#i blame Matt and Jeff

[waterkangaroo]

Working: 30 min/day

Cooking: 20 min/day

Chores: 10 min/day

Thinking about Dungeon Crawler Carl: 21 hr/day

Sleeping: 2 hr/day

someone who is good at time management please help me budget this. my family is dying

[musicmags]

[alchemistc]

i present my latest offering of an au first meeting: the poker game.

Big Blind

Tommy's been on plenty of bad dates in his time, but this one might actually take the cake for worst first date he's ever had. They're just -- not right for one another, and it's clear they can both feel it, but for some reason Jeff just -- keeps talking. About his border collie rescue, and his sixth fourteener (this year), and the his upcoming promotion and the Cybertruck he's thinking about getting wrapped in matte black --

"Jeff," Tommy cuts in, when he starts in on Tesla stock talk. "I'm gonna pay the check and head out. It's been..." he gestures. Considers calling Stout right here at the dinner table to tell him no more blind dates with his stock broker brother-in-laws friends, no matter how gay they are.

He's gonna get shit from Stout's wife the next time she stops by with a casserole, but honestly a half-hour tirade on politeness from Heather Alexandra Stout sounds better than learning how much of an Elon Musk fanboy Jeff really is. Jeff looks like he might be offended by the implication that he wouldn't have paid, but Tommy's already waving down his server and gesturing to the bar by the time Jeff even thinks to reach for his wallet.

"You have a good night."

Andrea slides his check under his elbow with a raised brow and doesn't say a word when he hands her his card immediately, but he can tell she's judging him. Third date in a month he's barely contained his disdain for long enough to pay up, although this is the first he's outright ditched before the bill was even paid.

Gary slides a beer across the bar to him and refuses the cash Tommy tries to give him for it. "Do I look that pathetic, Gary?"

Man of few words, Gary just taps his nose and tips his chin to his date, who is doing a terrible job of trying to sneak out the door.

"You're too good for him, anyway," says Andrea, back already with his card. He tucks an extra twenty into her folder and downs the beer in silence while they watch through the window as Jeff seems to get into an argument with the Uber pulling up in front of the restaurant.

"Maybe it's me," Tommy says, and Gary hums in commiseration. Or maybe he just has gas. "Maybe I'm the problem."

It's been a string of bad dates, and before that a relationship that'd gone up in metaphorical but nearly literal flames. Tommy's spent a lot of introspective time wishing he could kill Gerrard with lasers so that he doesn't have to blame himself for staying in the closet so long that blind dates and Grindr meetups were his real introduction to the dating scene.

"Someday, Tommy, you'll meet someone who can't get enough of your morbid humor and your pessimism and your obsession with haunted cars."

"One car," Tommy argues, although that's beside the point. "I think maybe I should give the search for love a break, Gary."

Gary hums, again.

Tommy drinks the rest of his beer in companionable silence and pulls up his phone to order an Uber himself. Jeff is, thankfully, long gone, and Tommy's halfway through confirming his home address when he remembers the invite he'd received last week that he'd hesitated scheduling a date around. He shoots off a text instead, and updates the address before he slides from the bar stool.

Gary shoots him a look. "Headed home?"

Tommy shifts on his feet. Shoots a look behind the bar. "Nah. Gonna try to hit up a work thing. Pour me a shot of Tullamore for the road?"

Gary accepts the twenty this time and doesn't make a comment about the way Tommy downs a sipping whiskey, which Tommy appreciates.

He's halfway to his destination, enjoying the chat with his driver, when the text comes in from Lucy.

Had to bail, but you should go if the date went that badly. Williams will enjoy slowly ruining the remainder of your night.

Tommy taps his phone once, twice, three times before he makes up his mind not to be the asshole who changes his destination halfway through the ride. Worst comes to worst, he'll tap out early and Venmo Mehta the rest of his stake.

Better than moping at home with the pint of freezer-burned Ben and Jerry's.

-----

He's fairly rushed down the stairs once he's in, because apparently Williams is on some sort of time crunch, or something, and he's fairly certain the drinks are catching up to him as he takes in the table. Mehta and Wilson are regulars, and he's seen Rosen around, but there are two new guys settling in across the table and Tommy has to take a long, long moment to remind himself this is technically a professional setting before he can look too closely at either one of them.

Yeah. Shit, he'd definitely drank most of that second pitcher by himself, listening to Jeff talk.

"Kinard. We weren't expecting you." Rosen's eyes glimmer with amusement. He'd caught maybe six months of her probationary year, but every time she sees him she likes to remind him of the first time she'd seen him post-transfer, at a gay bar in WeHo, and introduced him to the first guy he'd dated seriously in his entire life. Tommy returns the favor by reminding her exactly how terribly that had ended for all parties. "Poker night dress code usually includes more buttons than date night," she jabs, finger circling the olives in her martini glass, and Tommy contemplates tossing one of Mehta's chips at her. Her grin goes wide.

With the momentary distraction, Tommy feels a little more prepared to face the two men now eyeing him curiously.

"Tommy," he says, leaning over the table, hand out to shake. Turtleneck raises a curious eyebrow when Mr. Red Velvet Smoking jacket practically leaps across his lap to shake back. "I'm over at 217."

"This is Eddie," Red Velvet introduces, and Tommy's gaze dances between them, curious. "I'm Evan. We're with the -- wait, 217 -- Chimney's Tommy?"

Tommy's brows dance up the same time as Eddie's do. He is still shaking hands with Evan. Or - holding is more accurate, he supposes, but for the sake of his sanity and the possible date Evan and Eddie are on, if he's reading the introduction or any of the vibes right (they're both stunning and Tommy is smarting from another shitty date, so who knows), Tommy keeps it to shake in his mind. "Well I don't think Howie can claim ownership of my person, but -."

"Sorry, no, I just meant..." Evan's gaze drops to their clasped hands, still now over the felt of the poker table. He gives one more firm pump and drops Tommy's hand. "We're both at the 118. Pretty sure you helped save this guy's ass once." He tips a thumb sideways to indicate the man he'd introduced as Eddie.

Tommy's eyes drift. He's had a few drinks, and up until about halfway through the date he'd been expecting a very different outcome for his night, so he's maybe not keeping a lid on things the way he normally would in a work setting. He's guessing the ass he's purported to have saved would look great, if it weren't firmly planted in his chair and out of view. The rest of the view ain't bad, either.

And.

Shit.

Williams is giving him a look, which means he's not being even a little subtle. "The gas main explosion," Tommy finally gathers from the cobwebs of his brain, and wouldn't it be his luck to transfer out of the 118 just in time for two annoyingly attractive men who may possibly be boning each other to take his place.

Evan grins. Beams, more like, and Tommy slides firmly into his own chair and tries not to be blinded by it. Or entranced by it. God he needs to get laid. Get this - whatever this is - out of his system.

Tommy's cool. Tommy's calm and collected and he hadn't even had that much to drink, actually, so why is he having such a hard time behaving like he's had forty years of experience dealing with attractive men?

Tommy sorts through the memories.

Eddie he can pinpoint fairly easily -- he'd shot off a message to Chim the moment they'd learned one of the 118 had been shot, and had been happy to break the news of his recovery to an anxious Harbor station in the tense days after it had all gone down. Evan, though - he doesn't have a clue who that could be. He's still got a few buddies from B Shift he talks to on occasion, but he doesn't remember any stories about an Evan from them, and Howie hasn't mentioned one, either.

Of course, it's not like either one of them does a great job of keeping in touch.

The mystery is solved a moment later when Williams tips her head at him. "Feels like we're being overrun by the 118 tonight," she says with a grin, but her gaze slides to Evan, rather than Tommy. "And we've got an honest-to-goodness legend tonight."

"You know I still can't believe you survived that, Buckley," Mehta says, and the puzzle piece slots itself into place. "Uh, although we're all glad that you did."

Buckley. Tommy shifts. Reassesses. Eyes the glance between Diaz and Buckley like he's gonna figure out their deal while he's already four and a half drinks deep into the night and hasn't already heard the larger than life tales of this duo from half-a-dozen gossipy paramedics. According to some, there's a secret torrid love affair going on behind the scenes of their codependent friendship. According to others, the ones he more or less trusts not to stretch the truth too far, they're friends -- closer than most, and maybe a little weird about each other, but friends all the same.

Buckley's a shark. Or, if Williams is to be believed, a bit of a cheat.

As the game goes on, and the conversation drifts from the morbid details of Buckley's three-minutes-seventeen-seconds of lifelessness, past the special skills near death experiences are rumored to cause, past the time out where they'd all admired the pictures of Buckley's Lichtenburg scars ("They faded pretty quickly," Evan says, with a soft little frown like he's a bit disappointed not to have any physical proof beyond a few shots of his naked brick shithouse of a chest.) Tommy can't help but admire the shift from bashful to smirking and smug as Evan keeps racking up monumentally improbable hands. He's a bit of a brat, actually, and Tommy can feel Rosen's eyes burning into the side of his head every time he ups the ante just to watch the flicker of triumph aimed in his direction every time Evan wins a hand Tommy raised.

Tommy's no slob with cards, on a normal day, but he's too busy trying not to read anything into the way Evan's eyes keep drifting to the v of the shirt he hadn't buttoned back up just to spite Rosen, or the way he keeps licking his fucking lips every time Tommy takes a sip of the whiskey at his elbow to really care as his chips dwindle to nothing. Tommy can't be entirely sure, but it seems like maybe Evan pouts, a little, when Tommy pushes back from the table to join the rest of the losers crowded around to watch Williams, Mehta and Buckley battle it out.

He's trying to think of a subtle way to ask Howie if Evan Buckley is just like that with all the men in his life when Eddie slides in beside him with a refill on his whiskey. Tommy grimaces. "I shouldn't."

"Thought you were trying to drink away a bad date?"

Tommy shoots Rosen a glare over Eddie's shoulder, but she's too busy chasing her straw with her tongue to notice.

"He was a Tesla fanboy," Tommy intones, and the braces himself for the reaction. He's used to it, now -- the constant cycle of coming out and waiting to see which new acquaintances bow out of getting to know each other any better. This is... earlier, than he usually drops it, but he hasn't been in the mood to lie about it in years, and Eddie had asked. He gets a raised brow and a grimace.

"Don't tell me you didn't know ahead of time," Eddie says, and Tommy loosens the grip on his glass.

"Hazards of blind dating."

Eddie's look is commiserating. He tips his beer bottle against Tommy's rocks glass. "Yeah, my tia keeps finding reasons for me to run into the eligible daughters and granddaughters of all her friends." Which Tommy supposes is answer to half of the question that's been plaguing him since he sat down.

Buckley gets cocky a few times, but it's clear the night is going his way even before Jeshan Mehta's pot gets swept up in Evan's arms. Williams holds out as long as she can.

"Beginner's luck!" Buckley crows, when Williams' last chip is added to his pile. Eddie's been supplying him with a steady flow of drinks for the past thirty minutes, and his smile is crooked as he tilts backwards in his chair for a fist bump. His eyes flick to Tommy's once he's received his congratulations from Eddie, and Tommy pretends he's not a little bit fascinated by the pull of his jacket over his arms, or the way his closed hand lingers near Tommy's even after Tommy has smacked his knuckles against his as well.

Evan Buckley is frustratingly adorable. Tommy's had too many drinks for any kind of decent decision making. He bows out while Evan and Eddie are collecting his winnings.

-----

Tommy's eyes flick to the readout on his phone. He doesn't recognize the number, but it's a local area code, so he picks up on the forth ring. "Go for Kinard."

"Uh - hey, hi. Hey Tommy." The voice is familiar, sweet and low. "It's Buck - Evan. Evan Buckley. I uh -- I got your number from Chim, I hope that's alright?"

Tommy's got a solid fifteen minutes before he has to leave for work, a raging headache that has thus far refused to accept electrolytes or Advil as tribute to his overindulgence the previous evening, and a full understanding that he's going to spend his shift listening to Donato swear up and down she's the better option for finding him a man, but the voice on the other end of his phone might at least give the headache a run for it's money.

"Evan. Hi."

"Hey. So -- you dipped before I could ask -- which is fine, obviously, I'm not -- uh..." He pauses. Tommy can practically picture the way he wets his lower lip while he searches for the right words. "Anyway I was wondering -- would you maybe wanna grab a beer, sometime?"

Tommy spends about fifteen seconds rearranging his entire schedule in his mind. Says, cool, calm, collected: "Sure. When are you free?"

Evan's voice goes distant for a second -- he's putting Tommy on speaker. "I, uh -- I didn't expect you to say yes so quickly. Actually I didn't expect you to answer -- who answers unknown numbers, anymore?"

"Who calls expecting to get sent to voicemail?"

The brat rises up immediately. "Uh, literally everyone. The missed call is just an excuse to text. It's basic phone etiquette, Tommy."

Tommy likes the way he says his name. Soft, sweet and slow, rolling over his tongue like molasses. This feels incredibly like flirting, but he can't get a fucking read on this kid. "Clearly I've missed out on an important cultural shift. I can hang up and we can do this the right way, if you want."

"No!" It's sharp -- louder, like he's raising the phone back towards his mouth. Tommy can't hide the grin leaking across his face. "Uh -- no, it's fine. Too late, anyway, I already know you don't know phone rules."

"Hopefully that doesn't change your opinion of me too much."

"I could be convinced to ignore it, with the right incentive."

"I'll buy first round," Tommy says, and wonders if he's got any other shirts he can play off as fitting better with three buttons undone. The flirting should be enough, but -- Tommy's still not sure drinks isn't just drinks.

"Wednesday night," Evan says, voice further away again. Tommy has a sudden, desperate urge to see what his Google calendar looks like. For all that he'd cut loose at the poker game, Tommy bets it's color coded by type of activity. "If that works. Or Saturday, any time, really. I'm uh -- I'm free then."

If Tommy bows out of trivia on classic car week Cynthia will have a whole ass bitch fit. And it makes him seem a little less eager, to boot. "Saturday. I've got a shift early Sunday, though, so maybe something in the afternoon?"

"Yeah -- yes, th-that works." The stammering isn't something Tommy can get a read off of. He'd done it just as much with Eddie as he'd done with everyone else. "There's a new brewery just off Pico and Prosser -- Chim said you were a fan of craft beer?"

Sounding more date like by the minute, but -- some guys toe the line. Could be Evan Buckley just wants to know more about flight operations, for all Tommy knows. "Text me the details. Look, Evan, I'd love to stay on this rule-breaking phone call and chat but I've got to head in for a shift. Just -- let me know the plan." He's got five minutes to brush his teeth and rue the moment he'd asked Gary for his first whiskey of the night. He's also rolling back his last few sentences and cringing at how abrupt he'd been. "And yeah -- good to know Chim hasn't forgotten the three facts I ever told him about me."

Evan laughs, just a soft little huff but Tommy already knows the grin behind that sound is all sorts of knee-meltingly sweet. "Cool. So. Yeah, I'll text you."

"I'll talk to you later, Evan."

"Yep. Talk to you -- talk to you soon."

Tommy waits a moment in silence. The call doesn't end. "Goodbye, Evan."

Evan huffs out another awkward laugh. "Yeah. Bye, Tommy."

The call disconnects just in time for Tommy to press his forehead into the cool tile beside his bathroom mirror. He might be monumentally screwed if this isn't a date. He hasn't been this fucking charmed by a man since -- well, it's been a while.

Tommy's phone buzzes in his hand. It's a pinned address from a number he doesn't have saved. Tommy swipes into the contact and updates it before the next text makes it through. Saturday 3PM?

Tommy brushes his teeth, downs the rest of his preworkout in the hopes that it'll ease some of the nastier parts of his stupid decision to keep drinking liquor past midnight, and stares at the text all the way out to his truck.

See you then, Tommy sends back, and he has to toss his phone into his passenger seat when he gets a series of incomprehensible emoji's almost immediately in response.

He holds up a hand to Donato the moment she catches his gaze, halfway across the parking lot. The brow goes up, the hand slots to her hip, and she rolls her tongue over her teeth, clearly ready for her speech about how Stout doesn't have a clue how to find Tommy a proper date. Tommy has other problems.

"You worked with Evan Buckley, for a while, didn't you?"

Her head tilt rights itself. The second brow dances up to meet the first. Whatever she'd meant to say disperses behind her eyelids as she seems to work through something in her mind. "Oh, this is compelling," she says, and practically skips forward to loop her arm in his.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Arguments ✨

Summary; It's Friday and you have the worst headache in the world, To make your day even worse you and Eddie get into an argument, and Eddie snaps telling you to leave Hellfire.

When the headache overwhelms you and Eddie finds out he is anxious to see you.

Warnings; Angst, fluff. Kinda mean Eddie? Jealous Eddie, minors dni

I don't give anyone permission to copy my work.

❤️✨

❤️✨🌸

You were having the worst day, on top of a bad headache, you had had an argument with Eddie.

When you were sick, you could get irritated or emotional quite easily, Eddie had made some remark about one of Jason's friends Matt who kept staring at you.

"Why does that asshole keep staring at you? It's fucking weird" Your head snaps up and you frown. There was already tension between the two of you because you tried out for the cheer squad and made it.

"Didn't realize it was so weird that someone finds me attractive" you reply wounded.

He pauses and shakes his head.

"I didn't mean it like that sweetheart?" he assures you and you raise an eyebrow.

"Well, how did you mean it? It's weird that someone may find me cute?" he shakes his head.

"You're putting words in my mouth. I just mean that it's those assholes, they are doing it to piss off Hellfire, jocks, cheerleaders, they join up to the dark side and they are all the same"

This wounds you, does he think you're like that?

"No not all of us. Some of the jocks are nice, and Chrissy is a sweetheart. Do you think I'm like that?" he looks frustrated now.

"Is there much point in me saying anything else sweetheart because you'll literally just take everything I say the wrong way"

Gareth jumps into the conversation and you massage your head which is so sore that it nearly brings tears to your eyes.

"Calm down you two, things are getting heated here and they don't need to be" Eddie angrily folds his arms across his chest and glares at Gareth.

"I'm not the one who started it" you huff and get up having enough of Eddie.

"Fine blame me, when you're the one who made stupid remarks" you fume at him and Dustin looks worried.

"Where are you going? We're discussing tonights campaign" your mood softens as you look at Dustin, he was a sweet kid.

"Sorry Dustybun, think I'll skip tonight" It's not like you'd feel welcome anyway. Eddie scowls.

"You miss tonight and you're out" There are angry protests to Eddie's ultimatum and your stomach drops at his cold gaze.

"Fine" you snap and storm away. You don't cry until you're well away from the cafeteria.

💕

Gym. Just to make things worse for your head you now need to compete in dodgeball.

Usually you enjoyed the game but after your argument with Eddie you just wanted to curl up at home in bed and ignore the world for a little while.

But you couldn't, you had cheer practice, no Hellfire though so you could go home straight after but it wouldn't stop you from missing everyone.

Eddie must have skipped gym because you don't see him anywhere, you try to focus on the game and not the argument the two of you had.

It's made even harder by how dizzy you feel as you're running around and it's almost a relief when two balls hit you so you're out of the game.

Except one hits you on you're already sore head and the pain is so intense, you cry out and the dizziness overwhelms you and you faint.

💕💕

"Back off everyone, give her some air" you wake up to a few classmates staring down on you.

Chrissy is beside you looking as worried as your gym teacher Mr Bennett.

Nurse Watts comes in and checks you over when you tell her about your raging headache and dizziness.

"Sounds a lot like a headcold honey, you need to go straight home and rest"

"I have cheer practice I can't go home" you say anxiously to the nurse and Chrissy squeezes your hand.

"As your cheer captain, I order you to go home and rest up" This relaxes you a little bit and a few of your classmates help you up including a worried Jeff.

"I'll be fine, can you drive me home, please Jeff? Eddie usually does after Hellfire but...

Well, with the two of you not talking that wouldn't be happening, nods and motions you to follow him to his car as he takes you home.

He hangs around for a little bit and it's a relief to have someone with you. However, Hellfire is soon close to starting so you tell him to go.

Once Jeff leaves after making sure you are okay you get a big glass of water, some pain meds then change into your comfiest clothes and cuddle up in bed.

💕💕

Jeff races into the drama room ten minutes after Hellfire starts and Eddie is already grumpy after his argument with you.

"Now after that interruption let us finally begin the campaign kay?" he announces and the others nod excited but occasionally glancing at your empty seat.

It feels strange without you here, Eddie feels it too and the ache in his chest since the fight the two of you had.

Jeff is trying to think of a way to mention what happened at gym but decides to say it after the session ends.

It's Mike who ends up saying about it as they are finishing up.

"Did you hear that yn fainted in gym class today?" Eddie's head snaps up and his stomach drops, he was doing a deal during class then setting up Hellfire with some of the guys.

Why didn't he hear about this sooner? Jeff speaks up.

"I was trying to tell you that dude, the ball hit her on the head and she fainted. Said she's been feeling shitty all day" Jeff trials off at Eddie's livid.

All that Eddie can think about now is getting to you, making sure you're alright.

Fuck, the argument. You meant more to Eddie than some disagreement. More than anyone else knew.

He let you see sides of him no one else had, sides he kept hidden away.

"Shit, I have to see her. Sheeples do me a favour and clean up yeah?" he races out as quickly as he can and into his van, anxious to see you.

💕💕

A light tapping on your window wakes you up around nine-ish, you've slept for hours but still feel sore.

Eddie is at your window and you get up gingerly, wincing at your achy muscles.

"What are you doing here?" you ask not wanting a repeat of earlier.

"I heard what happened. Wanted to see if you were okay, to apologise"your eyes widen.

"You did?" he nods and helps you back into bed.

"Look, I'm not apologising for hating the jocks, maybe some of the cheerleaders as they can be just as bad. I'll never apologise for despising Jason and his goons but not all of the dark side is bad. You aren't"

"You mean a lot to me you know that princess, I've opened up to you in ways I haven't opened up to anyone. You mean so fucking much to me and it's not weird Matt was staring at you because you're amazing and beautiful. I was jealous"

Knowing how difficult this is for him, letting his emotions out like this softens you.

"So you don't want me out of Hellfire then?" he shakes his head.

"No, I don't. You're the one person in this shitty town who I never want to lose" your hands entwine with his.

"I'm not going anywhere, Eddie" he smiles, all dimples.

"I think the cheerleading thing is pretty cool you know? Might have to attend a game to see you in action" This makes you giggle as he mimics the cheerleading.

"Unless you would prefer that Matt douche cheering for you" he fake smiles and you sigh, god he really doesn't see it does he.

"Edward Munson, I don't want Matt at all" he tentaively strokes your cheek.

"You're my girl sweetheart, I can't stand the thought of you with that dickhead or anyone"

"Ditto", it's pretty much how you feel for Eddie. He moves closer to you, his eyes yearning, a vulnerability there as he lets his walls down.

"Kiss me" you urge gently and he doesn't need to be told twice as his lips meet yours.

You were his girl, his heart. You had been for a while and you always would be.

💕

[haddonfieldwhore]

safe and sound - jeff hardy

2000s!jeff hardy x fem! reader (requested)

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none i think, fluff, ended up mostly gender neutral except for a few pet names

november 8th 2001:

you were standing ringside as your two best friends, lita and jeff, took on lance storm and ivory in a mixed tag team match. originally, matt was supposed to be out here with lita, but he ended up in an intercontinental championship match instead, leaving her without a tag partner, until jeff stepped up. lita and jeff were both amazing to watch, but it stressed you out just how easily they threw themselves off the top ropes and around the ring. you hadn’t been wrestling as long as they had, and you were still in awe everytime you got to see them in action up close.

jeff jumped over the top rope, taking out lance as lita slammed ivory down in the centre of the ring. the redhead climbed up to the top rope and hit a perfect litasault, pinning ivory to win the match for her and jeff.

jeff, who was still outside the ring next to you hugged you and spun you around, before lita pulled him into the ring for the official to raise their arms as the winners. the three of you heading up the ramp and backstage. the three of you hugged to celebrate the victory, and you and lita went to your shared dressing room so you could get changed.

“you were incredible! you and jeff make a really good team, ya know,” you smiled, as she grabbed an outfit from her suitcase and began getting changed.

“thanks. you guys would make a better team though,” she replied.

“i doubt it. i’m nowhere near as good as you.”

“that’s not true. but even if it was, you and jeff have this… insane chemistry that i don’t have with him. you understand eachother in a way i’ve never seen before,” she said as she finished getting dressed. you and the hardy’s had been friends for years, and while you also considered lita to be your best friend, you and jeff did have a special bond; a closer connection than you’d ever had with anyone.

“maybe. but you guys work great together regardless. i don’t think i could do some of those moves you did tonight.” you knew that you weren’t on the same level as lita, and you were okay with that.

“yeah, but you and jeff are really on the same wavelength. maybe one day it’ll be you two against me and matt. that would be fun,” she laughed, grabbing her bag and getting ready to leave the venue.

“that would be amazing,” you agreed.

“that is, if matt actually showed up,” lita added, still a little upset that he had not been the one in the tag match with her tonight.

“are you guys okay?” you asked, concerned.

“yeah, we’re great. it was a title opportunity for him; i can’t really blame him for taking it.” you nodded in agreement.

you picked up your own bag, following lita out of the dressing room, and heading back to the hotel.

•••

you and lita were watching tv in your hotel room, when she received a call from matt.

“right now? oh- okay,” she laughed. “i’ll meet you downstairs in a minute i just have to get dressed,” she spoke into her cell phone. “yeah i’ll ask them. okay see you soon.” she hung up the phone and stood up off the bed, and you looked at her expectantly.

“matt and i are going out for drinks or to the club…i don’t know he didn’t specify. you’re coming too, and jeff,” she explained, sliding her shoes on and checking her appearance in the mirror.

“lita, you know i hate the club -“

“i said i don’t know if we’re going there, matt just said out. it’ll be fun, pleaseee,” she begged, pouting and tugging at your arm to get you up off the bed.

“okay fine, but only if jeff’s going. i’m not third wheeling with you and matt again,” you laughed, recalling the last time you went out with just the two of them, and you had felt like a buzzkill the whole time.

“fine, go get him. matt left their extra key card here for me, the room numbers on it.” she sighed, grabbing her purse and putting her shoes on. “meet us downstairs in a few minutes.” you nodded, quickly fixing your appearance as you hadn’t been planning on going anywhere, before leaving the room to go find jeff.

you got to his room after a few turns down the hallway, and knocked on the door.

“who is it?” you heard jeff’s voice from in the room.

“hey, it’s me. lita gave me the key card; can i come in?” you called.

“yeah, o’course,” he replied, and you swiped the key, letting yourself in. “what’s up?” he asked, sitting up in his bed as you walked into the room.

“matt and lita want us to go out - i told her i would only go if you do.”

“where are they goin?” he asked, looking uninterested in the idea of going anywhere. he was wearing a black tank top that was tight to his torso, and some black track shorts that you could see as the blanket had gathered around his waist when he sat up.

“i don’t know, lita wasn’t sure. i guess matt didn’t say,” you answered. “they’re waiting in the lobby.”

jeff groaned as he flopped backwards to lay down again, his eyes closed. you laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him and gently shaking his shoulders.

“c’mon, j.”

“do you really wanna go? baby, you hate goin’ out.” you didn’t think much of the pet name, people from the south said it all the time.

“not really, but- hey!” you yelped in surprise as jeff grabbed your wrist, gently pulling you down to lay next to him.

“good, let’s just stay here then,” he said, rightly wrapping his arms your waist, clinging to you like a koala.

“at least let me call lita and tell her we’re not going before she sends out a search party, you laughed. jeff let go of you enough for you to sit up, and you dialled litas cell number.

“hey, i think jeff and i are gonna stay in tonight. i’m sorry lita, next time. yes i know that’s what i say everytime but i promise. i know i say that too. okay, be safe, i’ll see you later.”

you hung up your cell, placing it on the nightstand before you kicked off your shoes and cuddled into bed with jeff. you had been friends for so long, it wasn’t wierd at all, often sharing a bed or falling asleep on the couch together after too many horror movies.

“your match tonight was great, by the way,” you complimented, and jeff smiled.

“thank you, i try to put on a good show. maybe one day we’ll have a tag match together,” he hummed as you laid back down, curling into his chest as he pulled you close again.

“that’s what lita was saying. she thinks we have some magical bond that would make us unstoppable,” you mumbled, your voice muffled because of how you were laying.

“i think she’s right,” jeff replied. “one day i’ll get you in the ring with me and we can prove matt’s theory. he thinks we can read each others minds and that’s why we think the same thing all the time.” you laughed at him, and jeff smiled wide at the sound.

“we’ll see. you scare me sometimes with how much you throw yourself around. and i don’t know about wrestling guys yet,“ you admitted.

“c’mon, you’re better than some of them already,” he said, ignoring your concern for his well being.

“i don’t know,” you mumbled. jeff pushed you back gently so you could look at eachother.

“well i do know. you’re amazing. and i would never let anything bad happen to you,” he promised. “inside the ring or outside of it.”

“i know. i feel safe with you,” you admitted, and jeff smiled.

“darlin, that’s the best thing i’ve ever heard.” you relaxed into him again, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“i don’t want anything to happen to you, either,” you said. you knew jeff was amazing at what he did, but that didn’t make it any less scary when he threw himself off of twenty foot ladders.

“you don’t have to worry about me, i ain’t going anywhere,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“promise?” you asked, and jeff’s arms tightened around you.

“i promise, babygirl.”

“i love you, jeff,” you sighed happily.

“you mean it?” he asked, and you kissed his cheek.

“of course.” jeff rolled over so you were both laying on your sides, face to face. “you don’t know that already?”

“i just like hearin you say it,” he smiled, and you laughed. “ya know you do this little nose scrunch when you laugh sometimes, it’s really cute.”

“shut up, i do not.”

“you just did it!” he laughed, and you hid your face in his chest. “it’s cute, don’t be embarrassed.”

“too late.”

“you don’t have to be embarrassed around me, hell we’ve seen eachother at our worst and we’re still friends.” jeff was right; you had been through a lot together, and at this point you didn’t think there was anything that could come between you.

“i know,” you sighed. “i don’t think anything will ever change that.”

“good. and i love you too.” you hummed in response, and there was a comfortable silence for a minute.

“we would make a good tag team though,” you admitted, and jeff laughed, and you could feel the vibration in his chest.

“damn right,” he agreed.

“lita said we should have a match against her and matt.”

“oh hell yeah, that’d be so awesome. any excuse to wrestle my brother, and you and lita against eachother would kick ass.”

“you mean she would kick my ass,” you laughed.

“you don’t give yourself enough credit. yeah she’s great but you are too.”

“thanks jeff, i appreciate that.”

“o’course,” he kissed the top of your nose, and you giggled. “you did it again -“

“shut up!” you laughed, punching his chest playfully.

“yeah? you gonna make me?” he asked, and started tickling your ribs, causing you to laugh harder. you wrestled around until you managed to get on top of him, straddling his hips.

“stop - or i start tickling you next.”

“alright alright, truce.” he held his hands up in surrender, and you caught your breath, realizing the position you were in. jeff sat up, holding you in his lap.

“jeff-“

“you said nothing could change our friendship right?” he asked softly, his eyes looking into yours.

“yeah, why-“ jeff leaned forward and kissed you softly, his lips barely touching yours before he pulled back. he waited for you to react, nervous that he had ruined everything, until you kissed him back, hands tangling in his messy blue and purple hair. jeff’s hands rested on your hips as he returned the kiss, smiling against your lips, before you separated.

“okay, maybe something could change the friendship slightly; but in a good way,” you smiled, and jeff bumped his forehead against yours softly, before laying back against the pillow, pulling you with him.

“i love you,” he said for the second time that night, perhaps meaning it a little differently now.

“i love you too,” you replied.

“say that again,” he breathed, squeezing you tighter.

“i love you.” jeff smiled as you kissed the underside of his jaw softly, and he turned off the lamp on the bedside table as you tangled your legs together under the blankets. jeff’s hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt slightly, drawing little shapes gently on the skin of your back as you both drifted off to sleep.

[dreamwatch]

Get in the Van

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #5 - Prompt: On The Road | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: chronic pain, language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None| Tags: band struggles, touring in a van, author is not American, geographic inacuracies (probably) | AO3

****

“Fuck!”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you kick the van, man, it’s not going to make it start!”

“Maybe he just needs to kick it harder.”

“Shut up!”

****

Wasn’t this just fucking amazing? Wasn’t this just indicative of the bad luck that followed him around like some looming spectre? They’ve only been out on the road a few weeks, just a handful of gigs before the van broke down. Now they’re stuck at the side of the road in Somewhere, Minnesota, with a van full of equipment, dirty laundry and soon to be broken dreams. 

It started in Evansville, with a bunch of locals who heard about the satanists showing up to play their 'devil music' and decided to give them a warm welcome; there are dents and scratches all over the van that are definitely not going to buff out.

Then in St. Louis they had an amazing show, like objectively fucking brilliant. Eddie knows for a fact there was some local music journalist in the crowd, too. So of course that was the night Jeff’s amp decided it wasn’t just going to give up, it was going out in a blaze of glory. Literally. Fucking thing just went up in flames. Everyone thought it was part of the act, even when he stripped his shirt off to beat the flames out. So yeah, now they’re down an amp.

Gareth being plied with tequila before the show in Kansas City was another highlight. Don’t get him wrong, he loves to see Gareth happy and if a pretty woman wanted to buy him some drinks then good for him. He loved it less when they were on stage later. Eddie has no idea what songs Gareth was playing, but they definitely weren’t the same as the rest of the band. He also learned it’s really hard to get vomit out of a snare drum.

And then there’s the pain.

Thing is, its always there. It just is, there’s no point making a big deal about it. The doctors always told him it would be a life long thing but that it would get easier. It’s been three years now, and there’s been no improvement. Which is, well not fine, it sucks, but you know, it is what it is. But there have been days, shows, where he could cry. Where it feels like his skin has been flogged with a burning switch, where the muscles in his leg and back scream at him to stop, just fucking stop! But he pushes through, takes his painkillers, maybe doubles up sometimes with a couple of shots of JD to help them down, whatever. It’s all good.

And now they’re sitting at the side of the I-94 with smoke and steam billowing from the engine block, and nothing but truck after truck passing by. 

“What if no one stops?” asks Gareth, propping himself against the back doors.

Jeff rocks on his heels in front of him, hands jammed in his pockets. “Someone will stop.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Eddie mutters. He’s under the hood, poking his hand around into the hot engine parts; he’s only burnt himself twice so far. 

“Hey, don’t be bring your bad juju here man—”

Eddie storms to the back of van. “My bad juju? Are you kidding me? Gareth booked these fucking gigs!”

A huge semi screams past them, tooting his horn, making them all jump. 

“I booked some of them. Don’t blame this on me, man. It’s your van.”

“It is my van, correct, however we all benefit from it, and I don’t see any of you assholes dipping into your pockets when it needs work.”

Jeff shrugs. “Well, it’s never needed work.”

“It does now,” says Matt, merrily throwing pebbles into the long grass, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Eddie cuts him a withering look.

Another truck passes, whipping up dirt in it’s trail. When he’s done coughing, Gareth says “I kind of think we should stand further away, actually. This doesn’t feel safe.“ He’s probably not wrong.

“Alright, go and sit by the fence, I’ll stand here with my thumb out,” Eddie says, mumbling “like an asshole” under his breath. He drops his jacket into the front seat of the van on the off chance it might seem less imposing, and then heads to the side of the road, standing as far out from the van as he dares. 

“You should roll your jeans up, show ‘em some leg!” Matt shouts at him.

“Fuck off, Matt!”

“Have you seen how white his legs are?” he can hear Jeff say. “We want them to stop, not call Ghostbusters.”

Eddie pokes his head around the side of the van. “By all means, one of you stand here with your thumb in the air while eighteen wheelers fly past.” When he doesn’t get a response he snaps back, “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

Eddie stands in the blazing sun, hair whipping around his face as semi after semi speeds by; he’s sweaty and dirty and desperate for a shower. The nerves in his leg are starting to fire up, and he needs a cigarette but he smoked his last one just before the van decided it was done with this trip, so now he has the little tap tap tap of nicotine addiction to contend with as well. 

This sucks. Touring sucks. So fucking much.

But.

Last night they played a show in Minneapolis. The crowd was wild; a huge mosh pit opened up right in front of Eddie and it took every ounce of his being not to throw himself in the mix. They sold tapes and t-shirts and traded phone numbers with a band manager. They laughed all night and drank until three A.M.. It was amazing. It was everything he ever dreamed it would be.

Wayne always told him he was resilient, ‘more than you know, son.’ He holds on to that as another truck screams past.

[twopoppies]

Why do some people not like Matt Vines

No idea, love. I don’t pay a lot of attention to his team. I think people blame Matt in a similar way they blame Jeff—making him responsible for everything they’re unhappy with in Louis’ career. But, again, I don’t really know.

[dalekofchaos]

I am sick of The Hardys, especially Jeff

I never thought I'd even have to make this post, but the recent comments Matt and Jeff made, I just can't anymore. I am done with them.

Jeff Hardy says he feels like a ghost in AEW

"When I first came back (to AEW), it was pretty exciting. I didn’t know what was going to be happening in the near future, but I think the last time I was in this extreme dimension of y’all’s podcast, I said that in WWE, I felt like I was a ghost, just walking around backstage. Honestly, man, I kind of still feel like that at AEW, just because of not being involved in something cool. I feel like there’s something so special that we (Jeff and Matt) have within us to really bring out."

I love Jeff Hardy, but I'm just tired of him at this point. I have no sympathy for him whatsoever. He fucked up time and time again and he wonders why he's lost in the shuffle in AEW.

Maybe you shouldn't have driven intoxicated again right after getting signed. Tony Khan was going to give you guys the Tag Titles, but no, in usual Jeff fucking Hardy fashion, you fucked up.

Jeff immediately showed that he can't be trusted beyond doing jobs in the lower-midcard. Jeff Hardy has no one to blame but himself.

Jeff Hardy was primed for a main event spot against Roman at the Royal Rumble and was promised a Hall Of Fame Induction, but then Jeff pulled that house show stunt and flushed a career down the toilet.

And before anyone comes at me with the "Jeff would've lost" he was booked strong and he fucked up anyway.

Then even after he fucked up, WWE offer him a hof spot, probably similar to Rey Mysterio role now and dude declined it. I never understood his “ghost” comment about the wwe because they clearly had huge plans for him either way.

I’ve got no sympathy left for Jeff at this point for multiple reasons, most of all for his continued determination to drive intoxicated and put him and others in danger. It's only a matter of time before Jeff becomes the next Tammy Sytch.

I just don’t know more what more Jeff could have wanted at this stage in his career. What is he expecting? He should feel extremely lucky to even be given chance after chance despite being a washed up criminal.

I know he likes to pride himself on being a creative guy. Well, work on your music and art to get your creative fix and just be glad you are still getting a paycheck

I'm just done with Jeff Hardy at this point. I can sympathize with someone suffering an addiction and I want that person to get the help they need, but Jeff has shown time and time again he doesn't want to get help and I am done feeling sorry for Jeff Hardy.

Jeff, I say this as a fan who grew up loving you. I say this as someone who broke down in tears of joy when you finally won the WWE Championship. I say this as someone who was willing to give you another chance after Victory Road. You are all the things that are wrong with you. It’s not the alcohol, or the drugs or any of the shitty things that happened to you in your career or when you were a kid. It’s you. All right? It’s you. Fuck, man. What else is there to say?

And let's go to Matt.

Matt Hardy talks about recent frustrations: I’ll say, just creatively like just the way we’ve been utilised, like the last four months, it’s been very frustrating. We’ve been very patient but there has been a lot of frustration with things we’ve done and kind of how we’ve been utilised in some ways.

Okay Matt. You can barely walk to the ring and your brother can't be trusted. You don't have any interesting character to make up for that fact. You might as well go Broken again. What do you want them to do with you.

Matt wants to put younger talent over and that’s both admirable and a good perspective on what his job should be if he wants to wrestle. But also he can barely walk and his brother can’t be trusted to be in any sort of long-term program due to his struggles with sobriety. I don’t know what you can reasonably do with the Hardy’s at this point, and that’s a bummer.

A Hardy compound crazy match every year as long as they can keep up with the cinematic stuff and I'm content. Hell a Hardys vs Copeland and Cage in a Hardy Compound match would be great, but that would never happen because Matt can barely walk and no one will ever trust Jeff Hardy with a prime spot again.

The Hardys were what got me emotionally invested in Tag Team wrestling, now they are broken shells of their former selves trying so hard to stay in the spotlight. Now I want nothing to do with them and I actually do not want to see them in AEW, I would rather see Private Party get an actual tag run.

Just a reminder that the Hardy’s were scheduled to WIN THE AEW TAG TITLES before Jeff Hardy got a DUI while wearing a Jacksonville Jaguars shirt on the police bodycam.

I'm sorry, but I need to be blunt. What does anyone even remember from Matt Hardy in his AEW run? All anyone will remember is Matt Hardy being dropped on his head, the idiots refusing to stop the match, ruining Private Party and all anyone will remember Jeff Hardy's run is fucking up what could've been The Hardys final chance at Tag Team gold. Matt will be remembered for being dropped on his head and having his Twitter account hacked. All Jeff will be remembered for is fucking up his and his brother's last chance at glory. And in the end Matt will be remembered for enabling his brother's worst devices instead of getting him the help he so desperately needs.

I will share what I said when Jeff returned. Wrestling is the last thing Jeff Hardy needs, but maybe wrestling is the last thing The Hardys needs and they should just retire. What else is there to say? I am just done with Matt and Jeff Hardy.

[laurenairay]

My Original Characters - Part One

Here is part one of all the original characters/ocs I have created for my stories on here! They will be listed in chronological order of posting, from top to bottom.

Count as of 19th July 2024 - 30

~

Name: Sofia Player: Tyson Barrie Fic: Make Me a Fool

Name: Ashley Miller Player: Dougie Hamilton Fic: Take a Chance

Name: Elizabeth/Lizzie Player: Tyson Barrie Fic: More Than Words

Name: Audrey James Player: Jeff Skinner Fic: Prove You Wrong

Name: Alyssa Morgan Player: Jamie Oleksiak Fic: I Swear To You

Name: Katerina Stewart Player: Cale Makar Fic: You Say I Am Loved

Name: Zoey Clark Player: Miro Heiskanen Fic: Easy to Say

Name: Juliet Player: Nico Hischier Fic: Walk in the Footsteps

Name: Chloe Duncan Player: Tyson Jost Fic: There a Chance (series)

Name: Malia Player: Brock Boeser Fic: afraid to know the answer

Name: Iris Davenport Player: Matthew Tkachuk Fic: I got the boy, she got the man

Name: Avery Carmichael Player: Chris Kreider Fic: Take me for what I am

Name: Joanna Player: Elias Pettersson Fic: Déjà-Brew

Name: Luna Player: Cale Makar Fic: you can’t blame a girl for trying

Name: Isabella Thornton Player: Anthony Beauvillier Fic: we’re lost and found

Name: Cameron Marlow Player: Jeff Skinner Fic: gotta trust how you feel inside

Name: Karla Nielsen Player: Frederik Andersen Fic: I’ll always guide you home

Name: Renée Moreau Player: Quinn Hughes Fic: I need your hands on me, sweet relief

Name: Gracelyn Davis Player: Jake Oettinger Fic: taking on the world together

Name: Mila Williams Player: Nico Hischier Fic: sometimes you just don’t know the answer

Name: Soren Player: Ryan Graves Fic: When the time is right

Name: Maeva Player: Sidney Crosby Fic: I’m still haunted by the memories

Name: Sera Player: Philipp Grubauer Fic: I never thought

Name: Kendra Lee Player: Frederik Andersen Fic: comes back to me, burning red

Name: Mollie Thomas Player: Tyson Jost Fic: summer days pass me by

Name: Rachel Summers Player: Nathan MacKinnon Fic: you’ve been sent to save me

Name: Gianna Player: Quinn Hughes Fic: I’ve got a secret, I’m telling everyone

Name: Nora Player: Nick Blankenburg Fic: how long I had to fight to be living my life

Name: Bailey Player: Matthew Tkachuk Fic: no hesitation, what are we waiting for?

Name: Dhara Nicholls Player: Matt Martin Fic: I can’t help it if I like it

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Jeff Buckley: Mystery White Boy (Columbia)

Dave DiMartino, MOJO, June 2000

Posthumous collection of live tracks culled from the singer's '95-'96 Mystery White Boy tour. Released in tandem with 1995 concert video filmed in Chicago.

MYSTERY WHITE BOY is by no means too little, but it is very much too late. A live package bearing the air of intent – to capture a young artist just beginning his too-brief flight, to cement a late singer's reputation as one of the last decade's potential artistic giants, may be both – it too often displays what is simply not there. And that, sad to say, would be a talent as large and far-reaching as his father's.

It's embarrassing to admit, but my sole encounter with the son of Tim Buckley did not showcase me at my most critically acute: midway through his set, in a small theatre in Hollywood, I sat watching him sing most of the songs from Grace and – well, there's no other way to put it – I fell asleep. As one whose profession has involuntarily placed him in auditoriums watching full sets from the likes of Hootie & The Blow Fish, Krokus and Michael Bolton and never shutting a weary eye, I can only shrug and attempt to rationalise why. And I blame my lack of fervour regarding Jeff Buckley on a) my age and b) his genetics.

Genetics first, please. Though precious few escape it – Rufus Wainwright alone comes to mind at the moment – there is an infamous tradition of which Frank Sinatra Jr, Julian Lennon and a growing army of newcomers like Chris Stills are painfully aware: singing sons sound like singing fathers. And while there are indeed patches on Mystery White Boy where Buckley's aggressive yelping sounds less like his father's and more like a cross between Robert Plant's and (God help him) Perry Farrell's, these sections come less often than they would have to signify any sort of unique vocal talent. Midway through album opener 'Dream Brother' one can hear such a yelp, and it momentarily startles – until one thinks a) he would've ruined his voice if he kept singing like that, and b) his father did this sort of thing so much less self-consciously on Starsailor. Even more troublesome for one apparently intent on not following his father's footsteps: the song itself must of course be related to 'Dream Letter', Tim Buckley's extremely moving Happy/Sad track – addressed to a former lover regarding the son they conceived that he would rarely see.

What I remember most from that night in my plush chair in Hollywood was watching a young man conspicuously caught between the clichéd rock and a hard place. When he sang in his natural, high voice, he could not help but sound like the fresh-faced father-to-be who recorded the likes of 'I Can't See You' and 'Aren't You The Girl' in 1966. And when he attempted the vocalese at which his father excelled, perhaps more than any other pop singer of his generation, he was too nasal, lacking the deep bass that would make such songs as 'Lorca' so eerie, sounding forced and not quite there when trying for the chimplike vocal acrobatics that seared throughout Starsailor.

Much of what I saw then is what I hear now on Mystery White Boy,though it must be said that the bands sounds better than I recall – guitarist/ producer Michael Tighe burns throughout, thankfully (for Buckley's sake, if not ours) not sounding like Tim Buckley's long-time cohort Lee Underwood, while the rhythm section of bassist Mick Grandahl and drummer Matt Johnson provides thump-solid bottom on nearly every song. Still, rather than displaying a young singer at the height of his powers, most of this album focuses your attention elsewhere – via the cover versions, on better writers like Leonard Cohen, Big Star or Morrissey/Marr. Not to mention 'The Man That Got Away', once sung by Judy Garland – whose singing daughter, need I add, is not irrelevant here either. And were it possible to forget that Jeff Buckley's father ever existed, such songs as the newly unveiled 'What Will You Say' bear lyrics that make forgetting exceedingly difficult: "Father, do you hear me? Do you know me? Do you even care?"

In the end, fully enjoying the art of Jeff Buckley may simply be a matter of age. Those who have never enjoyed the legacy of his father – never watched his career soar, crash and burn, in real time and not via a stack of CD reissues – can hear the younger singer in ways in which I will never be able. Which is not a bad thing. Because, frankly, along time ago, if someone had pulled out a copy of Fred Neil's Sessions and played it for me, maybe I wouldn't have spent that better part of my adolescence raving about the unadulterated genius and uniqueness of Tim Buckley. And maybe, once again, I would have missed something.

© Dave DiMartino, 2000

[jeffchats]

Good point about how he doesn’t really tease intimate details with girls he’s cared about. I do remember he wasn’t very respectful of the Italian girl though. He doesn’t seem to be respecting Verica’s supposed ask of privacy. Whether or not they slept together he shouldn’t have made the seal the deal comment because that’s synonymous with sex. It’s funny that Mike and Matt asked about it but Jeff should’ve said he’s not discussing that. Now there’s more buzz about it. Not blaming anyone in here for that; that’s his fault for speaking about her on a public show. He doesn’t like Reddit talking about it but he’s the one sharing pieces of info he shouldn’t be.

In regards to the Italian girl he wasn't respectful but he also didn't really want to talk about the intimate details like that. He always moved from the subject or tried not to touch on it. For Verica, he teases it and then goes back and says "did I say that?". He's shown more respect for a girl he was a side piece for than he has for her who he supposedly cried over when she left America. I do not see any inkling that Jeff has actual romantic feelings for Verica.

[fearsmagazine]

PIG KILLER - Review

DISTRIBUTOR: Breaking Glass Pictures

SYNOPSIS: “Based on the terrifying true story of Robert 'Willy' Pickton, the pig farmer turned prolific lady killer whose horrific crimes shocked the world. With his herculean hog, Balthazar, by his side, Willy and his menagerie of colorful cohorts terrorized Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside for almost two decades until his 2002 arrest that uncovered the most bizarre series of murders that included rape, torture, slaughter, and dismemberment of almost fifty womenCanada has ever seen.” - Publicity Materials

REVIEW: Chad Ferrin’s film can be hit or miss. For me, I found PIG KILLER a big miss.

It’s not the cast, which feels like the line-up for a genre convention, but some of the production values and the script.

I’m not sure if the script is fully to blame or if some of it might also be the directing. This is a fictionalized account of true events and it feels like some of the time it's venturing into dark comedy. At its best it feels awkward and at its worst uncomfortable. I didn’t find anything in the least bit funny, or remotely so. There are many off color comments, and this is a serial killer film so I get it. However, they attempt to backpedal on some of their remarks, for example about the Asian remarks, which feels kind of compounded by Bai Ling’s cliched and outdated performance. Then there are the scenes between Ginger Lynn and Jake Busey. Again, I get it but there is just something about the execution that feels like sophomoric exploitation.

In terms of the production values, the thing that annoyed me the most was the excessive use of Gerard McMahon’s songs. There are 22 songs by him in the film, plus there is a line in the film about him playing Piggy’s Powwow. As mayhem is breaking out on the farm McMahon and his band are performing. Some of the songs are poorly edited into the film and a few times simply cut off. It’s not that I don’t like his music, it just feels like a square peg shoved into a round hole here and does not feel to fit the 2002 period of the story. But hey, who knows what they were listening to in Canada back then.

I get putting a scene in the credits or at the end of the credits to give the audience a bit extra. However, there is a five minute scene at the end of the credits that should have been edited into the main body of the narrative. It feels like an important scene to the story and not something I would consider a bonus scene. It’s the only time actor James Russo shows up in the film. During most of the scene Busey is eating, scraping a disposal plate with a plastic fork that is maddening and I can’t see what purpose it serves to the scene.

PIG KILLER is one of filmmaker Chad Ferrin’s s;pectacular train wrecks. There are numerous elements that make this an off-putting viewing experience, but like a glorious traffic accident we can’t help but slow down and stare in horror. As a die-hard horror/gore fan there was nothing likable for me here. From the language to the gore and nudity, this is an adult film. You’ve been warned.

CAST: Jake Busey, Kate Patel, Bai Ling, Ginger Lynn, Michael Paré, James Russo, Gerard McMahon, and Lew Temple. CREW: Director/Screenplay/Producer - Chad Ferrin; Producers - Robert Miano & Robert Rhine; Cinematographer/Visual Effects - Jeff Billings; Score - G Tom Mac (Gerard McMahon); Editor- Jahad Ferif; Production Designer - Matt Rumer; Costume Designer - Viktoriia Vlasenko; Special Effects Makeup - Kurt Bonzel, Jake Porath, Angie Shell; Special Effects & Gore Designer - Joe Castro. OFFICIAL: N.A. FACEBOOK: N.A. TWITTER: N.A. TRAILER: https://youtu.be/T6Hrat-l4Yo?si=_YqvgYarziI-e9ou RELEASE DATE: In theaters Nov. 17th , and also available on Blu-ray & digital Nov. 21st, 2023.

**Until we can all head back into the theaters our “COVID Reel Value” will be similar to how you rate a film on digital platforms - 👍 (Like), 👌 (It’s just okay), or 👎 (Dislike)

Reviewed by Joseph B Mauceri

[venus-in-furzz]

I've been listening to 'Forget her' by Jeff Buckley non-stop for the past few days and like so fucking engulfed in it that I feel spent right now. I stayed up all night crying to it, going through that whole broken heart soap opera and you know what? I haven't even had a break up or anything. I disgust myself sometimes.

[dreamwatch]

Landslide

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #8 - Prompt: Band Politics | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Referenced drug and alcohol abuse, chronic pain, language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None | Tags: Angst, future fic, older Corroded Coffin, fighting, arguments, unreliable narrator

****

“Nice of you to show up.”

Gareth can be a snarky little fuck when he wants to be. Childish in a way that sometimes highlights he’s younger than the rest of them. Eddie’s not a violent man, but sometimes…

“Well,” he begins, dropping onto the couch behind the mixing desk, “you should be grateful I graced you with my presence.” He grins, all teeth, and hopes it comes across as he means it to.

He’s been in pain a lot, lately. Last few months. Or maybe it started on the last tour, or the tour before that, whatever, but the point is it’s harder now. He’s older. He hurts, he takes things to help the hurt, maybe it fucks with his sleep schedule, like, whatever. So the attitude is unwelcome.

“It’s not cool, man,” Jeff chips in. 

“Whatever, dude, I’m here now, just go do your thing.”

“We’ve done our thing! Drums are recorded, bass is done, vocals are finished. We’re waiting on you, you prick.” Jeff kicks the bottom of the chair to punctuate his point, and Eddie kicks straight back, getting him in the side of the shin.

“Don’t fucking start man, just do your shit. Or I’ll do it for you.”

Oh. Oh, okay, we’re going there.

“You wish, Jeffrey,” he hisses. “You wish.”

It’s been like this for months (years?), picking at him, attacking him. Like he’s to blame for albums that tanked, for tours cut short. For the world changing.

The producer, some hot shot that Jeff chose because ‘he did some great stuff with Metallica’, like that was a good thing, starts throwing his ten cents into the mix. He’s not in the mood for this shit, he needs something to take the edge off, something to dull the pain, he can feel his skin throb, his leg, his—

“Eddie!”

“Alright!”

He heads into the studio, headphones on, guitar strapped to him. They usually keep a stool here for him when he’s recording but it’s been removed. No doubt on purpose. Whatever. Sooner this is done, the sooner he can get out of here.

He indicates he’s good to go, and then his headphones are filled with sound and he starts to play. He’s supposed to be recording the solo, but it’s not coming today. It doesn’t flow. It used to be his fingers flew up and down the fretboard, every note beautiful, perfect, but this… it’s not right.

He stops mid-take. “Can we go again?”

“Yeah, no problem, Eddie.” No problem for the producer, or the engineers, or the studio manager, because they’re all getting paid regardless. But Eddie has a clear view of the band and he sees the way they’re looking at each other. 

He goes again. And again. And again.

Jeff steps into the booth and picks up his guitar. “Can you give me the backing track?” A thumbs up from the booth. And then Jeff lays down the solo. Eddie’s solo.

Eddie doesn’t even wait for the music to stop. “What are you doing?”

Jeff stops, strings singing out. “Showing you how to do your fucking job, man.”

“God, it must be so hard for you up there on your high horse. Do you ever get nosebleeds?”

“What is wrong with you, Eddie? Is it physical, is it mental? Help me out here, man.”

It’s the wrong thing to say today. He shoves Jeff in the chest. “Back off man.” Jeff shoves him straight back.

Eddie doesn’t notice Gareth enter the studio until he’s standing between them. “Can you both just chill out? Eddie’s just warming up, right?”

“Don’t patronise me.” It comes out a little sharper than he meant it to. Gareth’s a grown man now, he’s not the little sheepy he found in the hallways of Hawkins High, but the hurt is writ across his face and he suddenly looks like that kid again.

“Whatever, man, tear each other’s throats out for all I care.”

“Don’t encourage them, I’d like to get home at some point tonight” Matt says, because that’s all he cares about, getting his checks and sitting by his pool.

“We could all go home if Eddie could do his job properly,” says Jeff.

Eddie rounds on him, finger straight in his face. “Do not push me, man. I’m warning you.”

Jeff leans right into him “Why, what are you gonna do?”

Another time, when he was younger, wasn’t still full of the remnants of last night’s cocktail of drugs and alcohol, he’d have kicked his ass. But he’s tired and sore. And he’s always been better with his words, anyway.

“You think you’re so important to this band, don’t you? You think we literally can’t go on without you. Which is weird,” he says, laying the sarcasm down thick, “because I remember doing a bunch of shows a few years back where you couldn’t play—”

“Shut up.”

“—and we didn’t even replace you. What did Kerrang! say, Matty? Oh, I’m sorry, you’re too busy over there with your head in Jeff’s ass. Let me remind you. ‘Corroded Coffin are like bottled lightning live, but what is truly astounding is how good they are as a trio.’ I think there was more, uh…  something about why do we even need you in the band, I think? But I dunno, memory’s not what it was.”

He can hear Gareth cursing behind Jeff. Eddie just crossed a line. He knows it. They all do.

For a second it feels like just the two of them in the room, and Eddie can see the years slip away; the snotty band kid and the brash teenager from the trailer park, a friendship that lasted over twenty years.

And Eddie just threw it away.

“I quit.”

“Jeff—”

“No, I’m done.” He drops his guitar into the rack. “Good luck with your trio.” He barges past Eddie. “By the way. The name’s mine. Maybe you can call yourselves ‘Eddie’s Huge Fucking Ego’?”

Then he’s gone.

And Corroded Coffin with him.

****

Yeah, I went there! 😈

And there's a tiny reference to my day two fic if you're interested. 🤘🏻😆

[spaceorphan18]

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story (Complete)

I had been planning on doing this for forever -- here's the complete list of the full story!

Season Two

Jacob Ben Israel (Audition) - Tumblr : Ao3

Principal Figgins (Brittany/Britney) - Tumblr : Ao3

Emma Pillsbury (Grilled Cheesus) - Tumblr : Ao3

Howard Bamboo (Duets) - Tumblr : Ao3

Carl Howell (The Rocky Horror Glee Show) - Tumblr : Ao3

Blaine Anderson (Never Been Kissed) - Tumblr : Ao3

Holly Holliday (The Substitute) - Tumblr : Ao3

Finn Hudson (Furt) - Tumblr : Ao3

Jeff Warbler (Special Education) - Tumblr : Ao3

Nick Warbler (A Very Glee Christmas) - Tumblr : Ao3

Azimio Adams (The Sue Sylvester Shuffle) - Tumblr : Ao3

Jeremiah (Silly Love Songs) - Tumblr : Ao3

Matt Rutherford (Comeback) - Tumblr : Ao3

Rachel Berry (Blame It On The Alcohol) - Tumblr : Ao3

The Ladies of Crawford Country Day (Sexy) - Tumblr : Ao3

Trent Warbler (Original Song) - Tumblr : Ao3

Sandy Ryerson (Night of Neglect) - Tumblr : Ao3

Wes and David (Born This Way) - Tumblr : Ao3

Sam Evans (Rumours) - Tumblr : Ao3

Lauren Zizes (Prom Queen) - Tumblr : Ao3

Terri (Schuester) Del Monico (Funeral) - Tumblr : Ao3

Jesse St. James (New York) - Tumblr : Ao3

Season Three

Breadstix Waitress Sandy (The Purple Piano Project) - Tumblr : Ao3

Coach Beiste (I Am Unicorn) - Tumblr : Ao3

Shane Tinsley (Asian F) - Tumblr : Ao3

Rory Flanagan (Pot 'O Gold) - Tumblr : Ao3

Sebastian Smythe (The First Time) - Tumblr : Ao3

Shelby Corcoran (Mash Off) - Tumblr : Ao3

Santana Lopez (I Kissed a Girl) - Tumblr : Ao3

Harmony (Hold Onto 16) - Tumblr : Ao3

Don Baroski (Extraordinary Merry Christmas) - Tumblr : Ao3

Will Schuester (Yes/No) - Tumblr : Ao3

Thad (Michael) - Tumblr : Ao3

David Martinez (The Spanish Teacher) - Tumblr : Ao3

Sugar Motta (Heart) - Tumblr : Ao3

Hiram and LeRoy Berry (On My Way) - Tumblr : Ao3

Cooper J Anderson (Big Brother) - Tumblr : Ao3

Unique Adams (Saturday Night Gleever) - Tumblr : Ao3

Chandler Kiehl (Dance With Somebody) - Tumblr : Ao3

Mike Chang (Choke) - Tumblr : Ao3

Becky Jackson (Prom-a-saurus) - Tumblr : Ao3

Noah Puckerman (Props) - Tumblr : Ao3

The Band (Nationals) - Tumblr : Ao3

The Tadpole Gay (Goodbye) - Tumblr : Ao3

[bang-bang-gang]

ok opinions in order of voting under the cut. dont forget to do your own voting over at @mostbelovedaewwrestlertournament!!!!!

shibata vs malakai black: shibata because of that turkey leg in his trunks jack perry mentioned

kamille vs mariah may: well only one of those i can trust that speaking out against women's bodily autonomy is like. a heel bit. and not their real rancid politics

julia hart vs marina shafir: okay this one is MEAN but. julia. i adore marina's indie work and i love how much of a killer she is, but i don't enjoy that she doesn't get to wrestle at all while in the death riders and i wish she had more of a personality than sexy scary lamp

juice robinson vs mark briscoe: points at url the choice here is obvious but this made me realise i NEEEED to see a promo battle between these two

jon moxley vs marq quen: sorry quen......

josh woods vs mark davis: oh this choice is a struggle for wildly different reasons.. i went with davis because im really sad about him missing from the will vs kyle storyline right now

johnny tv vs matt menard: ANOTHER impossible choice!!!!! we're going with daddy magic cause no doubt about it

jeff jarrett vs matt taven: ANOTHER impossible one but [matt taven voice] i'm matt taven!! also i heard double j was using sexist slurs so boo blonde man boo

jay white vs matthew jackson: well here is my diabolical reasoning..... i dont like EVP bucks that much and since this question posits jay white versus MATTHEW jackson i must therefore assume brat matt jackson doesn't count here. so like. points at url again

jay lethal vs max caster: cringefail beloved prince

jamie hayter vs mercedes martinez: i hope the lesbians can forgive me but the way jamie kisses her own bicep mesmerizes me

isiah kassidy vs michael nakazawa: beloved zay

harley cameron vs brodie lee: give harley ALL the awards and the belts and the tv time and the everything. whenever harley is not on screen everyone should be asking where is harley cameron

hikaru shida vs mjf: shida my beloved i wish she was on aew mor consistently

emi sakura vs nick wayne: okay my vote is obvious but now i want to see a match between the two. the child star-maker vs the child. she would sell for him like crazy please i need to see it now actually

diamante vs penelope ford: the votes on this are crazy actually i know penelope's boobs look good but i'm blaming homophobia on this one. watch roh guys

deonna purrazzo vs peter avalon: they both have big Main Character(cringe) energy but i think my vote here is obvious too

darby allin vs queen aminata: my queen....my liege..... im not a darby hater im just gay sorry darby fans

daniel garcia vs red velvet: another mean vote but danny's like. got everything. the total package

colten gunn vs ricochet: i think ricochet is having the time of his life rn and i think he's hilarious but points at username

colt cabana vs riho: miss you my beautiful princess

chuck taylor vs ruby soho: MISS YOU MY BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS

chris jericho vs sammy guevara: oh okay

buddy matthews vs saraya: proud part of the 9.3%........ #sarayadefender #no not in that way i just like her character

bryan danielson vs scorpio sky: no matter how much they try to make me hate you bryan i could never hate you bryan....

bandido vs tay melo: i cant wait to see tay back in aew!!!!!!! sorry bandido

athena vs the beast mortos: i was watching an athena match as i am making this list and she's just so good. her energy in the ring is so unmatched and i love the way she talks to a crowd ans how pissed off she gets. she has the energy of an angry norwegian lemming (look it up) yet she doesnt even come off as #cringe most of the time. her acting is just SO good and SO fun i love her so much

anna jay vs toni storm: MEAN TO HER????????? voting for the underdog as my civic duty

abadon vs willow nightingale: oh noooo im so sorry my beloved zombie but.. willow! shes literally willow nightingale!!

oh shit i didnt realise how many there would be before i started reblogging 😭 sorry for the spam so far i’ll gather all my comments on the rest of them in one post