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strangelock · 2 years ago

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Taika Waititi Video Club [YouTube]

This is a partial transcript of the linked YouTube video; I wanted to grab the list of films for watching later and wanted his notes handy when I did.

Her Smell (2018)

- Elizabeth Moss. I haven’t even seen this movie but she’s got a small part in the film that I just shot in Hawaii [Next Goal Wins (2022)]. She’s a pretty good actor.

Leave No Trace (2018)

- Thomasin McKenzie, who’s in Jojo Rabbit (2019). She’s fabulous. You must see her. You’ve got to see it.

Stalker (1979)

- This is one of my favorite films. Fun fact: they had to shoot this film twice […] everything got destroyed by accident… maybe not?

Memories of Murder (2003)

- Bong Joon-Ho, Korea. Master director. One of my all time favorite films. […] Now he’s returning to his roots with Parasite (2019).

Akira (1988)

- (Aw, didn’t happen did it? Too bad; might still happen…)

Old Boy (2003)

- Excellent film; Park Chan-Wook, one of the greats; very disturbing twist in this film

Let the Right One In (2008)

- Young boy, who’s bullied a lot at school, discovers a strange girl who doesn’t have any where to live, doesn’t have any friends either, and she’s awake all night. You know why, she’s a vampire. Spoiler for you.

- A film that Jemaine and I always loved and it inspired us a lot when we were doing What We Do in the Shadows (2014).

- It’s also an inspiration for the relationship in Jojo Rabbit.

Fawlty Towers (1975)

- My favorite TV show, from England, one of the great all-time great comedies.

This Is Spinal Tap (1984)

- Had a big influence on What We Do in the Shadows.

Life of Brian (1979)

The Meaning of Life (1983)

- RIP Terry. So, the Monty Python was a thing that I would watch a lot when I was young.

The Producers (1967)

- Of course, this one here. More even than the film is this man: Mel Brooks was a big inspiration for what I was trying to do with Jojo Rabbit.

The Great Dictator (1940)

- It’s people like Chaplin and Brooks and Lubitsch [see, To Be or Not to Be (1942)].

- I’d already seen these films before and I’ve always loved them and always wanted to do something that had some humor and satire in it that was around WWII but what I decided to do when I came to make the film, and even when I was writing it, I decided not to watch any of these films. So I guess in terms of me being influenced, yes, and inspired, definitely, but inspired by the people who made the films

Jules and Jim (1962)

- This is why France is great. I’ve stolen the opening of Jules and Jim - the little moments with their montage and their history.

The 400 Blows (1959)

- Another big influence on Boy (2010) and my very first short film, Two Cars, One Night (2003).

Intouchables (2011)

- […] there was a little bit of an inspiration on my football film, Next Goal Wins.

Next Goal Wins (2014)

- It’s a documentary and I’m adapting it with Michael Fassbender, and Elizabeth Moss, and a bunch of friends of mine from New Zealand, and a lot of really great Polynesian actors from Hawaii, and from mainland America, and also from New Zealand, Australia—and it’s about them; it was like an ultimate underdog story of triumph of the will.

Green Lantern (2011)

- . . . . . . .

Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974)

- So, Scarlett Johansson’s character in Jojo Rabbit is based a lot on Ellen Burstyn in this film because I think she’s one of the great single mothers of the cinema in that movie.

Hugo (2011)

- No one talks about this film to talk about Martin Scorsese. They talk about Hugo. I think this is one of his greatest films. And I think that was true what he was saying that he surrounded himself with a lot of women for his heads of department and the crew and everything because he didn’t know anything about women so he wanted to try and understand them.

This is England (2006)

- Shane Meadows. Bam, yes, I just absolutely adored and the only reason, I think, this film is what it is, is because of this kid.

The Graduate (1967)

- One of the great pornos ever made. Anne Bancroft, Dustin Hoffman, Katharine Ross in Mike Nichols The Graduate and I would say it’s consistently been in my top 5 films.

The Black Stallion (1979)

- This is an absolutely beautiful film about a boy and a horse on an island - you can imagine what happens.

Big Trouble in Little China (1986)

- Kurt Russell is what makes American cinema great. (I’ve never met him; maybe I don’t need to; they say don’t meet your hero’s and I don’t think I need to meet him but I want you guys to know: this is the guy.)

- One of the inspirations for Thor: Ragnarok (2017) was this film; we loved just the fun nature of that character and that’s something we wanted to try and emulate in Thor with Chris’s character.

Terminator 2: Judgement Day (1991)

- This is another inspiration on JoJo Rabbit—a little boy and his imaginary friend.

Time Bandits (1981)

- Terry Gilliam. Incredible film, very imaginative (maybe I’m doing something with that property as a show? Who knows.)

Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992)

- Most of the effects, if not all of them were in camera—silhouettes, shadows, animatronics—yes, the old-school, good old-fashioned special effects and it’s a beautiful story. I don’t know if you know about the story, but he went to battle, she thought he was dead, so she jumped out a window. He got back too late—she was dead—so, he blamed God.

Bottle Rocket (1996)

- The film that put him on the map.

Punch-Drunk Love (2002)

- Let me get it straight for you, ok, this is probably, for me, Adam Sandler’s great, great film—his best role. (Uncut Gems (2019), though, he turns it on its head; he’s incredible.)

- And for Paul Thomas Anderson, this is not the film that you’d really consider to be his, you know, his masterwork or what he’s known for. What am I saying? I guess I’m saying that I like the things that, you know, not so obvious.

Paper Moon (1973)

- Absolutely incredible; also father and daughter: Ryan O’Neal, Tatum O’Neal; and she won an Oscar for this role in this film. He didn’t turn up to the ceremony (jealous).

Harold and Maude (1971)

- By the great, Hal Ashby. He is one of the top American filmmakers—see everything he did.

The Last Detail (1973)

- One of my favorite one’s of his is actually the Last Detail with Jack Nicholson. Not many people, except people in cinema, of course, know about it, but it wouldn’t be the one that people automatically go to.

Coming Home (1978)

- Also one they don’t automatically go to is Coming Home, the least Hal Ashby of all of his films but it is the most beautiful.

Heavenly Creatures (1994)

- By order of the government, we must talk about Peter Jackson movies all the time. And Heavenly Creatures is, in my personal opinion, I think is his greatest film. (Not to take anything away from Lord of the Rings or those trilogies but this film, which also stars my very good friend, Melanie Lynskey—). This is one of the most inventive and incredible murder thrillers that I’ve ever seen; it’s very suspenseful and very disturbing but in a very cool way.

Goodbye Pork Pie (1980)

- A real New Zealand classic. It’s a great—I want to say road trip film—but it’s about a car trying to get from the top of the North Island of New Zealand to the very bottom and the cops are after them and it’s like Smokey and the Bandit and all those sort of car chase movies from back in the 70s and 80s; it sort of shares a lot of that.

Badlands (1973)

- This has inspired pretty much everything I’ve ever done.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)

- (Can we just talk about Russell Crowe for a second because he is the greatest actor.) Consistently makes my top 10 list. Why? Because of Russell Crowe. It’s the way that he managed to take the audience and look after them just like he’s looking after his crew and you feel safe in his hands, you feel like you’re being looked after, you feel like you’re part of the crew and that you’re really out there on that boat.

- And I also think it’s a testament to Peter Weir’s filmmaking skills as well. He takes us on that journey and makes us feel that we’re actually there and that the stakes are high on the high seas.

- (I mean, I think I’ve seen Gladiator and Master and Commander probably a 100 times… Russell, Russell, Russell, I love you.)

BONUS: As Guest Curator for HBO Max, Taika picks:

Similarly, this was an Extra for S1E1: Pilot of Our Flag Means Death.

Happy Together (1997)

- By Kar-Wai Wong, a classic. Shot by the wonderful Christopher Doyle. I’ve always loved this film. I’m a huge fan of Kar-Wai Wong’s films. And Happy Together was one of the first ones I watched (yes, before In the Mood for Love (2000)). And it’s a love story—two guys are in South America, and they’re a long way from home, and it’s a very beautiful story about the pain that we put each other through when looking for love.

Princess Mononoke (1997)

- One of my favorites, if not my actual favorite of Miyazaki’s films. Show it to your little ones. Fun for the whole family.

The 400 Blows (1959)

- Classic Truffaut! This film is Truffaut’s first film—quite autobiographical. Absolutely beautiful story about a young boy navigating his way through the world and trying to find his place in this world and figure what he wants to do in life. Which as we all know from the times when we were young—it’s very hard. It’s very hard to know what you want to do. I still haven’t figured that out.

Clueless (1995)

- Another classic; one of my favorite films ever—sort of a modern take on Emma. About a girl that’s so great at matchmaking and great at bringing other people together and creating love between other people [and] has not left anything for herself.

#taika waititi

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

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The Sheriff and the Murderer

Part Three

Previous Parts | Part One | Part Two

Series Masterlist

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Summary | one of the many things that you had never had the chance of doing was disposing of a body; luckily for you, you know just the right person who can tend to your aid.

Warnings | mentions of death, disposing of a body, mentions and aftermath of murder, mentions of rape, mentions of sex, swearing, mention of suicide

The smell of the carcass had your nose turning up, and the sight wasn’t much better. There was blood staining your lovely dress, that Lee had taken off hours prior. Now it was ruined, with the red digress of your husband; he always had to taint everything, and it still appeared to apply despite him being deceased.

Your eyes wallowed with water, as you thought of the mistakes you had made. There were so many, and marrying Simon had been of the greatest, considering that his treatment of you had been beyond disgraceful. And now, the red of his departed insides was sticking beneath his nails, causing you to gag.

This part, the slashing and ripping apart of his limbs, using your trusty shovel, had been worse than actually committing the initial crime. Killing him had been bliss, but this, reminded you of the possible consequences that you would be forced to partake in.

“Oh no.” You heaved, feeling nauseous from the pungent aroma, grasping at the top of your chest in sickness. You dropped his hand, that felt ironically lighter now that he was dead, letting it fall with the other parts of his distorted, and broken, body.

The worst part of all was, now that you had control of where his palms were permitted to go, and the power had you feeling complete. It had you basking in your own glory, but now, you were lost, grieving the path that you had lost regarding the man that you truly were infatuated with.

Walking backwards, and closing the shed door, you abandoned the sections of Simon, hurrying back into your empty home, and going towards your lined phone. Without caring about the prints of blood that you were padding onto the numerical keys, you dialled a woman that you knew to be in the business of cold body abandon.

For a minute, the line rang, leaving you antsy and picking at your stained nails, chipping away at the surrounding skin. All you could smell was the reminder of blood, that smothered you in a hermit of remembrance.

A remembrance of the times that he would splatter your body with his self, claiming that you were his wife, and even bragging about it to the fellas that he worked closely with. But you were nothing more than a shadow in his eyes, a prize that followed him around the house, flaunting her terrified doe eyes at his silhouette.

His greatest flaw was, aside from his poisonous and lingering touch, that smothered you in the cruelest of ways, was that he thought he was aware of everything that went on around him. It was as though he thought he were the sheriff...

But behind his turned back, your shadow would dance with the image of Lee Bodecker, in a private and disclosed matter. He was the true sheriff of the town, the wine who could order you to do anything, and you would wilfully comply.

Lee had, and never would hurt you. That was the definite difference between the polar pair. He was a lovely gentleman, and Simon, well, he was more like a rat swimming out of the sewer.

All these thoughts and actions of adultery were fair play, you slept with Lee behind the now scathed and chopped up back of your husband, whilst he bedded as many women that were actually willing to slumber with.

You were not dumb to his pattern, each night when he went out, he was pursuing a dame, but that never bothered you, because while he was out, the sheriff would make a stop, and check you over, in more ways than one.

Finally, you running with your thoughts was disrupted, for the ringing ceased. A upbeat and facade of a ‘hello’ rang though your ears, making you breathe a much deserved intake of relief.

“Hey Sandy.” You replied, holding the phone aggressively against your ear. Anything she had to say, you were willing to listen to, after all, she was a master in the ways of murder, as you knew and were trusted peculiarly with that detail of secrecy. “I need your help.”

The sound of Simon’s body parts beating around the trunk as sandy surpassed over a bump in the road reverberated through the entire vehicle. It soothed the initial silence that was exhibited in it, and nervously, you licked your thin lips, hoping that you would reach the ‘middle of nowhere’ soon.

It wasn’t that you and Sandy didn’t get along, in fact, you got along great, which was one of the reasons that she insisted to husband Carl that they leave you alive. But it was the fact that there was an unspoken gesture that waded through the air, like a muting toxin.

“Does Lee know?” She asked, finally breaking the silence like ice. It was a relief to hear voice, deep down, you were insecure that she was silently judging you for the entire ride, or at least, how far you had gone so far.

“No, and I intend for it to have a cap kept on it.” You slunk your shoulders, whilst thinking of Sandy’s sibling. He was far too good for you, he was the sheriff, and now, you deemed yourself as nothing more than a murderer.

The fact that you were a survivor of all sorts of horrid extremes wouldn’t matter to the boys in blue, they would not see you past your crime, and you feared that sheriff Bodecker would not either.

“Son of a bitch had it coming to him anyways.” Stated Sandy, being heartless to her admission. “The sight of you and that prick drove my brother insane. We all knew what he was doing to you, yet, they wouldn’t charge him, all because you were simply married to him.”

“What would you have done if Carl had dared lay his hands on you in an in-consensual manner?” You asked, plucking away at the trim of your clean skirt. Before you had left to go on this joyous trip with Sandy, you had changed, all in favour of the neighbours, and anyone else you happened to pass.

“I’d have done the same darling.” She comforted you, looking away from the road for a moment, to send you a quick and sincere smile. Things within the car were falling into their previous rhythm, it being apparent that the two of you were good and well adversed friends. “I wanted to kill Simon too, you know? But with the threats I have made in the past, it would have been far too suspicious.”

“Yeah.” You agreed, suddenly feeling guilty that if it were found to be known that Simon was butchered, Sandy would be interrogated, most likely from her own brother. “How is Carl?” You changed the subject, shifting under the grip of the seat belt.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you how my lovesick brother is?” She replied, laughing lightly at your warm face. “He’s still head over heels for you girl, and yet, the other man won your heart.”

“I wouldn’t say won it, I’d say he manipulated it.” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest to pave down the swell of tension inside. “I’d always told myself, and you, that I’d choose Lee Lee, but high school was a long time ago, and I can’t go back to sneaking kisses with him under the bleachers when your back was turned.”

“Trust me, I knew all along.” She smiled, thinking back to the simpler times. “And though, I know when he was training to be a deputy, he’d told you he had no time for a relationship, and he didn’t exactly expect you to wait for him. But you may as well have, considering the two of you continued to fornicate like wild rabbits.”

“Please stop.” You groaned at her words, covering your face with your clear and evidence free hands. “And we did not fornicate like-“

“My bedroom was right beside yours when we got that apartment, and before then, well it was against Lee’s. Trust me, when I say that I know off by heart how you sound in bed sweetie. And god, did I grimace as I heard you mewling my brother’s name.”

Breathily you laughed, thinking back to the times that were spoke of. “Sandy.” You spoke her name, earning a radical hum in reply. “I love Lee.”

“Trust me darling, I am well aware of that. The two of you are like Romeo and Juliet, except you’ve killed someone else rather than taken your own life. And then, there’s never been anything holding the two of you apart-“

“Okay, you’re trying to make a point here Sand. Nothing like Romeo and Juliet, I got it.” You nodded your head, before leaning it back into the plumpness of the head rest. “And then there’s you and Carl, Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Sweetie, you’re a killer too now, so I wouldn’t make comparisons. You’re just lucky that the first suspect for Simon’s disappearance will be a man, and then we’ll see where I am on that list. And you know me, I will always protect you, it’s what we do.”

“It is what we do.” You repeated, watching the road ahead, and tapping your feet in tune with the floundering of Simon’s own rolling feet.

Tags;

@charmed-asylum @brynthebulldozer @tcc-gizmachine @stucky-my-ship @acciosiriusblack

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imastrangeone98 · 4 years ago

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The Big Cheese

(A/N: some canon deviance here! Watch out my nonexistent fans XD)

As Leon went to check a nearby house, Sarah carefully entered a small one, with a room that had a large cabinet.

That happened to be shaking. Like something- or someone- was behind it.

Totally not suspicious, she thought. No, not at all.

Carefully stepping to the side, pistol in hand, she slowly unlocked the small closet door and swung it open.

A tall, dirty man fell out, muffled shouting escaping his taped mouth. When he saw the gun in his hand, he made more noise and shook his head.

"Relajarse, señor," she said. "No voy a hacerle daño."

She ripped off the tape covering his mouth, and the man winced in pain.

"A little rough, don't you think, chica?" he muttered.

"Well, that's not very nice, considering I rescued you from what must be the jaws of hell," she replied, turning the stranger on his back and untying his hands.

"You're... not like them?"

"No. You?"

"No." Once freed, he rolled onto his side and rubbed his chafed wrists. "Okay, I have a very important question: you got a smoke?"

"Sorry. I got gum, though."

But before she could even offer him a stick, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. Turning to the sound, she saw two villagers staring at them with murder in their eyes.

And that was before the tall man in the black trench coat entered the room.

One of his eyes looked funny. Probably fake.

On instinct, she aimed with her gun, only to get thrown into the wall in the blink of an eye, where she immediately passed out.

[...]

She had the strangest dream. There was nothing she could see for miles around, yet there was a voice. Soft and sinister.

"Feeble humans," it whispered. "Let us give you our power."

There was a slight sting in her neck. What could it be?

The voice chuckled. "Soon, you will become unable to resist this... intoxicating power."

And she dreamt of bugs. Of wriggling things that crawled up into peoples' hearts and lungs and brains and just squirmed and squirmed, whispering darkness into her mind and soul.

And she screamed and screamed and-

Her eyes flew open. There was no one. Thank God.

A soft snore erupted from behind her. And that was when she noticed her trussed hands.

"Ah, shit," she mumbled. "Hey. Snorlax. Get up!"

The man grunted. "What?"

"Nothing."

He groaned again. "Crawl out of one hole, and into another."

"Mind telling me what that means?"

He chuckled. "Americano, ¿sí? What brings a nice woman like you into this part of the world?"

"Looking for a holiday home." She rolled her eyes. "No, my friend and I are looking for this girl." She managed to slide out the photograph and show it to him. "Look familiar?"

He hummed. "Let me guess: President's daughter?"

"Wow, we have a genuine Sherlock Holmes," Sarah joked. "How'd you know? Unless you're somehow exceptional at guessing."

He simply whispered, "Psychic powers," before laughing. "Nah. I heard from one of the villagers about the President's daughter in the church."

"Ah." She nodded. "Looks like we'll have to check out... Uh..."

"Luis Sera," he introduced with a small flourish. "Used to be a cop in Madrid. Now I'm just a good-for-nothing guy who happens to be quite the ladies man."

"Not this lady," she muttered. "How'd you quit?"

"Policia... You put your life on the line... Nobody really appreciates you enough for it." He huffed. "Being a hero isn't what it's cracked up to be anymore."

She hummed. "My friend was a cop. Only for a day, though. I wonder if he feels the same way."

"Only for a day?" Luis asked with curiosity.

"Yeah... We ended up in Raccoon City- his very first day on the force."

"That's the city with the viral outbreak, right?"

"Yup."

"...I think I saw a sample back in the city department," he mused.

Sarah's eyes widened. There was only one sample of that virus, and she destroyed it...

...Right?

CLANK!

Abruptly, a blood-soaked man with an ax stalked towards them. Everything about him screamed MURDER.

They both began to flail. "Do something!" he yelled.

"You're the ex-cop! You do something!"

He swung the ax down towards them. And Sarah began to pull. "Now!"

They both extended the chain far enough for the weapon to cleave through it, setting them both free.

Just not from the man.

Enraged that he missed, he turned towards the scientist and swung once more-

Only to get kicked into the wall, where his neck snapped on the floor.

Leon stood in front of her, face full of worry. "You okay? I got worried when you didn't show at the rendezvous."

"I... uh... got delayed," she apologized, accepting his offered hand as he pulled her to her feet. "Where'd that guy go?"

"Guy? What guy?" He looked around. "I didnt see a guy."

"I was tied up with another dude. Said he was a former cop who got pushed down the rabbit hole here. Said something odd..." she mused, rubbing her chin.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Well, maybe we'll see him down the line."

"Oh yeah. We should check out the church." She told him what Luis had said about Ashley, and he shrugged.

"Not like we have a lot of options, anyway. Might as well give it a shot."

As they both headed out, she couldn't help but feel like there was something itching in her neck.

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A/N: short stories like this are really fun to write I'm realizing XD

Relajarse, señor. No voy a hacerle daño. - Relax, sir, I'm not going to hurt you.

#resident evil 4 #leon kennedy #luis sera #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x oc

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corpse--diem · 5 years ago

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Organ’s Out Of The Bag | Morgan & Erin

Summary: Morgan interrupts Erin at work, eats her organs, and learns about the family trade. When: Week of 5/4 Featuring: @mor-beck-more-problems

There wasn’t a “How To Operate An Illegal Organ Trafficking Business For Dummies” book to help Erin work out the best system for organizing and storing frozen organs. Shocker. Buying a second industrial cooler would have been as expensive as it was suspicious, which made trial and error the only real option. It was tedious, and there was probably still a better way, but she’d found her groove. Hollowed, block-like shelving units had been attached to the far end of the wall. Other items were stored on top but she could lift the face of each one, almost like a locker, to fill and empty as needed. Only she knew where the latches were and only she could open it. A small feat, sure, but you had to take your wins where you could get them. Maybe she was finally getting the hang of this? That was a thought that should have sat more uncomfortably on her mind or deterred the smirk on her lips. If she had a spare moment at all, it wasn’t for that kind of introspection.

With her music loud and her focus set, she made quick work of it. Saran Wrap, label, and onto the next. Just another Tuesday. One more load to go and she could break for dinner. A figure filled the doorway when she turned, startling her backwards while some instinctive part of her reached for the knife in her back pocket. “Jesus Christ, Morgan…” she huffed out, freezing before she pulled out the blade. “You scared the shit out of me. What—“ she narrowed her eyes, her panic doubling in that moment. “You’re not allowed down here.”

After the video incident, Morgan hadn’t expected Erin to be someone who was okay with hanging out with her newly dead and only semi-feeling self. But aside from the body horror, Erin thought she was ‘cool’. Maybe Erin lived with death in a way that kept her from feeling it. Maybe it wasn’t a tar pit for her. Maybe it didn’t even pull, but could just...sit its ass down and let her be. Erin had her life pretty together, right?

Morgan traipsed up the entrance of the Nichols’ house since Erin had said she could just come in, but there was no sign of her, or any life going on in the house. So she turned instead to the lower levels where they had passed through for the ritual. She found her bent over a table with...organs. Bags and bags of organs. Morgan stayed put, hand over her stomach, her mouth watering. At least one of those was a heart, and those were thick enough to remind her of meat sometimes. But there was the whole other question of what they were doing here. Morgan didn’t know a lot about mortuary work, but there were too many different kinds laying around near each other for it to have anything to do with her ‘clients’. And if it wasn’t that, than maybe--

Erin turned just as Morgan reached for a bag of brains and a pair of eyeballs. She smiled, bright and sheepish. “Hi…” She drew out the greeting as long as possible. “We had plans. You said I could come and show you more weird zombie things?” Her gaze slid sideways to the table. Stars, it all looked so good. “I knocked, you didn’t answer,” she went onto explain, popping one of the eyeballs in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “And since I already knew my way around…” She shrugged and swallowed the eyeball, popped the other one into her mouth, doing her damnedest to savor it before she stuffed the whole table into her mouth. “So, anyway, what’s with all the random dead organs on your table?”

Fuck. Erin had completely forgotten about their plans. Not that she wasn’t excited for some extreme body horror and manipulation. Between the lack of sleep, the mimes lurking around every corner, and maintaining her day and night jobs, things were slipping through the cracks. “Sorry,” she shook her head, moving to turn the music off. “I got caught up in--” she started to explain, until she was watching Morgan pop an eyeball into her mouth like she was sampling an appetizer. It wasn’t bad enough that Morgan saw the goods, she had to snack on them too. Five minutes in and she was already out a couple hundred bucks. This was off to a hell of a start. “Stop that!” She ran for the table, collecting the rest of the saran-wrapped organs in her arms. Fuck. Fuck. “I was about to put them away,” she answered, aware that it was more of a nonanswer. “They’re not hors d'oeuvres so can you just--try to refrain?” She huffed, moving to the freezer. Glanced back, unable to feel just a little uncomfortable at the thought of being alone with an apparently snacky zombie. “I thought you just were into brains, anyway?”

Morgan backed away from the table, frowning as she cradled her snacks to her chest. “This is me trying!” She whined, mouth still half full. This wasn’t a good time to wonder if whatever species this had come from actually tasted better than the rabbit eyes she normally had, but the pull in her, the wanting, was so much she closed her eyes to enjoy the last gummy chunks sliding down her throat as she finished it off. “Um, so, funny story? Brains make my world go round, but dead bodies and viscera are like...well I never did even soft drugs when I was alive, but I can’t help myself. I’ve stuck my face straight into a dead baby deer. It’s like true love...in uh, you know, gross...foodie sort of way.” She swallowed the last of the eyeball, feeling embarrassed. Then she remembered that Erin was the one with the zombie buffet on her table. “You never answered my question. What are you doing with the zombie buffet on your table? This doesn’t look all that much like Funeral Director of the Year stuff.” She opened the brain bag and started to munch on that next.

Erin couldn’t help but stare with vague fascination as she watched Morgan explain herself, chewing on a half eaten eyeball. “I’ll try to remember that next time, then,” she winced a little, watching her money go right down Morgan’s throat. Nothing that could be done about it now, anyway. Flustered a little at the question, realizing Morgan wasn’t about to let up. “Well--I was saving that one for you anyway so, please. Enjoy,” she nodded towards the human brain she was already feasting on. A little sarcastic considering she was helping herself again but more genuine than not. Fuck. This wasn’t at all how she’d anticipated this little visit to go. With a long sigh, she pulled her rubber gloves off. “It’s--complicated,” she said hurriedly, clearing her throat. Had she ever actually straight up told anyone about this? Nic, Marley--hell, even Nell just knew. No explanations had been necessary. “And I’m a damn good funeral director. This doesn’t change that.” Her fingers tapped on the silver table and she eyed her carefully. “If I tell you, this stays between us, right?” Morgan was smart enough to probably figure it out at this point, but the assurance didn’t hurt.

Morgan continued to frown, miffed that she was on the pointy end of the sarcasm stick when she had been asked to come. What was she supposed to do, stay at the door all night and go home sad? But Erin seemed frazzled beyond being interrupted. Morgan’s dig at her above-board job proved that too. Morgan was even beginning to feel bad. She tilted her head, trying to get a better read on Erin. “I’m a zombie, Erin. I know all about awkward secrets to keep.” She started to edge closer, plucking a chunk of brain matter off to chew on. And, holy shit, she had to know how long this one had been left sitting and at what temperature, because it made her taste buds melt like burgers used to--but there were more important things to deal with. Erin had some kind of organ stockpiling problem, and maybe a ‘oops my friend knows I’m into some weird, sketchy looking shit’ problem. “If it helps, it looks like you’re running some kind of under the table organ pantry. So either I’m right, and I just made your job easier for you, or I’m wrong, and you have even more reason to correct me. But...you just saw me eat eyeballs and I used to sell people shiny rocks I transmuted out of garbage. I’m really not gonna judge.”

Erin chewed on the inside of her lip as Morgan spoke. Yep. Of course she figured it out. What the fuck else was a mortician doing with a bunch of unlabeled organs saran wrapped in the embalming room? All signs pointed to shady. This was entirely her fault, which bothered her the most about this whole thing. She fucked up. Forgot their plans. Something had to give, eventually. It was bound to. Juggling businesses, murderous mimes and actively trying to not be a shitty friend was a dangerous game. But she trusted Morgan, as much as that was worth. Had to, considering how calmly she was chewing on Mr. “Mr. Reid’s dearly departed brain, after taking out his eyeballs in less than five minutes flat. “Organ harvesting and trafficking, actually,” she corrected her, taking a deep breath after she said the words out loud. Just rip the bandaid off, right? Felt wrong on her tongue for more reasons than she cared to think about. “It’s--” she shook her head, glancing down at the table again for a moment, then forced herself to stare back up at Morgan. Fingers thrumming against the table again, her nerves alight. “My dad got into it before I took the business over and I got stuck with it because he couldn’t handle it. Please believe me when I say this isn’t something I ever wanted.”

Oh. Oh, this was something serious. Was Morgan still a person who knew how to take on serious things with new people? She was feeling okay today. Sort of float-y in a way that made a distant part of her worried, but she wasn’t tired. Not like she was on other days. But this whole—thing Erin was tearsely explaining wasn’t something looked suddenly less like a dirty secret and more like a two ton brick she’d been hauling for too long. Morgan could at least understand that feeling, even if the rest of the situation confused her. “Shit,” she said. “That explains some of the vague trauma you mentioned. I can’t even imagine…” She stepped closer, more confident now that she wasn’t in trouble, “Can ask if—I mean, is it going well? Are you...going to be okay?”

Relief came with the confession like an exhale. A momentary reprieve to that tension knotting in her chest for months now. The inhale felt just as horrible as it always had. The knot settled back where it knew it belonged in Erin’s chest. Morgan wouldn’t judge. She wouldn’t rat her out. But there was something unsafe about having it out in the open like this. A little bit of control was gone and that almost felt worse than the deed itself. “Good as it can be, I guess? It was a little rocky at first but--I’m getting there.” She tossed on a smile, raising a brow at Morgan. “Don’t worry about it. Just try not to eat my merchandise? Those eyeballs you demolished set me back a couple hundred dollars,” she teased, a chuckle in her voice to hide the very real pain there. Dale was a good scapegoat for that kind of thing anyway--the big oaf was as heavy handed as they came. She leaned against the table, glancing between the brain in her hands and Morgan’s gaze. “Is… that your first human brain?”

“Oh. Oh, shit!” Morgan cried, face dropping with dismay. “I really couldn’t help it. That’s not just like, me being weird. I can probably get Deirdre to reimburse you? I don’t have to mention the eyeballs, or the brain, if you don’t want, but I uh...don’t think she’d mind it either.” It was a little too late with the brain, so Morgan took a sheepish dip back into the bag to pull off another chunk. It was halfway up to her mouth when Erin said the word human. Morgan looked down at the brain again. “Oh,” she said, voice squeaking. “So that’s why it tastes so good.” She continued to stare at the brain. From the size of it, she probably should’ve known it wasn’t just some deer. But holy shit. You’d think there’d be fanfare or at least a good shock of agony over baby’s first lite cannibalism. But it had just been a really yummy brain, no more interesting than another until she’d tasted it. “Uh...yeah. If that’s what this is...yeah.” Was it bad, that it didn’t mean anything to her? That the only thought she’d had was how yummy? Sure, deer and raccoon and cow brain were nice. But this was steak. Or cheesecake. For all that it looked the same, the taste was enough to have let her feel good about something while she’d chewed. Then another question came to her. “Not to be gross, but are these...was this…” she jiggled the bag in her hand. “...One of your clients?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Erin finally gave a genuine laugh, shaking her head. Was that one of those zombie quirks? Like how amputated body parts turned to goo? “I actually really was saving that brain for you.” She had to admit, she was a little surprised at Morgan’s hesitation. This was a funeral home. No way she could’ve thought animal brains were more readily available than an actual human’s. Didn’t deter her, she noted, when her fingers dipped back into the bag. “Well,” she said, starting to pull off her blue scrubs, raising a brow. “My clients have some organs to spare. Waste not, want not?” She offered with a shrug. It was more difficult than she anticipated to keep her eyes off of Morgan. She looked the same, and if it wasn’t for the brain food she was gobbling down, it would’ve been impossible to see anything different about her. But she was eating a human brain. She knew what happened to some of the parts that left her basement, but this was the first time she’d witnessed it first hand. “Doesn’t bother you, does it?” Another pause as she tried not to overtly stare anymore. “You know, I swear I didn’t invite you over for this but--if that’s something you think you’d want on a regular basis, I can definitely help you out.”

Morgan looked down at the brain. She was still waiting for the horror to set in, but mostly she was worried what Remmy would say, or Deirdre. She’d only given her animal brains so far, not even an offer or a suggestion of anything else. They wouldn’t blame her for an accident, but liking it, enjoying it---Morgan saw herself split and cracked between two lenses. One monstrous, one that simply was. ‘Don’t eat the humans’ was the number one thing she heard from hunter types. It was even a question she remembered asking herself. Do they eat people? Do they hurt people? As if it made them inherently better, safer, if the answer was “right.” But here she was, some poor guy’s insides already in her stomach. And as much as she was troubled, it took effort to maintain. “B-bother?” She asked. Shrugged. “Does it bother you? You seem pretty chill with me eating in front of you, all things considered. I mean, would you really….supply that sort of thing? For me?”

There was some kind of internal struggle going on behind Morgan’s eyes. Was this weird for her too? She’d been snacking on them like Erin was going out of business. “I don’t know, maybe I should be more bothered,” she shrugged, running a hand through her hair. “But I fished them out of the guy, you know?” Maybe it was like how a butcher didn’t have any trouble selling even the most obscure parts of the cow. In this case, she was simply more familiar with the human body. “Doesn’t bother me,” she confirmed, giving her a smile to cement that. “Brains are a little more expensive, just so you know. But yeah. This is what I do. It wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

“You...did all this yourself? And the guy still looked like himself at the end? With the--” Morgan motioned to her skull. “I’m usually in a weird...zombie haze whenever I’m eating out in the wild, so things like being careful don’t really make it into the thought process. But...bones are hard. If you get it really wrong, you get a bunch of gross pointy bits in the food. Worse than eggshells in your fried rice. What do you do to get to the stuff and humpty-dumpty them back together?” But something else snagged her mind more than her curiosity, pulling her back. “You really mean it? About the not weird and the...supply? Just, you know, for sometimes? Really?” She wondered how expensive Erin was talking here.

“The brain’s usually always taken out during an autopsy, along with the rest of the organs.” Erin explained. “They all get tossed into the visceral bag, which then gets tucked into the stomach cavity. Makes my job easier because then all I have to do is take them out and pack them up.” This would make the whole process way slower and harder if she had to go in every time and dissect them herself, she knew that much. Her brows furrowed at the thought of Morgan out there in the woods, running around and crushing animal skulls. “Yeah, I mean it. Can’t have you out there chasing after squirrels or whatever all the time, right?” Wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. She shrugged. “My boss usually likes to charge a higher fee but I don’t mind cutting costs. For friends,” she smiled.

“Oh, wow. That’s...one way to do it.” Morgan realized with unsettling clarity that she had never thought of the mechanics of death before. When she had lost her parents and her friends, she had been too wrapped up in the loss and unfairness of it to remember there was something practical, even mechanical to death. Even in humans, with the rituals and the preservation that kept the flies and maggots at bay, there was something. A process detached from all that they had meant before the last breath went out. It wasn’t bad, or hurtful, it was simply...after. Morgan came out of her thought to look at Erin, steeped her whole life in this strange, thankless care. It was essential, even as it rattled and stung the rest of the world, her clients. She didn’t even have much of a chip on her shoulder about it, she just continued, and found a way to make “after” work for other people too. Well, maybe not “found,” but she was still at it. And now that the shock of discovery had worn off, she didn’t seem that ashamed about it. A rush of endearment filled her and she ran to Erin, brain still jiggling in the bag and pulled her into a crushing hug. “Thank you, Erin,” she said. “You’re a really good friend, you know that?” She lingered there a moment, trying to fix words to how...fine all of this seemed. Not normal, they wouldn’t be hiding in a basement if it was normal, but fine. She pulled away, backing up to hop on the table, taking another handful of brain. “You wouldn’t have heard from somewhere about how human brains taste, would you? I feel weirdly like...playing board games. And listening to the radio. Like there’s a hockey game on? I don’t like hockey, but if you know where to put one on--” She gave a thumbs up and took another bite of brain. “But, also, I’ve lost my foot like twice this week. If you wanted to check out weird things my bones can do still.”

Erin looked up just in time to brace herself for the shorter woman hurling herself at her. “Oh, you’re--,” she huffed out a laugh, genuinely struggling to catch her breath. For a moment it felt like she had just ran into a wall with arms. “You’re welcome,” she finished, briefly wrapping her arms around her. Morgan was a lot of things Erin was still trying to properly grasp, but she was a good one. Chaotic, but good. That much she did know. She held her hand to her chest when Morgan pulled away, laughing despite herself. “I’ve never thought to ask,” she answered honestly, leaning against the same table Morgan was perched on. “How does it taste?” When she started to prattle on more questions, things so specific to the man in the ziploc bag in her hands, she couldn’t help but stop in her tracks. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly craving a tall, crisp IPA now too?” She asked, glancing back and forth between Morgan and the bag. His widower had carried on about the man’s favorite things to her just that morning before crying into her shoulder. “You don’t mean you’ve literally lost your foot, right?” As soon as she asked the question, she couldn’t help but realize how very wrong she probably was.

Morgan shrugged. “Rich. Like, a good medium-rare burger. Or like, cheesecake? It’s good. Rich. My mouth is literally watering eating it.” She took another bite. “Ew, IPA? No, I mean, I can’t taste anything anymore, but I came from Houston, and our beer culture is way to evolved for an IPA. Are you saying--” She eyed the brain pointedly. “I actually kinda know Mr. What’s-his-name? When I eat him?” She shrugged, a little uncomfortable. Having real, meaningful parts of people in her head wasn’t something she was sure she liked. But stars, whats-his-name tasted good. “Ooh, but actually, I did mean literally.” She kicked off her flats and wiggled her bare toes. “I don’t have anything to break them with, but if you got anything fancy in here, you can knock yourself out. Like--” She pressed them against a chair leg, more and more until they crumbled and bent over in a way toes normally shouldn’t. It was a satisfying sting of pain. She flexed them again and they righted themselves before both their eyes, only a little dislocated, really. She smiled up at Erin, kicking her legs with a little satisfaction. “I mean, when I ran into this scary eye-hands critter, I just lost the whole thing. And with the killer clams. But we’re good as new now!” She looked around the room for wherever Erin kept her music. “I do kinda mean it about hockey though.”

“Mr. Reid drank IPA’s,” Erin corrected, a slow smirk on her lips as she watched her. She didn’t have any particular thoughts about beer. Beer was beer. Some of it was good, some of it was bad, but it all got the job done in the end. She couldn’t help but stare as Morgan seemed to crush her toes, then flexed them back into shape again. “Whoa,” she said in genuine amazement. An idea sparked and she turned, digging into one of the cabinets. “Yeah, over there,” she said, pointing towards a radio across the room. She pulled out one of her biggest, thickest trocars. This wouldn’t hurt her right? Erin smiled, raising a brow. “Hey--can I try something?”

#wickedswriting #chatzy #chatzy: morgan #organ's out of the bag

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noxus-the-venomous-blog · 6 years ago

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Part 3 The Noxious Agenda

“Um...hello?” Ed’s voice broke as he tried to speak; his throat had dried in the long walk through the desert.

He had found himself at a small shack that gave him a heavy ‘get off my lawn’ vibe. But he had followed the directions to the letter and was convinced there was more to this place than he was seeing. He took a few steps slowly towards the door. With each footstep he shifted his weight slowly, checking for pressure plates in the ground or beneath the scattered wood scrap. When Ed reached the door he placed his hand gently on the doorknob and slightly wiggled it to check for traps. He rubbed his thumb along the mechanism. The more he stared, the more he prodded, the more slight movements he made the more he slowly realized that he was wasting his time fondling a perfectly normal door knob, and with the correct amount of shame and embarrassment he sighed and went inside.

The shack looked somewhat lived in. There were a few fake dead fish on the wall, although the smell of the room itself made you consider the possibility they were still alive. A coffee table bearing an amber ashtray sat in front of a small TV made to accept antenna signals the world no longer offered. But this couldn't be it. Ed wasn't new to this type of world and began to search the place for whatever he thought might open it up. A secret ladder under a carpet, or maybe a fake vent with a crawlspace. As his search turned up nothing he decided he’d even be satisfied with a spinning bookshelf, but everything he touched was dull and ordinary. Pictures of family, fishing magazines, television remotes that outnumbered televisions, but no buttons switches or mechanisms. He stepped outside in frustration and then saw dust on the horizon. A small snake of raised dirt signifying someone was approaching. He sat on the porch to act casually and began to think up lies to explain why he's there.

He was a traveling salesman. Since this land clearly belonged to a dirt farmer he was obviously there to sell shovels. Why does he have no shovels you ask? Because they would be heavy and hard to carry but he sells a service to help people order the shovels. Why does he not have the paperwork and order forms? Did he say he sold shovels? No he means he repairs them. In our modern day too many people buy new things and throw the old away. That’s why he’s here to offer cheap repairs on shovels and all dirt farming tools. Where is his equipment you ask? He is an all natural smithy who uses sand and rocks found in yards to help his trade instead of spending money on fancy tools. Edward decided this was an easy lie to argue, and that was a good thing, since by that time a small shabby car had made it to the stoop he trespassed on. Time to sell some shovel service.

The window rolled down. “Get in quick scrub the homeowner is on his way!” The side door opened. Ed was elated to see the masks he had familiarized with Noxious agents. Without fully understanding what was happening he quickly jumped in the car and sped off. The driver started laughing and the passengers, Ed included, contagiously joined in. there was an air of excitement in the vehicle.

“That was damn close. Thats old man Adam’s house and he's really big on the no trespassers lifestyle. You went left at the giant V shaped rock instead of right didn't you?” the driver said glancing from Ed to the road and back.

“Yes sir,” Ed confirmed.

“I swear we’re handing out the wrong directions to potentials. Last three new agents went the same way and caught a fate worse than death. Name’s James by the way,” the man introduced himself as he began to loosen up his shoulders and his driving habits.

“A fate worse then death?” Ed asked as he felt his stomach sink into the seat as some form of near death car sickness.

“Yeah. I heard they got converted into nationalists and are made to hand out anti-Jewish pamphlets at the mall,” james said with a sarcastic smile. He was a sturdy looking guy but had a soft face. His purple medical mask hung from his ear, allowing him to smoke a cigarette. His well-worn green hoodie hung off the back of his head as it draped over a semi ripped black t-shirt. He seemed to take the uniform as seriously as he took his driving considering he continued to make great eye contact with the conversation while pretending to watch the road.

“I heard they missed Adam’s house and wandered through the desert and got lost and eventually became coyotes. That’s how all coyotes are made!” a woman in the passenger seat exclaimed, turning her body to look back at Ed. Her mask was pink and she had a loose hood hanging from her shoulders. The theme was becoming apparent. “My name is Misty. Not really but get it?” she said enthusiastically while leaning in towards him, then leaning further.

Ed had concluded that if he did not answer she would soon be in the back seat. “Yeah I get it,” he lied, “so you guys work for the Noxious Agenda? Venoms right?”

“Toxins,” the young man to the sharing the back seat with him clarified. He seemed to be the only one with the uniform in order as the hood met a pair of goggles both a seemingly unintended shade of black. He mask secured tightly, a white scarf of some sort. “Rank one, name’s Oin. Like coin without the C,” he said before pulling out a phone and focusing in on it.

James again recklessly glanced back.“Yee Venoms are rank two. They’re the paper pushing assholes we all hope to be one day. Were called Toxins, rank 1, and we do the real work! The stuff worth bragging about! The front line adventures!” he said proudly, describing what clearly seemed like disposable heroes. “Youll learn all of this in orientation. What made you join?”

“People. The way they act. I saw a speech from Noxious online describing the problem with negative mentalities and I was inspired. I hit the world with a smile and motivation but felt like it gave me nothing but hostility in return” Ed continued his somewhat rehearsed speech, as he expected this and a few other basic questions and wanted to seem enlightened on the matter, “then the speech made sense to me. The people who met me with hostility would have chosen positivity if they just saw how it could help them. Lord Noxious would have them breathe in positivity and see how all of us would be happier,” he explained, hoping all important notes were mentioned.

“Wow Lynn would love you. You could be a star in the propaganda department with a backstory like that sheesh.” James looked back at him with a humble smile. He sighed, “so the reason HOLY CRAP NO!!!” he shouted as he swerved to not hit a small family of daring rabbits jetting across the street, “poor little dumbasses. Anyway I dig ya story. It’s intense. I’m only here ‘cause Noxious personally gassed my dad and he quit drugs and i was like omigosh that’s the answer, sign me up,” James explained, glancing back having not learned his lesson.

“Fight drugs with drugs,” Misty added while leaning her chair back slowly, stealing the precious few inches of room Eds knees was resting at.

“Hey it worked. Ok we’re almost here so get good,” James said as he pulled his mask up and secured it. Him and misty seemed synchronised in pulling there hoodies up and like that both of them were transformed from a car full of menacing young adults into a band of knaves with concealed features. Ed felt exposed with no mask but he was somewhat prepared. He pulled a scarf out and wrapped it over his mouth then covered his head with it. It was black and lime green, his attempt to fit in better with the color scheme he had seen on tv. They pulled up to another random shack not too unlike the one he had just been whisked away from.

They parked the car and all walked cautiously towards the door. Ed was stopped in mid step by James who pointed to the ground in front of him. Ed peered at the small plank by his feet as James’s hand held him in place. When he squinted he finally saw it. A very small wire peeking out of the side of the wood. A tiny glimpse of a mechanism. Ed was as happy as he possibly could have been. THERE WERE FLOOR PAD TRAPS! No one had ever been so excited to almost be murdered by a machination. It made him feel terrified and yet reaffirmed. He passed over it with the rest of the group, careful to only step on visible dirt and not trash or any stray objects. When he got to the door he began studying the doorknob, this time with gleeful excitement. He turned it slightly and felt around it till he found a small opening on the top of the brass sphere. He faced away from it, covered his mouth and nose with his elbow and gave it a full turn as gas suddenly shot out of the hole to where his face would have been. He looked back at the other agents. James was soundlessly clapping and giving obnoxious thumbs up gestures. Ed could see a smile behind the mask, warping its shape.

Ed entered the small shack. Deja vous. On the wall were pictures of the fat man prototype nuke from WW2. This felt better he thought. He walked over to the small coffee table and felt under it... There it was. A small toggle switch. He flipped it and heard machinery as the room adjacent to him began lifting, revealing a stairway below the floor.

“Took me ten minutes to find it when I was first here, what about you?” Misty asked, walking in with Oin.

“Way less,” Oin replied, “the coffee table is out of place, there's nowhere to sit near it.

“JAMES HURRY UP!!!” Misty yelled then looked towards Ed, “hey go rush him he's behind the car.”

Ed made his way out there but then slowed down as he heard the streaming sound of James relieving himself.

James looked at him. “Hey i'm on my way. You might wanna use the tree next, once we go underground there's about a ten minute walk down till we get to a bathroom”

“Yea that would be best...” Ed said, walking over to the tree. Ed started to play with his zipper then looked back at James who was leaning on the car. He looked again at his zipper and again at James.

“Nervous wee wee. Gotcha,” James said before walking away.

Ed waited a moment till James was out of sight then pulled a small sphere out of his pocket, making sure to keep it in front of him and out of view. He pressed a button on it and the sphere blinked twice. He knew this meant the tracking functionality was working. He then hid it in his pants and made his way back to the shack. The day didn't start well and clearly bad intel was shared but at the very least the button to release the hidden stairway was right where his boss had said it would be. He only hoped everything else in this infiltration would go as smoothly so he could get away from this cult as fast as possible.

#oc #original content #original character #Noxus

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mst3kproject · 7 years ago

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The Capture of Bigfoot

Yep, another Bigfoot movie, this one written and directed by Bill 'Giant Spider Invasion' Rebane. As far as I can tell, nobody in it was ever on MST3K, but for some reason it does have a whole bunch of people who were in Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS, along with George 'Buck' Flower, whom you may remember (if you remember him at all) as the park bench bum in the Back to the Future movies. Above and beyond that, it's just intensely riffable. There's barely a shot that doesn't invite comment, and should you watch it, you'll be hearing the bots' voices the whole time. What do you think: would it be Crow or Tom who would draw our attention to the gas pumps that look like a snow Ku Klux Klan in the background of one scene?

A couple of trappers have captured a baby Bigfoot, which naturally pisses off its mother – it kills one of the trappers and injures the other, fortunately without hurting any of the adorable samoyeds pulling their sled. The dogs take the injured trapper home, where he dies without revealing what happened to him, but Harvey Olson thinks he knows. He's been hunting Bigfoot for twenty years, and now that he's sure the creature is in the area, he hires every hunter in town to try to catch the beast. Bigfoot, however, is also the protector of the local native people, who call it Arak (the SOL crew would have made so many jokes about 'the Legend of a Rock'), and they enlist Forest Ranger Garrett to foil Olson's plans.

Samoyeds are my favourite dog. They look like somebody blow-dried a polar bear.

This movie's Bigfoot also looks like somebody blow-dried a polar bear, but it is marginally better than the one in Shriek of the Mutilated. Seeing as Shriek of the Mutilated's Bigfoot was literally a guy in a furry costume in the movie, that is not a compliment. Capture's creature is even worse than Cry Wilderness', never believable as anything but a guy in a Hallowe'en costume. Of some note is that the costume department gave Bigfoot white fur, when almost everybody who actually claims to have seen the creature has supposedly said it was black or brown, but perhaps we're meant to think they turn white in the winter like rabbits do. The beast's call is just somebody yelling “BLEAAAAAAAAAGH!”

While The Capture of Bigfoot does ostensibly have a plot, it's mostly just a monster movie – people wander around the woods, and Bigfoot kills them. It kills the two trappers that captured the baby. A third trapper sits down in his tent after collecting the day's game, and Bigfoot bashes his head in. Two tourists leave the hotel to either have sex or go skiing, and Bigfoot mauls the guy while the girl screams. The only slightly interesting thing that's done with the formula is that when it becomes clear that the creature has a grudge against the pair of hunters who shot at its offspring, Olson decides to use them as bait to trap it... but even that's pretty lame.

The characters are a collection of clichés. There's a precocious kid who makes friends with the creature (perhaps this is a prequel to Cry Wilderness?). There's ranger Dave Garrett, who's well-meaning but kind of a putz and nobody listens to him. There's Jake the Trapper, an old drunk everybody laughs at but really the only guy who knows the truth. The Sheriff is a dim bulb whose 'quirk' is that he does a Humphrey Bogart impression. Daniels is a Wise Old Indian. Olson is a rich ugly guy who makes weird faces when he talks, which makes him a very early entry in the Donald Trump School of Movie Villainy.

For all the talk about how the creature is the protector of the local tribe's dead and must not be captured or killed for this reason, there is only one ostensible Native in the movie, Daniels. His function in the plot is to give Garrett some information and a talisman that will prevent Bigfoot from harming him. That's really all the entire concept of 'Native Americans' represents in this movie: a source of legend and magic, not allowed to actually do anything because action is for white guys (as I mentioned, even Bigfoot is white in this movie). It's also really weird how the script can't decide if Daniels speaks English. He and Garrett appear to have a conversation alone at one point, though we don't hear any of it, but when he turns up later in the film he speaks his own language and Jake the trapper has to translate. In this same scene, Jake remarks that it would be 'more like an Indian' for Daniels to have shot them both rather than to sneak up and rescue them, which seems very distasteful coming from somebody who is supposedly Daniels' only friend.

Although Garrett is technically our protagonist, he's really a very reactive character – things happen, and he responds to them. This was probably unavoidable, since it is his job to respond to animal issues in the area, but it makes him seem passive and uninteresting. The proactive character is the villain, Mr. Olson. His quest to find proof of Bigfoot, dead or alive, is what moves the story along. He states over and over that he's been hunting the beast for years, and yet we never find out why. His stated reason is that it will make him rich, but this seems like only a justification for his obsession. If he'd seen it and was disbelieved, or if it killed somebody he knew, that would make sense, but we don't get any backstory for him. Outside of this, however, he is probably the person we get to know best, and he’s the one who has an arc. He starts off as the type of villain who thinks he's not being villainous if he has other people do things for him.

Olson does not go out to look for Bigfoot himself – he hires others to do that for him, even as they laugh at him in the belief that they're ripping him off by accepting his money to hunt something that doesn't exist. Although it seems at first that he plans to shoot Jake and Garrett for following him, he does not have the stomach to commit or order a murder, and has them tied to a tree to freeze to death instead. The only thing he does himself is spring the trap he's had set for the creature, as his monomania would not allow somebody else to do that. It must be he, and he alone, who 'captures' it, no matter how much help he had in setting up the trap.

But once he has the creature in a cage, Olson goes, as one of the hunters observes, completely over the edge. His success seems to have made him feel invincible, and while earlier he was cautious about both the law and the wilderness, he now does things like run Jake down with his car. He would not murder this man a few hours earlier, but now he no longer cares. Shortly thereafter he attempts to form an armed posse to murder Garrett, too, and runs off to do it himself when this plan fails. Now that he's in this position of power, Olson cannot tolerate anybody who might knock him down from it.

There is one weird scene that doesn't seem to have a place in this arc, when early in the movie Olson literally throws a man who has displeased him out a window. I think this is supposed to establish him as physically formidable, but considering his age and the shape he's in, it's merely ludicrous. Besides, what idiot throws a man through a window in the middle of what a radio broadcast claims is one of the coldest winters on record? I guess the answer is 'a rich idiot', but the whole thing is still really, really dumb.

Also a little odd is Olson's death. In a movie like this you would probably expect him to be killed by the creature, as nature and legend take revenge on an arrogant human who failed to respect them. Or maybe he'd be arrested and thrown in jail for all the crimes his arrogance led him to commit, both by proxy and, at this point, in person. Instead, however, Olson accidentally shoots a barrel of gasoline that, as far as I can tell, was only in the room so that this could happen, and dies in the resulting explosion. This is the sort of thing that makes me think Bill Rebane has no idea how stuff like character arcs work... he just throws together whatever he thinks is cool and films it.

I spent most of my review of Cry Wilderness pondering the mythical versus real status of Bigfoot, and what it was supposed to represent in that movie. The Capture of Bigfoot does kind of the same thing. Its Bigfoot is at once a real animal that eats and reproduces, and a spirit being that leads souls to the afterlife. Daniels, the last of his people, is unable to die until Bigfoot is free to take him away. The creature must not be captured because that would bring it out of this ambiguous space into the real world, where it does not belong. I wish the movie had expanded on these ideas a little... what happens, for example, once Daniels is dead? The mythical aspect of Bigfoot then has no more purpose. Does the creature, too, simply disappear? Does it become nothing but an animal? At the end Bigfoot and its offspring just wander off into the woods and the credits roll.

All things considered, with its stereotyped characters, its dumb plot, and its racism, Capture of Bigfoot is pretty dull. Most of the movie is just people crunching around in the snow. There's a ski race that has no bearing on the plot, and a similarly pointless party scene that serves to show us a woman in a skin-baring outfit shakin' her stuff to an appallingly awful disco song called Sensuous Tiger. Nothing here is half as much fun as the spidermobile or the over-the-top rednecks of The Giant Spider Invasion, and like that movie, Capture of Bigfoot ends pretty much immediately after the threat is defeated. No denoument, no closure of subplots.

It's cheap. It sucks. It'd be good for an MST3K episode, but not for much else.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the capture of bigfoot #all these movies have bigfoot in them #70s #cryptid cinema

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unfolded73 · 7 years ago

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This Graceful Path (6/19)

Summary: Emma has just moved in with Mary Margaret and started working as a deputy in the Storybrooke sheriff’s department when she meets Killian Jones, the town’s introverted harbormaster. When a prominent Storybrooke resident is found murdered, Emma tries to juggle solving the case with new friendships, parenthood, and romance. A Season 1 Cursed!Killian AU.

Rating: Explicit per CSBB guidelines (violence, sex); more of an M on unfolded73’s scale. The sex, when we get there, is not extremely graphic in nature. Same with the violence.

Content Warning: This fic contains two major character deaths, one canon and one not. (You’re already past them.)

Total word count: ~ 75,000

Acknowledgements: Thank you to @j-philly-b for betaing this monstrosity. Thank you to @caprelloidea for all of the read-throughs and cheerleading; not sure I could have written it without your excitement early on. Thank you to @teruel-a-witch for the original prompt on tumblr which sparked this fic. Thank you to @pompeiiablaze for the wonderful art which accompanies Chapter 3 and also will accompany later chapters. Thanks to the CSBB mods (@sambethe in particular, who had to look at my check-ins) for your support and for enduring my neuroses.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 – AO3 Link

Chapter 6

The dart left his hand, tracing a perfect arc through the air and landing with a satisfying thunk into the center of the bullseye.

Killian blinked, surprised at the accuracy of the throw. He repeated the motion twice more with the other two darts he held loosely against his stomach with his prosthetic hand. They also landed in the bullseye, one above and one just a hair’s width to the right of the first dart.

A young man on his way to the bathroom — Killian vaguely recalled his name was Sean — stopped and whistled. “Pretty good, man.”

Giving him a tight smile in return, Killian retrieved the darts and repositioned himself to throw them again. As Sean disappeared around the corner, Killian focused on the bullseye. It seemed to fill his field of vision, the sharp metal edges of the rings strangely bright and in focus. Throwing the darts into the bullseye again was as easy as dropping them into a bucket.

Rather than bringing a smile to his face, a cold chill ran up his spine, and he rushed over to pull the darts from the board before anyone else in the diner noticed his success.

In daylight hours, Killian’s nightmares and hallucinations usually seemed smaller, less significant. He had tried to convince himself that his lifelike imaginings of an infernal creature were a product of his exhausted brain and nothing more. If he could just get a good night’s sleep, he thought, the nightly visitation would go away.

He had taken to stopping in at Granny’s more often, glancing over at Emma and Henry’s accustomed booth and feeling his heart sink a little on the days they weren’t present. Today he had decided to linger at the dartboard in the hope that they might come in late. Killian tried not to think about the reason why he was so preoccupied with seeing Emma Swan.

His patience was rewarded. The door rattled, and Killian turned to see the woman in question entering alone. Emma approached him, holding out her hand for the darts as if this was a routine meeting between the two of them. Her blonde tresses tumbled in soft curls over her shoulders, and as he passed the darts over, he imagined what her hair would feel like sliding through his fingers.

“Where’s your boy?” Killian asked.

“He has an appointment with Dr. Hopper on Wednesdays,” she said as she threw the darts one after the other. Her form needed work, but she wasn’t a bad dart player. He sauntered over and retrieved the darts for himself.

“Are you off work already?” she asked him.

“Aye, there’s a storm coming, and all the fishermen came in early. I’ll go back by the harbor later to make sure nothing’s amiss, but for now…” He shrugged and smiled at her before throwing the darts in a tight cluster around the bullseye. Again. He’d always been good at darts, but this was getting spooky.

“You are insanely good at this,” Emma said as she walked to the dartboard.

Her next throw was a bit wild, and he could see anger in the set of her shoulders. “Picturing anyone in particular when you’re throwing those darts, love?”

Emma grimaced. “Regina has talked Sidney Glass into running against me for sheriff. You’ve probably heard about it. So I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Come on, Killian. I’m new here. My whole checkered past got revealed on the front page of the paper. There’s no way I’m going to win this election.”

“Sidney Glass isn’t the most popular Storybrooke resident, so I think you might stand a chance. If it helps, I plan to vote for you.”

Emma grinned. “Thanks. Hey, maybe no one else will bother to vote and that will win it for me.”

Killian took another turn with the darts, missing the center on purpose with two of them. “Listen, Swan, I’ve been thinking… would you like to go out with me sometime? For a drink, maybe?”

She blinked at him for a few seconds. “Like on a date?”

He rubbed his sweaty palm off on the leg of his jeans. “Yes, exactly like on a date.”

“Oh, Killian.” He could see his ultimate disappointment in the uncomfortable smile on her face. “You’re a nice guy and, you know. Kind of ridiculously good looking. But I don’t really… date. And especially right now, with Henry, and dealing with what happened to Graham, it’s not something I’ve got room for in my life.”

He shrugged, trying to seem unaffected. “It’s quite all right, Swan. Just a fleeting idea.” He went over and pulled the darts out to give himself something to do and tried not to feel too crestfallen.

“I mean technically you are still a murder suspect,” Emma added, but her smile told him she wasn’t really serious.

“Isn’t most of the town made up of potential suspects?” he asked her.

She heaved a sigh. “Yeah. That’s one of my many problems.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Swan,” he said, feeling the need to reassure her, to make her smile again. “A clever and resourceful person like you? You can’t fail.”

Emma’s eyelashes fluttered a little bit at that. “Do you really think so?”

“I do.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a tiny little smile. “I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you around.”

Killian watched her go, and then absently threw the darts at the dartboard before leaving himself. Just as he stepped out onto the street, the sky opened up and rain fell down onto his head in sudden buckets. “Perfect,” he muttered.

~*~

The rum burned its way down his throat. With a small shudder, he gestured to the bartender at the Rabbit Hole to pour him another. The dimly lit bar, permeated with the sour smell of stale beer, was almost empty on this particular weeknight. Killian ran his hand over the thick finish on the wood, index finger unconsciously probing at a cigarette burn in the otherwise unmarred surface.

He waited for the numbness the alcohol brought, the way it would blanket over all of his fears and disappointments with a gauzy nothingness. He couldn’t fall asleep properly anymore, but at least if he drank enough, he could pass out on his bed later in a drunken stupor, and his nightly visitor would not penetrate the alcoholic fog.

Killian flushed with shame at the thought of his conversation with Emma that afternoon. Her embarrassed face before she shot him down was not going to be easily forgotten. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, that such an intelligent, striking woman would be interested in a man like him. Especially considering that she’d only just met him when she’d decided he might be a murderer. And then he had the audacity to ask her out on a date. With a groan, he dropped his head onto the bar.

“Having a rough night?” a voice to his left asked.

Looking up, Killian was faced with Sidney Glass sliding onto the bar stool next to him. He wore a well-tailored suit, his face shiny with perspiration.

Chuckling, Killian nodded. “You could say that.” He looked down and saw his glass was empty again. He flagged down the bartender.

“Same here,” Sidney said. The bartender came over to fill Killian’s glass, and Sidney ordered a vodka tonic.

“Your campaign for sheriff not going well?” Killian asked him.

“Oh, you heard about that?” Sidney asked. When Killian nodded, Sidney grimaced. “I’m supposed to be writing my speech for tomorrow night right now. Instead, I’m here.”

The bartender put Sidney’s drink in front of him, and Sidney held it up to Killian, who paused before clinking his glass against it.

“Sounds like a tough job,” Killian said. “I don’t envy you.”

Sidney swallowed half of his drink in one long swallow. “At least I have the mayor’s support. Miss Swan will never have that. Even if she wins, the mayor will never stop making her life hell.”

Killian took a deep breath and let it out. “Sure, but Emma’s got the stomach for it, I think. She’s a strong woman. She can go toe-to-toe with a suspect in a grizzly murder and she won’t back down.” He swirled his rum in his glass, considering. “It’s not going to be easy for whoever the sheriff becomes, these next few weeks. There’s a killer on the loose.”

Sidney fidgeted on his stool. “Of course.”

Killian leaned over closer, almost whispering in Sidney’s ear. “A killer who took a knife and plunged it into Mr. Gold over and over again, his heart’s blood gushing out onto the forest floor. Ripping until his entrails spilled out of his body. And now that murderer is out there. Maybe waiting to kill again. Maybe watching the sheriff to see if he gets close. After all, Humbert died, and he seemed to be perfectly healthy before he collapsed.”

Eyes as wide as saucers, Sidney leaned away and pulled at the collar of his shirt as if he couldn’t breathe. “Graham Humbert had a heart condition.”

Killian ran his finger around the rim of his glass and shrugged. “As far as we know, sure.” Standing up, Killian drained the rest of his drink. “Best of luck to you, Mr. Glass.” He threw some crumpled bills down on the polished wooden bar and walked away. It was only much later that he thought to wonder where those horrible words whispered to Sidney Glass had even come from.

~*~

When the townsfolk arrived to listen to the speeches by the two candidates for sheriff, they heard Emma Swan give a speech about her qualifications, how she’d overcome her past and was determined to do her best for the town, and how she intended to bring Mr. Gold’s killer to justice. Then Sidney Gold stood up and the podium and after a long pause, he said only one thing.

“I hereby withdraw from the race for sheriff.”

~*~

Emma awoke to the sound of the door downstairs closing softly. She glanced at the clock: 1:13 a.m. Another late night for Mary Margaret.

Christmas had been a fairly subdued holiday in Storybrooke. Several of the stores had decorated for the season, but there had been no government-sponsored lighting displays, no wreath on the door to the town hall, none of the things that festooned every other small town in America. Emma had thought it was odd but had found it somewhat refreshing not to be inundated with holiday cheer everywhere she’d gone.

With Henry on break from school and presumably confined to his house and Mary Margaret absent from the apartment more frequently than usual, Emma had continued to focus on her job, the job that was now officially hers: Sheriff of Storybrooke. She had returned to the crime scene and poked around in the dirt, continued to pore over Gold’s real estate and financial records, interviewed the few people who had ever made a late payment in rent to Gold, but everything was a dead end. She had even searched the pawn shop, and had been quickly overwhelmed with its seemingly infinite stock of strange items.

Christmas itself had come and gone with little fanfare; she’d exchanged gifts with Mary Margaret and the two of them had shared a big pancake breakfast and then had settled in on the sofa together to watch bad TV. Throughout the day, Emma had eyed the brightly colored wrapping paper on the gift she’d gotten for Henry, unsure of when to give it to him.

Now staring at the ceiling above her bed, Emma knew she needed to mind her own business, that what Mary Margaret did was not her concern. But in spite of her better judgment, she let curiosity get the better of her and found herself getting out of bed and going down the stairs to greet her roommate.

“Oh!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest when Emma appeared. “You scared me; I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“The door woke me up.” She took in Mary Margaret’s smudged mascara and lack of lipstick, and the way her cardigan sweater was askew on her shoulders like it had been quickly pulled back on. “And no offense, but you could not look more well-fucked right now if you tried.”

“Oh God.” Mary Margaret covered her face. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little, but that’s okay. Also, it’s none of my business,” Emma said, wrinkling her nose. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Actually, would you mind staying up for a minute? I could really use a friend to talk to.”

“Sure.” Emma followed her and flopped down on her back on Mary Margaret’s colorful quilt-covered bed, watching as her roommate took her earrings out and dropped them in a jewelry box. Her bedside lamp cast a soft glow over the space, and Emma yawned. “I assume it’s not Victor Whale who’s keeping you out at all hours.”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “You know who it is.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s David.”

“Yeah, I figured that. I saw the way you looked at each other when you stopped by the sheriff’s station last week.”

“How did we look?”

Emma snorted. “Like you were about to devour each other whole.”

Mary Margaret pulled her sweater off and sank onto the bed, pulling her knees up. “Oh.”

“So what happened to him trying to work things out with his wife?”

Tears filled Mary Margaret’s eyes. “He says he’s in love with me, and I… Emma, I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my life. He’s… being with him is like coming home.”

“Oh, man. You’ve got it bad.”

“I know.” She wiped a tear from her face in frustration. Emma got the sense that she’d cried a lot of tears over David already. “He’s going to leave his wife, he just needs to wait for the right time. It’s tricky right now because—”

Emma sat up quickly. “Mary Margaret, are you listening to yourself? You sound like a cliche. You sound like Carrie Fisher in When Harry Met Sally. Look, I like David, and he doesn’t seem like a bad person. Clearly, he’s been through a lot, what with the coma and all, and it’s not that I don’t think his feelings for you are real. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to end up hurting you. And the longer you continue this affair with him, the more hurt you’re going to be.”

She wiped away another tear. “On second thought, maybe I don’t want to talk about this,” Mary Margaret said in a near-whisper.

Reaching out and taking her hand, Emma tried to give a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry. I know you love him, and I really do hope things work out.”

“You just think it’s unlikely they will,” Mary Margaret said with a sniffle.

“Anything’s possible.” Trying to lighten the mood, Emma added, “Hey, at least someone in this apartment is getting some.”

Mary Margaret responded with a watery laugh. “You’re working too hard, especially since the election.” She traced the seams of the quilt on her bed. “Ruby mentioned that you’d been talking to Killian Jones in the diner a lot recently.”

“Ruby needs to mind her own business.”

“Not much chance of that. So there’s nothing going on there?”

“Nope.” Emma watched as Mary Margaret narrowed her eyes. “He asked me out, but I said no. I don’t want to date him.”

“Why not? I always thought he seemed nice. And he’s…” She raised her eyebrows.

“Insanely hot?” The two women shared a smile. “I know. But seriously, I don’t date. And even if I did, I don’t think I would date Jones. He has issues.”

“We’ve all got issues, Emma, us included.” Mary Margaret slapped her hands down on her knees and shook her head back and forth quickly. “Do you know what we need, and soon? A girl’s night.”

~*~

“More shots all around!” Ruby gestured to their waitress, a wide grin on her face.

“I don’t know if I can drink with you like we used to, Ruby, my tolerance is shit after having the baby,” Ashley said.

“I’ll have yours, then. Or the sheriff will, right Emma?”

Emma took a swig from the beer bottle clutched in her hand and shrugged. She was trying to stick to beer because she figured she couldn’t get herself into too much trouble that way. The Rabbit Hole was crowded tonight, and she was sure not a few people had clocked that their newly elected sheriff was sitting among them, so she really needed to be on her best behavior. But the evening had that feeling to it, she thought as she watched Mary Margaret expertly pour the contents of a shot glass into her open throat, Ashley giggling and Ruby hooting and making a ‘raise the roof’ gesture with her upturned hands. That feeling that more often than not led to fuzzy memories and stumbling attempts to get home. She'd never had this many friends before, and it was making her feel good and a little bit reckless.

“I’m so sick of being needed all the time,” Ashley was saying. “Sean is working two jobs, and I’m spending more time with his laundry than I do with him. And the baby, I mean I love my baby, but babies need you every minute of every day. It’s like my body isn’t my own, you know?”

Emma looked down at the table, focusing on the wood grain and not of the fact that she most decidedly did not know because she’d given her baby away. Desperate for something to distract her, she downed the contents of the shot glass in front of her.

“Doesn’t sound any worse than being needed by Granny all the time,” Ruby said. “I’m basically on-call 24/7; I almost never get a break. And nothing I do is ever good enough for her.”

“No one you do is ever good enough for her,” Ashley supplied, giggling into her rum and coke.

“I don’t want to talk about sex or men,” Mary Margaret said.

“Who says I limit myself to sex with men?” Ruby said, her teeth flashing between red lips. “But fine, okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“Any progress figuring out who killed Mr. Gold?” Ashley asked Emma.

“I’m not really supposed to talk about that… but fuck it, there’s not really anything to talk about. No, I haven’t made any progress. My half hour of interrogating Mo the flower shop owner led me to the groundbreaking discovery that he’s been seeing Mrs. Hendricks who runs the bakery in town.”

“He has?” Ruby said, rubbing her hands together. “I didn’t know that.”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Emma said. “The point is, I have no leads, and Regina wants to have my head on a platter for it. I mean, she wanted that already, but now she really wants it.”

“You’ll figure it out, Emma,” Mary Margaret said.

“Do you think I could get an uninterrupted night of sleep in prison? Because if so, I’ll confess right now,” Ashley said.

“How’s school, M. M.?” Ruby asked, sipping her drink through the tiny stir-straw.

“You know, it’s weird. My students have been really… different lately.”

Emma frowned, thinking about the fact that Henry was among her students. “Different how?”

“I don’t know, I can’t really explain it. I have this feeling that they’re changing, and I need to adjust my curriculum to keep up. It’s like things that have worked for me for years aren’t working anymore.”

“Ooh, look who just walked in, Emma,” Ruby said, excitedly kicking her under the table. Emma turned to look and saw Killian sit down at the bar.

“So what?” Emma responded, trying to keep her features blank, and ignoring the fact that her heart rate picked up a bit at the sight of him.

“Come on. He comes into the diner way more than he used to now that you’re there on your afternoon breaks. I can tell he’s disappointed when you don’t show. Sometimes he plays darts and oh-so-unsubtly watches the door until you show up. He really likes you.”

Emma snuck a glance at him again and then turned back to the table. “I’ve been with guys like that before. Full of angst and self-loathing, usually with a dark secret and a drinking problem. No thank you.”

“A Byronic hero,” Mary Margaret offered before taking a sip of her drink. The other women looked at her blankly. “It’s a literary archetype.”

“Whatever, he’s hot and he’s into you,” Ruby said, refusing to be derailed. “If he’s trouble, then use him and lose him.”

“That’s easier said than done in Storybrooke. I’m trying to be an upstanding person for my kid, I can’t go around having one-night stands with people, not with the way everyone is all up in everybody else’s business in this town.”

“Yeah, for instance, I just heard Mo is dating Mrs. Hendricks,” Mary Margaret said with a smirk.

“Shut up. My point is, I’m not going to sleep with, date, or in any way encourage Killian Jones. It’s not happening.” If she glanced at him a few more times during the night, admiring the way his ass filled out his tight jeans, well, you couldn’t blame a girl for appreciating the view, she told herself.

Chapter 7

#csbb #cs ff #captain swan ff #this graceful path fic #my fic

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willsmithblr · 6 years ago

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dangan-revival · 8 years ago

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Guess What's Back, Back Again, Murder's Back, Tell A- Oh | Kris | Re: Body

“VIK-AH!!!!!!!!!– VIK-AH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Oh, he certainly heard the yelling all right. Hard to miss it when one of your best friends has their heart metaphorically ripped from their chest, but it wasn't like Kris could do much to comfort him...At least, quite yet.

For the uninformed, Kris had sustained quite the back injury in the course of his unfortunate...punishment. Okay, that one was entirely his fault, but the result was that when Kris tried to get out of bed, he promptly fell to the ground, cursing in pain. Seeing as how he had to get out, he started pulling himself along. He also paid attention to his Electro-ID, seeing who the poor unfortunate soul was in the Rabbit Commons before the scream rang out.

Being already in a lot of pain, the only emotion he could muster as he stopped dragging was dismay.

"Oh for crying out loud...Three times in a row already, have we learnt nothing from their mistakes?" He closed his eyes, bringing his hands together. Whispering a quick prayer for Viktor's dearly departed soul, he resumed the arduous process of dragging himself to the Hare Commons.

#reaction #kris #chapter 3 #rotf #submission

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dietrichstorr · 6 years ago

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The Extropia Interpolation Out Now

Book one of the Extropian Cycle is out now! This is my first published full length novel, now available on Amazon.

Civilization is on its knees, ravaged by tribalism, addiction, fundamentalism, and bureaucracy. Our way of life seems doomed. It’s almost as if it were planned…

Chankaya Tefik is possibly the Earth’s wealthiest and smartest inhabitant. Legions of followers think that she and her technological vision are humanity’s salvation. Millions more, want her dead. When she discovers she has a common enemy with a tenacious DEA agent - things start to get interesting. After all, why would an operative of the Department of Homeland Security give advanced weapons to terrorists in order to bring heroin into the United States?

The answer leads them down a rabbit hole that only gets stranger. Through gleaming corporate citadels, murderous urban battlegrounds, and virtual reality paradises, mysterious benefactors guide them towards unexpected truths. Drugs and jihadists are only the start of it. The end may be an attack on our species by sadistic beings from another reality.

Can a techno-messiah, a narc, a handful of soldiers, and a telepathic mental patient get to the root of this conspiracy and rip it out? Probably not, but somebody has to try.

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tracie5753420923-blog · 7 years ago

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See the crying goodbye note Eve unfolded it again while Peabody wisely remained silent..

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