#ice rarely goes to the little bar in town but one night he gets dragged there by slider

[calkale]

Modern cowboy au icemav need mav line dancing to shania twain

#mav works on vipers ranch #ice is a farmer who delivers them hay bales #mav shows off by lifting all those little square bales and ice is like 👁️👁️ looking at his arms #ice rarely goes to the little bar in town but one night he gets dragged there by slider #and whos sitting there at the bar #that handsome little ranch hand with big arms #ice watches from afar and any man of mine comes on and mav immediately gets up pulling goose with him #goose is also really good at line dancing #carole too she follows them to the floor #someone write this #icemav #pete maverick mitchell

[missaudreyhorney]

(Almost) Every Idea Ever

Although I rarely ever finish writing a fic, that never stops me from getting new ideas for them. Terrible, horrible, dumpster fire ideas. Okay, some of them are wholesome on occasion, but mostly it’s just filth. I've excluded a couple of things because either they were just too awful to mention or I’m currently working on them and I want it to be a surprise.

The first story I started to write this year was original fiction but with the main male character heavily inspired by Jim Hopper. It was about a recently married young woman having an affair with her father-in-law. This really set a precedent for the rest of my ideas and should indicate to you the level of depravity on this list.

Hopper x Reader:

Hurts So Good series - In 1982, Reader is Mayor Kline’s daughter and has a crush on Chief Hopper. She decides to pursue him and things don’t go quite as planned but they still end up having steamy, rough sex. A secret affair begins between the two of them but it eventually leads to heartbreak. Heavy emphasis on Dom/sub and pain kink. - Initial pursuit, fingering in the car, sex (60%) - Phone sex the following day (70%) - Rough sex, bordering on consensual nonconsent (partially written) - Introduction to Daddy kink (notes) - Body worship (notes) - Bruise kink (notes) - Facesitting (50%) - hurt/comfort throatfucking, an argument, angst/fluff (75%) - Orgasm denial/control (70%) - Possible gunplay? (Unwritten) - Disciplinary spanking (notes)

Dress You Up series - In 1985, Hopper meets plus-size!Reader at JCPenney when he comes in to pick out a shirt for his date. After Joyce stands him up, he decides to come back and ask Reader out instead. Probably the cutest idea I’ve ever had for smut. Inspired by flamehairedwritings and flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash. - 1st meeting, 2nd meeting, date, sex (50%) - 2nd date, a continuation of My First Drabble (partially written) - Meeting El and she’s standoffish (notes)

Domestic Smut - Reader and husband!Hopper are at the cabin alone together one weekend. After breakfast, she tries to wash the dishes but the sink is broken, the water squirting everywhere. A water fight turns into a tickle fight which turns into kitchen table sex. (50%)

Hopper blindfolding Reader during sex at the cabin (Notes)

Hopper blindfolding Reader during a blowjob in his office at the police station (Minimal notes)

Hopper rubbing a popsicle on Reader’s body then licking it off (Minimal notes)

Hopper coming over to Reader’s house, unannounced, late at night, in the rain, for a quick rough fuck. Inspired by one of the pictures from the Playboy shoot. (Partially written)

Licking Hopper’s hand and arm veins to get his attention while he reads the Sunday newspaper. (Unwritten)

Sucking Hopper’s cock while he smokes a cigar on the porch and either ignores you or looks at you with disdain. Inspired by a compilation video of David smoking a cigar on Instagram Live. (Unwritten)

Consensual nonconsent fantasy where Hopper touches Reader and tells her to say no to him while he’s making her cum. Rough, forceful sex immediately follows. (Partially written)

Bootlicker - anti-cop Reader has a secret fetish for cops and Hopper is more than happy to oblige them and keep quiet about it. (Notes)

Working out my own personal issues via smut, bigender-questioning AFAB Reader puts on Hopper’s uniform shirt and hat. Much to their delight, he says they look like a boy. He also says “If you’re going to dress like a boy, I’m going to fuck you like one.” Basically just incredible anal sex while Hopper calls Reader a good boy. Extremely niche subject but the fantasy of this is so affirming to me, I can’t not think about it. (Notes)

Hopper x Reader requests

A sequel to Little Magnum where the dog is a few years older. There is maybe also a cat? (Unwritten)

Fire & Ice - Reader is playing in the snow when it’s getting dark outside. Hopper tells them to come in but they don’t listen. Reader falls and hurts their ankle then Hopper gets angry at their disobedience. Not because he’s a jerk, but because he can’t imagine his life without Reader and doesn’t want to lose them. Angsty hurt/comfort. (~70%)

Replacement idea since Fire & Ice was much too angsty - Reader gets stung by a bee and Hopper freaks out. Reader is fine but he babies them nonetheless, because again, his greatest fear is losing them. Very cute and silly. (unwritten)

Freezeframe - Reader bought Hopper a Polaroid camera for his birthday and he hasn’t used it months later. Taking matters into her own hands, she uses the camera for some naughty selfies. Once Hopper finds the pictures, he decides to assume the role of photographer and gets some very intimate shots of Reader. (80-85%)

Morning Wood - Reader lets themself into the cabin early one Summer morning and sees Hopper in bed, fully nude, just a sheet covering the part they want to see most. Hop wakes up, invites Reader into bed with him, and a blowjob ensues. Very detailed description of his body. (Notes)

Hopper gets injured and needs Reader to patch him up. She gets pissed though for him being in yet another dangerous situation where he yet again gets hurt. Reader reprimanding him leads to confessions of feelings which leads to sex. (Unwritten)

Reader has been feeling ignored by Hopper lately and decides to make him jealous to get his attention. She flirts with another man at a bar while Hopper watches and seethes with rage. He punishes her by dragging her into the parking lot then spanking over the tailgate of his Chevy Blazer. Rough sex and more spanking goes down back at the cabin. Based on my jealous!Hopper headcanon post. (Partially written)

Principal Hopper  - One of the worst ideas I’ve ever had, which is saying A LOT. High school principal Hopper catches one of his 18-year-old female students spying on him between classes and confronts her about it. Sexual tension bubbles up until neither of them can control themselves. Based on a fantasy told to me by a friend who I will not name. (Notes)

Hopper x Reader AUs

Messing Around With Jim series - A continuation of The Big Game, Afterschool Special, and Third Time’s A Charm. Modern!Hopper and Reader having all kinds of sex. - Fingering, gentle sex, tender orgasm control (50%) - Period sex, vibrator (Notes) - First blowjob, a continuation of A Sampling (partially written) - Hop eating Reader’s pussy for his birthday (minimal notes) - Fingering in the car, truck bed sex (notes) - Another blowjob, rough sex over the hood of a car (partially written) - Pussy eating at the park (notes) - Hop not understanding FaceTime, fluff, smut (unwritten) - Roleplaying how they met, sex at Reader’s parents house (notes) - July 4th fingering, rough sex, surprises (notes) - Remote control vibrator (partially written) - More pussy eating, this time in Hop’s cutting edge shirt (partially written) - Yet another blowjob, this time in a movie theater (unwritten) - Jealousy resulting in overstimulation/”forced” orgasms (notes) - 4 part miniseries about butt plugs/anal sex (notes) - Confronting her parents, angst (55-60%) - Learning about Sara, ANGST! (notes)

Vacation series - modem!Hopper and Reader go on vacation together. That’s it, that’s the plot. Idea from David’s Croatian vacation pics and conversations with Tayler. All just notes at this point. - Christening the hotel bed - Bratty Reader getting semi-publicly punished - Hopper taking care of drunk!Reader, humor, fluff - Double date

carpenter!Hopper - Reader is recently divorced and hires Hop to make repairs on her house before she sells it. Graphic detail of him doing manly things like sawing and hammering. Porn with plot. Inspired by another friend, she knows who she is. (Notes in the form of a 500-word summary)

Detective Hopper - various bits and pieces of ideas inspired by David being digitally handcuffed to Darren Criss and Michael Stuhlbarg in Vanity Fair, plus a few pictures in 2016. (Unwritten)

Captain Hopper - a collaboration with @pkg4mumtown. She said she was thinking about fire captain!Hopper rescuing her from a burning building and I told her my pre-existing firefighter idea of being saved and then wanting to thank him in a variety of ways. Things snowballed from there and I decided we need to write it. Mostly just notes so far. - Initial meeting, first date, sex - Second date, making dinner together, sex

Hopper x Joyce:

There is a list of my Jopper ideas (Various degrees of notes)

Teenage Joyce and Hopper meeting in high school and their relationship that follows. Maybe a oneshot? Maybe a series? (Notes)

Hopper x Billy: (Over 18-years-old and no longer in high school!)

1940/50’s AU - Hopper meets expat Billy at a cigar club while on vacation in Havana. A familiar face, so to speak, in a foreign land. Hop pays Billy to take him back to his apartment and “keep him company”. Maybe two chapters? Inspired by a photo of Dacre Montgomery in GQ Germany. (Partially written.)

Hopper catches Billy “renting his time” at a truck stop outside of town and threatens to arrest him, but Billy bribes him with sex. (Unwritten.) I’m sorry but there’s just something about the idea of rent boy Billy that I absolutely love.

Hopper + Billy + Reader - completely implausible threeway (Unwritten)

David Harbour RPF:

AU where instead of being an actor, he’s a drama teacher at a high school in New York City and the kids from Stranger Things are his students. Pure fluff. (Please write this for me!)

Giving him a blow job before an important event. TWO different versions. Inspired by numerous photos of David wearing a robe. (Minimal notes)

Riding his thigh and everything that entails. Inspired by a picture of David from GQ Mexico. (Minimal notes)

touch-starved!David hires a sexworker during the pandemic because he’s lonely quarantining by himself. No sex. He literally just wants a hug and someone to be affectionate with him. Unconventional fluff. (Unwritten)

Other DKH-related shenanigans:

Let’s Ride sequel - Reader goes on a second date with Deacon from SoulCycle, they go out for sashimi and end up at his place. He has a cat that he inherited from a neighbor. Reader teaches him how to put her in a chokehold. (Unwritten)

Alexei Shostakov smut - some type of Bond Girl situation where Reader has to seduce him. Just an excuse for me to lovingly describe his large tattooed body in vivid detail. (Unwritten)

The Stranger - Reader has an ongoing affair with a mysterious man whose name is never mentioned. They meet at high society functions and hook up in fancy hotels. One night, he finds out that she’s married and punishes her for her dishonesty. Inspired by a photo of David looking annoyed in a tuxedo. (Notes)

Daddy Dom/little girl roleplay fantasy. Sweet, smutty, and slightly taboo. (Notes)

Daddy’s Little...Helper - Me, as submissive!Reader, watching Daddy jack off right in front of my face after he comes home from work. Based on a conversation with an Instagram friend and a picture of David in the play “Cal In Camo” where he’s holding a beer bottle between his legs. (65%)

Stranger Things x Twin Peaks crossover - Chief Jim Hopper comes to Twin Peaks to help Special Agent Dale Cooper solve some type of paranormal mystery. Perhaps a parallel between The Black Lodge and The Upside Down? I think this would work really really well, but I can’t write it myself. (Please write this for me!)

In conclusion: Yes, I know I need to have my head examined. Yes, I know I spend too much time thinking about Jim Hopper. Let me know if you LIKE these ideas. Please do not let me know if you hate these ideas.

Tagging: @manawhaat @strangest-hour @007swhore @kingphillipblake @david-harbour-arg @misshawkins1993 @oxforddrama 

#ST FF ideas #fanfic inspiration #DID NOT proofread this when I was done

[anotherisodope]

Fic/RP starter: Time For a New Employer

[Charon finds himself without a contractor after a trip to the Commonwealth with Ahzrukhal goes completely wrong.]

There’s a strange sound coming from the room Charon’s been sharing with Ahzrukhal at the Rexford Hotel. Dragging, scraping noises, and a kind of low, raspy breathing that doesn’t sound like his employer. Now and again, he hears the smash or clatter of something being knocked to the floor.

None of this is a good sign.

Charon listens, frowning, from outside the door. Ahzrukhal’s been in there two days, having disappeared into the room with a pile of chems and booze, leaving Charon with the unexpected demand that he “get the hell out and stay out”. So he’s been stuck outside, guarding the door...subjected to the curiosity and attempts at small talk of the surprisingly many passerby.

“Is he all right in there?” It’s the ghoul in the dun-colored fedora again, a mousy, nervous man who took hours of peeking out of his room before he came to say hello. He’s harmless, not obnoxious, doesn’t bother Charon much, though he’s obviously curious. “Your friend, I mean?”

Charon unfolds his arms and glances behind him as a hoarse growl sounds just inches beyond the door. No. It doesn’t sound like Ahzrukhal at all.

“Stay away from the door,” he advises the man, who nods and takes an extra step backward.

***

Things started to go to Hell a few weeks before Charon left Underworld.

The Brotherhood of Steel had brought clean water to the area. But the price was too steep for ghouls. Especially under that new asshole. Talk about a fanatic. They had never seen much difference between normal ghouls and ferals. Now, they always opened fire. 

Ten years into their “liberation” of the Capital Wasteland, and the Brotherhood started really causing problems. Rumors of attacks and disappearances ran through Underworld. Charon kept his ears open, slowly putting together why the other ghouls were so scared, and watched to see what would happen. There was little that he could do.

Ahzrukhal stopped paying scavengers for booze, stopped sending Charon out on jobs. First time in forty years. He was quiet. Thinking too much.

The others noticed. Got nervous. Some drank to keep nervousness away.

Barrows argued that the clinic couldn’t leave. He had made too much progress. The ghoul community needed a place to come for care. He had to stay there, or those who came looking for help would find none.

That poor, idealistic fool couldn’t figure out that there would be no clinic, and nobody to keep his work going, if the fucking Brotherhood rolled in and cleared the place out with miniguns. He and a lot of the others wanted to keep what the ghouls there had for as long as they could. It was stupid, but Charon found he couldn’t blame them much.

Then the Brotherhood hit Tenpenny Towers, and the ghoul colony that had lived there for ten years. Their attempt to secure a home after being locked out came to a violent end with no warning. The booms and sounds of shattering glass and concrete haunted the area all day.

Ahzrukhal took off that night, abandoning the others and loading Charon down with his caps and possessions. Charon went, hoping the others would be smart and scatter, but knowing he couldn’t have gotten them to listen. They had always seen him as just Ahzrukhal’s goon.

***

Charon frowns. He has his orders, but he also knows that this situation isn’t normal. Whatever is walking around in there isn’t talking. Ahzrukhal rarely shuts up.

“Ahzrukhal!” he calls through the door, his raised voice making the ghoul next to him jump slightly. “Can you hear me?”

Another low, rattling growl.

“Th-that sounds like a feral,” the smaller man gasps out, pressed against the far wall now. “Do you think he...do you think he changed?”

Charon’s jaw tightens. There's no ghoul alive who doesn’t fear losing their mind someday. Barrows has devoted his life to finding a way to prevent it, or cure ghoulism altogether. But they’re a long way from Underworld now, and what’s shuffling around in their room doesn’t sound like it has a mind left to save.

“I do not know,” he admits. But meanwhile, he’s thinking of the contract, and the prospect of being without an employer for the first time in decades. And what that means. “He did not show any signs during our journey.”

Despite his calm tone, there’s a heavy ball of ice in the pit of his stomach. I don’t want to go back.

But if his employer really has lost his mind, and no one else picks up Charon’s contract, he knows that’s what will happen.

***

Passing through Jersey on their long, dangerous way up the coast did bad things to Charon’s head. The Facility was there. That place he didn’t want to return to.

Even walking within fifty miles of the place stirred things up inside him. The few bits of memory that surfaced disturbed him before they sank out of sight again, leaving him cold and bewildered and feeling strangely...vulnerable.

He couldn’t exactly call it fear. He didn’t feel fear, at least not for himself. It had been burned out of him. But still, all the long time that he and Ahzrukhal plodded up the Jersey coastline, he caught himself mumbling and growling more than usual, and was glad that he never had to sleep. Or dream.

He didn’t breathe freely again until they crossed into the Commonwealth.

***

”Should I go get someone?”

He looks back at the little man with a frown. He’s trying to be helpful, but Charon isn’t used to that. The ghouls of Underworld could be friendly enough, but not toward him. Here, he’s not known as simply an extension of a guy nobody in town likes. Nobody knows him at all.

That’s plain from the little man’s concern.

Charon’s brow knits as he puts together his answer carefully. He has to really think about it, and the effort makes his head sting.  “No. Just watch. If he has gone feral and I must kill him, it will be helpful to have a witness.”

The man swallows hard and nods, moving a little further away. “I will, then. For as long as it’s safe to do so.”

That’s more courage than Charon expected. He nods once. “Good.”

***

They settled in the Slog for a while, but nobody there had time for Ahzrukhal’s bullshit. They wanted ghouls who were willing to work, and a pile of caps only did so much to mitigate that. 

Charon didn’t farm, or scavenge, or build. He guarded the perimeter. He killed fucking monsters. He didn’t belong chest-deep in a tarberry bog, and after so many years Ahzrukhal knew not to push it. So they moved on. Which was too bad. Despite having nothing in common with him, the ghouls of the Slog were kind and friendly. Just like the woman that Ahzrukhal had wanted dead.

One of the women at the Slog flirted with him before they left. Kept trying to get his attention. He was more polite and honest than usual with her. Ahzrukhal didn’t give him time off, and his on-duty rules were clear. No booze. No chems.

No women.

He explained this to her, and she seemed shocked and angry--but at Ahzrukhal, not at him. He didn’t really understand why. But after that, as they made their way to the only other ghoul-heavy settlement Ahzrukhal knew about, Charon found himself thinking now and again that he would have liked to stay. Places like that needed protectors, after all.

But he never got a say in who or what he guarded, or who or what he was sent against. So when his employer turned his back on the Slog, so did he.

***

Charon draws his shotgun, glancing back at the other ghoul. “I do suggest that you run if this becomes violent.” Holding his favorite firearm one-handed, he grips the doorknob and then turns it.

Growling and skittering beyond the door. He hears rapid pacing.

He shoulders the door open with a bang and moves into the room, fully intending to shut it behind him and seal himself in with...it.

But he doesn’t have time. The smaller form that slams into him has surprising strength behind its rush, knocking him back against the flimsy, cracked wood of the door and shattering it.

They tumble out into the hallway as the guy outside yells in panic.

***

Ahzrukhal clearly hated Goodneighbor. He couldn’t be the only chem dealer in town there, there was already a bar, and nobody had time for his facade of high manners and smooth talk. The flamboyant but quick-bladed mayor, Hancock, started watching them right away, giving Charon’s employer a brief, steel-in-velvet warning on welcoming him, and looking at Charon curiously.

And then, not three days later, the goddamned Brotherhood of Steel zeppelin showed up in the Commonwealth sky. It became clear that the enemy they had sought to escape was already here. Ghouls in this region just couldn’t catch a break.

Ahzrukhal snapped. He had been uprooted from his cushy home and position, he couldn’t get away with anything anymore, and now the Brotherhood had arrived with a fanfare. He started descending into booze and chems himself instead of slinging them, relying on Charon to scare off all the ass-kickings he bought with his slimy behavior while haunting the Third Rail.

More and more, he didn’t even go out. He stayed in his room--and he started sending Charon away. Normally Charon would have been delighted to get away from his employer. But this time, he could sense that something was wrong. He just didn’t know what to do about it, or even if he should.

***

It’s a feral. Eyes fixed and completely filmed over, like white marbles in its skull. The pale pinstripe suit and sprigs of dark hair are familiar. The remnants of too-sweet cologne, acrid jet fumes and alcohol are familiar too. As Charon jams the stock of his shotgun into its jaws to keep it from biting and starts forcing it off of him, he knows he’s looking at what’s left of Ahzrukhal.

The little man in the hat scrambles away, crying out at the top of his lungs. “One of the guests has gone feral! We need help!”

Charon doesn’t. If his employer’s mind is gone, then he is gone. This is just a feral now. He knows what to do with ferals.

He just wonders how any ghoul could go from fully sane to feral in just two days.

He feels dull regret as he uses leverage and superior strength to flip the thing over and pin it down with a knee in its midsection. It squalls and writhes underneath him, snapping at him, and he raises the butt of his shotgun and slams it into the side of its head. Once. Twice.

Bones crunch and it collapses under him. He gets off of it, steps back, reverses the shotgun, and blows off its head with a single shot.

The boom echoes down the hall as he stands panting over the twitching corpse.

This isn’t how I wanted to kill you, he thinks, the disappointment digging in deeper even as the relief of Ahzrukhal’s death washes over him. You weren’t even here to feel it.

But it’s done...

...and now, he has another problem.

He slides his shotgun into its back sheath and steps further away from the corpse, eyes fixed on it.

The contract will be in Ahzrukhal’s moneybelt, under his clothes. But Charon can’t bring himself to retrieve it. The moment he lays his hand on that piece of paper, his programming will kick in, and he’ll turn around and start walking.

Back to Jersey.

To be debriefed, tested, processed, and sent out again with another contractor, making Them another small fortune in caps.

Just like every other time he's been left with a dead employer, or one stupid enough to invalidate his contract.

I don’t want to go back.

But the alternative is to stay here, and hope that someone picks up his contract. He can stay away from Jersey if that happens. But that leaves him at the mercy of any passerby. For all he knew,

His head whirls as he struggles to figure out what to do. There’s no clear protocol here, aside from returning to the Facility.

But even as he backs up against the wall and leans against it, scarred face blank with what almost looks like shock, it enters his head that the jet fumes still wafting out of that room just don’t smell quite right....

[Hey guys, hope you enjoyed! DM me if you want to turn this into a line, I’d like to use this as a jumping off point for something.]

#fallout #fallout 3 #fallout 4 #open rp #charon #roleplay #my fanfic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Witness : 26

Not Right

new moodboard created by @iheartsebastianstan​ Thanks to them and to anyone who wants to create one of their own or some art, I would be eternally grateful. You all are so amazing!

Character(s): dark!Bucky, dark!Steve, too

Masterlist

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. Some violence as well at the beginning. It goes without (and with) that this is 18+.

In this chapter, sex and internal conflict.

Summary: The reader feels her world closing in but it might be too late to save herself.

Notes: Okay, thanks to everyone and their patience with this series. Honestly the response has been overwhelming! I love you all so much and it's really meant a lot considering my recent mental episodes. I hate that I have so many issues and they always pop up at the worst times but this series makes it easier to deal with. I know y'all have come for the story and don't need a whole dump here but I think it's a little obvious that I've poured a lot of myself and my internal struggles into this one and so it just means so much more that it has had such a big response. Again, thank you for listening to me ramble and supporting this series! <3 Now, onto actual business here! This chapter has some juicy little tidbits (and I don't mean sex) just something y'all have been waiting for... I hope you all enjoy :) Tomorrow will be the second chapter of Happy Together so brace for some dark!Steve and Saturday will be another one shot requested for the raffle! (Again dark!Steve) so we have quite the line up. Anyways, as usual, comments mean the world to me. It's nice to have feedback and I just love hearing all your reactions and thoughts. :D You guys are so wonderful.

Please, reblog and or reply with your thoughts!! I’ll see you in the next one. :)

As promised, Bucky and Steve left town at noon. You were relieved to see them go but the looming threat of their presence had distracted you from the dark thoughts which now began to rise in the back of your mind. Vague memories of words exchanged; about you, about others. Gill... you knew nothing about her, only that she used to sit at the very desk you were now behind. And, if you were to guess at it, she had also been involved with the two men who had you caught in their claws, though you couldn’t say how.

 You tapped your fingers on the desk as you scrolled through Pepper’s inbox, weeding out the junk, responding to those which could be generically shrugged off. It was second nature now. Almost fun. You imagined what it would be like to be her. On the arm of one of the most powerful men in the world, protected from others who might wish you harm. You were in almost the complete opposite station in life. You were trapped under the thumb of one who saw you as nothing more than a prop and you had little means of helping yourself.

     “I promise, she won’t be another Gill.” “She’s not another one of your toys…”  

 What had happened to your predecessor? The black text blurred past your vision as you thought, scrolling the wheel as you thought back to your nights spent with both super soldiers. As much as Bucky set your nerves on fire, Steve was utterly terrifying. He was able to flip a switch, turning from the smiling office colleague to sinister masochist. You could feel his hands on your neck then. Had Gill felt the same fingers against her flesh, the same dread mixed with airiness? Is that why she had quit?

 You sat back, looking around the office. There was no one there but you were ever paranoid. You leaned on the chair, glancing just down the hallway as an idea tugged at your mind. You took a deep breath and moved the mouse, hovering over the “sent files” link before clicking. Pepper’s emails, including those written by yourself, appeared before you. You began to scroll down, watching the date revert until well before your first day. And then you found it. An email with a familiar name upon it; ‘Daily Roster’ fwd. Gill Nazar. You stared at the name, another glance around the office.

 You clicked and let the air out of your lungs. Nothing beyond the usual message; a list of names, times, special instructions. It was the same thing you received every morning. You clicked out and opened up the browser, typed in the former secretary’s name and hit enter with a rush of a anxiety. As the little circle reeled beside the cursor, so did your head. The results popped up and your heart dropped. You clicked on the first link; a headline already forgotten.

 ‘MISSING WOMAN: FORMER SECRETARY ON THE RUN?’ It was the most recent story on Gill, declaring that previous reports of her disappearance had been exaggerated and she had in fact merely run away from her boring office life. You explored those which preceded that, every day back in time building the heat along your spine. There were no clues which could have led to her discovery and the last article gave only an account of her wild college days, not far behind her, and a questionable quote from a “friend” to support its thesis. Yet the case had been closed and no one was looking for Gill Nazar any longer.

 It just didn’t add up and you suspected your inevitable disappearance would make even less sense. The thought chilled you to the core and a sudden wave of terror came over you. If you didn’t get out soon, you would be the woman pasted across the articles, but only for a week before you were buried beneath the next week’s headlines. Another would sit in this chair and contend with the super soldiers.

 You were shaking. Your eyes were glued to the screen and you couldn’t stop the panic as it filled your veins like ice. You needed to act soon or be lost forever.

A couple days later, after the revelation that Gill hadn't necessarily quit for a better job or due to a sudden windfall, you were still trying to figure out how to process the information. You couldn't say for sure that she was dead but it wasn't an unlikely conclusion either. The way Steve and Bucky spoke about her as good as confirmed your suspicions. And if her fate was so shrouded in mystery and fatalism, what then would yours be?

 This wasn't just something you could forget but you could try to suppress it, at least distract yourself from it. It all seemed pointless now that your fate was as good as confirmed. Even as you played along you weren't promised any other end but that which you had tried to barter yourself out of.

 Currently you were in the middle of a convenience story, your arms filled with a multi-pack of gummy worms, gummy bears, and sour keys. The endorphins afforded by such an indulgence might be enough to ward off the shadow which loomed over you. A couple chocolate bars were added to your load and you dragged your feet up along the last aisle. Your eyes caught shiny plastic packages, hung on security hooks, and you skidded to a halt. You tapped your toe and looked around.

 You stared at the flip phones. ‘Burners’ they were commonly referred to as by dealers and similar criminals. You chewed your cheek, the wheels slowly beginning to wind on your head. “Excuse me,” You called over to the cashier, bent over the daily crossword in the newspaper. He almost reminded you of yourself and your doldrum work. “Can I get two of these phones please?”

 He pushed himself away from the counter and came out from behind the lottery tickets and gum to shove a round key on the hook. He unlooped two and brought them up to the counter where you met him on the other side. You set the rest of your wares before him and he punched in the items dully. He seemed rather unfazed by your purchase but you gathered a place like this would have shadier types than yourself frequenting the joint.  You accepted a plastic bag and and took your haul out onto the street. Finding your car, you slid inside and started the engine, a plan piecing itself together in your head. Well, nothing substantial but a line of communication. A way to protect yourself and your mom when an escape presented itself.

 Back at your apartment, you took out the twin phones and charged them. You activated them with a set of fake names and typed in a message from one to the other. You left it unread so that the notification still showed.

     Mom, text back when you get this. Y/N.  

 You would buy a parcel tomorrow and send it without a return address. That way Bucky couldn't track it. You felt an odd sense of accomplishment, a fragment of your independence secreted away. Even if you were caught out, you had tried.

 You dumped the packaging down the building's chute and hid the phones beneath your kitchen sink, just behind the trash can. Just in case. You never knew when Bucky would return and he always seemed to drop in at the most inconvenient times.  Your suspicion proved prudent as you slept heavily that night. No longer did the sense of doom hang over you so darkly and you dozed quite comfortably in your own bed. The morning after held a simple task and a rare sliver of hope.

 But you were roused to half-slumber by a distant sound. There was a presence in your room thought your mind refused to retreat from its respite, instead you listened as if through a tunnel. A series of rustling, metal clinking, and muted footsteps. The mattress dipped beside you and a warmth snaked around your waist. At last your eyes snapped open and you grabbed the hand tucking itself under your side.

 “It's just me,” Bucky's whisper was not as comforting as he would have hoped. “Go back to sleep.”

 You tensed against him, not expecting such...gentleness? He wasn't forcing your legs apart or holding you down. In fact, he was giving you a new option. You would take sleep if it saved you from his usual tendencies.  The rest of your night was spent in a shallow sleep, the presence beside you kept you from sinking back too far. In the back of your head you wondered why he was there. After days away on a mission he had decided to show up at your place in the middle of the night and slink into your bed like some long-awaited lover.

 Still you resisted consciousness if only to avoid the answers to those questions. You were woken however against your will. Your mind still shrouded in drowsiness you grumbled as a hand pushed its way between your legs, sliding up your thighs, careful circles drawn along your clit. It was almost relaxing, the warm nestled in your pelvis as the fingers carried on. It was only as the grunt rasped in your ear and you felt the prodding along your back that reality slapped you.

 Bucky was spooning you, his hand squeezed between your legs as he teased your clit, your shorts gone. Your own hand shot down to try to stop him but a soft ‘uh uh’ kept your from doing so. Slowly, he shifted away from you, his fingers still tugging at your core, and rolled you flat onto your back. He pushed your legs apart and you let them splay open, wondering if this was actually some twisted nightmare. A most confusing one indeed.

 His beard tickled across your shoulder and along your neck, his lips laying sweet pecks along your skin. Your heart was hammering in your chest. What was he doing? This had to be some trick. To be so gentle with you he must have been planning something awful. His nose brushed across your cheek, his eyelids hooded over his blue eyes as they closed and he leaned closer. His lips were on yours before you could turn away and your eyes were wide open. He was kissing you. He had never done that before.

 His fingers continued to pluck at you and you moaned despite yourself. The heat was pooling just so and you couldn't resist the flames licking along your thighs. You shuddered against him and he removed his lips at last so that you could turn your head and pant at the sunlit bedroom. He pressed his head once more into the crook of your neck, bringing you to a most disconcerting climax.

 As the after waves took you, Bucky climbed on top of you, replacing his fingers with his cock, running his tip along your folds before slowly entering. You gasped. You wanted him to stop because it felt so unfamiliar, so wrong, and yet you wanted him to keep going. The intimacy of his actions was both long-missed and entirely unsettling. You craved it, just not from him. Not in this circumstance. His breath was hot against your neck as he began to move within you, one hand on your hip, the other tangled in your hair, cradling your head.

 You tried to resist the tingling his touch was sending through you but your mind was too tired and your body weak. You gripped his bicep as he moved against you, your nails digging into his flesh as you fought him and yourself. There wasn’t any real strength put into it as you felt like jelly beneath him, every thrust sending a star across your vision. Your eyes rolled back and you let the haze take you, your name ringing in your ears as you met with yet another orgasm.

 Bucky grunted your name low in your ear, bringing you back to the moment. You felt the warmth spill within you, his cum filling you and seeping around his cock. He collapsed atop you, not moving as he breathed heavily, his head just beside yours on the pillow. The glow of your lust began to fade, the oddity of reality like a bucket of cold water poured over you. You could handle him treating you like a toy, tossing you around, manhandling you, calling you a good girl, but you couldn’t do this. Him touching you so softly as if he actually felt anything but pure spite for you, saying your name…

 “Get off of me,” You whispered, “Please, please.” You began to panic, smacking your hands against his shoulders as you begged him. You couldn't breathe. “Please. Get off!”

 He pulled out of you, sitting back with visible shock on his face. You quickly rolled over the edge of the bed, barely getting your feet under you before you met the floor. You tripped over yourself as you scurried out to the washroom, slamming the door and locking it. You felt his cum dripping down your leg and you cringed. You stepped into the tub, turning on the shower head and detaching it as you frantically tried to wash him away. It was all wrong. He hated you and you hated him. That was how it worked.

 You cranked the faucet off and dropped the hose, falling back against the tub as your body shook. Your top was askew and splashed with water, your bottom half chilly from the cooling drops across your skin. You closed your eyes and swore aloud. Your plan had to been to bide your time but how much longer would you have?

tags: @they-call-me-le @holylulusworld  @petit-funsize @alexakeyloveloki @ladyofmyst @kellyn1604 @thelostallycat @grayxswan @collette04 @butteryoptimisticpeanut @buckycaptspideypool @blackpantherimagines @lilithhellfire @captainfreecandyvan @spaghettyrogers @phoenix21love @sathlens @iheartsebastianstan @lanabanana-86

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky #dark bucky barnes #dark!fic #dark!verse #darkverse #dark steve rogers #dark steve #dark!Steve Rogers #dark!steve #au #witness #fic #series

[howrry]

off to the races

a/n: if you’re having trouble picture what the dress looked like its here! anyways i loooooved writing the banter between them. here’s ceo-daddy-whatever-you-want harry going on a date with bartender!y/n :*

w/c: 5.4k

warnings: this has explicit hard drug use! if that’s not your thing please don’t read this! i certainly don’t recommend anyone use any drugs and it solely exists for the sake of this plot! also he rails her

***

Courtney stormed into the kitchen from the bar, untying her waist apron as gracefully as she could and throwing it on one of those metal rolling counters. "Have I ever mentioned I hate my job?" she bit as soon as the door slammed shut behind her.

You finished your glass of ice water, bracing yourself to go out there yourself. You relaced your shoe and adjusted your own apron. "How bad could it have been?" you asked only half rhetorically.

"He asked for a virgin martini!" she huffed, pulling the hair tie from her thick dark hair and letting it spill into her face. "Do you want me to bring you an olive in a glass?"

You laughed, mirroring her actions by tying up your own hair. "No way. You're exaggerating."

"Y/N, I argued with this elderly man for three whole minutes. He insisted he came in last week and was served a virgin martini and it was the best thing he'd ever had in a bar." Courtney went back to fish through the pockets of her apron to get the money she'd collected from the tip jar.

"Oh, are you talking about the guy that just left?" Becca, another coworker, asked from the sink. "Yeah, I served him last week. I gave him a martini glass with water, lemon bitters, and a splash of cranberry juice. Told him I cut it with a 'virgin wine'. He tipped me a $20," she brushed a chunk of blonde hair that fell into her face and went back to washing the dishes.

"God, thanks for letting me know!" Courtney groaned, counting out her share of the tips, pocketing the money and giving the rest to you. "Have fun out there. I think some business meeting was in town so there's a bunch of gross older men out there wanting their fuckin' margaritas." She casually popped open the first two buttons of her uniform's black button down as she stuffed her money in her chinos pocket.

"Watch your mouth!" Becca yelled, making the other girl laugh as she clocked out. "You'll be fine, Y/N. Rich guys tip well!" she encouraged.

"If they tip you at all," C warned just once more before slipping out the back door.

You shrugged your pessimistic coworker off and went out into the bar. The new girl who'd been out there alone seemed relieved to see you, as it was starting to get a little hectic. "What can I make for you?" you asked her, at the same moment that she shoved a sticky note covered in drink orders in your hand. Okay, time to get to work.

***

You'd been working at an upscale bar for about four months now. It had always been a dream of yours to work as a bartender, and you put yourself through the first three years of college working in and out of dingy places near your campus. Just as you started your last year towards your degree, the owner of your current workplace visited your bar by sheer chance and was impressed by you and offered a job on the spot. Your new pay was nearly double your old wage and you made much better tips, but God the patrons were terrible.

Working at a bar is virtually never smooth sailing. No matter where the joint is located, you get most of the same problems. Making drinks can get messy, and all the handiwork involved in you job made nail polish impossible. Some guys got way too fucking drunk. They tried to drive home after just one too many beers. Even the snotty rich fellas would put their manners side and start shoving others around if they thought someone was ogling their wife in a weird way. These were no picnic to deal with, but working in the nicer areas came with its own set of challenges.

Y/N learned almost immediately that rich guys were ridiculously entitled. No matter which order you serve them, at least one of them will gripe by the time you reach them. Some of them made gross comments (fortunately, your boss has a no-tolerance policy for this and with a wave of the hand, a bouncer would carry out the offending customer). They complained about how well their drinks are made and demand them to be redone. Working at shitty bars had way more freedom, because regardless of how you treat the obnoxious customers, you'll still have people who come back. But in the nicer places, reputation matters. Sometimes you have to remake that drink, even if it just means transferring it to a different glass and adding new garnish when they're not looking and handing it right back to them.

That almost always works, by the way.

Anyways, the day was terrible, just as Courtney warned. It was a Murphy's Law kind of shift and nothing sounded better than going home, kicking your shoes off, and never having to live this day over again. Fortunately, she'd been wrong about the tips and you'd had to send your coworker back at least three times to dump the tip jar out back in the office as it had been overflowing. But did it make up for how lousy the rest of the shift was? Maybe. A little.

The most beautiful words a bartender can hear are, "We close at 11." You had worked at places that stayed open until as late as 2 AM, but your current bar was closed and locked up before the day even changed. Your shifts were great, typically only being about four or five hours and getting home at reasonable hours, but the time spent there just felt tedious.

You swore it was a human instinct to check your watch incessantly whenever it's the last 15 or so minutes of your shift. Even when there was so much left to do, something about twitching to look at your wrist too often was so much more appealing than working. Usually, the only thing to stop the tick is if an interesting patron walked in.

And one did.

He was tall, commanded the room, dressed up but in all black. His hair was timelessly loose and curly, and his hands peaking out from his blazer sleeves revealed that he might be hiding some tattoos. It was suddenly like you weren't wearing a watch at all.

"What can I get for you, sir?" you cooed, maybe just a little off the mark of being subtle.

"I'll take a tequila shot, and pour one for y'self, too," he said deeply, sitting at the bar and combing through his locks with his fingers. He intimidatingly peered over you as you awkwardly scrambled around.

"I think y'know I can't do that, sir," you said apologetically, fishing out a glass and breezily pouring a shot. While putting the bottle of tequila back, you grabbed some abandoned empty glasses from the bar and moved them behind the counter. Your coworker had gone to the back an hour ago to close the kitchen, and multitasking happened to be one of your strong suits.

"I don't, actually." His hand came up to rub at his bottom lip, and you noticed the nails were painted a dark blue, almost black. The other hand grabbed the drink you slid towards him followed by a lime wedge. He didn't take it yet.

You pulled the white towel off your shoulder and wiped down the area in front of you. "It's the X-ray problem at the doctor's."

The man's pointer finger spun around the rim of the glass. "I'm sorry, the what?"

"Okay, so, you're an adult man. I assume you've been to the doctor's before."

"That'd be a correct assumption, yes."

"Have you ever had an X-ray done?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I feel like everyone has."

"Probably most people. Anyways, the doctor tells you the X-ray is completely safe, but they go to Egypt to push the button."

The man laughed, and it was honestly music to your ears. You even felt your mouth involuntarily curl up a tiny bit. "You're right. But what's that got to do with this?" He lifted the shot glass and gestured towards you with it.

"The amount of radiation that one X-ray exposes you to is so negligible its rounds off to zero, but if the doctor stands in front of the machine for 8 hours every single day he goes to work, he'll definitely get every kind of cancer." You picked up a shot glass from the stack of them behind the counter. "If I have just one shot with every person who asked, I'd definitely get alcohol poisoning."

He let out another one of his gorgeous laughs, and you could no longer hold back a bashful smile. "But is the bar not about to close?" he asked.

"We are."

"And you don't seem drunk at all t'me," he hummed, scratching his stubble.

"You're quite observant." You nodded approvingly towards an old man on the other side of the bar who drained his lager glass before tossing a few dollars into the tip jar and shrugging on his coat. You rinsed the glass in the sink before putting it in the tray to carry to the back.

The man at the bar dragged his eyes at the leaving customer, aware that you and him were now alone. The shot he'd ordered still sat in front of him. "So I guess it couldn't hurt to actually have just one, hmm?"

You wiped your hands on a clean towel, thinking it over. To make the deal sweeter, the man pulled out a $50 bill and put it on the counter between the two of you. In all honesty, you weren't impressed. This was a nice bar, to be fair. It wasn't completely rare that big shots and new money heirs came in and shoved their fortunes down everyone's throats by getting everyone's tabs and tipping in the double and triple digits. His money didn't make you shrug and pull out another glass to fill-- no, it was something else.

He seemed so familiar. You couldn't put your finger on it, but something about him felt like you knew him already. And frankly, he did make a good point. The day had been super rough, your feet were aching, and you hadn't had a drop to drink all night. Even taking the tip out of the equation, it didn't sound like a terrible idea. What would one little shot hurt?

You dabbed some water on the back of your hand and salted it, though he went straight for licking his own hand. Once the two of you were ready to take your shots, he raised his glass towards you. The smirk on his face when you clinked your glasses together made something swirl in your lower belly, but you knew the tequila would extinguish that feeling immediately.

Lick. Shoot. Suck. You'd been a pro at this since that spring break you and your friends took to South Padre Island freshman year. The liquor barely even burned at this point, and you hummed while biting at the lime in your mouth as the man sputtered just a little bit.

"Here," he groaned, picking up and trying to hand you the $50.

You waved your hand a bit at him, reaching your hand up to let your hair out of the tie. "Don't even worry about it. You were fun talking to, it's not necessary."

"I insist." He seemed steadfast, and you didn't feel like arguing. You sighed and took the money gratefully, moving to slip it into the pooled tip jar. His hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your wrist gently. "I didn't put it in the tip jar for a reason."

You breathed through your nose carefully, a little turned on at his boldness. Your hand slowly retreated and stuffed the bill into your back pocket, and the man smiled once more.

He tossed a bit more money onto the counter to pay for the shots you two just took, and scribbled something out onto a napkin. He nodded towards you and left the bar just as the clock struck 11. Becca emerged from the back to go lock the front door and didn't seem to notice you were frozen. When you finally grabbed at the napkin he'd left, it was difficult trying to read his scrawled handwriting. "Harry," was the only thing written on it, followed by 10 simple digits.

That's when it finally clicked. This was Harry, the frontman of that band from ages ago. You remember your younger sister being a huge fan of them maybe ten years back, but it was a bit out of your generation. He seemed so much older now with that behind him, and he was quite charming. And you just got his phone number!

You stuffed the napkin into the same pocket as the money he'd given you, hurriedly cleaning the bar and getting ready to go home. You didn't tell a single coworker who you'd just talked to and clocked out as fast as you absolutely could. It almost felt like it didn't really happen, and if you talked about it out loud it would turn out to be a twisted elaborate dream.

Another pro of your bar's early close: busses were still running to take you home after work. On the way back to your apartment, you typed out a quick text to your new friend. I don't suppose I ever told you my name. I'm Y/N

Quick and simple. Not wasting time. You'd never been one to be patient or drawn out, and assumed most people didn't either. Playing those wait-three-days games had ended up fizzling out most of your friends' relationships and you hated to see it.

He responded. It was lovely meeting you, Y/N

Your lips curled into a soft smile as the dots popped back up on your screen.

When might I be able to see you again? You hummed at your phone screen, thinking over what to say as the automated voice on the bus informed you that your stop was close.

I work on Tuesday next week! you offered, stuffing your phone into your pocket and hopping off the bus. As you shoved your apartment key into the lock, your cell buzzed with another reply from Harry.

I was thinking about a time where neither of us are working, but you're adorably funny. He sure was a charmer.

He ended up inviting you out to a night in the city. The party scene wasn't terribly unfamiliar for you (your college friends had always been down to get lit), but it was always at frat houses or people's apartments and not clubs that served Dom Perignon under thousand-dollar chandeliers.

The night he took you out, you'd chosen to wear a loose silver mini dress that gleamed and reflected lights around you. It was simple but flashy, something you thought Harry would appreciate. A huge part of you wanted to stop the dressy part of your outfit right there given how often you work on your feet, but you had this pair of black strap heels that had never left your closet and deserved a night out just like you did.

Something inside you expected Harry to have a driver or whatnot, but he actually pulled up in a black Cadillac, and even went up to knock on your apartment door. A true gentleman. Opened the car for you and everything.

"I was a little nervous about riding together," you admitted once the two of you were on the road together.

Harry made a noise of confusion. "How come?"

"You know when you're on a first date, and in the car or the Uber or whatever, there's that small talk before the small talk you have at the destination? Ugh, that's my kryptonite in terms of second hand embarrassment."

"The first time we met, we immediately started talking about the dentist and alcohol poisoning and going to Egypt. I think we'll be fine."

"We did not talk about going to Egy—!" you started, but he cut you off.

"Anyways, I wanted to thank you for coming out tonight with me," he announced.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. "You? Thanking me? How come?" you asked.

"Well... you met me so recently. We've had maybe three conversations. For all you know, I could be a psycho murderer."

"So could I."

He didn't see that coming. He couldn't stop a half-snort, half-giggle from escaping him. "I s'pose, but isn't it more likely to be me?"

"I think that's sexist. We should hold both genders accountable for their shortcomings."

"You consider being a psycho murderer a shortcoming?"

"Exaggerations can go both ways."

He sighed. "I'm just tryin' to say thank you. Most girls wouldn't go off with a strange man." When he realized exactly what he'd just said, he immediately tried to backtrack. "Well, I— Not that I'm constantly asking strange women to go off with me. Just a figure of speech."

It was your turn to snort at his goofiness. "Now I don't believe that for a minute. A man as attractive and charming as you should never be looking far to get his rocks off."

His eyes narrowed but his focus was on the road. "Who are you?"

"I'm Y/N," you declared simply, leaning your elbow against the car door and resting your temple on your palm. "I'm from the suburbs around here. Went to the same college as my parents. Took the same major as my mom. Put myself through school by working at an upscale bar where I meet lovely characters like yourself." You looked over to see how he was reacting to your light teasing and he was staring straight ahead, smirking.

"So you're in school?" He pulled up to a red light and looked over at you.

"I'm a senior." His head cocked confusedly and you sighed. "I'm in my last year. I graduate next semester."

"Congratulations, love." Green light. "Always wish I'd gone to school, jus' a little bit of me does."

"Hmm? Why didn't you?" you asked absentmindedly, picking at one of the crystals on your dress.

Harry actually laughed. "I was, uh, a bit busy during that time of my life."

Your head snapped up and you opened your mouth awkwardly. "Oh!" You felt so stupid. He just seemed so normal to talk to, it was easy to forget who he was and just connect with him.

"S'not stupid, it's actually quite refreshing to feel like a normal nobody sometimes," he said.

Ah, you'd just said all that out loud. "Sorry," you mumbled sheepishly. "And thanks for calling me a nobody."

The two of you had arrived at the venue. "That's not what I meant, love," he tried to get out before a valet boy in a red vest opened your car door for you.

The second your heel made contact with the pavement you were suddenly stunned by a great flash of white-- someone had just taken your picture. You blinked a couple times for your eyes to refocus, but another flash went off, then another and another. You were really close to stumbling back if someone hadn't grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards the inside of the bar.

It was Harry. Once the two of you were inside he immediately showered you in apologies. "'M so sorry, love," he said in your ear. "Didn't think that one through. We'll go in through the back next time. Hope you're okay with being on DailyMail."

Whoa whoa whoa. Next time? Through the back? DailyMail?? It was amazing how nonchalant Harry was about having paps up his ass all the time. Being famous honestly didn't seem to be all it was cracked up to be.

The bar was designed like a speakeasy. It paid homage to the Mafia days of the establishment and the lighting was low and sensual. Harry got the two of you a table and ordered some cocktails.

"How're yeh doing?" he purred, asking you once you'd settled in and gotten your beverages.

You smiled, gently gnawing on the lime twist from your Cosmo. "This is lovely, especially when I'm not the one making the drinks."

He laughed, stretching an arm behind him and shrugging off his coat, leaving him in a simple white button down that was probably not as buttoned as it was meant to be. "I'm gonna scan the room and see if I know anyone here. I'd love for yeh to get to know some new people."

After looking around a bit, he found a friend of his named Nick, a charming and tall man who had a personal space issue (not giving people any of it, that is). He let you and Harry join him and his crew, and everyone was having a lovely time together, sipping cocktails and enjoying the live music performed by a talented woman in a red dress.

That is, of course, until your hand slipped while holding an orange drink and managed to spill it on Harry's white shirt. You rushed out a hundred apologies before he could even compute what was happening but he fortunately had a good spirit about it.

"It's alright love!" he laughed, inspecting the spot. It wasn't ruined. "It's just a shirt. 'Ve got a hundred more at home. I'll go clean this up."

"I'll help you," you offered, still feeling bad. He nodded and the two of you went to the bathroom of the club, a wheelchair-accessible room really only meant for one person.

It wasn't a tight fit, though, and the two of you could comfortably move around in the space. Harry locked the door behind you two and  tossed his coat onto the counter while you dabbed at the orange stain with a wet paper towel. It was already starting to lift a bit and looked like the fabric might even be salvaged.

"See? All worked up for nothing." He gave a soft, reassuring smile and your stomach turned giddily. "It especially won't be a problem if I just keep m'jacket on all night."

Harry readjusted his coat, shaking out the lapels. As he carried out this motion, something flew out of the inside pocket that caught your eye. It was small and lightweight, but plopped down onto the floor purposefully. It was a tiny plastic bag, not even as big as the palm of your hand, and filled with a fine white powder.

The awkward silence that filled the bathroom was oxygen-depriving. His mouth opened to say something but he blanked. Even though the music from the club was floating in the air, neither of you two were quite listening to it anymore. Harry's gaze switched from you to the bag at least twice while trying to think of something to say, but you beat him to it.

"Is... is that—?" you started, staring down at the baggie.

"I... understand if this is a deal breaker," Harry explained, picking up the drugs and placing them back in his coat. His hands flew up to nervously toy with his hair.

"I want to try it," you whispered.

"Smoking backstage joints with Kacey was one thing but it's--" he stopped. "I— You— what?"

"I always have," you confirmed, eyes fixated on the pocket where he'd just stuffed the blow. You glanced back up to make eye contact. "You don't have to give it for free. I can—"

"God, no," he said. "You're not gonna take your clothes off just for some coke."

"Uh, I was going to say I'd pay you for it, but real smooth, Casanova," you snickered, making him roll his eyes.

"I wouldn't make yeh pay for it. I mean, this is a date isn't it?" he reminded.

Your shoulders tensed up at the idea of mooching off the Harry Styles for coke, but relaxed when you realized he seemed genuine. "I suppose." You paused for a minute, thinking about what to say next. "My roommate in the second year of college took home the ugliest guys just to rail a line of theirs, so it's probably pretty damn good."

He laughed, lowering his eyes comfortably. "You're not gonna do a whole line first," he said lowly. "Maybe jus' a key bump to see how you feel. D'y'know what that is?"

You smirked. "Yes. You scoop a little bit on a key and just snort that."

"Look at you," he purred proudly. "Are you okay with doing that, doll?"

You leaned your head on the wall. "Yes, sir."

Harry beamed at you and dug into his pocket. "Fuck," he groaned, "the valet boy has m'keys. Have you got yours?"

You nodded and dug into your purse for your keys. He giggled at your keychain that looked like a waffle. "Don't laugh! It's easy to find when I'm in a rush."

"I'm not judging!" he defended, isolating the key with the widest tip. "S'actually quite cute." While holding that one key between his fingers, he opened the baggie and gently squished it around. He then carefully dug out a little scoop of the soft white powder using the key. "I'm gonna do one first so you can see how it's done, then you can try one y'self, okay?"

You nodded, and he handed you the baggie to hold as he carefully kept the key steady. You watched as he meticulously brought it up to one of his nostrils, holding the other one shut with his free hand. He sniffed deeply, and once he'd cleared the key, he pulled it away and let go of his nostril to full inhale. Finally he sighed and shook his head, blinking quickly.

"Harry?"

He fluttered his eyes once more before smiling. "Wow. Never gets old." You laughed with him and he delicately took the bag back from you. "Are yeh ready?"

"Yes," you whispered. He scooped another bump out, this time a bit more erratic and unsteady. He handed you the keys and resealed the bag, slipping it into his coat pocket.

"All yours, pretty girl."

You pursed your lips for a moment and plugged one of your nostrils. You thought your hands would be shaking at this point but you were steady as a surgeon when you brought it to your face. It'd be like taking a pill, right? Like, if you failed to swallow the entire mouthful of medication and water in one go, it won't go down, so if you just did one tiny sniff you would probably choke or cough your guts out. You inhaled deeply, ensuring you got every fleck of coke off the cool metal.

Even after you'd pulled the keys away and let go of your other nostril, you were frozen standing still. Harry observed you and laughed out loud. "Y/N, exhale!"

You finally let go of the huge breath you'd just taken. Your face immediately began feeling a bit tingly and then went numb. Your brain felt like it went into hyperdrive, your skin was on fire, your heart was racing, and something deep inside you told you to run.

"How do you feel, baby?" Harry asked, and you realized his large hand was cupping your cheek.

"So fucking good," you breathed. Your eyes scanned over his face. He had shaved for the evening, since there was no stubble and he'd been a bit scruffy that night at the bar. His lips were wet and red, and his jaw was sharp as steel. This was the first time you'd really gotten a good look at his eyes and they were gorgeous. Pupils blown out by the coke, green from what you could see, littered with flecks of gold. You wanted to get lost in those eyes.

"Y/N?" he asked softly, feeling uncomfortable with you scrutinizing his face. "Are yeh sure you feel al—hmm!"

He was cut off by you diving forward to kiss him. Neither of you had even a second thought about this. Your hands were furious; both of you were pulling at buttons and zippers to expose more skin without even breaking for air. One of your hands strategically slipped down to slide over the bulge in his trousers and he gasped into the kiss.

"Can I—" he breathed over your face.

"Yes, God, yes." At the confirmation, Harry pulled you off of him completely and turned you around to face the mirror, pushing you down by your back. He pinned you between himself and the bathroom counter, your hips digging into the edge. His cock aligned with your center, grinding and shamelessly moaning before tugging up the bottom of your dress and sliding your panties to the side.

His fingers skimmed over your folds, getting to know your core and swirling around your clit. "Hmm, seems like someone gets excited when they've got a li'l blow in them," he mused. "Fuck, pet, your clit is so swollen, someday I'm gonna have to get it on my tongue."

You whined, wanting that to happen right now but were delighted nonetheless to hear his pants unzipping.

"But right now, I have to get m'self in you." You felt him fumbling around behind you before he was pressing against your entrance. "S'this okay, doll?"

You nodded desperately, dropping your head and pushing back so that the head of his cock pushed its way inside you. He groaned and grabbed your hair, pulling you up to look at yourself in the mirror. Harry guided his hips forward until finally the two of you were fit snugly and started fucking in and out of you.

If your lipstick wasn't fucked up already from the drinking and making out, it was now that he was dipping his fingers into your mouth and using the leverage to thrust into you harder. His hands smeared across your face a bit as he relentlessly buried his cock in you over and over.

At one point, you lifted one leg such that you could bring it up onto the counter beside you. From a third eye, the position may seem acrobatic and intense but was oddly uncomplicated and gave Harry a far wider range of motion. At this angle, he was unforgivingly stimulating your G-spot, turning you into a weeping puddle of whines and expletives.

"Right there harder holy fuck Harry you're so deep keep going right fucking there," were only a sample of the pathetic things falling from your lips. You could be embarrassed at your words later, right now you were way too close to an orgasm to care.

Harry was spurred on by your vocalization, as one does. One hand dug into the flesh at your hip to make the two of you collide even more intensely, while the other hand snaked down to flick at your clit with the fingers coated in your spit. When you finally did cum, you were glad that he was pinning you down so tightly as your standing leg was virtually boneless.

As if watching you fall apart on his cock wasn't enough, you had to cap it off by begging the dirtiest things you could think of from him. "Cum inside me, daddy, please fill me up, show everyone who's cunt this is, please."

His hips stuttered once before he shoved the entire length back in you and came until his member stopped twitching. When he caught his breath, he pulled out and watched the soft white liquid seep out after him. He went to touch it and you recoiled.

"Sorry, m'sensitive," you weeped, and he ran his other hand through your hair while putting himself away.

"I should be sorry. Fucked the stand out of ya," he noted with a chuckle, assisting you getting redressed.

Once the two of you were presentable enough to step back out into the club and the thick sex atmosphere had wafted away, the tension grew. "So,  uh, it's getting kind of late, hmm?" you led. "Maybe I should be on my way." Part of you didn't want to leave, but all good things had to come to an end and it was better to err on the safe side rather than overstay your welcome.

He laughed, pulling you to him by your waist. His eyes scanned over you and the smirk on his face was downright devilish. "Oh darling, if you think for even a moment that this evening is over, you're quite mistaken."

Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you back into the noisy crowd of the club, where your night was just starting to begin.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fiction #jawllines #permanentcross #haroldloverboy #harryforvogue #inwhichitrytowritesomething #BOOYAAH i lied and said id post it tomorrow but i finished editing early #imma go smoke then buy some new jeans bye babessss

[taronfanfic]

Familiar

The bell over the door rang out cheerily to let you know someone had come in so you stopped washing up and grabbed the towel to dry off your hands.

“Sorry, I’m just closing up!” You called out ahead of you as skipped up the small step and returned behind the counter of your tiny café to help see whoever it was back out safely.

“Ah no, I’m sorry. I don’t actually want anything I was just, hiding for a moment.” The man readjusted the baseball cap on his head as he looked back over his shoulder and out the window. “Sorry,” He apologised again with a haste smile. “I’ve not don’t anything bad, I’m not a criminal, don’t worry. Just photographers. Doing my head in today and I don’t want them following me back to where I’m staying.”

“It’s fine, take a seat and hide out in the corner. I’ve still got some cleaning up to do so I can give you 5 minutes of peace.” He seemed oddly familiar but with the mention of photographers and being in L.A you’d probably seen him on TV or the cover or a magazine before.

“Are you sure? That would be amazing!” There was a warmth to his eyes that helped to frame the truth in his tone of voice. He seemed genuine and grateful to have stumbled into your world for a little bit and you were more than happy to have a handsome face to admire at the end of your long day.

“I can close the shutter down too if it’ll help? Then sneak out the back in a few minutes when they’ll have given up the chase.”

“You make it sound like you’ve done this before?”

“Maybe once or twice. It’s L.A, kinda comes with the territory, right?” With the door locked and the shutter closed you saw the man relax back into a seat and pull out his phone from his pocket. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” You introduced yourself.

“Yes, sorry. Taron. My head’s still going at a million miles an hour.”

“Don’t worry. I did say I was closed, but I can still get you a drink if you’d like one? Coffee?”

“Got anything stronger, Y/N?” He looked up from his phone and there was a strange familiarity that came from hearing him say your name.

“There’s a dash of rum in the icing on that cake, but other than that this is an alcohol- free premises I’m afraid.”

“Coffee’s great then.”

You still had cleaning up to do but you knew you wouldn’t be able to focus on that until you’d figured out where you recognised Taron from. A silence fell in the conversation as you made up two fresh coffees, plated up the last slice of cake and took it over to the table Taron was sat at along with two forks.

“It needs using up so dig in.” You smiled as you joined him and got to take a closer look at his face.  

“Thank you, let me know how much I owe you too.”

“On the house.”

“Really? I think this is my new favourite café in town. Have you been here for long? You don’t sound local.” Taron was quick to pick up a fork and help himself to the cake as he let his coffee cool.

“Nearly two years now. I moved over here with my ex but ended up falling in love with this place more than him.” Admitting that had Taron laughing and it made you smile. It left you with a weird sense of nostalgia too, but you pushed it to one side as you got to work on the opposite side of the slice of cake.

“Relationships, eh? Never quite know what’s going to happen but they’ll always leave you with a good story to tell!”

“Go on then, give me one of your best.”

“Alright,” He sat and thought for a few seconds. “So it was a holiday romance, wasn’t ever going to last more than a week. But it was my first trip away with the boys when we were 17. I decided to go all out for this girl, proper impress her and show the boys how true romance was done. Now I’d spent most of the week on the chase, flirting, teasing, giving it the big one and then I’d asked her to meet me down on the beach on the Friday night. It was just going to be the two of us, and I’d got this picnic pulled together; even got away with buying a bottle of wine despite being underage!”

“I’m already impressed, this is serious effort for a girl you weren’t going to see again.”

“Right! It was all going so well, too well…” He paused to sip his coffee.

“Oh no!”

“So she turns up and it’s all cute. We’re getting a bit tipsy on the wine as the sun goes down but I’d not factored in the tide to my set-up and after 20 minutes our feet are inches away from getting wet. I was a bit embarrassed but laughed it off as we got up to move back up the beach. Thing was I thought it’d be cool to light a few of those little candles too and as I dragged the rug up the beach they all flipped over and set it alight, not just a little bit either, it was properly on fire!”

“Fuck!”

“I lobbed it into the sea to put it out and thankfully no one got hurt, but the date ended pretty quickly after that. Never got the kiss I was after and never saw her again.”

“Oh man, and after all that effort too. I hope that didn’t dampen your spirits for any future romance!”

“Not a chance. Once a romantic, always a romantic.”

“Good. The first boy I ever kissed was one of those cheesy romantic types, and that was a holiday romance too! He left me with fond memories of a cute café and now I’m living here with my very own. Funny how things work out in life.”

“It’s got a very French feel to it.” Taron replied as he looked around at the interior décor you’d spent hours selecting. “So tell me about this romantic first kiss, did he bring you flowers?”

“He did actually! I was on holiday in France with my family staying in a house in a small village which had a café on the corner of two roads, he was staying down one as we were on the other and we’d see each other most mornings and do that little shy smile that teenagers do.”

“Do you remember what the café was called?” Taron asked with a slight frown.

“No, I was never any good at remembering stuff like that. Why?”

“No, it’s ok. Carry on.” He sat back in his chair and you felt his eyes looking over your face more closely as you continued.

“One day he handed this scrap of paper to me which had a little map drawn on it with an X by the café and 9pm in the top corner. I had to sneak out the house to go and meet him there, but I made it and he was waiting with a bunch of flowers that I think he’d picked from gardens on his way to meet me.” You paused as Taron was sat with the biggest grin on his face.

“Y/N,” He said simply. “The world is a scarily small place sometimes, and you’re right; I had picked all those flowers on my way to meet you.”

“What, no!? You can’t be…”

“How many other Taron’s have you met? We’re quite rare!”

“God you’ve changed a lot!” You put your fork down as you sat in shock and tried to take it all in. He gave you a moment to really look at his face and piece it all together and then smiled along with your smile.

“Wow!” You shook your head.

“That was my first kiss too, y’know.”

“Fond memories?”

“Absolutely! Can I give you a hug? You look like you need one.”

“Yeah, I’m just…” As you stood up from the table and stepped in to hug Taron your feelings of warmth and nostalgia from earlier caught up with you. “I can’t believe I’ve seen you again, this is so weird.”

“I did a double take when you first came out here, but I didn’t want to say anything in case it wasn’t you. And I’d already kind of made a scene on my way in.”

“Never do anything by halves do you?”

“No,” He laughed softly as he released you from the hug. “But when it feels like the world is on your side you’ve got to make the most if it, haven’t you? What do you say to meeting me for a drink later tonight?”

“I’d like that, yeah. Just don’t go stealing flowers on your way and make sure it’s somewhere without candles!” You joked as Taron turned back to the counter and picked up your pen and notepad. The map he scribbled out was as detailed as his first one for you all those years ago. Two roads meeting at a corner with an X inside a building and 9pm in the top left corner. You giggled over his shoulder as you watched him create it, then flip the paper over and write his phone number on the back.

“Text me and I’ll let you know the name of the bar.”

“I will. I guess I’ll see you later then, Taron.”

“Y/N.” He grinned before ducking out the back door of your café.

  Request: I was wondering if you could write something where Taron is in another country for some reason & reader helps him get away from paparazzi, they go starts to talk. They feel like they know each other,they dont say anything about it.After talkning for hours they start to talk about firsts & then realise that they spent a family holliday in the same contry as teenager and that they where each others first fling and first kiss 

Tag list: @egerton-sweetie  @amanda-tallmadge  @lizziespidiepridie @leanimal90 @anantheminmyheart22 @aynsleywalker @bohemianrhapsody86 @butterfliesslugswormsandothershi @manners-maketh-taron @livingincompletesilence @marvelmakeuplover @ohsosmutty @misspygmypie  @manners-maketh-a-kingsman @courtmr @baileythepenguin @thomaslefteyebrow @witchymarvelspacecase @samanthasmileys @nellietara @i-cant-remember-my-old-login@wheresmylightinthedark 

#taron egerton #taron egerton imagine #taron x reader #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton fanfic

[alexandralyman]

escape (the pina colada song)

Just a little S7, CS drabble that’s vaguely spoilery for Regina and Killian’s new Seattle identities and jobs but nothing beyond that, and assumes Killian is cursed with no memory of Emma.

Monday is Pina Colada Night at Roni’s, when the bartenders wear plastic flower leis and serve $3 drink specials to help drum up business on the slowest night of the week.

John Rogers hates rum, hates bars, but he gets dragged along with the 8 p.m shift change that is as predictable as the tide. Clock out, change from uniform to civilian clothes, and go get shitfaced. Wednesdays at the Irish pub for Guinness and darts, Fridays at that place with a DJ and dancefloor and girls who liked cops (in that way that just makes him vaguely ill), and Mondays at Roni’s.

She’s got the heat on even though they’re in the middle of an Indian summer, to add to the “tropical” atmosphere (and, he suspects, to sell even more of the ice-cold drinks) but he leaves his black cotton jacket on while the rest of his co-workers are knocking back vast quantities of rum and pineapple juice in T-shirts and shorts. He’s never quite fit in with the rest of them, his accent marking him as an outsider every time he opens his mouth (which isn’t often, when he’s not on duty) and he nurses his single drink and counts down the minutes until he can make his exit without anyone noticing. He just needs to wait until his partner, Chalmers, finds the girl he’s going to hit on and probably go home with at the end of the night. Chalmers was everything John was not, a smooth-talker with the ladies who’d been nicknamed “Prince Charming” back at the precinct for his ability to charm his way into the beds of the fairer sex. Roni was a rare holdout, rolling her eyes at Chalmers’s pick up lines and telling him just where he could shove his so-called charm.

“I’ve met a real prince charming or two back in my day, and believe me, you don’t even come close.”

Roni’s not his friend, not exactly, but anyone who tells off his arrogant prick of a partner is fine by him.

“Hey, Rogers, check out the blonde who just walked in. Never seen her in here before.”

John looks up from his phone and the fishing game he was playing to pass the time (one of these days he was going to buy his own boat, he even has a picture of a tall ship set as his wallpaper) and squints in the direction Chalmers was pointing. She was facing away from to them, and all he could see was long blonde hair hanging down a slim back and a fantastic arse in a pair of tight jeans. Perfect, she was just his partner’s type and once Chalmers was distracted enough by her, John would leave a healthy tip for Roni and head back to his own small flat a few blocks away.

Alone.

The way he likes it.

Roni brings a fresh round to their table and accepts the bills Chalmers hands her to send a pina colada to the mystery blonde. His fishing game beeped in his hand, but John finds himself watching as she makes her way through the crowd with the gift and taps the woman on her shoulder. Chalmers sits up straighter beside him, pasting on a toothy grin when Roni gestures towards him, her lips moving as she obviously explains that he had sent over the drink. It was an opening gambit that didn’t always work, some women were reluctant to accept drinks from strange men in bars, but Chalmers elbows him painfully in the ribs when she takes the glass and slips the red straw between her lips. John feels the breath catch in his throat, even from across the room he can see that she's a stunningly beautiful woman. He suddenly wishes that he had sent her the drink, even though he never hits on women in bars. His utter lack of any kind of love or sex life was near daily cannon fodder to both his partner and fellow cops, barbed jabs lobbed back and forth in the bullpen that he ignores for the most part. 

“Wish me luck, not that I’ll need it.”

“Good luck mate,” he says automatically, lying though his teeth. He wishes for Chalmers to get eaten by the inflatable crocodile that always hangs above the bar on Pina Colada Night, a grinning pool toy that sports oversized novelty sunglasses and a straw hat instead. The blonde has been swallowed up by the crowd and Chalmers leaves the table to find her, John eyes the path to the door, it’s hot, he hates rum, and bars, and he longs for the cool quiet of his flat, with the ship in the bottle that he bought at the flea market sitting on his nightstand and the new swan-feather pillow that is supposed to help him sleep.

“Hey.”

John looks up at the voice and blinks in surprise to see the blonde standing by his table, drink in hand. She’s wearing a white T-shirt that is slightly transparent under the lights (he’s a man, he notices) and a strange necklace, a silver chain with two little charms hanging just above her breasts. One is a skull and the other is a dagger, it looks like something a pirate would wear on the high seas, not a gorgeous (and single? maybe? was he that lucky?) blonde in the middle of Seattle. She holds the glass in her right hand and the left is behind her back, jammed in the pocket of her jeans. John can’t see if she’s wearing a wedding ring and he suddenly, desperately hopes that she’s not.

“Thanks for the drink.”

He feels his eyes widen and a flush in his cheeks, she thought he had sent her the pina colada? A quick glance over her shoulder shows him that Roni has detained Chalmers, he’s got his back to them and Roni’s dark gaze meets John’s for a moment before she goes back to whatever it is she’s saying. The bar owner is not his friend, but she hates his partner and he realizes that she’s keeping Chalmers occupied so that he can talk to the blonde instead. Panic wells up in him, he’s not good at this, he’s never been good at this, and he has no bloody clue what to do or say.

“You’re very welcome, love.”

The endearment slips out before he can stop it and a smile lifts her lips that makes his heart miss a beat.

“Come here often?” she asks, with a hint of something he can’t quite decipher behind the question.

“Not nearly often enough, since this is the first time I’ve ever seen you.”

He’s no Prince Charming, but he surprises himself with the words that make her lovely face blush behind her curtain of hair that reminds him of the yellow buttercups in his neighbour’s windowbox, the ones that he always stops and looks at for a moment on his way to work in the morning.

She leaves with him, stepping out into the perpetual Seattle drizzle that has her white T-shirt going even more see-through in moments, but John Rogers is an officer and a gentleman and he gives her his black cotton jacket to wear, after she pulls him to her by the lapels and kisses him soundly in the shadows of the alley next to Roni’s.

He hates rum, but he loves the taste of it from her mouth, all sugar and spice and pineapple juice. It’s sweet and tart and he just might start drinking it more often, especially if she drinks it with him. 

He doesn’t make it to darts at the pub on Wednesday, as soon as he clocks out he goes against the tide and buys both a bottle of Bacardi and a bunch of buttercups for his date with the woman who hasn’t left his thoughts since Pina Colada Night. There’s freshly washed sheets on his bed and an unopened pack of condoms tucked in the nightstand drawer under his ship in a bottle.

A man can dream, after all, and John thinks that Emma Jones moving to Seattle from some little town in Maine he can’t remember the name of is a dream come true.

#cs fic #cs ff #my fic

[thotyssey]

tHOTlist 2017 # 100 - 51

100)  Marty Thomas

Famous Broadway wig and hair stylist Marty Thomas maintains his super-popular weekly revue DIVA at Industry, where he and a cast of female singers and special guests cover the best in pop and showtunes. This year he also started hosting an open mic night at Rise Bar, and he continues to do it all despite a debilitating leg injury he received this year.

 99)  DJ Amber Valentine    

Whether she’s spinning for the ladies at her weekly party “Misster” at Brooklyn’s The Woods or at Henrietta Hudson in the West Village, or she’s dropping the beats for mixed crowds like in Deryck Todd’s STRUT, this veteran DJ brings a downtown chic wherever she goes.

98)  Alotta McGriddles

One of Brooklyn’s most outspoken queens is also one of the borough’s busiest. With her Alotta Stuff hand-picked vintage collection she sells from her home bar Metropolitan, her loooong-running monthly Alotta Stuff Auction she co-hosts with Thorgy Thor or Acid Betty, her weekly trivia night at Metropolitan, her monthly charity show for Gays Against Guns in the West Village’s Rockbar and her new monthly pairing with Ari Kiki at Phoenix, there are a lot of places to catch this larger-than-life, unfiltered fashionista.

97)  Nowhere Bar

The East Village’s friendly neighborhood bar for smart people, featuring rotating and pop-up events both fabulous and kinky, weekly gogo boys cut from a manlier mold, and an eclectic roster of DJs. One highlight: DJ Sean McMahill’s monthly “Fire in the Hole” ginger worshipfest.

96)  Boudoir LeFleur

It’s rare that a virtually unknown young drag queen wins a coveted summer residency at Fire Island’s Cherry’s on the Bay, and then goes on to win Miss Cherry’s 2017 after that, but… hello, Boudoir! She owes a lot of that to luck and timing, but no one can deny that her combination of Vaudeville Jezebel fashions and gypsy magic stage presence bring something very unique and fresh to the Dragisphere. See her Mondays at Icon, and check out her occasional pairing with Kimmi Moore as killer drag duo The Assassins… actual sparks fly!

95)  DJ Scotty Rox

A favorite drag show DJ with a decade-plus career in the biz (GLAM-nominated again this year), you can also find him spinning a few dance parties these days at venues like the Ritz, Atlas and Alibi uptown.

94)  Ritzy Bitz

After winning both Miss West End in 2016 and Cunt of the Year at the last SLAM Awards, it was becoming obvious that Little Miss Bitz was about to Arrive. Now with a long-running brunch show at La Pulperia and another solo show at Vodka Soda / Bottoms Up (both in HK), a stint with Shequida this past summer at the Pines, and a new role in the “Bad Bitch Review” ensemble at Rebar, NY’s most athletic queen has officially leapt to stardom.

93)  Boy Radio

The Deep End bartender is an accomplished musician who’s music is even more sexy, stylish and soulful than his personage. Check his YouTube for a pretty solid offering of tracks and videos he dropped this year.

92)  Kareem McJagger

Whether he’s performing an original song parody in full on drag at Boots & Saddle’s GLOW Saturdays, pouring you a drink at The Cock’s Playpen Mondays while nearly naked, or doing any number of amazing things somehwere in between, this performer embodies the cool of NYC nightlife. And now you can see him “werk” on his new monthly party at Rebar, Flash (Me) Fridays.

91)  Get Out Magazine

The last “rag” (that’s a term of endearment) on the rack in every gay bar in the city, there are inevitable rumors that in the Age of Screens, editor Mike Todd’s Get Out is about to live up to its namesake. Let’s hope that’s not true. Blogs and apps are great, but absolutely nothing compares to the beauty and solidity of a printed, bound magazine, with beautiful sexy pictures you can touch. As for nightlife subjects themselves, of course they’d rather see their pics and interviews in print then on a screen. Who wouldn’t? The GLAMS voters, at least, have given special props to the staff of Get Out this year: Eileen Shapiro, their spirited on-the-spot interviewer, got her very first Best Writer nom, as did a more recent staff edition, the always-nearly-naked columnist Ian-Michael Bergeron. 

90)  Amber Martin

Here’s a multi-talented artist who’s learned to always keep it fresh and varied during her long tenure in NYC nightlife. Whether she’s spinning vinyl monthly at Julius’ popular “Mattachine” with John Cameron Mitchell, or crooning “elevator music” for her new Club Cumming residency, or rocking out a rendition of “Rhiannon” on the Irving Plaza stage for “Night of 1000 Stevies,” or bartending for her own variety show “The Amber Zone” at Sid Gold’s, or DJing darker stuff in character as part of the “Witch Camp” multimedia experience, or donning Reba drag for a holiday showcase at Stonewall, or recording an album of original songs… we live to go adrift in Amber’s waves.

89)  The Urban Bear

Robert Valin’s party conglomerate continues to provide a quality forum for the larger and the hairier to frolic. And with the “body positivity” movement on the rise, the definition of “beardom” is becoming more diverse… so the more the merrier. The Urban Bear Weekend is a major destination for the movement, and gets larger every year. Also, check out the monthly UB party at Rockbar.

88)   Jada Valenciaga

The living image and textbook definition of what it means to be a fierce queen, Jada is kind to everyone but takes shit from no one. And with dancing and costume and face and personality, she is at 1000% all the time. Adding much needed color (in every sense) to the largely white cast of the Fusion TV drag reality show Shade: Queens of NYC, she also gigs all over town – notably the Voss Events Sunday Dag Brunch at the Highline Ballroom and “Gurlesque” at Barracuda. And have you seen her lovely new music video, or her angry meme face that came out of a now-notorious Shade press event? My only request: when can we see Solo Weekly Jada????

87)  Switch n’ Play

This large troupe of drag kings and burlesquers has been at it for so long, none of the original members are left. But that just means that its performers continue to evolve and redefine themselves – one trait that helped get them a Brooklyn Nightlife Award this year. See their monthly residency at Branded Saloon, and discover for yourself what makes this outfit special.

86)  Shuga Cain

Being nice and professional in this biz goes a long way; having a flawless lip sync, colorful looks and an infectious stage presence on top of all that makes you a candidate for Goddess. Just ask Shuga! She exploded in 2017, and now you can find her hosting a solo show at Hardware and co-hosting another with sister JanSport at Pieces, plus turning it with the Voss Drag Brunch girls and hostng a new party at Atlas. And she bakes!

85)  Therapy Bar

If you hate Hell’s Kitchen, you’ll probably really hate Therapy Bar at first glance. It runs like an upscale restaurant, and there’s an air of plasticity that only the imperfect can smell. But when you get over all that you’ll find a nice bar staff, good food, reasonably priced drinks and some of the best drag shows in the city – including Paige Turner’s “Slurp,” and “The Help” starring Pixie Aventura and Monet X Change. Also, Marti Gould Cummings’ “Stage Fright” talk show gets legit celebrities to come by.

84)  Nedra Belle

We’ve almost gotten used to the thrill of seeing our queens compete on RuPaul’s Drag Race, which is a hugely popular yet still-fringe show. So when Nedra’s alter ego Chris Weaver got on Jennifer Hudson’s team on The Voice, it was a lot. And then when she came back for the finale as Nedra to perform with Stephanie’s Child and Jessie J, it was every motherfucking thing. We’re happy for her success, and happier to have her back in NYC hosting a show at Boots & Saddle and co-hosting The Ultimate Drag Pageant at the West End.

83)  The Carry Nation

Legacy veteran DJs Will Automagic and Nita Aviance’s dynamic DJ duo slayed their residence at Brooklyn’s Good Room this year, drawing huge, mixed crowds month after month.

82)  Cielo

The Meatpacking discotheque has one of the last moderately large dance floors in the city, and queer parties like Trade, Furball and Horse Meat Disco line up to get in on their calendar.

81)  Spunk

Luis Gomez assembles the absolute sexiest guys, period. Honey Davenport hosts the parties where said sexy guys dance all around you, like Thursday night’s Monster bash and the somewhat raunchier Ice Palace version… while Holly Dae handles both the Sunday night affair at Pieces with dark booths for lap dancing and Saturdays nights at FairyTail Lounge where the Spunkers (along with guys from Adonis Lounge) just descend on you. If you’re horny and want to rub up on a guy and have lots of dollars to throw around and stick into places, get thee to a Spunk affair.

80)  The West End

Way out in the wilderness of the Upper West Side, the West End’s full service cabaret stage draws a very mixed crowd of gay genre lovers and straight bypassers. Home to the Ultimate Drag Pageant and weekly and monthly drag shows as well as full-on musical productions and revues, there’s something here for everyone… if you can make it out there. Bonus: bartender Peter Dunn, who also produces a lot of the shows there, is adorbs and a sweetheart.

79)  Phil Chanel

A hot new event producer and promoter who’s all over the place, its hard to know where to even begin listing. Let’s say he’s at the Monster and Rebar a lot, and Castro Bar before it closed, and all over Jersey, and at Boots & Saddle’s GLOW.  But giving off a fun vibe that makes one unsure of whether you’re a host or a guest is a good skill to have! These days you can also see him co-presenting the “Polish That Queen” drag competition at Stonewall with Kristy Blaze and DJ King Ralphy.

78)  DJ Natazu

Back again at Boots & Saddle where his NY career began, this GLAM-nominated Thai trade also DJs for top queens in Therapy and Barracuda, while spinning the Thursday night dance party at Rise. Not to mention he’s Bob the Drag Queen’s chosen DJ for special out-of-town events.

77)  Deryck Todd

The couture hat designer has been producing the East Village’s most scene queen heavy weekly party, STRUT at Acme, for several years now, and celebrities from nightlife and beyond come through. This year Deryck also tried out some new events at Bedlam on Avenue C.

76)  The Bars of Richie Friendley & Associates

Friendley, Mickey Spillane, Jr. (son of the same-named mobster), Kurt Kalm and Scott Sternick, all of whom I believe are straight, own to varying degrees Vodka Soda Bottoms Up, Mickey Spillanes, Mr. Biggs and DBL in Hell’s Kitchen. These bars (and, from what I hear, these guys) aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but they certainly incorporate a gay business empire in HK. Two things all these properties have in common: dirt cheap drinks and cute boys behind the bar, so no complaints there. Plus, fun queens work in VSBU, like Ritzy Bitz, Adriana Trenta, Chaka Khanvict and Ally Ganza.

75)  DJ Xavier Mazara

This disco nugget is DJing, like, one fourth of Manhattan’s drag shows right now, plus a few club nights. Professional and agreeable, don’t be surprised if he wins the Best DJ GLAM this year.

74)  Boots & Saddle Drag Lounge

Still boasting the most drag shows per week (by far), the West Village institution is dealing with growing pains since moving to its much larger location about two years ago. And some of the apparently whackadoo business practices and staffing decisions that go down there become the talk of the town. But when it works, it works. Some of the best queens in the city still do shows there, new talent is born there every year, and regular customers remain loyal. And for the record, they now have their cutest bar staff in recent memory. Oh, and the tacos are yummy, too.

73)  Vita Summers

A pageant queen who won many crowns in 2016, Miss Vita was in high demand this year, in and out of the city. She don’t rest on pretty: she’ll sing like an angel and cuss like the Devil to keep the crowd entertained. Find her these days hosting happy hour at Pieces.

72)  James Michael Avance

The year’s breakout and most in-demand editorial photographer in nightlife, his colorful and dramatic shots of drag queens and other folks are all over social media. 

71)   Pattaya Hart

Cementing her role as a true pageant queen this year by winning two coveted crowns, Miss’d America and Miss Liberty Continental – plus a very strong showing in the Continental finals – Pattaya is still first and foremost a really entertaining showgirl. Check out her slaying dance chops as she performs with Industry’s “QUEEN” revue, or the cast of the Voss Events Sunday Drag Brunch. And for the full hosting package, there’s her Boots & Saddle show which Pattaya finally returned to this year.

 70)  Jackie Cox

She won “So You Think You Can Drag All-Stars!” She produced and starred in two hit back-to-back shows at the Laurie Beechman Theatre (I Dream of Jackie and it’s sequel)! Her holiday Beechman shows with frequent collaborator Paige Turner were also hits! This is a rare queen whose gifts as a true musical comedy stage actor and writer really shine through what on first glance can be perceived as very silly, light material. Now all we need is some venue to give us a weekly dose of Jackie!

69)  Bob The Drag Queen

Last year’s Drag Race winner was one of New York’s most popular and beloved queens. When Bob took her talents out of the bars and to the next level, which she was bound to do, there was a tectonic shift in nightlife as her vacant posts were filled and everybody moved up a peg. Fortunately, Bob has come through a few times this year to host special events, occasionally including the competition at Monster she created, Look Queen. And her company with Mitch Ferrino, The Only Productions, always brings the year’s most tremendous Halloween kiki spectacle in the city.

68)  Brandon Voss

The journalist and event producer who made his success and fortune from NYC nightlife very rarely gets involved in life that happens at night these days. His wildly successful Voss Events drag brunches go down in five or six American cities each weekend, with each brunch gathering that city’s top roster of performing queens every week (that’s something that no mom-and-pop venue could ever hope to afford), so Voss certainly employs a lot of top NYC talent. He’s also a major sponsor for and liaison between all these venues and Drag Race. Voss is the butt of a lot of “here’s the guy who killed nightlife” jokes. But then again, Voss Events’ “Queen of the Ride” monthly booze bus, where passengers are treated to impromptu drag performances on the street as they pass, is actually a pretty cool and creative idea.

67)  Yuhua Hamasaki

When this queen’s Friday night show moved from Boots & Saddle to Pieces and wound up being called “Trading Spaces,” it was the TEA of the town. After spending a chunk of time off doing important stuff in another realm, Yuhua’s now back at Pieces as well as Lucky Cheng’s, and back to designing gowns and costumes for nearly every queen in NYC, and several high profile queens beyond. 2018′s gonna be big for our gurl!

66)   Lee VaLone

When a Brooklyn burlesquing drag king with an ocean of creative ideas can’t get booked as much as, say, a basic drag queen, a Brooklyn burlesquing drag king creates his own gigs. That’s what Lee has done, and there’s quite a variety of performance experiences we now have as a result. Catch VeLone hosting and guesting in shows all over the borough, but most notably Bizarre Bushwick where Lee co-hosts “Sinner’s Kit Kat Cabaret” with Vic Sin, and hosts both the “Jump Shark” monthly open stage night and the long-running and popular drag/burlesque revue “BEEF.”

65) The Ritz

The Ritz on a weekend, filled to capacity on two floors with twentysomethings flailing to basic pop, is your heaven or your hell. But the place that brought us “Our Lady of Saliva” has more to offer then that scene.On Thursdays there are a happy hour bear party from Shane Tate upstairs and Morgan Royel’s late night hip hop party downstairs, plus Maddelynn Hatter and the gals of TURNt killing it Wednesday nights.

64)  Vinny Vega

Nightlife’s most recognizable and reliable gogo boy has become a gogo man! He’s branching out into other aspects of the biz, like photography and party promotion. Check out the new monthly he hosts at Atlas, “Voyeur.”

63)   Miz Cracker 

Bob the Drag Queen’s heir apparent to the NYC Comedy Queen throne is beloved by her sisters and fans alike, and can still find the balance between being a civic-minded voice of reason and reading a bitch to filth. Catch her at Barracuda and Hardware, and now with the gals of TURNt at the Ritz. Plus, this just in: a monthly at Intermezzo in Chelsea! 2017 was good for Cracker, and 2018 is gonna be epic.

62)  Jasmine Rice LaBeija

When Jasmine took to Facebook Live to call out the pageant judges and their “stunts” after not placing in Miss Stonewall a few months ago, it was a great drag tea moment where she perfectly channeled her Drag House Mother, the late Crystal LaBeija. She had a similar moment on FB Live just recently where she clapped back at reality TV show Shades: Queens of NYC co-star Paige Turner (”The Wicked Witch of Whoville”). Just BIG Tea Moments that queens are still gagging over. And if those weren’t enough, Jasmine continuously lived up to her own hype in 2017, winning Miss Liberty Continental Plus and a Miss Lady Liberty Showdown in a remarkable performance where she sang opera live with a full orchestra. And it goes without saying, she steals every scene in Shade! Catch Jasmine live at Barracuda (every two weeks on Wednesday), Pieces (Thursday), District Social and Hardware (both Sunday).

61)  Ragamuffin

This creative and versatile Brooklyn queen with the trademark heavy eyes is still co-hosting one of the borough’s most popular drag shows, “Mondays on Mondays” at Macri Park (with Ruby Roo), and headlining her monthly workshop / show “Failure” at Bizarre. And now on top of an additional weekly late night Sunday gig at Metro Bar, Raga has made a Manhattan presence as well. She co-starred with Pixie Aventura at Hardware for a month, and now is part of the regular cast of Club Cummings’ Tuesday night variety show, “Mary.”

60)  FiFi DuBois

A fan favorite at Boots & Saddle for a long time now (she’s their longest tenured queen at the moment), FiFi’s been serving fun, goofy numbers and jokes for awhile now. Then in just the past few years, she dipped her toes into pageantry, and by the end of this year she’s Miss’d America 2016, Miss Stonewall 2017 and Miss Boots & Saddle 2017, not to mention Top 13 in the prestigious national Continental pageant. Three cheers for FiFi!

 59) Logan Hardcore  

With her long-running show at Stonewall now a West Village institution, and her summer residency at the Ice Palace one of Fire Island’s biggest draws, New York drag’s favorite bitchy queen and her scarily spontaneous, unfiltered wit just keep on trucking… and evolving.

58)  Rockbar

Undeniably Manhattan’s most eclectic venue. On any given night you can experience drag shows, full-on burlesque revues, standup comedy, karaoke, trivia nights, viewing parties of the gay TV shows of the moment, live rock bands, underwear parties, fetish parties, and lots and lots of bear parties. Being three or four blocks away from the main strip of Gay Christopher Street has been a hindrance, but everybody finally seems to be catching on that there’s something special happening here. 

57)  Ari Kiki

The city’s number one messy comedy queen with the crazy crooked lips and hairy boobs is now the house mother of the Boots & Saddle sisterhood, and the role couldn’t have gone to a nicer gal. Besides being funny AF – both deliberately, and in a “falling off the stage” sort of way – she’s just good people. See her Wednesdays and Saturdays at Boots, plus monthly hosting the RIOT benefit show at her other home bar where everybody loves her, Stonewall. Oh, and now she’s also taking the East Village by storm as well, with a monthly Saturday evening Rampage alongside Alotta McGriddles.

56) DJ 2Face

Last year’s Best DJ winner at the GLAMs (and a nominee again this year) remains one of the most popular DJs in the city for drag shows and dance parties. Catch him these days at Hardware, Pieces, Rise and Vodka Soda Bottoms Up, and there’s a pretty good chance he’ll be the man behind the booth for any super high-profile kiki in the city.

55)  JanSport

Last year’s breakout drag star is still this year’s breakout drag star. With a genuine musical theater pedigree, she’s gone from an amazing novelty Kris Jenner impersonator (although she still drinks regularly from the Well of K) to a well-rounded, multifaceted performer. This year she became Icon’s Friday night star, and co-hosts Wednesday night with Shuga Cain at Pieces. She’s also done a commercial for LG USA Mobile, and as a member of smash singing drag trio Stephanie’s Child she recently performed on The Voice finale with Nedra Belle and slayed on a whole new level.

54)  Amanda Lepore

With NYC nightlife’s most iconic face (and body), Amanda passed into legendary status while barely uttering a word – which made her tell-all autobiography published this year that much more fascinating. On top of her hit book, Amanda of course was present at only the most amazing parties of the year, and she’s even recorded a full-length album of originals and covers that is all so very Lepore.

53) Shequida

One of the city’s most seasoned and talented entertainers is still going strong as ever, with her popular Hardware solo show and the “Drag Wars” competition she hosts at Pieces, plus she hosts the Voss Events Sunday Drag Brunch. Shequida also made a triumphant return to Fire Island this summer (this time at the Pines), and brought her opera diva character Jessye Normous to the Beechman recently.

52)  Sasha Velour

The recent winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race’s 9th Season represents the Brooklyn scene at it’s best… fiercely creative, intelligent, and serious, but with an exciting edge. She quickly spawned legions of inspired disciples, basic copycats and parodists (think about all of the projectors and rose petals you saw in drag this year). And fortunately she never stays away from the city too long… her “NIGHTGOWNS” shows, which bring together the best of Brooklyn nightlife and Drag Race all-stars for unusually dramatic multimedia performances, represent a whole new nightlife / theatrical experience for us to process.

51) Jeff Eason

If veteran on-the-scene nightlife photographer Jeff isn’t there to snap a pic of a thing, the thing never was.

Continue to 50 to 1

[sueboohscorner]

Season 4 premiere of #Gotham is here! Review, Rate, Spoilers. Episode one "Pax Penguina"

Greetings and salutations my fellow Gothamites. Yes, it is that wonderful time of year once again; the time for a new season, new characters, and new hero in the making that the city of Gotham truly deserves. A Dark Knight. (See how I added the tagline there?)

A strange system of unionized crime, an exciting new club in town, a Riddler-sicle, some alleyway butt-kicking, and an answer to the question that has been buzzing around for three years: “What the heck happened to Jonathan Crane?”

Season four of Gotham, episode one. Here we go.

And right off the bat, (pun not intended at first, but now that I think about it, pun totally intended), we see a masked figure save a family from some thugs with some good old-fashioned fisticuffs. Who was that masked figure you might ask? Why, it’s Bruce Wayne (David Mazouz) dabbling in some vigilantism (and doing a pretty good job so far, I might add). After the skirmish, Bruce discovers that the thugs possessed a license with a very familiar umbrella-shaped stamp on it.

Elsewhere, without Bruce’s knowledge, Ra’s al Ghul (Alexander Siddig) observes Bruce’s escalades like a mentor watches a student or how a father watches his own son.  

            We then see a wedding in progress. Everyone’s having fun, they’re happy, the band pulls a proper Rick Rolling, and a good time is being had by all. But since this is Gotham City, the celebration is cut off, of course, by some hicks in masks and armed to the teeth. You know the drill, they demand cash, phones, jewelry, valuables and nobody gets hurt. You know how you do.

            A whistle rings through the hall; almost like a signal. Everyone turns their heads to see…. Victor Zsasz (Anthony Carrigan)! Man, I’ve missed him!

            He, in his own way, politely informed the gunmen that in order to commit a crime in Gotham, you gotta have a license; and the only way to get a license is to ask the Penguin and give him a good cut of the earnings. As long as you have those licenses, you can commit a crime without being arrested or persecuted by the police. The leader of the hicks, Merton (Michael Buscemi), says hell to the no on that offer. In return, Zsasz shoots his finger clean off, causing the hicks to run along. The bride and groom thank Victor for saving their wedding from the thugs….only to be bombarded by other thugs that do have a license.

What did you expect? It’s Gotham.

            Meanwhile, in a creepy, dimly lit, congressional looking room, the new Mayor and commissioner of Gotham are having a meeting with the former mayor and now full-time Kingpin Oswald Cobblepot (Robin Lord Taylor). And, basically, since Penguin has organized and unionized crime, the crime rate has been cut by 57%. A historic low for the city of Gotham. Mayor Burke (Larry Pine) is all-in-all “thankful” for Penguin’s um…”contributions” to help keep the city safe, but he is still hesitant about the new licensed criminals’ system. With a somewhat calm exterior and a smile, Penguin insists on how exactly the hordes of criminals that once prowled the streets of Gotham…

            First, he hunted them down, then he-

Okay, okay fine. Use your imagination. The point is: Oswald Cobblepot mad Gotham City safer. However, Gotham will ALWAYS have crime. And all that he’s asking from Mayor Burke is to have crime be put in the hands of professionals. A simple deal with simple terms….well, yeah, I mean, Penguin does get a sweet profit from it; but being the expert negotiator he is, Mayor Burke and the commissioner get a little percentage of the profits themselves.

Unionized crime, no press, no police interference, and a piece of the pie for everyone. God bless America.

            We finally see Jim Gordon (Ben McKenzie) make an appearance as he takes a visit to a bar for his coffee. Unfortunately, Jim stumbled upon a random thug robbing the bartender at gunpoint. Jim gets ready to do his GCPD thing when the thug tells him that he has a license…….needless to say, Jim Gordon does not give a single rat’s ass and arrests the fool. Ah, good old Jim. Good to be back.

            At Wayne Manor, Alfred (Sean Pertwee) confronts Bruce about his late night activities. While Bruce informs Alfred that he intends to stop Penguin’s new crime syndicate. Such a busy boy Master B is.

            Remember those hicks at the wedding? We see Merton and his partner Grady (Michael Maize) take a stroll down to Arkham Asylum to visit a certain patient. A certain patient that we have not seen in three years or so: Jonathan Crane (Charlie Tahan).

(It’s been so long!)

            In his years of confinement, the effects of the fear toxin, created by his whack-a-doo father, are still well within Jonathan’s system; causing him to live with his mind being in a constant state of fear which had left Jonathan traumatized and with a self-made, imagined “Boogeyman” scarecrow-like being that haunts him.  Merton and Grady bribe the Warden of Arkham (Damian Young) to let them take Jonathan Crane with them. They drag him out of his cell and close up to see a drawing that Jonathan had been scribbling on the floor almost obsessively.

            They take Jonathan back to his home and uncover more of his father’s experimental drugs for the fear toxin. With the use of an actual scarecrow, Merton and Grady force Jonathan to make more of the toxin, which they have weaponized and use it to rob a bank on live television to show that Penguin a lesson.

            While investigating the crime scene, Jim notices that the method the hick thugs used was very similar to Gerald Crane’s fear toxin and informs his partner in crime Harvey Bullock (Donal Logue). From this, they deduce that Merton must have forced Jonathan to reveal the fear toxin formula.

            Jim and Harvey pay a visit to the Warden at Arkham Asylum, which wasn’t exactly very fruitful. So, they go to Grady’s apartment. Unfortunately for them, he and Merton were waiting for them. The head hick Merton explains that they want to send a message to Penguin about him and his licenses.

            Elsewhere, we see Selina Kyle (Camren Bicondova) walking alone at night in an alley. Since this is Gotham, a bunch of muggers take notice and surround her.

But guess what? Selina was hoping they would do that and then she pulled out that whip and when ALL KINDS of proto-Catwoman on them! One guy tries to get up and attack Selina from behind when Tabitha Galavan (Jessica Lucas) and knocks him right upside the head. This was a teaching moment for Tabitha to give to Selina. Never turn your back on a guy unless you know for sure that he’s down. And a lesson learned means pizza for Selina and Tabby.

            After bringing a box of pepperoni-covered goodness back to their apartment, Tabitha and Selina see that Victor Zsasz has been waiting for them. Though he did not come with violent intentions, Victor did come with a request: that Tabitha and Selina should come over to Penguin, get a license, and let a lot of vicious and scaring bygones be vicious and scaring bygones. Selina full-heartedly agrees with the promise of more power, money, and a better place to live. Having her pride, Tabitha refuses.

            At the not-yet-opened Iceberg Lounge, Oswald Cobblepot gives a statement to inaugurate his new club. A club to see and be seen. The conference of reporters inquire about the new licenses and crime in the city. Oswald gives a rousing statement about how Caesar Augustus once had a period of calm with rarely any violent acts of crime or aggression. He called it “Pax Romana”. Cobblepot goes on to state that without the GCPD getting in the way, this could possibly be known as his “Pax Penguina.”

            Oswald then reveals his most “interesting” centerpiece: Edward Nygma, the Riddler himself (Corey Michael Smith) completely frozen solid.

            (Eh, I’ve already made like a ton of ice puns….)

            Making use of the advice that Bruce gave him, Jim Gordon marches into the club and informs Penguin that the gang of hicks (look, I know they probably have a better name than that, but once you watch the episode, you’d call them the same thing) are coming after Penguin with fear toxin. Jim’s threat and antagonizing goads Oswald into wanting to catch the gang of hicks for himself.

            Opening night of the Iceberg Lounge is going splendidly. The sights, lights, sounds, music, the mingling, the top-drawer of Gotham’s society attending, and the apropos ice-themed décor makes it look like a gathering of Gatsbys. Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth are even in attending too. However, Bruce has more of a hidden agenda to be there than just to make an appearance as a Wayne. He means to uncover any information he can get about Penguin’s new licenses for legal crime. Bruce and Oswald have a conversation underlined with so much more that what is being said. Very Batman, I might add.

Without realizing it completely, Oswald reveals that he is working with a man that has a list of people with licenses. Bruce intends to make his move until he sees Selina Kyle from across the room.

            Ignoring Bruce and focusing on her true intention, Selina talks to Victor Zsasz about agreeing to get a license. Victor implies that the deal was meant for her and her babysitter, Tabitha. Coincidentally, Tabitha shows up behind Selina and agrees to get a license from Penguin.

            Meanwhile, the gang of hicks decide to attack Penguin at his inauguration. With Jonathan have made more of the fear toxin, they take the scarecrow, throw it in a closet and Jonathan along with it, locking the door.

            In his fear-induced hallucination, Jonathan sees the scarecrow come to life once again and comes toward him. Trying with all of his might, with his primal screams of terror, and plead after plead to let him out of the closet, Jonathan is completely alone, completely trapped with his personal boogeyman.

            Jonathan falls to the ground, cowering, whimpering, and shaking. His hallucination calls out to him, “Jonathan….Jonathan….Jonathan…

JONATHAN!”

            Back at the Lounge, or more likely, outside the Lounge, Bruce meets up with Selina who is walking along the rooftop.

            The conversation that commences between them, how can I put it? It’s probably one of the most Batman talking to Catwoman and Selina Kyle talking back to Bruce Wayne thing I have ever seen.

            Bruce apologizes for snapping at Selina the way he did back at the hospital. Selina plays coy and insists that she can’t hear him unless he comes to the edge of the roof with her. Bruce walks along the ledge with no problem, which impresses Selina. The reunion of star-crossed vigilantes is interrupted by Alfred who informs Bruce that there is a situation building inside.

            The gang of hicks, you know, as AMAZINGLY SUBTLE AS THEY ARE, managed to get caught by Penguin and Zsasz and are brought out in the party as an example of criminals without licenses. How if the GCPD and people like the hicks continue, no one is safe. Bruce steps up to Penguin and asks what he plans to do with those criminals. With a quick tilt of the head and a smile, Oswald insures that he has nothing to be concerned with regarding that particular subject.

This angers the already scorned Ivy Pepper (Maggie Geha) and she sneaks off to find the main power switch and shut the party down.

            The sudden blackout causes people to panic and, using that panic to their advantage, the gang of hicks sprays Oswald Cobblepot with the fear toxin, causing him to hallucinate a monstrous version of Edward Nygma coming back to life.

            Honestly, when I first saw the image of hallucination Edward, it kinda reminded me of those reptile-like people you see in those Believe It Or Not books.

            With Jim, Bullock, Alfred, and Zsasz trying to find and fight the hicks, Grady manages to get away. A quivering and distraught Oswald is left grasping onto Jim Gordon, suffering the devastating effects of the fear toxin.  

            The next night, in full mask and overcoat, Bruce manages to get the list of other criminals with licenses. (Also, in a very Batman-like way). On a rooftop, Bruce accidentally comes upon a robbery in progress. As he leans in closer on the window overlooking the scene, the structure breaks and Bruce falls into the building. In a hurry, the burglars leave. Sirens can be seen and heard from the outside, leaving Bruce being caught without his mask.

            Back at the Crane House, Grady to get more of the fear toxin from Jonathan. He goes to the closet and calls out for him, “Jonathan! Hey, Crane!”

            Only a distorted voice answers back.

“Jonathan Crane isn’t here anymore.”

            Grady adjusts his eyes to the horror, the creature inside the closet where Jonathan Crane once was. A hemp-like material stretched, wrapped, and sewed around him like skin. Spikes of straw seeping out of his body. Two dark circles with a glowing white hue stare straight at Grady.

“IT’S JUST THE SCARECROW!”

             PHEW! There was a lot stuff going on in this premiere!

First off: it was a very well shot episode and a very, VERY well written episode. Even though, with some episodes, when Gotham puts so much in an episode, it does feel rushed and too busy. This episode did not. Yes, there was lot going on, but the pacing of both the dialogue and action was very well done.

THINGS I LIKED:

I think I can speak for the majority for the Gotham audience when I say,

“Yes! Victor Zsasz! Yes!”

Anthony Carrigan brings so much weight to a character in the Batman comics that isn’t very well known. I absolutely love Carrigan’s approach to Zsasz. His brand of crazy and psychotic reality is very evident in his speech, his movement; Do not misunderstand, the character of Zsasz in both Gotham and in the comics is as insane and threatening, but in Gotham, this Zsasz doesn’t need to go full crazy with his tally marks and constant need for liberation. Carrigan plays at Victor Zsasz’s madness like he had a mesh lid on it. He doesn’t just bombard the audience with crazy all the time, but now and again, the sadistic killer seeps through and you can tell that Anthony Carrigan is loving every minute of it and so are we.

I would like to see more scars on Zsasz, or have them continue some focus on the tally marks on his body like they did in the first season. I think it would be cool if we could intermittently see more and more tallies accumulate.

I love what they did with Jonathan Crane and I love what Charlie Tahan did with him too.  Well done. And I’m not just saying this cause Scarecrow is one of my top ten favorite Batman villains. His transformation into the Scarecrow, I really liked too. His fear, his hallucination, his own boogeyman completely consumed what was left of Jonathan Crane. When he said “Jonathan Crane isn’t here anymore”, he actually means it. I have got to give major props to the writers for doing so much and doing it so well with Jonathan in just ONE episode. I can’t wait to see what Scarecrow has up his newly parchment sleeve.

It is so nice and refreshing to see Oswald Cobblepot go back to being a crime boss and back to being the Penguin. Creating a system of unionized crime that is legal in a way that actually makes sense, getting the Mayor of Gotham and the commissioner of the police department to agree to this system, take a part in it, and look the other way, stealing the Sirens’ Club and making it his infamous Iceberg Lounge, parading his defeat of the Riddler and making it seem like he’s helping a friend with a rare brain disease (freaking hilarious by the way. He just had that story teed up and ready to go), cutting down the crime rate by 57%, and doing all this while keeping a smile on his face and having an answer and response for anything that comes his way.

 I also enjoyed his little moment of vulnerability as he had a private talk with himself and the green popsicle. “Which one of us is really frozen?” Quite the ponder.

Of course, seeing Bruce getting more comfortable in being a vigilante, but not quite Batman yet, is always a treat. I spazzed out like such a nerd during his talk with Jim Gordon and how he left the conversation before it was over. Just the whole conversation was such a Gordon/Batman moment.

I did like the conversation between Bruce and Selina. It was very coy and it had such undertone to it.

Basically any moment with Harvey Bullock is awesome.

THINGS I DID NOT LIKE:

If I had a dollar for every time Selina had the attitude of “You don’t know anything about me”, I could afford to go see IT in theaters as much as I damn well please.

Those hicks…….seriously?

As a member of the awesome group called Gotham Addicts, (look them up on Facebook and Twitter, they’re awesome) I asked some good friends of mine in that group to give their take on the episode. And boy, oh, boy, do they have thoughts. They have thoughts, opinions, likes, dislikes, and theories. Check out what these awesome peeps had to say about the episode and on things even I didn’t notice:

“Predictions for Penguin...I feel he will be the one to thaw out Ed. The fear gas will drive him to it to possibly make the scary Ed go away. He might free him. He's the only one who knows how; through Victor Freis. I also feel the fear gas will be used on Bruce, which will be leading to his "BAT" moment and making him Batman.

The show moved at a nice pace. Didn't even realize the time flew by. It left you wanting so much more. I love the fact they jumped right into the story. It didn't need a painful build up. It was good seeing Harvey be Harvey. He got to be heroic before, now he's back to himself and leaving all the rebel cop stuff to Gordon. It was great seeing Gordon, being the cop and not saving the world. I always enjoy the interactions between Gordon and Harvey.

As for the Penguin: It was good to see him return to his old gangster self at the end of season 3...But now he's a huge crime boss and in charge. This is the Penguin he was meant to be. The scene in the mayor's office was the perfect example of his cold calculating mind and his sheer powerful presence. They couldn't disagree. He made it impossible for them to do so...by his speech. God Bless America...and then the mayor smiled. Awesome scene.

The private moment with his trophy. Or Edward. That was deeper than most think. The “who is really frozen” comment and that look. You can see the warmth that still flickers in his cold heart. The sad sob story about why Ed was in ice and the way he played the heartstrings of his crowd. Damn he's so masterful at manipulating people. A gift. It’s simply a gift.

All the scenes between Penguin and Gordon were classic. Penguin is the hero Gotham NEEDS...Gordon is the Hero they WANT...The news reporters ate up every fact that Penguin threw at them and Gordon still held his ground. The tension between them is just amazing stuff. The ending where after the Penguin calls out the GCPD for being useless and HE was the only one that can save Gotham, then him being hit with the fear gas. Who does Penguin run to? Gordon to save him... just made the whole scene go off the chart when you think of how those in the crowd and readers of the news are feeling.

Even though I didn’t care for the cowboy criminals, I did love the reintroduction of Crane and then Scarecrow...that Warden, what a piece of work...still felt it was rushed compared to the other storylines. The battle of Gordon with the other cops and Harvey about doing the job they were hired to do. Felt like old times. Good times. It's refreshing to see the show get out of the freaks/virus theme and back to go old crime ridden city.”

-         S. Howard

“As a fan of Gotham and Batman overall, I'm excited to see these characters finally developing into the Batman characters that we know and love. Bruce is on a mission to save Gotham while also giving this businesslike demeanor when talking to people such as Gordon or Penguin. Selina is bringing cat woman to life with the famous whip play and her cat like reflexes. As for surprised in the episode I was a bit shocked when Ivy betrayed Penguin in a small way and turned out the lights in the nightclub, giving the “Outlores” the advantage to attack Penguin. Although, now that I think about it, her actions were understandable. Penguin has been cold and calculating for the past six months and has probably been very snappy with her. The poor girl is only going to take so much of his abuse. As for Penguin himself, he has taken Gotham city by the throat and refuses to let go. The city is his giant playground with him issuing legal licenses for crime and all. I actually had an "awe" moment when he was standing in the Iceberg Lounge talking to Edward Nygma, who is still encased in ice. To me, that scene showed that he still misses Edward and the talks they used to share. I still have hopes that the two will make amends and be friends again.....or maybe more. Although, Penguin's going to have to get past that frightening image of Ed from the fear toxin. This season started off with a bang, and things are only going to get crazier from here. I'm buckling my seat belt and hanging on for dear life because this is going to be one hell of a ride!

It was just little things I noticed when I watched that scene again. First off, the smoke in the background was turning into question marks and the little question marks protruding from Edward's head. This obviously represents the Ed's obsession with riddles and puzzles. As the nightmare sequence progresses, you see that Edward's face becomes distorted and the background turns hazy.....almost like Oswald is gazing at him from underwater, leading back to the point when Edward shot Oswald and tossed him in the river. This could very well be Oswald's greatest fear because it was a point where closest to actually dying......had it not been for Ivy saving him later, and since his "resurrection," Edward's attempted to kill him multiple times and every time, Oswald has escaped.....sometimes within an inch of his life. I believe that nightmare sequence is showing us that Oswald's greatest fear is that Edward will eventually thaw out of the ice and will this time succeed in killing him.”

-         Megan R.

Overall, I’d give this episode a 9.8 out of 10

Well, that was one heck of an episode. I don’t think I have much more to say except:

See you next time.

And as always, Stay weird Gotham.

#Gotham (TV series) #Gotham Recap #Gotham

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 22 - PHI - Thanksgiving Playoffs

If you have participated in any of the sorrow that was the last five years of this Buffalo Sabres organization you probably are acutely aware of how special this team is right now. Set aside the last six games of non-stop victorious results and what do you get? A team hovering around .500 hockey is what you have. That gets you roughly where Ottawa is now hovering around the middle of the division. Instead, six straight wins has put the Sabres at third in the division and fifth in the league as of last night. That kind of success has not been seen from the Sabres in damn near a decade and it’s got us competitive-hockey-starved fans whispering, if not openly talking about the playoffs. It is November and Ryan Stimson at the Athletic did a great job in his recent piece showing that statistically this Sabres team still has a lot to prove if it’s to actually be a playoff team in April. But let’s for a second pretend that (and no I am not going to offer any prelude on the trash Flyers or their monstrous mascot… hmm I may offer some thoughts on Gritty later) the 20-25 game Thanksgiving mark in the NHL is an indicator of 100% certainty of whom makes the playoffs. In this world of the Thanksgiving playoffs the picture is more charitable than it looks: a Leafs team that has essentially become the Borg, able to add and subtract limbs as if they’re nothing and still win; a Tampa Bay team that minus well be a walking salary cap cheat code but is not invulnerable; and a Boston team that is good enough to kill but a little imprecise with their weapons. A surging Montreal also trails up the rear but in actuality fits in just find there because they actually stink like a behind. I paint this picture because while the Sabres are not a playoff shoe-in by any stretch, the roadmap for them clinching their first berth in the big dance in seven seasons is laying out before them. You probably still don’t get in playing .500 hockey from here on out, but with a few more of these steals here or there it’s not an absurd proposition or even that much of a reach anymore.

Want to hear an absurd proposition: the Philadelphia Flyers. They’re a shade under .500 hockey and emblemize what the Sabres need to be better than over the next four and a half months; as the old saying goes: you don’t need to be the fastest runner to escape a Gritty, you just need to outrun the slowest runner. I went to this game and after this win streak the billing was that the first home game back was going to be lit. It was nothing short of pandemonium. The cheers were deafening as the Sabres took the ice for warm ups. The place was packed for the anthems and there were rolling cheers, even up in the 300 level where I was before any goal was scored. At 3:38 of the first the fun began when Jeff Skinner shot right down the center barrel on a rush on Flyers goalie Alex Lyon. Key Bank Center erupted but Buffalo just kept rolling. Under two minutes later at 5:20 of the first the fan favorite black sheep Tage Thompson put in a second one for the home team real sausy up in front of the net. Tommer as they call him reminded us what you can do with 6’5” on that goal. The coaching staff’s black sheep scored next: Evan Rodrigues cleaned up a rebound in front of the Flyers goal at 8:55 and the Buffalo Sabres are now up 3-0 before we’re even halfway through the first period. Powerplay goal? Powerplay goal! Yea, these Sabres leading first is quite novel isn’t it?

You would think that lead satisfies all the family in town for Thanksgiving, the Sabres not only dominated the Flyers in goals in the 1st, they dominated shots, hits and just about every other category. It was a clinic. However, Dr. Larsson was in and decided he wanted a Gordie Howe hat trick. Streaking into the O-Zone with less than a minute left Johan Larsson sunk the Sabres fourth goal of the game and his second of the year. The arena was still on its feet moments later when Johan Larsson teed off on Flyer Scott Laughton. Now I don’t want to appear like I am encouraging fights but wow: that was a boost. The Sabres bench got a real kick out of it and I’ve never been to a boxing match but the punch by punch cheers are how I imagine they sound. Both of them got fighting calls at the first period ended in uproarious cheers. If this game was only one period the Flyers would have fled this game with their tails between their legs. It was exactly the kind of game you want on Thanksgiving eve through one period. I met up with a guy in town for Thanksgiving in the concessions line and the joy on his face was palpable. Having moved to Baltimore after college he was older now with kids of his own and missed the fun Sabres of his youth. He felt like a kid again.

The second period was not quite as fun from a Sabres perspective. Evidently Dave Hakstol gave one of his great college ra-ra speeches in the intermission because the Flyers came out breaking up passes and pulling back the possession game. Claude Giroux made his presence known on a pass from Couturier and the visitors were on the board. At 13:51 of the second period future Sabre Wayne Simmons cleaned up a rare Carter Hutton rebound and got the Flyers within two goals. A ghastly high sticking penalty on Zemgus Girgensons, his second stick to the face in as many games resulted in a penalty on Flyer Sean Couturier at Buffalo went on the powerplay. It was fruitless but the Sabres regained some momentum to finish out the second there in spite of the Flyers closing the gap in every metric. The Third felt like a pregnant chicken. I hate to say it felt like the Sabres were going to screw it up but laying an egg in this game would not have been a surprise given how the Sabres have actually played during this win streak. Alex Lyon had not played since the first period and his relief was Calvin Pickard who got the rare goalie penalty call. For a solid minute I thought it would be a penalty shot but it was just a powerplay and the Sabres didn’t make good on that one either; after all, they got to remind us who were watching, right? You got to play bad before you score the goals or bad after you score the goals; I supposed its fine as long as they score the goals. As the regulation dragged to a close the Sabres wanted to not just hold onto the win but give all the apron-clad fans something to cheer their way out to. Once the Flyers goalie was pulled the opportunity came when the classic combination of Jack Eichel and Sam Reinhart found their way into the zone pestered by the white jerseys. Eichel’s shot went wide but he got it again behind the net and got it to Reinhart who did not miss. 5-2 Sabres win. Seven straight wins for the first time since the President’s Trophy Sabres of 2006-2007. Happy Thanksgiving!

I mentioned before going into this game that this home game was billed as a big one. It’s the year’s biggest bar night and the day before Thanksgiving so that ticket is desirable whether the Sabres are on a win streak of about to lose seven straight like this time last season. The Sabres did not clinch a spot in the imaginary Thanksgiving Playoffs in this game; they didn’t even take the division lead believe it or not, but they did take a big step forward in winning back hearts and minds. The last seven years of this team has been varying degrees of atrocious and if this Sabres team can do one thing with this spotlight its tell Buffalo at least that this isn’t the shitshow you’ve become accustomed to since 2012. They did that and against a team very few Buffalonians have any warm feelings about. Doing something similar Friday afternoon in a Black Friday battle against a division rival like the Canadiens can similarly win more hearts and minds. It feels a little greedy to ask for considering it would be eight straight but home games right now are solid gold. This team isn’t just winning games; they’re on a redemption tour now.

Friday against the Habs will be fun. I hope this New Look Sabres finds you on a warm and cozy family Thanksgiving. I hope you didn’t read this instead of hanging out with the fam… well unless they’re talking politics or the Bills, in that case I get it. I want to take this opportunity to tell you I am thankful for you the reader. I know it sounds cheesy but that “Thanks for reading” I put at the end is dead serious. I treasure anyone who spends a little time reading my rambling thoughts and I want you to know I am thankful you do on this holiday. Like this post, leave me a comment on what about the Sabres you’re thankful for and hey, retweet and share this around! A very Happy Thanksgiving to you, the Sabres certainly gave us something to be happy about! See you Friday!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. It’s almost as if the Hockey Gods sent down the mascot anti-Christ as a very Philadelphia distraction for another mundane Flyers season.

#buffalo sabres #hockey #win #streak #nhl #blog

[itsworn]

Restored 1969 Chevrolet Camaro SS396 Goes Back for a Helping of Day-Two Goodness

Mike Angelo’s shiny Tuxedo Black 1969 Camaro SS juxtaposed with the shabby paint of the ballyhooed barn finds of recent years led me to a surprising conclusion: Shiny paint looks better than shabby paint. That comes as a bit of a concession given my infatuation with original paint barn/garage/field/shop/treehouse finds. Barn finds typically reveal an exciting story of the hunt, discovery, and acquisition of a forgotten or rare muscle car. Not a second thought is given by the real car guy as to the dilapidated and threadbare condition of the unearthed muscle car.

Barn finds are cool, agreed, but a shiny paint restoration like this one dresses up our beloved muscle cars in a proper black tuxedo. The phenomenon of spectators walking past beautifully restored, primo muscle cars to get to the barn find section leaves me speechless. Little Johnny might look cute having rolled around in the mud during playtime, but parading him around town for the next few weeks in that state seeking accolades for said cuteness seems a bit deviant. Left to run its course, bogus barn finds could be the next hot trend in muscle car forgeries.

Which car is more significant, shabby paint original or shiny paint restored? Which wing of the airplane is more valuable? Both the barn find scavenger and the highly skilled restorer serve as heroes in the muscle car world. But let’s be honest. It is the competent restorer who is craftsman, research specialist, and muscle car rescue ranger.

Consider the restoration journey that led to this real-deal L78 1969 Camaro SS. In the 1990s, Mike Angelo enjoyed driving his pristine 1972 Monte Carlo to cruise nights and shows. But he had been bitten by the 1969 Camaro bug. Both a car guy and an aircraft mechanic, Mike had developed the skills to perform his own restoration. Therefore, he looked for a highly desirable project Camaro that was both unique and desirable.

The hunt ended in the late 1990s when Mike found this Camaro. The car was in rough shape. The quarter-panels had been nicely replaced, but work had stopped as the owner shifted priorities. Included in the deal was the original Muncie M22 four-speed transmission (with the car’s VIN factory stamped on the case), the original BV-code 12-bolt Posi rear with 4.10 gears, and a replacement JH block. That block would be the basis for building a replacement L78 engine to exact factory appearance. Since it was the late 1990s, the seller had been able to accumulate N.O.S. fenders and hood for the Camaro project.

Mike liked what he saw, but he needed to establish how the car was equipped when new. Even though there was no paperwork with the car, sharp detective work revealed the original assembly line status of the Camaro SS. In 1969, the M22 had been installed only in Camaros originally equipped with solid-lifter-camshaft motors, the Z/28 302/290hp small-block, the L78 (iron head) and L89 (aluminum head) versions of the 396/375 horse motors, and the COPO L72 427 cars. The trim tag body code on Mike’s car, X66, indicated that it was a big-block base Camaro, and therefore not the small-block Z/28. Additionally, the build date was May 12, so it was too late to be a real COPO car. Hence, the original VIN stamped in the M22 transmission along with the X66 body code established the car as a L78 Camaro SS.

The Tuxedo Black color, which accounted for only 2 percent of 1969 Camaros, along with the red Hockey Stick stripes, were the icing on the cake. Mike especially liked the small picture that came with the car, which supported the Camaro’s as-born status. He struck up a deal with the owner, loaded up the car and parts, and dragged it back to the 30×40-foot shop that sits behind his home in Ohio.

Though Mike is technically an amateur, the quality of his automotive restoration work is second to none. He has performed major restorations on other Chevrolets over the years, including two 1969 Z/28s, two 1969 L78 Camaros, two 1969 COPO Camaros, a 1966 Chevelle SS396, and his aforementioned 1972 Monte Carlo. The restoration of his Tuxedo Black L78 Camaro SS to OE original condition was completed in 1999. The day-two touches were added about five years ago, influenced in part by Mike’s buddy, day-two champion Grady Burch (whose red day-two Camaro was our Jan. 2017 cover car).

The sight of Mike’s immaculate Code 10 Tuxedo Black 1969 Camaro SS, accessorized with Cragar cuff links, is jolting. It triggers a craving for shiny paint strong enough to drive even the most devoted barn-find fanatic to skedaddle down to the local parts store for a new can of wax and an assortment of diaper-soft polishing cloths. Shabby paint is fine, but shiny paint looks better, especially when it’s shiny Tuxedo Black.

At a Glance

1969 Camaro SS Owned by: Mike Angelo, North Canton, OH Restored by: Owner Engine: 396ci/375hp L78 V-8 Transmission: Muncie M22 heavy-duty close-ratio 4-speed manual Rearend: BV-code 12-bolt with 4.10 gears and Positraction Interior: Black Custom vinyl bucket seat Wheels: 15×6 front, 15×7 rear Cragar SS Tires: G78-15 Goodyear Power Streak front, 9.00×15 Goodyear Blue Streak cheater slicks rear Special Parts: Mr. Gasket tachometer, Lakewood Traction Action slapper bars, Hooker headers, exhaust dumps, Cal Custom air cleaner

Mike Angelo’s 1969 Camaro SS was built at the Norwood, Ohio, plant on May 12, 1969. The car was originally delivered to and sold at Lang Chevrolet in Fairborn, Ohio. Total production of L78-equipped 1969 Camaros was 4,889 units. Research reveals that Mike’s Camaro has had 11 owners. He purchased the car from a local Ohio Camaro collector in the late 1990s.

Much gratitude to Mike for serving in the Navy from 1966 to 1972. The patriotic front license plate shows his continued support for all veterans. When a Code 10 Tuxedo Black 1969 Camaro was ordered with the SS package, the Argent Silver grille was used. All other SS cars received a black grille.

The 396ci/375hp motor is not the born-with engine, but it is built with a JH four-bolt-main 396 block, correct for the year and the car. From the factory, the L78 came with a forged steel crankshaft and rods, forged aluminum pistons with an 11:1 compression ratio, a high-lift solid-lifter camshaft, a high-rise aluminum intake manifold, and a Holley R4346 carburetor.

The engine compartment sports a Cal Custom Fly Eye air cleaner and Hooker headers for a nice exhaust note. Beyond those two changes, the engine compartment is stock.

On the right side of the trim tag, the “10 10 PNT” in the second line denotes Code 10 Tuxedo Black paint. The right-side third line has “X66,” which is the body code for a big-block engine in a base Camaro with no exterior bright trim.

The partial VIN stamping, “19N642112,” connects this M22 transmission with the matching VIN on Mike’s Camaro. The stamping on the transmission, along with the “X66” on the trim tag, identifies this Camaro as a real L78 car.

“TO506JH” on the pad indicates a 396/375hp engine. When Mike purchased the project Camaro, this correct replacement JH block was included in the deal.

The black custom interior is complemented nicely with an RPO D55 center console and U17 gauges, a factory Hurst shifter, and a Deluxe Wood steering wheel.

The steering column plays host to this mint and rare Mr. Gasket 8,000-rpm tachometer for the subtle day-two vibe.

Optional J52 power front discs improve braking. Day-two wheel and tire package includes vintage Cragar wheels with the correctly shaped spokes, as opposed to the flatter spokes found on the new Cragars.

Though the exact date of this picture is not known, it is thought to be early in the life of the car. Easily recognized are the red Hockey Stick stripe, Rally wheels, and redline tires. Note also that the car is wearing the 396 emblems, SS hood and grille emblem, and Argent Silver grille.

The post Restored 1969 Chevrolet Camaro SS396 Goes Back for a Helping of Day-Two Goodness appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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[hammerofthezods]

Movie Review - THE Karate Kid - PART 2!

This is the second movie in the Karate Kid action series.  I'm starting with part two because that's what was on last night after I had finished drinking my one-hundreth beer of the day.

So, there's this kid (man?) named Daniel Larusso who used to be really bad at karate until he got pretty good at it and beat Johnny Lawrence and the way cool Cobra Kai team in the All-Valley Karate tournament.  Johnny only makes a brief appearance in this movie when he gets killed by his old karate coach at the beginning.  Daniel is played by Ralph Machio who you probably remember from your collection of Tiger Beat magazine covers.  While Ralph is a total heartthrob, his character Daniel is LAME. AS. SHIT.  Seriously, Daniel Larusso is probably the worst kid ever.  He whines constantly and acts like a little bitch, but somehow still manages to date questionably attractive girls and win karate fights on the reg.  Another super lame thing about Daniel is his mom who is literally the worst.  His mom is really terrible and I just cant even...   

The movie starts just after Daniel defeats Johnny in the big fight.  Daniel walks out to the parking lot where his teacher, Mr. Miyagi, is bitching about being hungry.  Before they can go celebrate at Bennigans (because you just know that's where they're going), Miyagi has to fight the leader of the Cobra Kai because he just broke Johnny Lawrence's neck as retribution for losing to lame ass Daniel.  So then, I guess they go to Bennigans to eat.   

The next scene starts when Mr. Miyagi is at his house trying to catch a fly with chopsticks.  By the way, is this not the dumbest activity ever? So, Miyagi actually catches a fly and is super proud of himself when Daniel rolls up in his car that is on fire.  Daniel has just come from his school prom and his wearing the same tuxedo that Jeff Daniels wore in Dumb and Dumber.  This movie was made in 1986 and I'm pretty sure that nobody was still wearing these terrible tuxedos, but I guess the costume designer decided not to give a shit about historical accuracy that day.  Anyway, Daniel is all pissed because his girlfriend, Elizabeth Shue (sometimes hot), dumped him for some other guy who probably wasn’t nearly as insufferable as Daniel.  I guess she left Daniel on prom night which is a total player move.  So, Daniel is pissed and Miyagi is all like "You always come over here and bitch about shit.  The only way to feel better is to help me build stuff in my backyard."  So Daniel learns how to hold a hammer and then he feels better.         

Daniel is getting ready to go to college when Miyagi finds out that he has to go to Okinawa, Japan because his dad died.  Daniel says "I'm going with you because I just know that I'm going to get bullied in college".  So now they go to Japan and on the plane Daniel reads a book about Okinawa because that's just how damn awful he is.  When they get there, they get picked up at the airport and driven to meet Miyagi's best friend in a  warehouse.  Miyagi's friend's name is Sato and he actually hates Miyagi because they used to try to date the same girl.  Sato is way rich and pretty much owns Okinawa. Sato tells Miyagi that while he's in town they are going to fight to the death because I guess that's a thing there.  After Miyagi says no to the death match, he and Daniel go to Miyagi's dad's house and there we get to meet some Japanese people.  I forgot to mention earlier that Sato has a nephew named Chozen which is a totally dumb name.  It's obvious that Chozen is going to be a main villain in this movie because he acts pretty tough and intimidates Daniel greatly.         

So, Daniel wakes up the next day and finds Miyagi sitting in the family dojo.  There's a bunch of spears and shit on the walls and Daniel probably wishes that he had some weapons like that.  Now Daniel and Miyagi walk around the village and Miyagi tells him that the secret to karate is learning how to play with this weird looking hand drum.  Just in case you weren't clear on how dumb Daniel is, when Miyagi tells him about the drum, Daniel's all like "Oh yeah, I totally get how that would make me good at fighting".  Terrible.  Anyway, Daniel is now walking down the street when he sees Chozen selling carrots to the villagers.  They are paying for the carrots with what look like ancient caveman money, which Jesus, they had actual money in 1986 so stop making us think that this is some feudal village.  Daniel thinks that Chozen is ripping people off with the caveman money, which is such a boss move, and he totally calls him out.  Chozen is super pissed about this and calls Daniel an asshole.  Now the rivalry is on and I cannot wait to watch Daniel get beat up so hard.          

Later on, Daniel is cruising around downtown looking dumb as usual and he walks into a bar where a bunch of guys are punching sheets of ice for bets.  Daniel, in his terrible whiny way, tells everyone that he can break all the ice because he knows karate.  Just as he's about to totally embarrass himself, Chozen shows up and is like "I got six hundo on the ice".  Daniel, complains that he doesn’t have that much money, but then Miyagi walks in and says he'll cover the bet.  Then Daniel breaks all the ice because he prays and asks Jesus to make him not lame for just this one time.  Now Chozen is way pissed off because he lost.  Later on, Daniel is getting ready to hit the town with this girl he met and Miyagi tells him that if he gets into a fight (because Miyagi knows that Daniel gets the shit beat out of him everywhere he goes), hit the other guy in the balls.  Solid advice.  So, Daniel is 50's dancing with the Japanese girl, which, why is everything in this place about 3 decades behind the rest of the world?  When they get done dancing, Chozen rolls in to take his money back from Daniel.  Daniel, hits him in the balls and keeps his money.  Later that night, Chozen shows up at the Miyagi house with his gang and they vandalize the dojo with spears.  They also break a bunch of potted plants for some reason.  Daniel walks outside and then gets beat up a bunch before Miyagi comes over and rescues him as usual.  Overall this fight scene was pretty terrible.         

The next day, Daniel and his new Japanese girlfriend get married by doing some stupid tea drinking ceremony.  When they get finished, Daniel puts on a Peter Cetera song and gets ready to make it with his new wife.  Just as they start to get naked, they hear a gong go off which means that a tornado has touched down.  They run back to the village and go into a bomb shelter with everyone else.  Chozen comes to the shelter too and says that is uncle Sato is dead because he got hit by the tornado.  Miyagi goes to look for Sato and finds him, alive, trapped underneath a log.  Miyagi rares back to chop the log in two when Sato, in possibly the best line of the movie, yells out "I knew you were a bitch-faced coward. I'm trapped and you're going to chop my face off!".  Miyagi, of course, just chops the log and then drags Sato to the shelter.  Then, Daniel sees that a little girl is on top of a telephone pole for some reason and is about to get tornado-crushed.  He runs out to save her and all the villagers think he's so awesome for this, but we all know that he's still just lame-ass Daniel.  Now Sato is way thankful that Miyagi saved his life using karate on that tree so he says that the village can have a dance at this castle that he owns.   

At the castle dance, everyone is smiling way too much and drinking alcohol out of the same jug that just gets passed around.  Then, Daniel's new Japanese wife says she wants to do a solo dance.  So, she's dancing for everybody when Chozen shows up and does some serious butterfly knife tricks right before he threatens to stab her.  Daniel wants to do something but he is so scared.  Finally, Chozen tells Daniel that they will have to fight to the death because of that time he cheated the villagers on those carrots and also because Daniel punched him in the balls that other time.  Daniel knows that he's about to get karate-killed.  You may be asking why Miyagi is going to let Daniel go get his face kicked off.  The answer is that Miyagi hates Daniel just as much as everyone else does.  So, Daniel and Chozen start to battle.  At first, Daniel thinks he's going to win by doing this incredibly stupid kick that worked on Johnny in part one.  Chozen is all like "You are fucking terrible at karate and that is the dumbest kick move I've ever seen".  Then he beats the shit out of Daniel for like five minutes.  Just as Daniel is about to die, Myiagi and all the villagers pull out those stupid drums that make people good at karate.  Now Daniel starts to win the fight.  Eventually, and much to our dismay, Daniel has Chozen on the ground.  Daniel asks him if he wants to live or die and Chozen chooses die because he'd otherwise have to go through life knowing that he got totally owned by the worst person ever.  Instead of putting him out of his misery, Daniel honks his nose and then leaves.  I'll say that again, HE. HONKS. HIS. DAMN. NOSE.  This is literally the dumbest finishing move ever.         

So that's it.  Somehow Daniel beat up a far superior man again.  There is no doubt that Daniel will continue to be terrible forever.