirty White Boy calling Kendo a “slant eyed, sock wearing Jap” was jarring and the cringe that Bob Caudle gives should have been the response of any sensible person back in 1994.

Funniest Line/Moment:

Dave Hall: Once again Chris Jericho showed that he was ahead of the rest of the talent despite his young age. During their “Personality Profile” with Les Thatcher, after they were interrupted by Well Dunn, Jericho turned to Well Dunn and asked them “which one is Beavis and which one is Butthead. Seeming as this was at a time when there were no scriptwriters, I thought it was a very good one liner from one of the best talkers ever in the business.

Calum McDougall: I found Daryl Van Horne’s line about how Kendo the Samurai has “the speed of a cat” unintentionally funny since it had followed a match where he was going so slow that time may actually have stood still.

Jacob Williams: In the scene of him working out, Bruiser Bedlam, after  showing off his amazing strength, gave this gem: “What is this? Girl weight?!”  

Brian Bayless: The Thrillseekers music video was amusing enough with Jericho as the partier of the group while Storm was the straight-laced guy as part of a heartthrob gimmick team.

Michael Cook: Nothing funny about anything in these episodes in the traditional sense. I did find it funny how bad it was. But if I must go with a moment, I guess I would say the music video, had one or two funny parts, and that really is stretching it. 

Steve Riddle: We got the usual taste of mid-90s causal racism as Dirty White Boy calls Kendo the Samurai everything in the book while also calling Daryl Van Horn a “closet queen”. An honorable mention is Daryl Van Horn calling Dirty White Boy “Dolly Parton without her wig on”.

Chad Campbell: Probably a bit of this was unintentional comedy but the Thrillseekers video was pretty hilarious just from the cheesy vibe that it gives off. Jericho is certainly hamming it up and enjoying the role and Lance knows his role as the curmudgeon.

Highlights:

Dave Hall: There was very little highlights in these two shows. Apart from the Thrillseekers vs Well Dunn match, the only other good stuff were the interviews by Jake the Snake and Macho Man, and any comments made by Jim Cornette.

Calum McDougall: Despite me feeling quite negative about these shows I do have some highlights. Firstly, Mark Curtis’s outfit complete with braces/suspenders is a look that really needs to come back. I did like the surprise of seeing THE YETAY Lite in one of the many promo videos and the Dark Secret’s hometown of Anyone’s Guess is amazing – the inventive hometown also needs to come back.

Jacob Williams: The entire presentation was very reminiscent of old NWA shows, along with some shockingly high video quality for the main bits of the show. I always enjoy Cornette’s promo delivery. He talks a mile-a-minute so naturally, and it never seems like he has to stop and think about what to say next. I loved him and his tracksuit in the Bruiser Bedlam package. Jake Roberts cutting his usual great menacing promo in what looked like a funeral home was only amplified by the grainy footage. Bullet Bob threw some pretty sick punches. Despite a few rough spots, The Thrillseekers came off as a nice young team , especially Jericho, who showed a few hints at his star quality in and out of the ring. Tracy Smothers seemed to really fit the entire feel of SMW well and shined as a workhorse guy against Bedlam. It was a little surreal (in a good way) to see Macho Man cutting promos here, and you are quickly reminded of much of a pro he was when juxtaposed against some of the more indie aspects of SMW.

Brian Bayless: There was some good promo work on this show, primarily by the managers. Daryl Van Horne (the future James Mitchell) did some good mic work on the behalf of Kendo the Samurai as did Tammy Sytch during the clips we saw from the Tag Team Title switch. I also liked Tracy Smothers passionate promo after he saved Bob Armstrong from Bruiser Bedlam’s deadly stomach claw in which he talked about Bob being like a second father and how he teamed with his son Steve. And Jericho’s charisma was noticeable and had the ability to connect with the crowd.

Michael Cook: Chris Jericho. It was nice to see Savage, but it was just a canned local interview, nothing we haven’t seen every Superstar or Challenge. Also, Anyone’s Guess for a hometown for Dark Secret was the best hometown since Sid’s Anywhere He Damn Well Pleases. 

Steve Riddle:It was clear they were setting up a potential feud between the Thrillseekers and Well Dunn; The Dirty White Boy was actually a pretty solid promo guy and he was definitely one of the most over guys in the company; Before he was the Sinister Minister and James Vandenberg, he was Daryl Van Horn with a weird hat, though let’s make it clear that he is a fairly underrated manager in the history of wrestling; In one of the great ironic twists, Jericho blasts Well Dunn over their list though he would end up making “The List” a part of his gimmick nearly 22 years later; Really cool seeing Randy Savage make appearances with SMW since he was not wrestling as much and doing commentary with the WWF; The Cornette/Armstrong feud was fairly underrated and pretty much carried SMW for most of its run; Give credit to them because even though they were past their prime, the Rock and Roll Express were still very over with the crowd; Armstrong still looks pretty good despite being older and he was clearly still over with the Southern crowds; Interesting spot in that they announced that the Suicide Blondes won the tag titles from the Express at a house show, but it made the house show feel special even though the house show took place on 4/23 and it wasn’t announced until the 5/7 TV show; Really cool seeing Tammy Fytch in her pre-Sunny days and she was a great manager as she goaded the Express into defending the titles; It was always interesting when certain moves were banned which in this case was the piledriver though it made it seem more devastating when it was used; The Thrillseekers’ music video was about as mid-90s as you could get; It’s amazing that even in 1994, you could immediately tell that Jericho was going to be something special as he had great charisma and screen presence; They clearly saw something in Bruiser Bedlam if they were going so far as to bring Randy Savage into SMW to work with him; Jim Cornette is still one of the greatest managers of all time as he can make anyone seem credible and he goes all out in promos and being at ringside; It would be interesting to see a list at some point of everyone that applied for the SMW wrestling school and who would end up making it in the business; It is pretty cool hearing the announcers talk about the rankings and how everyone needs to step up if they want to move up and eventually challenge for titles.

Chad Campbell: The Jim Cornette Bruiser Bedlam training video in the second episode was strong in showing off the strengths of Bedlam in his brute power and hiding the weaknesses in his shaky charisma and microphone work. Cornette was a great mouthpiece for him and helped him out as much as he could. The second episode also shows the tag title change and Tammy Fytch was doing some great work getting involved, taking an unsolicited kiss from Ricky Morton and then cheering her charges on to victory. I also really enjoyed seeing Randy Savage in the SMW universe and him being cornered by Bob Armstrong feels like two wrestling personalities with a lot of history individually but not much with each other besides this instance.

Lowlights:

Dave Hall: Pretty well everything else, especially anything involving Bruiser Bedlam. The jobber matches were terrible, but Bruiser Bedlam took it to another level. He was uncoordinated and dangerous. He mucked multiple moves in each match, and I was surprised he did not hurt either of his opponents. His training segment was horribly long, and only Cornette made it interesting. Bob Armstrong was boring, Tracey Smothers just wanted to see “The South rise again”, and Kendo the Samurai was the worst excuse for a martial arts wrestler ever.

Calum McDougall: The one big lowlight for me was how promo heavy the second episode was, if found it became a drag watching them because I had just seen them. It obviously wasn’t like that originally, people obviously had a week between them but it became a bit too much for me as it went on.

Jacob Williams:Obviously the majority of the actual wrestling was lackluster, which is sort of expected on this type of show. The bigger issue was that many of the guys that would being pushed as featured guys (Well Dunn, Dirty White Boy, Bruiser Bedlam) fell mostly flat for me. Well Dunn had a lot of energy, but didn’t show much personality outside of shrieking a lot. Bruiser had a cool strongman heel character, but didn’t really back it up in the ring. I wanted him to really look impressive and brutal in his squashes. As much I enjoyed The Thrillseekers, Storm was pretty awkward, and at one point had a Hogan moment, calling the promotion Rocky Mountain Wrestling.

Brian Bayless: The in-ring action was really bad for these shows. Kendo the Samurai (who was Tim Horner under a mask) had a terrible squash match win over Brian Logan with an awful finisher to boot. And Storm’s promo work on the 4/30/94 show was just dreadful and at one point had to correct himself from calling the promotion “Rocky Mountain Wrestling.” And Dirty White Boy as the babyface champion did not seem to work at all based off of these two shows.

Michael Cook: Can I say everything else? The matches were bad, the interviews just as bad. And WTF is up with the giant shoe tongues? First with Jake then with Lance Storm during the music video. The other question is WTF was Dirty White Boy wrestling when they showed how is eye got hurt? Was Kevin Sullivan watching when he got his idea for the YETI? And people say WWE characters are bad, but a mummy really Anyone else think TL Hopper every time DWB came on screen? And lastly, his interview does not age well, with the typical 70s stereotypes, but this was 1994. 

Steve Riddle: Cheesy 80s opening in the mid-90s, I wonder if Bob Armstrong had his entire promo written down on that notepad since he was looking at it every other word; As good as the promo was, Jake’s choice of outfit was not real flattering; Kendo the Samurai looks like a cheap knockoff of the Great Sasuke; So according to Caudle and Thatcher, every interesting kick done by Kendo is a martial arts move even if it’s never used in martial arts; Interesting that Bruiser Bedlam was a champion, but he didn’t have a belt and this wasn’t even mentioned by the announcers unless he was defending that title; I was thinking that Bruiser could’ve been someone big since he had a decent look only to see him basically slip off the top rope when attempting a move, so I stand corrected on that one; In a weird booking move, they had Bruiser kick out of Smothers’ finisher only to have Cornette assist him in the end instead of him beating Smothers clean; Dark Secret was billed from “Anyone’s Guess”, so I assume “Parts Unknown” was overfilled and he needed to be from another place; Apparently Mark Curtis was the only referee in SMW at the time and it is weird seeing a referee wearing suspenders and a bowtie; Chris Hamrick looks like a cheap Ricky Morton knockoff with the long blond hair and the ugly tights; The outfits in 1994 were pretty ugly as Cornette has a bizarre black and yellow track suit while Bedlam has some terrible shorts on, which is not the best workout attire.

Chad Campbell: SMW was going through a lot of transition in this month after the Heavenly Bodies were forced to leave after a lengthy feud with the Rock N Roll Express that carried the promotion since its inception. They also were relying on outside talent coming in for one off programs like Jake and Savage here. With the Bodies gone, the void of heels were weak and we see that with the big pushes for Well Done, Kendo the Samurai and especially Brusier Bedlam. None of these guys panned out and it started to lead to some of the financial hardships that were rapidly approaching the promotion overall. Lance Storm was really wooden and uncomfortable during the Personality Profile interview and corrects himself from saying the Rocky Mountains at one point.

Wild Card Baby!

Dave Hall: Won’t be on MTV anytime soon: Chris Jericho and Lance Storm’s music video was so bad it was funny.  It was a true tribute to the 90s in hindsight. Their outfits were so dated, the “story” of the video was lame, and I sat there wondering if they were even old enough to be in a pub. But I couldn’t look away.

Calum McDougall: Worst Medical Team: In my office, I need to go and seek medical advice if I get a paper cut or my coffee is too hot for me to pick up, and yet SMW let Dirty White Boy wrestle whilst blind in one eye?! How did that get past the State Athletic Commission?!

Jacob Williams: The Landy Award: If it exists, we really need to get ahold of footage of the Macho Man vs Bruiser Bedlam match that was hyped. Make it happen, Landy!

Brian Bayless: Best Tidbit: In his shoot interview with RF Video, Lance Storm said he was told by Tracy Smothers that the Rock ‘n’ Roll Express tried to “hold them down” as Cornette wanted the Thrillseekers to use a double missile dropkick finisher, which was flashier than the plain double dropkick the RnR’s had been using for over a decade. Storm also added that the Thrillseekers wrestled in the opening matches during their SMW run.

Michael Cook:Most 80s: Lance Storm’s rat tail. I guess since he showed a personality, maybe he should have had it when he came to the WWE.

Steve Riddle: The Fashion Statement of 1994: The track suits of Jake Roberts and Jim Cornette.

Chad Campbell: Unheralded Worker: I hope to spotlight a worker here on each show that I think history has forgotten too much. Tracy Smothers is my pick for these two episodes. Tracy certainly had a regional act that usually included him waving the stars and bars on his way to ringside, but he prove during this run that he could be at the very least a gatekeeper for the upper mid card and he deserved better than his Freddie Joe Floyd run entails.

Final Thoughts:

Dave Hall: These two shows combined were horrible. I score 1 point for Chris Jericho and 1 point for the interviews with Jake and Macho Man. I had never seen any Smokey Mountain Wrestling before and I was really keen for this watch, but after seeing the episodes I hope I never have to watch one of these shows again. I would never recommend what I saw to anyone, unless you restrict your watching to Chris Jericho only. 2/10

Calum McDougall: These shows weren’t offensively bad unlike the British Bulldogs Coliseum Home Video we watched, but I just found it boring of the most part. There were some bright spots and it was interesting to see some guys before they were famous. As much as it wasn’t my favourite thing we’ve done so far, I could be tempted to watch more Smoky Mountain and I cannot in good conscious rate it less than the Bulldogs tape. 4/10

Jacob Williams: This was a case of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. There wasn’t a lot of good wrestling on either show, and I didn’t particularly like many of the wrestlers, but still thought the shows were fine watches, if not great or even above average. In the same way that directors like Tarantino make movies as a homage to certain genres, I came away feeling like SMW was Jim Cornette’s homage to classic southern wrestling television, and I appreciated the total package enough to overcome some of the shortcomings. 5/10

Brian Bayless: The real problem here was the lack of star power. Sure, Jake Roberts was a star but he was not a regular guy here and using taped promos to hype up a title match. Pushing Bruiser Bedlam (former 1980’s WWF enhancement talent Johnny K-9) as a monster heel and the dated Kendo the Samurai act showed a glaring lack of depth on the heel side. Plus, the lack of quality wrestling on these shows too was tough to ignore. However, the feuds and programs were easy enough to follow and at the heels at least had managers that could talk for them while the faces were doing the heavy lifting in the ring but this promotion was struggling at the time with decreasing attendance and its not tough to see why. 4/10

Michael Cook: Going into this I did not want to shit all over it, and I do realize that it was towards the end of the promotion, but this was not good.  Even Jake and Randy could not save it. Jericho was the only redeeming thing on these shows. I hope that if I get a chance to watch earlier shows I will be able to understand how people enjoyed. And yes, I know I will be in the minority but give me three hour Raws that I can fast forward through any day of the week. 1.5/10

Steve Riddle: Overall, I thought that these two episodes of Smoky Mountain Wrestling were pretty decent shows for TV standards. I haven’t seen a lot of Smoky Mountain Wrestling aside from random matches here and there, so it was pretty cool to actually watch two full episodes and get a glance of what it was like. SMW was in an interesting position in 1994 as the territory system was pretty much done aside from them and ECW, but they were still in a good position has they had the partnership with the WWF going still. The matches on the shows weren’t much as it was more about building towards Volunteer Slam with a bunch of solid promos, and I’m sure having Randy Savage appear was helping draw in more eyes. In the end, these were solid shows for me on my maiden voyage here on the Adventure and I look forward to what we have in store going forward. 4.5/10

Chad Campbell: Some challenging episodes to rate as they both were breezy and featured some good promo work even by Daryl Van Horn which I haven’t mentioned, but the in ring product was really lackluster. Also, even with big stars like Macho and Jake coming in, the transitional nature of this time in SMW was prevalent. 4.5/10

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