#eric cabin tales

[rhithefella-sillytimes]

Memento Mori, Memento Vivere

A Cabin Tales Quick Fic

-----

"Alright... if I gave you all one more year, what would you do? Will you... make the most of it? Or will you just waste it like you humans always do?"

This question left the mouth of the Storyteller, as he glanced at the unfortunate lot. Its fingers tap against his arm, his cold gaze piercing into their bodies like a well-aimed bullet.

-----

Wayward 01 - Cassidy White

A young girl who ran away from home and never came back. Perhaps there were a few things she wishes to do differently if she returned?

Cassidy sniffled, wringing the tips of her hair dry. She seemed out of it, and was shivering even though she was placed close to the fireplace. She looked up at the Storyteller, before looking away again. She seemed like she was moments away from either sneezing or sobbing her eyes out.

"Well..?", the Storyteller asked. "I don't usually do this 'second chance' thing, so consider yourself lucky that I even considered this."

"I... I...", Cassidy tried to speak with a shaky breath. She was stopped by a sudden itching of the throat, and she leaned forward, coughing up water.

Begrudgingly, the Storyteller stood up from its seat, walked to Cassidy and patted her back. It waited until the spirit could be able to speak without pausing to spit lake water. To him, it felt so tedious, but he has to do this if he wants an answer from her.

After what seemed to be forever, the girl was finally ready to talk. The Storyteller moved away from her, making his way back to his chair. He peered close, locking eyes with her. She couldn't look away, or at least she felt like she couldn't. She looked hesitant, which was reasonable. After all, she was sitting face to face with Death themself.

"Go on.", the Storyteller urged her. Cassidy's mouth quivered, but she knew she had to speak now.

"Well... I... I want to go home.", she started, holding her arms close and leaning closer to the fireplace.

"I just want to see my mom again. I have... to talk to her. I just want to get back in good terms with her. Oh shit, she might hate me now. I just want to tell her that I'm so sorry...

Most importantly, I wanna actually say goodbye to her. Please, let me have this chance for once..."

-----

Wayward 02 - Eric

A boy who was the unfortunate victim of a curse that haunted the orphanage he lived in. An acquaintance tried to save him, but they failed... what would he do in this chance he may be given?

Despite the circumstance he's found himself in, Eric looked a lot more bummed out than scared. It was almost like he's been called to the principal's office instead of sitting right in front of Death.

At least, that's how he seemed outwardly. Death knew better. It knew this child was scared. Well, why wouldn't he be? Such a young soul, having faced a horrifying situation that he barely had control over. But the kid knew how to feign a lack of fear, as he had done many times before this.

The spirit just picked at his teeth with his fingernails, staring back up at the Storyteller with a bored but wide-eyed expression. He didn't even seem to react to the blood trickling down his throat as it stained the wooden floors red. Once the Storyteller said their question, Eric paused, wiping his finger against his shirt.

"Hm... Let me think.", the boy said.

Time dragged on, and Eric was still thinking. The Storyteller grew impatient, and they waved its hand in front of the boy's eyes.

"Hey.", they said. "Do you have an answer yet? I have all the time in the world, but I can't say the same about you, boy."

Eric laughed a little, some blood spraying onto the mysterious entity's clothes as he did. "I kind of forgot what you were asking. What was it again?", he replied, much to the Storyteller's annoyance.

It groaned, pinching its forehead with an annoyed sigh. "I said, if you had another year to live, what would-"

They were cut off by the orphan snapping his fingers. It gave Eric an unamused look, annoyed by the kid's audacity or ignorance.

"Oh, I remember now!", the boy says, before clearing his throat. He slightly winces from discomfort after the gesture, before continuing his response.

"There's this kid I knew. I think his name's Ethan..? He seemed like he would be cool to be around. I just... regret not talking to him.

I dunno, it didn't cross my mind. I didn't really think I'd be dead, so I always thought I'd start talking to the guy some other day. Besides, the other guys would pick on him, I could've been next if I did do that."

He shrugged, before he sighed.

"I guess I just wish I didn't have cold feet before this. Maybe if I had one more year to do things right, I could talk to the dude. We would've been great friends, I can tell."

-----

Wayward 03 - Samuel Larson-Watts

A boy who died alongside his friends, but was the deciding vote that caused his own friend to die alone. Now that he's gotten a new chance, will it make things worthwhile for his friends?

Sam looked like all the blood had drained on his body, as he sits still in front of the Storyteller. In his bloodied and slightly charred face was an expression that was equally frightened and defeated.

The Storyteller leaned forward, their head tilting slightly. "What's with the face, boy? You haven't even answered anything yet, and it already looks like you've given up on convincing me." It then chuckled snidely, their voice echoing throughout the cabin in a low rumble.

The loud voice caused Sam to partially duck his head low by instinct. He squeezed his blurry eyes shut, balling his hands into fists. He opened his mouth to apologize, stopping before the first syllable could even escape his lips. He slowly opened his unfocused eyes, trying to look up at the Storyteller with the toughest expression he can manage to make.

The Storyteller's sneering expression remained. "What? Are you gonna give up? Go ahead, you can just give up. Don't answer anything. It will be easier for the both of us."

This remark made Sam's eye twitch, and he sighs before finally talking. There was annoyance and frustration in his voice, which was almost enough to mask his defeated expression. "No I'm... I'm not giving up. I just... I'm just trying to think. If you aren't going to help me, don't talk at all, ok?"

This made the Storyteller lean back on his seat. Finally, the boy's decided to toughen up a little. It was a little worried that Sam would just give up. Despite their smugness, they wanted to see the boy struggle and fight, like he's always done in life. "Okay kid, just tell me when you're ready."

"Fine.", Sam says with a scoff. A minute passes, before the spirit lets out a sigh. He looks up at the Storyteller.

"I don't know.", he admits, looking down and letting some blood drip from his forehead to the floor.

"What do you mean 'you don't know'?", The entity asked, almost looking furious that the boy seemingly just gave up on finding an answer.

"Well...", Sam responds, still looking down but also looking to the side. "I wouldn't know what I'd do by myself. You don't just... come up with answers to this on the go. You'd need to think about them.

But... whatever it is, I don't think I could do it alone. So if you bring me back, I'd rather have this chance with my friends, please. Besides, I want to make up for them, and maybe I could if we all came back.

I've been a bad friend... and I want to do things right this time. And I promise, I will."

-----

Wayward 04 - Timothy Conroy

A kid quickly taken by forces beyond comprehension and barely even had the time to process what happened to him. I wonder, would things be different if he knew how much time he had left?

Timothy leaned back against his seat, his eyes fixated towards the fire. He then stretched his back, an audible and sickening crack heard as his bones locked in place. Even the Storyteller looked disturbed by the noises his spine and ribs made as he adjusted his back.

"Ooh... that sounded painful.", it said with an amused but surprised laugh.

"That's cuz it is.", Timothy said with a slight cough, stretching once more. "My back is... killin' me. Got any painkillers I could use there?", he says, wincing as he rubbed his presumably dislocated shoulder. "Got hit really bad 'round here."

The Storyteller can only let out another laugh of disbelief, though he felt a little bit of amusement as well."It's normal to feel like that after what happened to you. You'll get over it."

"Heh, hopefully it'll be soon, this sucks.", the spirit says, sighing. "Now back on what ya wanted to ask. It was what I'd wanna do if I lived again for a year, correct?"

The Storyteller nods, and Timothy continued. "Well, last thing I recall before things went dark was somethin' attackin' my family. If I get this extra year, maybe I'll try to get them outta there. Or y'know, fight that thing that got me."

The Storyteller shrugged. It seemed unusrprised by his answer, but almost looked unsatisfied. He then slightly changed his question, adding onto it. "Well, what else? That can't just be your goal now, can it?"

Timothy shrugged. "Well, if you want something else I guess I'll just help pa as much as I still can. Y'know, with workin' on the farm. Maybe find Bandit if he's still alive, but I doubt it."

Wayward 05 - Matthew Godrick

A young man struck down at the prime of his life by what many would say is an act of self-preservation. Does this person even have any regrets from his time on earth?

Matthew was quiet after the question was asked, busy thinking of how he'd respond to such a question. Only moments ago, he's been repeatedly apologizing to the Storyteller for bleeding all over the place. To the Storyteller, it was getting annoying so perhaps this silence was better than that.

It was still evident to Death that the poor soul was still anxious. He's slightly hunched over, his arms crossed across his body and his knees pushed against each other as he tried to prevent his visibly painful wounds from dirtying the floor even more with a dark red. Bloodstains and wood aren't a good mix. And if they looked closer to him, they could see him shudder. His mouth was slightly agape and his breath escaped in quick shaky gasps, as if his lungs were seconds away from collapsing.

The spirit's eyes weren't fixated on the Storyteller's, instead looking to the flame that refused to die despite the wood having burnt down into a pure pile of ash. He can still see its vibrant lights dance around, and to him it seemed even stronger than it did before its fuel had ran out.

The Storyteller's patience was going thin, as he wasn't fond of this silence that followed the question they asked. As much as it was used to waiting, the Storyteller didn't like this kind of wait. So they decided to say something, just to urge the conversation. But before it could even utter a word, he was interrupted by the spirit raising his hand.

"Wait!", the young man exclaimed, before looking up at the Storyteller. Almost all semblance of nervousness had disappeared on his face, replaced with a look of confidence. Or at the very least, a feigned confidence. But it was enough to fool everyone, even the spirit himself. "I just... want to see my family again. I want... to help them."

The soul clasped his hands, as if he were going to do a business proposal, before continuing. "You see, my life was taken from me at a time where I was just going to settle down with them. It was so unfair that it had to happen to me, and I want-"

He paused, trying to hold back from saying something else. He then talked again, his confident smile unbreaking but his body stiff, like a corpse.

"I want to use this extra year to spend time with my family. To help us settle down better. I didn't want to leave them alone like that, but... I never had the choice. That... man never gave me the chance. I hope you do give one to me. You're better than him, right?"

The Storyteller looked back at the spirit, before tilting his body to the side. His gaze looked up and down at him, before it looked directly at his eyes once more. Something was... off with what he said.

It leaned forward to the adult, giving him a stern look. "I know that isn't the full truth, Godrick."

"Hahah, of course. I didn't want to waste your time. You might shoot me like he did.", Matt said, his eyes glancing towards a rifle mounted on the cabin's walls.

A chuckle released from spirit's throat that just sounded painful. "Of course, of course. There's still that... bucket list I never got to finish."

"Please cut the nonsense, Mr. Godrick. I know what you've done back there.", the Storyteller says, a disappointed expression in its face.

The spirit's stiff smile finally faltered albeit slightly, and his eyes look back at the flame. "Ah, so you think I want to do bad things... is that it? You think I wanted to hurt people?"

He looked up at the Storyteller, letting out another bitter laugh. "For shame, Death. You really let that crone's lies affect you too. I thought you were better than the humans, hahah..."

He sighed, before looking up at the Storyteller. "But... you would be right for once. But only just this once."

He looked at his nails, watching the green light of the fireplace shine against them. They looked sharp, as if they hadn't been cut for months. "I did do bad things. And I did think about horrible things when you asked." His hand did a small grabbing motion, and he clenched his hand into a fist.

The spirit rested his hand on the armchair, and he sighed again, giving a sad smile to the Storyteller. Tears welled from his eyes, and he wiped them off with his bloodstained sleeve, leaving a red smear on his cheek.

"But what else would you do if you were killed the way I have? It would've been alright, if I were just dead... but that man decided to ruin me. Made up a whole web of lies just to make everyone see me as the one who started it. He even shot my wife, for crying out loud!

So... of course I'd be angry. Of course I'd want revenge. Of course I'd try to get it. That news lady got what was coming for her. I've managed to confuse her enough to not trust a single soul. But I'm not done yet."

The ghost looked back at the flames, his teeth almost grinding as he spoke in a ghastly, raspy wheeze. "If I had one more year, I would try to avenge myself. Avenge my wife. We didn't deserve this to happen to us. And he didn't deserve to get away."

-----

The Storyteller looked over at the loose pages, pieces of paper that documented the spirits' responses. They were stacked neatly on his wooden table, and each one perfectly labeled after each poor soul he interviewed. It picked them up, giving them short glances as it thought to itself. It then walked off, having made their decisions on what to do with each of them.

[angelic-writer]

I choose to believe eric survived 1.4 as once ethan unfroze he could've just stopped the bleeding himself and called for help (i mean at least a few people must've been woken up by them) plus it takes a while to die from a slit throat!

Anyways hi did you know I'm from denial land/silly

OooooouuuuuuuuuaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!

Potential angst/whump incoming!!

Ethan couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe. All he could do was stare at his classmate's body. Eric who was bleeding from a gaping hole in his throat. The garden shears lay discarded on the floor a few feet away from him. Blood pooled out of his wounds, staining the bathroom tiles and seeping into the cracks, turning them into little rivers.

He failed... He failed to save Eric... He answered the woman's riddle, but it was only for Eric to solve. He didn't answer the riddle in time and he paid for it with his own life.

Just like Max.

He could feel his hands begin to shake. Sweat was beginning to form on his skin and his breathing was rapidly increasing. His vision began to darken. His legs threatened to give out from under him.

I failed. I failed. I failed.

Failure failure failure failure I'm a failure I'm nothing but a failure I can't even save anyone

He thought he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He thought he... saw Eric's hand twitch? But that's impossible. He slit his own throat. He was sure he severed all the major arteries. Unless he missed something? He wasn't sure.

When he looked closer, Eric's fingers twitched again. Ethan's breath caught in his throat. "Eri-"

He was cut off by the sound of Eric's weak gurgles. He's alive?! But how- How did-

No time for that! I-I gotta help him!!

Forcing his body to move, he got on his knees, grabbing one of the bath towels and pressed it against the wound, making sure it didn't cut off his breathing. The crimson liquid spread on the white sheet, staining it like blood in the snow.

Eric moved his lips, trying to say something, but all that came out were weak gasps. Blood bubbled out of the corners of his lips. Nonetheless, he mouthed the words "I'm sorry."

"Hey hey hey hey, don't talk. I'll get you help, okay?! Just s-stay with me, alright?!" He yelled out from the bathroom. "HELP!! I NEED HELP!!!"

A few other boys gathered around the bathroom door, one of them grumbling while rubbing his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Ethan, can you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sle-" He was cut off by one of the boys screaming "What the fuck?!"

"Oh Jesus fuck! What happened?!"

"I'll explain later!! Just call 911!!" Ethan screamed.

One of the boys ran back to their rooms, presumably to grab his phone from his nightstand. Ethan turned to one of the taller boys, Logan, he presumed and motioned for him to help. He just stood at the doorway, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Okay, can you tell me what the fuck happened?! Why is Eric-"

"Can you shut the fuck up and help me, please?! He's dying!! Just- Get the towels!"

"Okay okay, jeez!"

Logan stumbled into the bathroom, grabbing another towel as Ethan commanded. Scanning Eric, Logan could see that he had long cuts all over his arms. Judging by the way they were cut, it didn't seem like a deliberate suicide attempt. Pressing the towels against his wrists, Logan could feel Eric's pulse, quick and thready. He held back the bile that was rising in his throat.

"Eric? Eric, hey, y-you still with me? Help's on the way. Y-You're gonna be fine. They'll fix you up. You'll be good as new, o-okay?" Ethan tried to keep his voice steady, but he ended up stumbling on his own words. No matter how much he tried to put on a brave face, he was mortified.

Eric's life was in Ethan's hands. He was still alive, but only by a thread. Only he and Logan were the only ones keeping him from bleeding out. With his free hand, he held Eric's hand, flinching from how cold he was becoming. No no no no no... Please... Please don't do this to me...

"Eric please... Just stay awake... Stay with me..."

Eric's eyes fluttered, trying his best to keep them open. He wanted to talk to him, to say something, but he couldn't. The blood building up in his throat made it hard for him to talk. Still, he knew what he would say to him when he sees him on the other side.

I'm sorry, Ethan... I never paid that much attention to you. You seemed like a cool person to hang out with. You looked so lonely. I wanted to be there for you.

Maybe in another life, we can be friends.

[rhithefella]

OHHH SHIT

AND FOR 2.4 AND 1.8, I THINK I HAVE AN IDEA THAT MAKES THIS SO MUCH WORSE(/pos)

Like maybe each of the friends in 2.4 are represented by someone in 1.8

Except for Kevin.

Pretty heartbreaking fanart idea for any friend group in CT:

Those "In another universe, would we still be friends?" thingys

FUCKING COLLAPSES

[love-that-we-were-in]

the harder the pain, the sweeter the sun

the aftermath of Luke's quest. or the consequences of not being a hero.

a/n: hello i didn't mean to be so sad on my entrance but we move! have fun (i'm so sorry)

It shouldn’t be like this, he thinks as he steps back across Camp Half-Bloods borders. There’s still the same mill of activity, archery and pegasi and swords grating against one another. Everything is exactly as it was when he left. Some people notice him as he makes his way towards his cabin - they don’t make small talk, what’s the point of that when he’s not the hero returned. His scar, still fresh, still raised and red across his face, feels heavy. It’s almost a beacon; a guiding light towards his failure. No one comments but he can feel it, the shift in energy as he walks past each cabin. Pity for the son of Hermes. 

His bunk is untouched. 

Collapsing onto the sheets, he glances around the space. It’s only him here, faced with his own reckoning and renown. His bunk is untouched but there’s two abandoned opposite, a careful stack of belongings at the end of each. Before dinner, he’ll change those sheets. He’ll pack Cora and Eric’s belongings into a box to stow away in the big house, amongst a dozen others he’s left there over the years, and he’ll burn shrouds to them with his campmates in the evening. 

Luke wonders, as he takes in the makeshift beds on the floor, if it was even worth coming back at all. 

Everyone moves on. Within days, there’s barely a mention of either of his quest companions. Both of them were unclaimed, watching their lives tick by in the two years he’d known them with little idea of who they were. The Stoll twins were given their beds upon their arrival at camp two days after he returned. They had been claimed, sent in the right direction by Hermes himself, and Luke despises the way he has to sit down with people he’s known for years and tell them they’re back to sleeping on the floor. Seniority is one thing - being claimed is more important. 

He trains. It’s the only thing he can do. There’s no pride that comes with failure. Some of the Ares kids jeer at him but none of them try to fight him, just watch as he fights with Annabeth like old times. Knife against sword. He trains and he studies and he watches as the floor of Hermes cabin becomes a minefield of belongings as summer peaks. 

Little will change between now and fall, he knows that with certainty. He’ll still be stuck burning food for his father, willing something to happen that will earn him a deserved quest. Maybe it’s foolish, this desire to try again, to keep going on quests until he returns from one he can say was his. Not a feat of Hercules, but a tale of Luke. He has camp glory, he needs more than that.

*

Summer ends, as it always did. He says goodbye to more cabinmates than anyone, standing at the edge of the borders until the sun is nearly setting in the sky. Thalia’s tree is behind him as the last kid leaves, an eleven year old girl that had done nothing more than stare with wide eyes every time he lifted a sword. He wonders if he’ll see her next June at all. 

“Back to basics again,” Annabeth says from behind him and he rolls his eyes as she shimmers into existence, baseball cap in hand. “Do you think it’ll get easier?”

He forgets sometimes that she’s still a kid. Wise beyond her years, a strategist to be admired, but just a kid. And a first time cabin counselor. She hasn’t said goodbyes like this before, to everyone she’s housed over three months. Teenagers that had looked to her as their leader, even if they didn’t understand her being given such power. Children who revered her position and her history as if she were a Greek tale herself.

Luke had understood it, had fought for it in April when Kieran Ho had sent word to Chiron that he wouldn’t be returning that summer. She had seemed so prepared to take on the role. He hadn’t realized that it might take more of an emotional toll than she was ready for. 

“Honestly,” he leans back against Thalia’s tree, surveying the camp below them as if he’s never seen it before. Annabeth glares at him for it. “It gets harder every year. It doesn’t end.”

“Some of those kids aren’t coming back.” Annabeth says it as a statement, a fact of life that they’ve both come to terms with. But there’s a shake to her voice, the kind saved only for when she’s terrified of being wrong, so he lets it linger in the air and get carried away. He thinks that’s answer enough. 

*

Winter Solstice comes and he feels ready. Months of only fighting Clarisse and Annabeth. Meals spent with the busiest table still, but with nothing to talk about. So long dedicated to being angry, to dreaming, to waking up in a cold sweat from everything he’s been given permission to see. 

He steals the bolt. It’s a simple plan, one he doubted originally, but it works a charm. There’s no questioning how important the Gods think of themselves anymore, how above everybody else they view themselves (literally and figuratively) to be. He escapes from floor 600 of the Empire State Building with the source of Zeus’ power in his possession and no one bats an eye. 

Annabeth will never have to come to terms with losing campers. Thalia’s sacrifice won’t be in vain the way it has been since his return. Hermes won’t be able to ignore him any longer, pretending as if being a glorified mailman means more than his son. By next summer, the world will already have begun to change. 

Trekking through Manhattan, he understands now why he was destined to fail against Ladon. What his scar will come to represent in years to come. Luke Castellan was never meant to steal an apple - he was destined, instead, to change history and with that, the world.

[jgroffdaily]

Karan Soni and Jonathan Groff to Lead Rom-Com Movie ‘A Nice Indian Boy’ [Exclusive]

Directed by Roshan Sethi, ‘A Nice Indian Boy,’ which will begin shooting later this month is a rom-com about changing traditional norms and pursuing a life of happiness

Deadpool star Karan Soni and Mindhunter star Jonathan Groff are all set to lead the gay rom-com movie, ‘A Nice Indian Boy’ for Scythia Films and Levantine Films.

The film will be directed by Roshan Sethi based on a script written by Eric Randall. ‘A Nice Indian Boy’ will begin filming on May 29, 2023, in Vancouver, BC, Canada, and will take just three weeks to officially wrap up on June 23, 2023.

‘A Nice Indian Boy’ is a contemporary tale about Indian marriage in the 21st century. The protagonist, Naveen Gavaskar (Karan Soni) is aware of his parents' expectations of him and his sister. They want them to profoundly respect their Hindi background, uphold all Hindi traditions, and, most significantly, exult in strictly Hindi marital ceremonies. This proves to be much more difficult for Naveen, who is openly gay in a culture where being gay can be tough. His parents want him to have a traditional Hindi wedding, but he worries he will never live up to their expectations. Naveen meets a white male, Jay (Jonathan Groff), whom he is attracted to and begins a relationship with. Despite his fear of introducing Jay to his parents, Naveen ultimately expresses his love for him and proposes in a dramatic fashion. The story is about changing traditional norms, having acceptance of who you are, and pursuing a life of happiness.

Tory Metzger is producing through Levantine Films, while Daniel Bekerman is producing on behalf of Scythia Film.

Karan Soni is known for starring as Dopinder in the Deadpool film. He will again reprise his role in the upcoming Deadpool 3 shooting at the end of this month. Karan is also giving voice to Spider-Man India in Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, which will release in theaters on June 2, 2023. Karan's acting credits include films such as Strange World, Trolls World Tour, Ghostbusters, Goosebumps, Pokémon: Detective Pikachu, Office Christmas Party, and many more.

Jonathan Groff is an award-winning actor known for the Netflix series Mindhunter in which he portrayed Holden Ford and Frozen and Frozen II where he voiced Kristoff. He recently appeared in M. Night Shyamalan's Knock at the Cabin, Netflix series, Lost Ollie, and The Matrix Resurrections. He is also set to appear in a mysterious role in the upcoming season of Doctor Who. His acting credits also include Hamilton, Glee, Invincible, and many more.

[ill-try-to-do-book-reviews]

The Cabin at the End of the World

Paul Tremblay

RATING: 🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯 (5/5)

The Cabin at the End of the World is a horrifying tale of homophobia, cultism, and perhaps even Catholic guilt. It has a slow start, but when it picks up speed, it absolutely does not stop. No matter where you are in this book, you will not figure out the ending. You will find yourself questioning if maybe this little pseudo-cult is right, and you will wonder up until the very end about who, if anyone, is going to make it out of this story alive.

SUMMARY: Seven-year-old Wen and her parents, Eric and Andrew, are vacationing at a remote cabin on a quiet New Hampshire lake. Their closest neighbors are more than two miles in either direction along a rutted dirt road.

One afternoon, as Wen catches grasshoppers in the front yard, a stranger unexpectedly appears in the driveway. Leonard is the largest man Wen has ever seen, but he is young, friendly, and he wins her over almost instantly. Leonard and Wen talk and play until Leonard abruptly apologizes and tells Wen, “None of what’s going to happen is your fault.” Three more strangers then arrive at the cabin carrying unidentifiable, menacing objects. As Wen sprints inside to warn her parents, Leonard calls out: “Your dads won’t want to let us in, Wen. But they have to. We need your help to save the world.”

Thus begins an unbearably tense, gripping tale of paranoia, sacrifice, apocalypse, and survival that escalates to a shattering conclusion, one in which the fate of a loving family and quite possibly all of humanity are entwined. The Cabin at the End of the World is a masterpiece of terror and suspense from the fantastically fertile imagination of Paul Tremblay.

MY DETAILED REVIEW (SPOILER WARNING):

This story is fucking gut-wrenching. There were times that I had to take a break from reading for my own sanity, despite how much I wanted to keep going until all of my questions were answered.

And all of your questions will not be answered. Is the apocalypse actually happening? Who fucking knows. But really, isn't that the point? It doesn't matter if the apocalypse is happening or not - because we will go on.

Normally, I'm not a reader pushed on by romance. I could normally not care less if the protagonists have somebody waiting for them back home - it just doesn't motivate me to read any faster than if I were already hooked. But Eric and Andrew's love for each other, and their love for Wen, it was a pretty big factor in my finishing of this book in 7 hours, 48 minutes. I wanted, needed, to know if their small little family would make it out alive. I couldn't bear the thought of little Wen being without one of her dads, or one of her dads being without his husband, or, gods forbid, her dads being without their daughter.

Wen's death was a gut punch. Not a wholly unexpected one, I admit, but still a heart shattering moment to know that the little girl they had fought so long and hard for had died. And, though I do regret to admit it, the fact that she died so unceremoniously.

A gruesome death befell everyone in our story, and narratively, it is rather fitting that Wen was shot, on accident, by a man who loved her and a man who lied to her and took advantage of her trust and naievity.

As much as I feel whether the apocalypse was real or not does not matter to the story, I also can't help but find myself making my own interpretations of whether or not it was. As a born Christian, now pagan, I found myself on Andrew's side for a majority of the book.

But what is all the more frightening is how I was also finding myself beginning to believe Leonard and his gang, just like Eric.

I made notes to myself throughout my reading that I was predicting Eric was going to give in and believe, at least partially out of Catholic guilt, once that second earthquake and tsunami hit. Finding myself to be partially right was vindicating, but finding that I am also susceptible to cult-like mentalities, especially on the basis of end-of-the-world, the-Rapture-is-here talk that is so engrained into my mine, was also a reminder. A reminder that no matter how sure you are of yourself, you are not immune to propaganda.

Anyways, as for whether I believe the apocalypse or not, no. I think that it was a religious nutjob who rallied other religious nutjobs. Granted, I cannot explain whether Redmond or O'Bannon was stalking Andrew or if it was n unfortunate coincidence that they were the ones at the cabin, or anything like that. There are questions I have leaving this book that I do not have enough evidence to base an idea or theory or solid answer off of.

All in all, The Cabin at the End of the World is a gut-wrenching story that had me biting my fingers in suspense from start to finish. I have a feeling it is going to be one of those books that you read once and the story sticks with you for the rest of your life. Regardless, a physical copy is in my future, because I loved this book from front to back.

[themosleyreview]

The Mosley Review: Knock at the Cabin

Ya know, as far as apocalyptic films goes.....wait a second. Has it really been at least 5 years since we've had another one of these type of films. Yeah sure you could count the big blockbusters The Tomorrow War or maybe A Quiet Place, but those are more in line with post apocalyptic and time travel. I'm talking about the films that build to the inevitable destruction of everything we know. This film decided to go the other way and bring back that classic amount of tension and fear of the unknown. Is the apocalypse actually happening or are the antagonists of the film delusional? Is the evidence being presented as fact or a well crafted deception? Those are the many questions you begin to ask yourself throughout the film and I loved that. Although the tension, intensity and pain were very well portrayed, I couldn't help the feeling that the subtlety of each was quickly starting to falter and overstay their welcome. There are some moments of pure illogical behavior that were almost unforgivable and I won't spoil them here. Lets just say that there is an item that changes the tide in the struggle that any normal person would have ready to dispatch an intruder with at all times.

Ben Aldridge was great and combative as Andrew. I liked that he was the most skeptic in the couple as the clues presented themselves of whether what was happening was real or not. Johnathan Groff was loving and kind as his husband in the film, Eric. He represented the heart of the relationship and he was the most understanding and inquisitive. Kristen Cui was outstanding as Wen and I loved her pureness of heart. She was genuinely curious, but smarter than most kids in films like these and I appreciated that. The three of them were a lovely family and you feel the love they all shared for each other. Dave Bautista has continued to truly surprise me with the ever growing quality of his dramatic performances. As Leonard, he was so charismatic, heartfelt and remorseful as he reluctantly has to follow the path laid before him. I loved the opening scene with him and Wen as you see that friendly giant spirit within him shine. That scene set the tone of the film and he led it to so effortlessly. Nikki Amuka-Bird is one of the best at delivering true heartbreak, determination and yet care. As Sabrina, she did all of that and helped truly sell the nurturing nature of the character. Abby Quinn was excellent as Adriane and I loved that she was actually pleading for some sort of savior. She may be the very confident one of the group, but she really had a kindness in her eyes as she divulged her life before ending up in this situation. Rupert Grint blew me away as Redmond. He was a harder edged character that truly was full of pain, trauma and regret that I really felt sorry for. He nearly stole the film in his moments and it was great to see him back on the big screen again in a role I didn't know he could portray so powerfully.

The score by Herdís Stefánsdóttir was haunting, pulse pounding and emotionally charged in the best moments of the film. The only negatives I felt about the score is that it sometimes telegraphed or tried to force you to feel a certain way in a number of scenes. Sometimes a film can be over scored and I believe this one was one of them. The power of silence can really deliver the best tension or scares and I wish there was more of that in this film. Aside from one of the biggest mistakes a character could make happening in the latter part of the film, I did enjoy this apocalyptic tale. It delivers great tension and mystery, but it does lack some breathing room to truly make it as memorable as it could've been.

[fearsmagazine]

SWALLOWED - Review

DISTRIBUTOR: Momentum Pictures

SYNOPSIS:  Benjamin and Dom have been best friends since they were kids. On their last night together, Dom plans to send Benjamin off with a pocketful of cash. All he has to do is deliver a package over the border for his cousin’s friend. What appears to be a simple plan turns into a nightmare of drugs, bugs, and horrific intimacy.

REVIEW: Dom’s friend Benjamin is an aspiring gay porn star and they are celebrating his leaving for L.A. but the night spirals out of control when they are forced at gunpoint to swallow the contraband to get it across the border. It’s a shame that violence and terrifying bugs are what it takes for these friends to get in touch with their true feelings for each other.

Carter Smith’s screenplay is more of a thriller or a crime caper, with a horror element, than it is a horror film. Right from the beginning it becomes clear that there is a lot of tension between Dom and Ben than just Ben relocating to Cali. When the duo encounter Alica, the result of a request by Dom’s cousin, both get a sense that there is something shady going on as the rules of the deal that was presented in the call begins to change quickly to the point where they are forced at gunpoint to swallow the packages. Alice is ruthless, but clearly there are other things at play as she is frequently answering her phone to give the caller updates. Smith does an excellent job of maintaining focus on Dom and Ben as he adds in other strong, colorful characters that strengthen the narrative. The concept of the bugs adds a new dimension and sense of peril to the tale, in addition to figuring nicely into the climax. It was interesting on how Smith switches gears and the narrative style. He does give a nod to the film’s climax but it’s not glaring or obtrusive. He does try to wrap things up with a sequence over the end credits that felt a bit out of place with the rest of the film’s tone.

SWALLOWED features solid production values. The film has this 80’s cinematography style, nicely framed, and an energetic editing style. The bug designs are simplistic and effective. Christopher Bear’s score delightfully underscores the action and emotion sequences. Many of the film’s locations are adequate and the cabin in the woods is especially interesting. The special effects are solid without being overly gory.

SWALLOWED features a great ensemble cast. Cooper Koch and Jose Colon feel like long time friends. Clearly they are worldly, but they both project a sense of innocence. As things become dire, Koch nicely transforms from a victim to a predator. Actress Jena Malone, recently seen in the lead role of Grace in “Consecration,” delivers another memorable performance. She creates a complex role of a gangster with a conscience. Mark Patton, who most horror fans will remember as Jesse Walsh in “A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge,” creates a complex villain queen ruled by his lust and love of money. He is as creepy as he is sympathetic.

I enjoyed Carter Smith’s 2008 adaptation of the horror novel “The Ruins,” so I was interested in taking in SWALLOWED. It’s a quick paced thriller that brings in many different genre styles as the last night of these two friends together goes off the rails. The focus remains on the friends and the elephant in the room as these other ideas are nicely woven into the plot. Likewise, I felt the gay themes were balanced with the other plot points. Not really a horror film, this native of Maine serves up a well executed thriller. Smith is currently finishing up his next project, “The Passenger,” with several of his team who worked on this film. Also listed as a horror, I have it on my radar to view when it becomes available.

CAST: Jena Malone, Mark Patton, Cooper Koch, Jose Colon, and Michael Shawn Curtis CREW: Director/Screenplay - Carter Smith; Producer - Noah Lang & Ross O’Connor; Cinematographer - Alex Wolf Lewis; Score - Christopher Bear; Editor/Sound Design - Eric Nagy; Costume Designer - Rob Younkers; Production Designer - Jay Carroll; Bugs Designer - Dan Martin; SFX & Creature Design - 13 FINGER FX

OFFICIAL: N.A. FACEBOOK: N.A. TWITTER: N.A. TRAILER: https://youtu.be/jHRUGQx5SC4 RELEASE DATE: On VOD & Digital - February 14th, 2023

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

Reviewed by Joseph B Mauceri

[philippmichelreichold]

Space Dreadnoughts by Dave Drake

Space Dreadnoughts is a Military Science Fiction anthology by David Drake, Martin H Greenberg and Charles G Waugh. The contents in order of appearance are:

"Introduction: A quick Look at Battle Fleets" by David Drake

"The Only Thing We Learn" by Cyril M. Kornbluth

"C-Chute" by Isaac Asimov

"Allamagoosa" by Eric Frank Russell (won the Hugo Award for bestshort story in 1955)

"A Question of Courage" by J. F. Bone

"Superiority" by Arthur C. Clarke

"Hindsight" by Jack Williamson

"The Last Battalion" by David Drake

"Shadow on the Stars" by Algis Budrys

"Time Lag" by Poul Anderson

The first Military Sci Fi story I remember is the Star Trek TOS episode "Balance of Terror," in which Enterprise duels with a Romulan interloper. The military conflict was setting to other conflicts between the crew, the story was full of suspense, and actual battle was a small part of the story. And so it is here.

The book's title is a misnomer. The back cover blurb is misleading-- "Massive and arrogant, they patrol the final war zone-- deep space. All great battleships before them-- . . . are mere toys in comparison." It goes on about "bristling artillery" and "battalions of souldiers." I expected fleet actions involving capital ships. Tactics. Maneuvers. Gunplay. While there are fleet actions and even battleships in some of these stories, they are mere backdrops on a stage where people play out the stories. Truly good Science Fiction involves people, and in all these stories, the people overshadow the military settings that serve only to bring out the characters and whatever lessons there are to be learned from them. All of these stories are well worth reading.

"Introduction: A quick Look at Battle Fleets" Mr Drake's introduction is a wonderful introspective about the history of the Dreadnought battleships with a mention of two 1950's Astounding essays on the armaments of spaceships-- one by Willy Ley, the other by Malcolm Jameson. If one is going to write stories about ship-to-ship combat, the introduction is a good starting point. But only a starting point. One should definitely read Mahan, and consider the lessons of Taranto and Pearl Harbor. And the US Navy's Harpoon's and Tomahawk's are wonderful arguments in favor of missles over guns. One should also consider the time honored techniques of ramming and boarding actions.

Perhaps the question of guns vs missles is mooted today. The arms race has continued in Sci-Fi beyond what could be imagined with a knowledge of 1950's physics. The Ley and Jameson essays were written before Empire of Man fighters raked Formoria, before rail guns, and CTD imploders, before GRASER's, X-ray LASER's and phaser banks, before the Moties bombarded Mote Prime with asteroids, and before Captain Sheridan laid a gigaton on Z'ha'dum.

"The Only Thing We Learn" Kornbluth tells a cautionary tale of faded Imperial glory. The barbarians at the gates will one day have descendants that are as decadent and prissy as the effete and ineffectual empire they deposed and replaced. History blurs and magnifies the epic tales of glory. The details are lost. The character is lost. One day a fresh wave of barbarians sweeps aside succcessors that their ancestors would be ashamed to acknowledge. The reader may decide what relationship if any there is between this story and the quote from Friedrich Hegel. A fun story despite the dire consequences for the past and future losers. In his column, "Rereading Kornbluth", Robert Silverberg calls The Only Thing We Learn, "a subtle, oblique, elliptical, sardonic piece of work."

"C-Chute" Dr. Asimov wrote this story in 1951. It is a psychodrama set aboard a passenger ship taken as a prize by a race of chlorine breathers in Earth's first intersteller war. Each of the passengers is sketched by Asimov to reveal their several flaws of personality, physicality or character. Each has reasons why he should not exit the cabin via the C-chute, EVA, and enter and retake the control room from outside the ship. The reason for the dubious hero to take the heroic action required to retake the ship is one unlikey to appear in the work of any author but Dr. Asimov.

"Allamagoosa" This story won the 1955 Hugo for best short story. It's a farcical look at officious bureaucracy of the greatest gravity. It's sort of a shaggy dog story, wink, wink. This story in and of itself is worth buying the book for. The build up and so obvious in hindsight ending is fresh enough to be as enjoyable today as it was then.

"A Question of Courage" Sometimes flair and heedless risk taking can be mistaken for true personal courage. When the genuine article appears, there's no mistaking it. Bone craftliy deveops his characters and sets the reader up for the old maidish Captain "Cautious Charley" Chase of Lachesis to reveal his true nature. It is available from Project Gutenberg.

"Superiority" Sir Arthur requires no introduction for this story, a reductio ad absurdum about the principle of Illusory Superiority. Technology and bedazzlment with the latest, most theoretically wonderful advances are no substitutes for common sense and sound military doctrine. Perhaps this should serve as a cautionary tale at a time when Iraqi insurgents hack into our drones. According to Wikipedia, this gem was required reading at West Point. The reader easily empathizes with the narrator and his plight, revealed at the end.

"Hindsight" Jack Williamson has won both the Nebula and the Hugo Awards, and had a career that spanned about seventy years. This story involves temporal mechanics and love, oppression and liberation, and meeting engagements. Incidentally, the guns employed by the Astrach's fleet are of 20-inch caliber and fire four salvos per second. It's a tightly written story, though I think the ending is a little drippy.

"The Last Battalion" Imagine that Hitler did not die in a bunker in Berlin, but escaped via U-Boat to a secret Waffen-SS base in New Swabia. There German scientists built flying saucers from which they reached the moon to to mine aluminum and build more flying saucers. Now imagine them getting into a war with aliens. With things not looking so good, they kidnap a US Senator to let him know what is going on, intending to drag the US into the conflict. Before they can get where they're going with the Senator, the aliens lay a nuke on their Antartic base. They drop the Senator off to find his own way home. He asks them what they will do. Their colonel replies, we are SS-- we will fight.

"Shadow on the Stars" Budrys's Farlans are felinoid aliens who at first blush look like humans in cat suits. But they are, on a closer look, "raving paranoid quote." The paranoia is pathological and eventually fatal for Farla-- any military leader with sufficient ability to be effective cannot be trusted by Farla's rulers, and will be killed at the earliest sign of that fatal disease, military competence. The story is a retrospective, the central character telling how he and Farla came to be in their present straits. It is too late for him to convey the warning against trusting Earth, and to late to avoid the inevitable dissolution of Farla.

I have a problem accepting the plot device Budrys uses to set up the narrative, but otherwise the story is interesting and fun to read. The prose is a bit over decourous and affected, but that brings out the effeteness and pretentiousness of the Farlan culture. At the start, the Farlans are hard-pressed by a barabarian culture, the Vilk, and need a strong, capable leader to drive them back. OF course the strong, capable leaders keep their heads down so has not to find themselves assassinated by the Ministry of Preparedness-- and then comes L'Miranid. A previously unknown reservist, he quickly dominates the Fleet and whips them into shape. Victory follows victory until the Vilk host is driven back, their subject planets pounded to rubble, and a Farlan imposed king seated upon their throne.

The real story action is not fleet engatgements and daring raids, though. The story is related by Henlo, one of those capable leaders who has balanced command of a capital ship wtih avoiding notice by the governmental hunters down of competence. He starts the story as having a clear understanding of Farla's problems and the steps necessary to remedy them, but can't afford to be noticed. He becomes L'Mararind's aid, admirer, vice-admiral, intended assasin and successor, and finally, his unwilling co-conspirator and successor. Unwilling to be assasinated himself, he seizes control of the Farlan government. By this time, the sad (for Farla) truth is known to him, but (I love Latin quotes.) "alea jacta est." This is a fine little story with a lovely twist toward the end.

"Time Lag" Poul Anderson has won both the Hugo and Nebula Awards. Time Lag is a study in contrasts-- evil, greedy invaders against noble, selfless defenders. Chertkoi is a heavily overpopulated industrial planet, drowning in pollution and resource starved. Vaynamo is pristine, with a population sustainable through resource management. Vayanmo is never the less technologically advanced, with the technology's goal as preservation rather than exploitation. Expolitation is the name of Chertkoi's game. It's people conquer other worlds to fuel the industrial fires that smother their world under a cloud of pollution.

The archetype of the Chertoi is the Admiral commanding the invasion fleet. He is matched against the story's view point character, Elva. Elva is the widow of a Vayanmoan noble and prisoner of the Admiral. He is gross, vulgar and uncouth. She is pretty, cultured and well-mannered. He is a love struck boor, hopelessly smitten by her. She subtly endures his presence to manipulate him so that she an return herself and the other captives to Vayanmo in a portrayal that is believable and sympathetic. The invasion is a leveraged takeover in three stages-- a scouting raid, a strategic strike to destroy what little industry the Vayanmo posses, and a full-scale invasion. The title relativistic time lag (fifteen years) gives the Chertkoi time to build their invasion fleet and the Vaynamo time to prepare their reception.

References

Space Dreadnoughts by Dave Drake. Philipp Michel Reichold. JUL 19TH, 2017

Space Dreadnoughts. ed. David Drake, Martin H. Greenberg, Charles G. Waugh. July 1990.

Star Trek. "Balance of Terror."

The Mote in God's Eye. Jerry Purnelle and Larry Niven.

Various Polity universe stores. Neal Asher.

Babylon 5. "Z'ha'dum"

The Battle of Sauron. John F. Carr and Don Hawthorne.

[deadnightcoffeetime]

The Monster Of Willow Creek (Tales Of Horror Segment 2) (COPY RIGHT) Page 35

It’s 10:45 a.m., and Alyana is still walking through the mine. As she walks through the mine while looking back every now and then, the sound of footsteps occurs. She sees an open space to hide, not knowing if it’s the monster. In the open space, there’s a barrel and a wooden plank. She grabs the wooden plank and sets into position to attack. The sound of footsteps grows louder, letting Alyana know who, or what, is getting closer. Alyana strikes, swinging the wooden plank to her right. With Leon’s quick refluxes, he grabs Michelle, allowing the wooden plank hit him on his back. “Ow! That hurt!”, said Leon. “Are you okay?”, said Michelle. Leon speaks out, as Alyana realizes it’s Leon and Michelle. “Yeah, I’m fine.”. Alyana exits out the open space. “Oh my god! Oh my god! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”, said Alyana. “It’s fine. The main thing is that we found you, and that you’re okay.”, said Leon. Michelle hugs Alyana. “Aly! I’m so glad that you’re okay.”, said Michelle. “I’m glad that you two are okay as well. How did you guys find me?”, said Alyana. “Your family and us, were looking for you out there, and we found a cave, thinking this would be the last place to hide.”, said Michelle. “My family is here?”, said Alyana. “Yeah. You’re pops, mom, and your uncle are here in the mineshaft looking for you.”, said Leon. “Oh, thank god! But, why aren’t they with you?”, said Alyana. “Your pops wanted to split up, since this place s like a labyrinth.”, said Leon. “Now we have to find my folks too.”, said Alyana. “Speaking of finding, did you find Isaac?”, said Leon. “Yes..he’s dead. He’s been eaten. I also found Steven’s and Tanya’s body, they were eaten too. And…Becky is dead too.”, said Alyana. “What? What happened?”, said Michelle. “I bumped into Becky hours ago, and out of nowhere the monster grabbed and killed her. I couldn’t save her. Then that fucker chased me through the woods, then into an abandoned cabin, and into this mineshaft.”, said Alyana. “Well, your pops found Eric’s body eaten on the dirt road. it’s just us and your family now.”, said Leon. On the acknowledged the monster growls again, startling them. “It’s probably heading here! Not far from here!”, said Alyana. Leon and Michelle are running back to the same spot where Zahn told them to meet, Alyana follows them. “Where are we going?”, said Alyana. “We’re heading back to the entrance of this mine.”, said Leon. Just as they about to make a left turn, the monster surprisingly strikes from the right passage, scratching Michelle on her shoulder. She screams in pain and falls to the ground. The scream was loud enough to get the attention of Zahn and the others. “Did you heard that?!”, said Sarah. “Yeah! Sounds like they’re in trouble! Let’s go find them.”, said Zahn. Zahn and the others are heading to area, where they heard the scream. The monster grabs Michelle by her legs and starts to drag her. As Michele screams for help, Leon quickly takes out a flare for himself and throws another flare to Alyana. “Alyana,catch!”, said Leon. She catches it, and both lights it up. The monster sees Leon coming with the lit up flare, it releases one of Michelle’s leg in order to hit Leon with its hand. Leon is hit incredibly hit hard, causing him to fall and go unconscious. Alyana surprisedly jumps on the the monster’s back and tries to stab it too,. Trying not to lose grip and stabbing it with lit up flare, the monster over powers her. Hitting her from wall to wall, and shaking her off. Alyana loses grip and is shaken off, falling into the ground and in pain. Michelle is still screaming while still being dragged, the monster then grabs one of Alyana’s leg, dragging both of the girls. Leon I still on the ground unconscious with the lit up flare. As the screams continues, Zahn and the others are still following. The screams are dying down now, which became a problem. Since the screams are done, now they’re having trouble where to go. “Ahhhhh! Great, which way do we go now?!”, said Zahn. Sarah sees a faint red glow along the passage.

[praphit]

A Knock at the Cabin and a Giggle in the Bush.

To truly live your best life, and to show your family that you love them, at some point, you've got to head to a cabin for family vacation. Tons of stories involving cabins show us how fun it can be:

"Cabin in the Woods" "Friday the 13th" "Evil Dead" "The Strangers"

We all need to treat ourselves, and our families, and go, right??

Even if you don't like your family. You could go alone ("Secret Window" is an excellent tale about what could happen when one does that). You could take your other family; your "hush family". I won’t tell.

I can picture myself out at a cabin....

 aaaah, that's nice.

All of sudden, there's a knock at the door. I open it - 

It's M.Night!

I want to rip him for certain movies like "The Happening" of which I'll never forgive him for, but I wouldn't do that (to his face). We brown people need to stick together. I might simply say "Hi M.Night. It's weird that you're out here. I'm not in the middle of some bullshit story that some might say (not me:) you never totally think through, am I? He replies with giggles and runs off into the bushes. I shut the door.

There's another knock - 

Hey, it's Dave Bautista! I loved you as Drax. Say something silly!

Dave replies: "Do you know Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior?"

That's more random than it is silly, but yeah, JC and I are good. I shut the door (quickly).

Then, yet another knock at the door.

Dammit! "What?!" 

It's Dave Bautista AGAIN, and he brought friends (Abby Quinn, Nikki Amuka-Bird, and Rupert Grint) . His friends break-in, knock me out, and when I wake up, I'm tied-up, and they're babbling something about the apocalypse. 

"*sigh* Motherbleeping M.Night." He's giggling in the bushes outside.

That's what happens to this family here. 

Eric, Andrew, and Wen. get tied-up and told by Dave, that one of the members of their family must die in order to prevent the end of thr world as we know it. A simple plot. A crazy plot, but a simple one. I like simple. This family not only has to choose someone, but they must also do the killing themselves.If that were to happen to us, I can imagine most people looking around the room for the grandparents (similiarly to how some thought about Covid :) But, then you’d have to bash granny’s head in yourself. In this case, do you take out one of the dad’s or a cute lil kid?

That's a lot to chew on. They're obviously going to need a few more dialogues about this matter.

Most of the discourse takes place in one room. My first reaction to this scenario was "This is a horrible pitch."

Although I don't recall Dave and the gang ever saying that God is commanding all of this, most will come to that conclusion ( and that's fair, I guess). They just keep saying that they all had visions. Speaking of God - there are some bible stories that have horrible pitches in them as well, so I guess it fits.

Moses was sent by God to Pharoah (we all know that story). Pharoah could have destroyed Moses with the snap of his fingers, and yet God sent him to make demands of Pharoah, armed with only a stick. And Moses still went through with it, so maybe... Of course, I imagine God to be a smooth orator; kinda like if you could combine the vocal powers of Obama, Morgan Freeman, and Adele. But, who knows what any of us would do??

This whole... "challenge", we'll call it, adds to an intense movie, as does Dave Bautista's acting. 

I'll say that again - Dave Bautista's acting (in a serious role) had a net positive effect. In fact, his acting carried the movie. I'm not saying he's ready to win any Oscars, but... let's see The Rock pull off some legit acting. Dave's buddies were also good at keeping up the cinematic tension.

The nurse (Nikki). The cook (Abby). The bigot (Rupert). Abby Quinn was second in acting only to Dave. She came off as very sincere. None of them wanted to be doing this to the family. They were all very polite. But, at the end of the day (and remember this, kids), good manners don't negate murder.

M. Night had me, man! I was concerned about the family. I didn't know what to make of Bautista & company, but Abby def had me feeling some sympathy for her, and I was intrigued. Are they crazy? Are they delusional? or is this all real? We do find out which one of these three theories is correct, annnnnnd THAT'S when M.Night lost me.

What happens just doesn't compute. M.Night gives you the (WHAT?), but he forgot about the (WHY?). In retrospect, none of these theories make much sense without a solid motive:

The four intruders are too normal to be crazy in this one act. Sooooo, if they're not crazy, then why are they doing this? “VISIONS!” is insufficient. 

You can fight delusion with a few thoughtful questions and the means to answer those questions. There's a point in the movie when Dave is showing the family the tribulations brought upon the world by their inaction. He does this by showing them the news ( which I also have some issues with), and then, one of the family members asks a very good question. They ask good questions throughout, and are never met with good answers. Sometimes, Dave just walks out of the room in response. I'm like "Yeah, that's a REALLY good question. Dave, get yo ass back in here and answer it!" Dave looks at them as to say "Hey, it's not in script, buddy."

And if it's God (or whatever force) - why? You're telling me that God chose this random family, of a gay couple (not a good look, God :)

to kill one of their own, and if they comply, He'll stop killing all of these other people around the world?" Why?! At least attempt a WHY! God took a day off, and was bored, so He did this... sure, works for me. Some sort of WHY!

No matter how you shake it, we need a WHY! Bleepin , M. Night! He twisted us again!

Most of the movie was good though. There's just so much more they could have done here with suspense, story, and even cgi. A good idea though. As always, not thought out very well. However, It'll have you thinking through some things; especially considering the state of the world in which we're actually living. And plus we’ve all got a new game to play - “Which one of us has to go?” Dave Bautista could knock on your door at any moment. 

Grade: C+

What is this power that M.Night has over me? If he were to come out with another movie this year, I'd vigorously rush to see it. In my mind, thinking, perhaps he'll recapture the magic of that ONE great movie he made (and we all know the ONE). And he never will. I'll just keep giving him my money, and he'll keep laughing at me from the bushes.

*smh* Bleepin, M.Night.

[glenngaylord]

Homo Invasion – Film Review: Knock At The Cabin ★★★1/2

Ever since the great The Sixth Sense, I’ve always looked forward to M. Night Shyamalan’s subsequent films, despite diminishing returns. Say what you will about the final products, but he knows how to set up a provocative, pulpy premise and deliver those famous twists you chat about around the water cooler the next day. Sure, he’s had some low points with people running from the wind or responsible parents sending a blind girl alone into the treacherous woods, but he has always had strong commercial instincts and a knack for precision framing. As most of his films have ultimately disappointed me, I begged for him to direct scripts from other writers or at least adapt a film from another medium.

Enter Knock At The Cabin, which Shyamalan, along with co-writers Steve Desmond and Michael Sherman, have adapted from Paul Tremblay’s 2018 horror novel, “The Cabin At The End Of The World”.  Despite some repetitiveness, this is easily one of Shyamalan’s best films in many years. I greatly looked forward to this movie, as I count the Home Invasion Thriller among my favorite genres. It also happens to be that rare studio film which centers around a gay married couple, providing a fresh take on a time-worn tale.

You’ve seen the setup before. A family arrives at their vacation spot, the dreaded cabin in the woods. Here we meet Eric (Jonathan Groff), Andrew (Ben Aldridge) and their adopted daughter Wen (the strikingly self-possessed Kristen Cui). As the film opens, Wen has wandered off to gather grasshoppers when a hulking stranger named Leonard walks up to her and awkwardly attempts to befriend her. As played by David Bautista, Leonard ominously tells Wen that her parents won’t want to let him and his friends inside, but they will have to do so.

[Spoiler Alert - and I’m not referring to Aldridge’s last film - but if you’ve seen the trailer, I’m going to discuss the basic premise in the next paragraph]

Scared, Wen races to her parents and they hurry to protect themselves. When the titular event occurs, we know no good can come from this. It’s a truly terrifying premise, one which conjured up all sorts of “Is Tamara home?” memories from The Strangers. Sure enough, Leonard and his cohorts, Sabrina (Nikki Amuka-Bird), Adriane (Abby Quinn), and Redmond (Rupert Grint), come knocking with some medieval weapons in tow. Once inside, the four present our family with an insane option. The four will not harm them, but one family member must willingly allow themselves to be killed by one of the other two or else the entire world will end. Yes, the apocalypse is coming, folks!

I won’t discuss the plot specifics beyond this, but what follows is an unnerving series of events which bring up issues such as faith and the impact we humans have on the environment, themes which Shyamalan has explored in many of his past films, but here we have homophobic hate crimes added to the mix. It’s a provocative addition, one which comes with a surprise or two and contributes to the core mystery. I’m not convinced it all ties together perfectly, but the premise has an open-ended quality anyhow. Like Shyamalan’s series, Servant, which also features an outstanding Rupert Grint, we witness cult-like behavior and constantly question the veracity of it. We’re intentionally duped by unreliable narrators or by people who may not all have the answers.

One can also see the parallels with the COVID crisis in this film, despite the source material pre-dating it. Additionally, the fact that most of the action takes place in a single house with a limited cast speaks to these times. Shyamalan makes the best of such limitations, expertly photographing a contained set. He knows his way around an action sequence and has always excelled with well-placed silences and the use of negative space in his compositions.

A story like this, while well-crafted and beautifully directed, at times grows repetitive and strains credibility. Thus, it lives or dies by its cast, and everyone here excels. Jonathan Groff has an inherent sweetness to him which helps to sell his character’s shifting point of view. I bought him as this somewhat square daddy whose people pleasing tendencies give way to being open to perhaps the more unbelievable information hurled at them. Groff gets extra points for not spitting all over his co-stars, something he’s famous for doing on stage, during the obligatory singing in the car scene.

Ben Aldridge, so winning in the aforementioned Spoiler Alert, continues his ascent to stardom with his great looks and hair-trigger portrayal. He also impresses in the action sequences, brandishing a gun in a way which gave me “Will he be the first out gay James Bond?” vibes. He’s got superstar upside, which is exciting to see in an out gay actor.

Amuka-Bird, Grint and Quinn acquit themselves nicely in roles which call for large, potentially annoying exposition dumps, but all find their characters’ humanity. The real revelation here, however, is Bautista, who gives a towering, gentle giant performance of such tenderness and vulnerability all mixed together with that intimidating physical presence. He’s clearly on a career trajectory like that of Dwayne Johnson, but with much more accomplished dramatic skills. You want to hate this quartet of home invaders, but they all bring a surprising amount of heart to their roles.

Because of Shyamalan’s spotty track record, it’s difficult to go into his films without bracing yourself for those eye-rolling moments. Some of the speeches did that for me, overwritten and occasionally a little too shouty, but for the most part, I really sat forward in my seat and enjoyed the ride. Some of the doomsday moments felt genuinely scary although on the whole, this film is more tense than frightening. Fans of the novel will not feel spoiled by the differing turns the film takes. This is just plain old-fashioned, good commercial filmmaking which made me want to discuss it with people afterwards. It may feel claustrophobic and it may hammer the same points home over and over again, but the fact that it tackles such huge issues from a queer perspective gives this treasured genre a fresh twist.

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Marry Of The Blood - Eric Northman Smut

Hoowee, this one took a while, but it was worth it. [Unbeta'ed]

Eric Northman x Werewolf!Reader

“You are different, are you not?” The blond vampire murmurs huskily. “Different from what?” You retort. “The other wolves I know.” He replies. You look up from your virgin daiquiri. “What do you mean?” You frown at him. “You smell different, you carry yourself with much more dignity and you most certainly dress better.” Is his reply. “It is an Old World thing. We European Lyco’s remember where we really came from.” You reply. The vampire furrows his brow. “Lyco’s, that is a very derogatory term.” He murmurs. “Yeah, so don’t call me that.” You smirk at him. He chuckles softly. “You’re very sharp.” He murmurs. You quietly nod. “I am very aware.” You send him a warm smile.

“Tell me, what is your name?” He asks. “Tell me yours first.” You retort. The vampire tisks. “You are bold, dear little wolf.” He says. You nod calmly. “I am very aware. It is afforded me, even in the company of so many leeches.” You smirk, baring a maw full of dagger like teeth, though only for the blink of an eye. The vampire shudders. “I am Eric Northman.” He says. “I am Y/N L/N.” You reply gently. He nods in understanding. “Nice to meet you, Miss L/N.” He purrs. “That remains to be seen.” You chuckle.

“Now why do you think you are afforded to be bold?” He asks you. “Because I am old world.” You reply. Eric furrows his brow. “You’re from Europe, what difference does it make?” He asks. “In Europe, Vampires remember to be careful around Lyco’s. One drop too much and it is ashes to ashes.” You tell him. “Your blood?” Eric asks. “Yes, I have come to understand that this is no longer the case here in the US” You say. “I vaguely remember something like that when I lived in Sweden.” Eric mumbles, more to himself. “It is because of the Old Blood. We in Europe still remember our forebears.” You smirk. “Your forebears? I never heard the tale of where werewolves come from.” His eyes bore into yours. “Why don’t I tell you, at my place.” You reply. Eric chuckles softly. “I would like that.” He nods. “Wonderful, follow me.” You tell him. “Lead the way.” Eric reaches out. His hand finds yours. His skin is cold to the touch and makes you shiver slightly. Eric gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

You lead him from the bar to your place. Your speed is something no human would be able to beat, but the vampire matches it easily.

You unlock the door of your humble little abode, not much more than a cabin on the edge of the woods. “Well, come on in.” You say, holding the door for him. Eric sends you a smile as he walks in, past you. “Nice place you have.” He murmurs huskily. “You don’t care for my home, vampire.” You hiss. Eric sniggers and turns back to you. “It is as though you know me.” He purrs. “Know one leech and you know them all. Blood and sex, that’s it.” You retort. This makes Eric smirk smugly. “It is what we are good at, after all.” He murrs.

You close the door behind you and kick off your converse. “Make yourself at home.” You say sweetly. You head over to the stove to put a kettle on for tea. Eric follows you. He looms over you, almost twice your height. He extends his hand, caressing your neck with the tips of two fingers. “You make me so thirsty.” He whispers. You fluster darkly and take one step away. The way he looks at you makes your heart race. “I make you nervous, don’t I?” He chuckles. “A little. But only because it would be a shame to squander such specimen as you.” You reply. “Whatever do you mean?” Eric furrows his brow. “As I said, one drop too much and it is ashes to ashes for you.” You reply. “But… how?” Eric asks. You shrug your shoulders. “My guess is that Lyco blood contains enzymes the vampire system does not take kindly to. But I am no biologist, so I can’t say for sure.” You reply. “I have bitten plenty werewolves, it never killed me.” Eric argues. “New world werewolves, right?” You smirk smugly. “Y-yeah..” Eric admits with a sigh. “It is the old blood that still runs in Europe.” You say.

The kettle begins to whistle. Eric nudges you aside and pours the hot water in your favourite mug. He pulls open the tea drawer and fishes out a random bag. His nose most certainly is as good as yours.

“Now tell me about that old blood.” He hands you your tea. “Very well.” You say softly. You close your hands around the mug and head to the sofa. Eric follows close behind. You can almost feel him against your back. You sit down, Eric close beside you. He smirks down on you, baring his fangs. “You make me very, very thirsty.” He growls huskily. “Wait your turn.” You say. You smile up at him, nesting yourself in the cushions and wrapping your legs around his knees.

“Once, when the Gods were still walking among us, Sigyn gave Loki twin sons, Nari and Narfi. The boys were mischievous, like their father. Odin, afraid they were malicious and to punish their father, turned them into wolves and cursed them to kill each other.

Loki spirited his boys away to Midgard, but only after they had seen their mother one last time. Sigyn did for them all she could, which was little. She had managed to make a deal with Mani, who helped Sigyn alter the curse. Now the twins could return to their Aesir form upon every new moon.

And although the twins did not avoid the fate Odin had set up for them, they did meet with many women every new moon. These women bore them sons and daughter, who, to their surprise, showed the shape of their fathers not in the new moon night, but under the full moon. Many of these sons became incredible warriors and they mated with those of their own blood, giving birth to the werewolf race.”

Eric chuckles and begins to massage your thigh. “I never knew that tale and I am from Sweden.” He says. “What tale do you know then?” You ask him. “The Greek version, of Zeus eating his own son, which King Lychaon had butchered and turned into stew.” Eric replies. “Both can be true at the same time.” You send him a sweet smile.

Eric takes a moment to ponder an answer. “Just like Dracula and Lilith can be true at the same time?” He asks. You tilt your head and chew your lip. “Yes, I suppose. Although The No Life King will always be infinitely more cool.” You say. Eric throws his head in his neck and laughs.

“Now, let me taste you.” He murmurs, once he’s stopped laughing. “Ask nicely and I might consider.” You murmur warmly. Eric smirks wickedly down on you. “A challenge, very well. I’ll accept. I’ll be nice.” He says huskily. He leans in, his cold breath gusting over your lips. He smells of ice and blood. Your heart begins to race. “Don’t be nervous, I shan’t hurt you.” Eric whispers. He closes the distance and grazes your lips with his own. You can’t help a little puppy whimper. “That’s right.” Eric purrs. His tongue darts out to tease your upper lip. You shudder. Eric smirks audibly, he knows exactly what he is doing. “So sensitive.” He whispers. Then, his lips press against yours in earnest. You moan softly. Eric groans in reply. He draws you into his lap. He sure as hell is not wasting any time now. If he cannot yet taste your blood, he will sure as fuck taste your mouth.

His tongue pushes past your lips and his hand grabs firmly at your hips. You moan louder this time around and meet his tongue with your own. “Fuck.” He swears under his breath. His body presses against yours. You can almost feel the greed radiate from his skin, barely veiled by the thin cloth of his black tank top.

He begins to claw at your clothes. You put a hand against his chest. “Not so fast.” You say. “I can barely resist you.” Eric hisses. “You must, I can’t have you overdose.” You reply. Eric swears in Swedish under his breath. “You are going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” He asks hoarsely. “Of course I am.” You nod. He growls and surges forward to claim your mouth again. You moan as your tongues dance and Eric grinds his pelvis up against yours. He’s already hard as a rock, you can feel it through the cloth of his black jeans. You feel your body reacting. “I can smell how wet you are.” Eric whispers. “I want to bite you and I want you out of those clothes.” He makes it an order. And order you, of course, do not heed. “Ask nicely.” You reply sharply. “No, I won’t.” Eric shakes his head. “Then you won’t taste my blood and you won’t fuck me, easy as pie.” You say. Eric chuckles. “You say that now, but I will change your mind quick enough.” He smirks. He’s accepting the challenge.

He leans in to kiss softly at your throat. You whimper and tremble under his touch. “You want me, I know you do.” He whispers against your skin. “Shut up.” You hiss. “Never, I think you like it when I talk dirty.” Eric growls. His teeth scrape along your flesh, but does not yet pierce it. “Fu-fuck.” You moan. “Yes, you want me to bite you.” Eric taunts. “Ask nicely.” You hiss. You start to feel like a broken record with this guy. He is just not going to take it lying down, it seems. “Never. I don’t ask for what I want. I take it.” Eric growls. He licks lewdly at your throat. “And I want you. I want to taste you. Every last bit of you.” He purrs. “Well, that is too bad. Because if you don’t ask nicely, you won’t get it.” You reply. “Fuck you, I will.” Eric growls.

He picks you up, bridal style and rushes up the stairs. You don’t even have time to squeal.

Eric lays you down on your bed. “I have you now.” He purrs. He crawls atop you and kisses you hungrily. You are all too happy to kiss him back. Eric is a very good kisser. His tongue explores your mouth in a leisurely fashion and he groans against your lips. He lowers his pelvis against yours. Slowly he begins to grind. You whimper and hook your leg around his hip. “You want me.” Eric smirks. He nips at your bottom lip. His fang pierces the skin and one single droplet of blood wells up. He looks down on you, his pupils dilated. He whispers to himself in Swedish. There is greed in the tone of his voice. You put your hand against his chest. “You know my price.” You purr. Eric growls, baring his fangs. “You should obey, little wolf.” He snarls. “You are not my master.” You retort.

“If you take my blood by force, I will make you fucking overdose on it.” You growl. “Well, then I’ll just fuck you first.” Eric smirks down on you. He sits on his haunces and pulls your pelvis into his lap. You gasp softly. “I can make you feel things not even an Alpha of your breed can.” Eric murmurs. “Bullshit.” You bark. “Oh I will prove it.” Eric murmurs. “Sure sure.” You roll your eyes.

Eric runs his hands from your hips to your waist. He slowly pushes up your shirt. His eyes wander over your skin, full with desire. “So beautiful.” He whispers. You lay still, calmly awaiting his next move. He looms over you, looking you in the eye. “I want you, you want me, what is keeping us?” He asks. You smirk up at him. “You know fully well.” You reply. “Why are you being so difficult?” Eric asks. “Because you are too.” You reply. Eric glowers at you. “What I ask of you is not that hard.” You say. “Fuck you, I said I don’t ask for what I want.” Eric snarls.

He leans and shows you his fangs again. You respond by opening a maw full of dagger teeth to him. “You’re bullshitting.” He sneers. You growl, deep within your throat. A warning, but should he not heed it, you will act. “Do then.” Eric goads.

You let out a loud roar-bark and topple him over. This evidently startles the vampire. You press your knees down on his biceps. The expression on his face is enough to have you in stitches, you. You throw your head in your neck and laugh. “What is so funny!” Eric yells. “Your face.” You screech in utter delight.

The mood of arousal sure as heck is gone now.

Eric glares up at you. “Now you have done it, you ruined the moment.” He says. His fangs retract and he sends you a petulant look. “I did? I think your stubbornness is more to blame.” You point out to him. Eric furrows his brow. “I am a vampire sheriff, I should not have to beg for scraps.” He growls. “And I am the descendant of the gods you worshipped as a mortal, you should kneel at my feet.” You snarl. “Only to suckle from the artery in your thigh.” Eric replies. “You wouldn’t survive even a mouthful.” You tell him.

Eric throws you off of him, onto the bed. You are lucky your bed is large, otherwise it would have been the rug. He crawls on top of you as swift as he can. “I will claim you.” He hisses. “Try me.” You growl at him. “You better be a good girl.” Eric spits like an angry cat. He grabs you by the chin, tilting your head away. He leans over and presses his nose under your jaw. He inhales your scent. First sampling and then greedy. His fangs scrape over your skin anew. You whimper softly. It is incredibly sensual. “Let me.” Eric whispers. “No.” You feebly reply. Your resolve is crumbling swiftly, considering the way Eric nuzzles at your scent gland. Your mating instincts are flaring up. The vampire withdraws himself. “That scent… What is it?” He whispers. “Evidently you have never truly aroused a werewolf before.” You tease. Eric smirks widely down on you. “Truly aroused, huh?” He purrs. “Yes, so you best not squander your chance.” You retort.

Then, suddenly, Eric seems to swallow his pride. “Very well. Please, let me taste you. Please, let me fuck you.” He whispers huskily. “There we go, not too hard.” You purr. Eric rolls his eyes. He leans over again, his fangs scraping the skin of your neck. “Be careful.” You caution. “I’ll try.” Eric replies hoarsely. You curl your fingers into his blond hair and give a little tug. “Don’t try, succeed.” It is an order. Eric’s breath hitches. “Yes ma’am.” He murmurs. He smooths your skin over with his tongue. His saliva helps in making your skin softer and easier to pierce. You moan and shudder beneath his ministrations. “You are so turned on by this.” Eric growls. “Yes .. yes I am.” You whisper. “Wait till I bite, you’ll beg me to fuck you.” He teases. You can’t help rolling your eyes. He is so full of himself it is sort of annoying. You really want to put him in his place. But you’ll wait until he is intoxicated on your blood.

Slowly Eric sinks his fangs into your neck. You whimper like a pup, the pleasure is undeniable. Eric smirks as he withdraws. He licks the blood from his fangs and lips. He closes his eyes, savouring the taste. “Fuck, that is something else.” He says hoarsely. He licks at the small puncture wounds in your neck. You smell how arousal and euphoria start to race through his system. It takes very little to influence him. He laps at your neck again, finding the wounds already closed. “What is this?” He growls. “Old Blood heals fast.” You reply. Eric groans in frustration. “You can have more later.” You cooe. You drag him away from your neck by his hair. Eric spits like an angry cat. “Be a good kitty.” You tease.

“Oh woman, you are terrible.” Eric hisses. He sits up on his haunches and bunches your top in his fist. He rips it clean off your body and smirks down on you wickedly. You open your mouth to scold him, but before you can even make a sound, Eric is kissing you again. You whimper, your nails scrabbling at his leather jacket. Eric groans in reply.

Too quickly, Eric’s mouth wanders to your neck again. You pull at his hair in warning. “Keep your fangs in your mouth.” You tell him firmly. Eric swears in Swedish. But he obliges, just licking and kissing at your skin. You moan below him. Eric sucks hickies onto your neck and throat and nips at your jaw and ears. He makes sure not to use his fangs. “You are being so good for me.” You moan. “Don’t you mean ‘to me’?” Eric asks, sitting back upright.

His hand goes to your trousers and you just know it’s going to get shredded. But you like these trousers, a lot. So you place your hand over his. “I’ll do that myself.” You say. “Then you better be quick about it.” Eric replies. You roll your eyes at him. “Move over.” You give his abs a nudge with your toes.

Eric huffs and scoots backwards. He gazes down on you while you take off your trousers. “Nice set.” He smirks. You chuckle, but roll your eyes at him. “You better not tear them.” You sass. “I would not dare.” Eric purrs.

He scoots forward again and leans in for a slow, sensual kiss. You moan in unison, your tongues dancing.

Eric begins to grind down on you. You moan into his mouth and roll your pelvis up at him. Eric nips at your bottom lip, licking up the droplet of blood that wells up. He grunts at the taste and breaks the kiss to dive down into the nape of your neck again. “Uhuh, no biting.” You warn him. “You’re bossy.” Eric growls. “I know.” You purr. You massage his scalp, making him relax a little against you. He kisses at your neck, not using his fangs, as you told him. “See, you can be good.” You murmur. He nips at you, without breaking the skin. You moan, grinding up at him. “Fuck.” Eric grunts. “I smell you.” He groans, nipping at your jaw. “I smell you, too.” You reply. The scent of precum combines with blood and an odd metallic corrosion is hard to miss. “And I feel, why don’t you take off your clothes, too.” You add. “Wouldn’t you just like that, huh?” He teases. “I could tear your shirt, like you did mine.” You retort. Eric smirks wickedly. “Go ahead.” He murmurs.

You hook your claws into the flimsy cloth of his black shirt and absolutely pull it to ribbons. “Such a strong little wolfie.” Eric chuckles. You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and take off your trousers.” You reply. “Yes ma’am.” Eric says mockingly.

He gets off of you and draws down his off grey jeans. You let your eyes calmly wander to his boxers. They are rather tented with his erection. “See something you like?” Eric purrs. “Just get on the bed and stop talking.” You tell him. “Are all werewolves this boring?” Eric asks with a smirk. “Shut up and come here.” You reach out and grab him by the wrist. You draw him back on the bed. Eric yelps in a rather undignified way. He evidently did not expect you to be this strong.

You climb on top of him. “There, now I have you where you belong.” You smirk down on him and lick your lips. “Implying I belong in your bed.” Eric chuckles warmly. “And begging for my mercy.” You reply. “Is that so?” Eric indulges you. “Absolutely.” You nod. He grabs you by the hips. “What if I make you beg?” He asks. “You can’t. I am an Alpha. Alpha’s are in charge.” You reply. “And I am a vampire and we will always be superior to werewolves.” Eric argues. “I don’t give a fuck, leech.” You reply. You roll your pelvis to provide fiction to his barely clothed cock. Eric groans darkly. You smirk, baring your teeth. Eric surges upwards, to kiss you fiercely. You moan wantonly against his lips and grind down again, firmer this time. “Oh fuck.” Eric groans in your mouth.

He topples you over again. He growls into your mouth and claims you with his teeth and his tongue. He rutts wickedly against you. You moan loudly against his lips. You can almost feel the veins in his cock through the thin cloth of his boxers and your flimsy panties. You really want him to fuck you. But you also want things to go your way. You are not about to stroke his ego even more.

Eric pulls away from your mouth. “I am so hungry for you. I want to taste every last bit of you.” He growls. He runs his tongue over your upper lip and then leans over to nip at the lobe of your ear. You moan in delight and curl your body up against his. “You smell addictive.” Eric mumbles. “Be careful. You might actually grow dependent.” You murmur. “I wouldn’t mind.” Eric growls. His fangs scrape over the bone of your jaw and he lowers himself to the nape of your neck again. You moan as he bites you. His fangs dig in only shallowly, but it feels marvelous. He groans darkly in reply.

He licks up what little blood your body wants to yield. You smell that he’s leaking precum.

“You should prep me for your cock.” You murmur warmly. “No I am going to take my time on you.” Eric nips at your jaw and then your earlobe again. “Are you sure, you smell like you are apt to cum undone.” You tease. Eric growls huskily in reply. “You can always take your time with me after you have fucked me. Don’t vampires have exceptional endurance?” You smirk. Eric chuckles softly. “You are clever.” He murmurs. His hand bunches in the cloth of your panties in his fist. He pulls them down in a swift gesture. “In that case, I will prep you.” He smirks down on you. “You better.” You retort.

Eric’s kisses trail down your torso. He pays little attention to your breasts. His focus is on the promise of your core now. Your breasts will have their chance later. You don’t mind for now. Maybe you will reprimand him for it later. Maybe not, it truly depends on how you feel later on. The vampire’s lips venture down your belly. You nest yourself in the pillows, getting comfortable to enjoy the ministration. Eric smirks against your skin. He dips his tongue into your belly button and chuckles. You give a little squeal.

He reaches your thighs, lavishing them with his lips and tongue. He knows better than to bite, though. His breath fans over your core and his tongue flicks out to taste you. He laps firmly, parting your folds. You can’t help a howling moan. Eric sure is not pulling punches here. “Hmm, ravishing and so fertile. My goodness, if I were of your kind, I would not waste time.” Eric smirks against your folds. His tongue pokes at your clit. You cry out of him. “Oh it is so easy.” He murmurs.

He raises his hand to your folds to rub at your clit with his thumb and forefinger. You whimper like a young pup. Eric knows exactly how to touch you. Of course he has had many decades of practise. Too soon you feel like you are on the edge of climaxing. Eric slows his touches and tisks. “You are not gona cum yet.” He growls. “You will only cum on my cock.” He smirks. “Oh, you’ll play like that.” You murr. “Absolutely. I am quite sure werewolves climax much more intensely than humans.” Eric replies. You nod quietly in reply. He unhands you and draws your pelvis against his. “I’ll make you howl for me.” He whispers. “I’d like to see you try.” You cooe. But your teasing demeanor dies on the tip of your tongue as Eric lines himself up. He inches his hips forward, only just breaching your core. “Oh gods.” You whisper. He knows exactly how it is done. You can already feel how it takes you over.

Eric thrusts into you slowly. Inch by teasing inch he splits you open. “Oh gods.” You moan. You claw at his shoulders, opening red gashes on his cold flesh. “Yes, fuck yes.” He growls in reply. He smells overwhelmingly of lust. This is exactly the sort of sex he’s been craving. Because of course, Eric Northman is always looking for new kinds of sex to have. “Fuck me.” You all but demand. “Gladly.” Eric snarls. He begins to absolutely plough you, ramming into you with a force you can only handle by the virtue of your old blood. You howl in pleasure.

Eric angles his hips and expertly thrusts into your g-spot. You cry out in ecstasy. Eric groans back at you. “Cum for me.” He growls. “Almost.” You hiss. Eric speeds up his thrusts. All your muscles tense and you feel a powerful current course through your spine. It is like you are being taken over by lightning. For a brief moment you fear you will forfeit your human shape. But then you cum, all but losing your mind with pleasure. Wave after wave of ecstasy washes over you. It is all you can feel at the moment.

Eric continues to fuck you until your nerves go numb.

He retracts, precum dribbling from his glans. You barely notice the red sheen of it. There is no room in your mind for it. There is only the tingling in your teeth and the fire in the soles of your feet. But you have no time for afterglow. Eric’s mouth finds your jaw. “Now for the next part. I am far from done with you.” He growls. You moan softly. “This is going to be an all nighter.” Eric nips at your jaw and let’s his lips wander upwards, to your ear. You press your body against his. Eric smirks against your skin. “So reactive.” He murmurs. He nips at the lobe of your ear, sucking on it and nibbling at the shell. “Fu-fuck.” You whimper. His fangs scrape of cartilage in just the right way. “Such a good little wolf.” Eric praises. He lowers himself to your jaw again, kissing down to your chin. He takes his time to savour the taste and feel of your skin. You moan softly with every kiss, lick or nip.

After utterly worshipping your other ear, Eric sinks a little lower. He wanders along your throat. He leaves hickies and bitemarks, but does not bite you again. You moan and rake your nails through his hair and over his shoulders. He is taking his time, spending quite a while on your neck and shoulders, too. He lavishly marks your skin, savouring every detail your body offers him. His tongue trails the veins under your skin and he groans in desire. Then, he wanders to your breasts. He nuzzles at your soft flesh. “So sweet, so sweet.” He murmurs. He licks and nips at your chest, avoiding your nipples carefully. You whimper and arch towards his mouth. You want him to play with your nipples so badly. But no way in hell are you going to ask him for it. You just know Eric will lord that over your head for the rest of the time he has with you. Eric growls and digs his fangs into your breast. He barely finds any blood, but the motion is already quite sating to him. You feel his saliva on your skin. “Greedy man.” You murmur. “I am no man.” Eric whispers. “You sure fucked me like one.” You whisper. “And I will again. Over and over.” Eric growls lustily. His mouth seeks out your left nipple and he sucks down firmly. You moan and arch into his embrace. “Oh fuck.” Eric groans. He flicks his tongue at your nipple. You moan louder and tangle your fingers into his hair. “More.” You all but demand. “Gladly.” Eric smirks against your skin and bites at your nipple. You cry out in utter pleasure.

After a good while, Eric switches to your other nipple. He lavishes at it with eagerness and greed. You squirm below his ministrations. The need for him inside you awakens again. But you bite down on it. You’re going to let him take his time on you. Eric wanders lower, nosing at your belly. He inhales the scent of your skin. “Such fertile scent.” He growls. He licks his lips and then dips his tongue into your belly button. You can’t help a loud giggle. Eric laughs back at you. “You are so beautiful.” He rasps. “As are you.” You cooe. Slowly Eric trails his mouth to your thigh. His fangs grow out again. “No, don’t.” You say firmly. “But I crave it.” Eric smirks. “You can’t, not there.” You tell him. Eric pouts and kisses at your thigh. “Don’t.” You warn him. But Eric chuckles mischievously and presses the tips of his fangs onto your thigh.

You put your thighs around his head in an absolute deadlock grip. Eric gasps in surprise. “I said no.” You growl. You twist around so he flips over and you straddle his face. “Hmm, what a pleasant surprise.” Eric rumbles. He flicks his tongue out at your folds, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh!” You moan. “Precisely.” Eric purrs. His tongue teases your clit. Your thighs shudder and you moan loudly. Eric grins and licks into your wet core. The groans at the taste of you and fucks you with his tongue. You can almost feel the lightning rushing down your spine again. “Fu-fuck! Eric!” You cry out. You are so close to cumming it is almost unbelievable. Chasing your high, you begin to ride his face. Eric groans darkly and keeps up as best he can. The tips of his fingers dig into the flesh of your upper legs as he delves his tongue into you. “Fuck! Oh fuck yes!” You cry out. You barely need more. It is your undoing within a minute. You cum, hard. Eric laps up all your wet arousal. He groans at the taste of you. “Fuck, that is some true exstacy.” He growls. He nips at your sensitive folds. You yelp and get off of him in a hurry. “That hurt.” You snarl. “Oh come now, don’t you werewolves like a bit of pain?” Eric growls.

He sits upright and draws you back into his lap. “How about I’ll fuck you again, hm?” He purrs. You narrow your eyes at him. “Did you earn that?” You hiss. “You sure tasted like I did.” Eric purrs. He kisses you fiercely. You taste your own arousal on his tongue. “Fuck.” You moan. “That is right.” Eric chuckles. He rocks his pelvis against yours. His hard cock grinds against your clit. “Fuck.” You moan, again. Then, you hurriedly guide him inside you. Eric groans loudly as you envelope him. “That’s right, ride my cock.” He growls. “Hush.” You murmur, before kissing him, hard. Eric moans lustily and rocks his pelvis rhythmically against your. He fucks you in a slow, lulling way. You don’t even have to move. And it feels so fucking great.

You let him go ahead for a while. But then you want to show him what you are worth. You move your hips firmly at first. Eric grows still. He gazes at you, his eyes half lidden. Then, you begin to ride him in earnest, lifting yourself almost all the way off of his cock, only to fall back down swiftly. Eric’s eyes open back up and he groans. “Fuck yes.” He growls. You smirk wickedly at him. “Good, huh?” You murmur. “Oh yeah, so fucking good.” Eric licks his lips. “Especially the way your tits bounce, so hot.” He murmurs. You tisk and grab him by the throat. Eric smirks wickedly. “Don’t get bold, leech.” You growl. He chuckles hoarsely and bucks sharply up at you. You can’t help a moan. Eric grabs you firmly by the hips and fucks up into you. You tighten your grip on his throat. It is not like he needs the oxigen anyway. His eyes glaze over with lust and his thrusts grow rougher. “Oh fuck, Eric!” You cry out. It feels phenomenal. His passion is a powerful thing, almost an entity in and of itself. He groans wickedly and digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips. You throw your head in your neck and howl. “Yes, fuck yes.” Eric growls. He sinks his fangs into your neck again, moaning loudly. He is swift to retract them though, lapping up the blood welling up from the puncture wounds.

“Fuck, I am so close.” He groans. “Not quite yet.” You whisper. “Wh-what?” Eric sounds a little confused. “Let it build a little more. Just a little. I can take it.” You murmur. “Erm .. okay.” Eric whispers. You lean over to nip at the shell of his ear. “I want you to fill me up. None of that dry climax you give the humans you fuck.” You whisper. “Holy fuck.” Eric growls. “Yes, exactly, you will taste Vahalla.” You smirk at him. Eric growls in a rather primal fashion and digs his fangs into your neck. He does not swallow, so the blood drips down your neck and shoulder. He thrusts heavily up into you. You feel the head of his cock bump against your cervix. Something very primal is overtaking him. “Do it.” You whisper. Eric groans darkly. He pulls your pelvis firmly against his own. Every muscle in his body is full of tension. “Let go.” You murmur. Eric whimpers a little. His pelvis stutters unevenly and he takes a careful draft of your blood. He whines and his muscles slowly slacken, only to tense up again and slacken once more. He is pumping you full of his essence. And by the old gods, you relish the feeling.

You stay like that for a while, until Eric has fully relaxed. He’s leisurely lapping at your neck, even though you’ve almost healed. He holds you and you hold him. The silence surrounding you is a comfortable one. You stroke his hair. “You did so well for me.” You murmur. Eric makes no reply. He only cuddles closer against you. Maybe, just maybe, the vampire is letting go control for one. Just for you.

[tawneybel]

Male Clown Characters

Note: Clowns, mimes, jesters, fools, and so forth! All either monsters, ghosts, and/or evil. This is more a live-action list, but I’ll probably post one for cartoon characters later.

Please feel free to suggest more! I’ve liked clowns (and monsters) since I was a little girl and I plan to update this. List of male cartoon clown characters.

Kai Anderson from American Horror Story: Cult 

R.J. from American Horror Story: Cult

Jack Samuels from American Horror Story: Cult

Harrison Wilton from American Horror Story: Cult

Twisty from American Horror Story: Freak Show 

the Laugh from Amusement 

Contortionist Clown from Are You Afraid of the Dark? (“Carnival of Doom”) (Added 6/16/2022.)

Hideo from Are You Afraid of the Dark? (“Carnival of Doom”) (Added 6/16/2022.)

Scary Clown #1 from Are You Afraid of the Dark? (“Carnival of Doom”) (Added 6/16/2022.)

Stilts Clown from Are You Afraid of the Dark? (“Carnival of Doom”) (Added 6/16/2022.)

Ticketing Clown from Are You Afraid of the Dark? (“Carnival of Doom”) (Added 6/16/2022.)

Crimson Clown from Are You Afraid of the Dark? (“The Tale of the Crimson Clown”) (Added 12/20/2021.)

Ghastly Grinner from Are You Afraid of the Dark? (“The Tale of the Ghastly Grinner”) (Added 12/20/2021.)

Zeebo from Are You Afraid of the Dark? (“The Tale of Laughing in the Dark”)

Joker from Batman 

Crossbow Clown from Batman Returns

Fat Clown from Batman Returns

Rocket Launcher Clown from Batman Returns

Small Clown from Batman Returns

Spinning Clown from Batman Returns

Terrifying Clown from Batman Returns

Thin Clown from Batman Returns

Unicycle Clown from Batman Returns

various from Mr. Sandman (by Blind Guardian) (Added 12/20/2021.)

clown from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (“Nightmares”)

clown from The Cabin in the Woods (Added 12/21/2021.)

fortune teller clown from Carnival of Rust (Carnival of Rust) (Added 12/20/21.)

Kent McCoy (AKA Dummo the Clown) from Clown (Added 12/20/2021.)

Herbert Karlsson from Clown (Added 12/20/2021.)

bus driver from The Dark Knight

Chuckles from The Dark Knight

Dopey from The Dark Knight

Grumpy from The Dark Knight

Happy from The Dark Knight

Joker (AKA Bozo) from The Dark Knight

Jack Attack from Demonic Toys (Added 12/20/2021.)

Hobo Clown from The Devil’s Carnival 

H0rny the Clown from Drive-Thru (Had to censor his name to comply with Tumblr.)

boggart jack-in-the-box from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Added 12/21/2021.)

clown from Hellbound: Hellraiser II (Added 9/14/2023.)

Captain Spaulding from House of 1000 Corpses

Eric Slater from The House on Sorority Row (Added 12/20/2021.)

various from Storytime (Imaginaerum) (Added 12/20/2021.)

Pennywise the Dancing Clown from It

Joker (AKA Carnival) from Joker

Biffo from KGB commercial (Added 12/20/2021.)

Bibbo from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Boco from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Chubby from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Fatso from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Frank from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Joe from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Jojo the Clownzilla from Killer Klowns from Outer Space 

Jumbo from Killer Klowns from Outer Space 

Magori from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Rudy from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Slim from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Spikey (AKA Spike) from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Storefront from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Talls from Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Der Klown from Krampus 

clown from Little Caesars commercial (Added 12/20/2021.)

clown from Midnight Man (Added 5/25/2022.)

Pineapple the Clown from Mighty Morphin Power Rangers 

various from Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure (Added 12/20/2021.)

Clown Doll from Poltergeist 

Nosey the Clown from Power Rangers Dino Thunder 

Jester the Pester from Power Rangers Mystic Force 

Invidious from Power Rangers Super Megaforce

Tranceferer from Power Rangers Super Megaforce 

Boohoo the Clown from Power Rangers Zeo

Jester from Puppet Master (Added 12/20/2021.)  

Kaptain Krazee from R.L. Stine’s The Haunting Hour: The Series (“Afraid of Clowns”)

various from R.L. Stine’s The Haunting Hour: The Series (“Afraid of Clowns”)

Clown Doll from Scary Movie 2

Luna Ghost from Scooby-Doo (Added 12/20/2021.)

Stitches from Sky High (Added 12/21/2021.)

Clown/Violator from Spawn (Added 9/14/2023.)

Pennywise the Dancing Clown from Stephen King’s It

Clown from Star Trek: Voyager (“The Thaw”)

Joker from Suicide Squad 

Art the Clown from Terrifier

clown from Salvation (To the Faithful Departed)

Dan Hollis from The Twilight Zone (“It’s a Good Life”) (Added 12/21/2021.)

Sweet Tooth from Twisted Metal (Added 9/14/2023.) (Haven’t seen this yet, but REALLY want to.)D

clown doll from USPS commercial (Added 12/20/2021.) 

Hi-Hats from The Warriors 

Clown Zombie from Zombieland 

[jgroffdaily]

Excerpts from a review at them.us:

It’s the sort of premise that works well in literary form, where we have more direct access to the characters’ interiority — and indeed, Shyamalan and his collaborators have adapted this film from Paul Tremblay’s The Cabin at the End of the World, albeit with some major plot revisions. But Shyamalan draws tremendously affecting performances out of everyone involved, especially Groff and Aldridge, to the point that the novel’s close third-person narration is barely missed. In so doing, the horror director produces his finest work since The Sixth Sense and delivers one of the more moving queer-themed genre films in recent history.

At its core, and beneath its high-concept trappings, Knock is a family story: Eric is uptight, Andrew has a temper, but they love each other and would do anything to protect their “miracle,” Wen. The movie’s LGBTQ+ representation hits the exact (and often elusive) sweet spot between being casual and pronounced. The homophobia that Eric and Andrew have endured over the course of their relationship is real, shown in painful flashbacks, but there is nothing didactic about that acknowledgement. Those scenes from the past serve a purpose, for both plot and characterization, and avoid coming across like Very Special Episodes.

I never would have expected Shyamalan, who — speaking of sacrifice — often offers up his own characters on the altar of abstraction, to nail this balance. But in Knock, Shyamalan seems to have matured enough as a filmmaker to stay put, confining himself largely to a single location, keeping his lens focused on Eric and Andrew’s pained faces. He avoids big twists in favor of tight close-ups and the occasional monologue. Shyamalan wants you to believe this family’s love for each other, and thanks in large part to Groff and Aldridge, he succeeds.

This family is just like any other family, but it also isn’t. Love is love, but also — as Billy Eichner’s character memorably puts it in Bros — love is not love; queer love is different. For some reason, it seems impossible for many filmmakers to hold those two ideas together. The temptation is strong to either homogenize or tokenize — to make LGBTQ+ characters either the same as everyone else or markedly other. Shyamalan avoids that temptation here, letting the family be messy, imperfect, and all the more likable for it. That surprising human touch only accentuates the director’s long-established talents for crafting suspense and framing shots. For all his past foibles, the man knows how to construct an image.

Knock is many things: a parable about the end of the world, a study in belief, a thriller perfectly poised for our misinformation era. But in addition to those layers of meaning and metaphor, it is also a film about the beauty and fragility of building a queer family. Eric and Andrew have overcome so much to create something that’s at risk of being capriciously destroyed. The movie understands something that queer people know on a gut level: we are strong, but we are outnumbered and we are, after all, only human.

I won’t say how Knock ends, suffice it to say that a certain 1975 disco hit becomes a genuinely gutting musical cue. But I will say that it made me do two things I never expected to do while watching an M. Night Shyamalan film: cry and feel proud to be queer.

[densi-mber]

Frozen, Part 2

A/N: Here’s the second part of Frozen. In the first part, Kensi and Deeks were trapped in the cold after hunting down some suspects. Deeks was also injured.

***

“Oh my god, babe, how could you not feel this?” Kensi asked, kneeling in front of Deeks with his shirt peeled up to chest. Fortunately the cut wasn’t terribly deep, but it was bad enough. Bad enough to have soaked through his shirt already.

“I feel it now,” Deeks said, yelping as she pressed down on the wound. “Actually, that really hurts. Stop poking it!”

“I’m trying to see how bad it is.”

“Well, your warm little hands are heating it up and now it’s burning.”

Her hands were anything but warm and his blood was actually starting to freeze on his skin and clothes.

“Ok, I’m going to put a bandage on this, see if you can get through to Eric,” she told him. She slipped off the small backpack which had a bare minimum of supplies, including a first-aid kit. She tossed an extra pair of gloves to Deeks while he called Eric and then ripped open a bandage.

“No signal,” he said a minute later, shaking his head.

“Damn it!” They couldn’t stay out here for much longer without any protection, especially with Deeks being wounded. She glanced at him, noticing that the tips of his ears were bright red and if she wasn’t mistaken, his lips were just the slightest bit blue. “Deeks, what happened to your hat?” she snapped, realizing that his hair was damp and loose around his face.

“I had to take it off cause I couldn’t hear anything and I lost it somewhere along the way,” he answered with a shrug. Kensi muttered under her breath, realizing how accusatory she sounded.

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” She grabbed his hand by way of apology, glancing around them.

“We need to start moving, Kens.”

“You really think we’re going to make it five miles in this cold?” she asked rhetorically. “And it’s only going to get worse in a couple hours.”

“No, I don’t think we’ll make it that far, but I remember Nell saying something about there being a bunch of old cabins around here,” he said with the barest of grins.

***

Have I ever-ah-mentioned how much I hate Iowa?” Deeks asked casually, pausing in between words to pull in shallow breaths. “We would never be in danger of freezing to death in Los Angeles.”

Despite his efforts to stay positive, the cold was definitely starting to get to him. His toes and fingers were stiff, although he supposed it was a good sign that they were still burning and not numb.

Plus, though he hadn’t dared mentioned it Kensi, exhaustion was starting to set in. His legs felt heavy and his abdomen somehow ached and felt numb at the same time. It was a disconcerting sensation.

“With our luck we’d get locked in an industrial freezer or something,” Kensi said with forced lightness, pausing in between words to breath. Her arms were firm around him, making sure he didn’t stumble over hidden tree roots and rocks.

“I think I saw that on a show once.”

“Cabin.”

“No, it was called Castle. You know, the one with Nathan Fillion where he’s a writer and-“

“No, there’s a cabin,” Kensi repeated, cutting off his tangent, and pointing to an area maybe a couple hundred feet away. Sure enough, there was a small cabin buried in a dense copse of trees.

“Fantastic,” he muttered. As they moved closer, it looked completely uninhabited and probably for some time, based on the piles of snow, debris around the doorway, and cobwebs in the windows.

Kensi cleared the snow away from one of the windows and peered in.

“It doesn’t look like there’s anyone inside. C’mon.” She shouldered the door open, which stuck a little, but eventually gave way with a loud creak.

“Very homey,” Deeks commented, shivering as they walked into the small space which was barely warmer than outside. It was pretty barren with jut a single cot and bare mattress that had definitely seen better days, a splintered cupboard with a couple pots on top, and most importantly, a fireplace.

“Sit down, I’m going to look for some blankets and firewood,” Kensi directed him.

“I can help,” he offered, feeling pretty stupid just standing there. It was partially his fault they were in this situation. If he’d been a little more careful, he wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. “The faster we heat this place up, the less chance we have of becoming popsicles.”

Kensi shook her head, already searching through the cupboard. She pulled out a box of instant potatoes and a can of beans and set them to the side.

“And the more you move around, the more you’ll aggravate your wound.” She turned back to look at him with another can of beans and Campbell’s chicken soup in her hands. The faded labels on both made Deeks think they’d been sitting there untouched for several years. “Are you saying you don’t have faith in my fire building skills?”

Her breath puffed out in a great white cloud as she attempted to keep her teeth from chattering. He could tell the cold was getting to her too, but predictably, she was ignoring it.

“I would never,” he said, dropping his backpack beside the cot. “Kensi Marie Blye’s survival skills are world renowned and-agh!” He’d sat down and his cut gave a painful, tearing sensation. Kensi spun around immediately at his scream, but he waved her off, ignoring the fresh gush of blood he felt seeping into his shirt. “I’m fine. I just sat down too fast. Did you find any blankets?”

She gave him a suspicious look, turning back to the cupboard, and pulling out some more random items before she made a triumphant sound.

“Three,” she said, throwing him a grayish bundle. “They look a little thin, but I guess it’s better than nothing. Ok, I’ll get some fire wood and then we’re bandaging your cut again. Don’t touch it until I get back.”

Deeks rolled his eyes at her instructions, which seemed a little ridiculous given the severity of said cut, but didn’t protest. He knew Kensi was worried and felt better knowing where he was.

After a few minutes, he stood up again and started pacing, trying to force some feeling into his legs. He tucked his hands under his armpits, singing “Staying Alive” to himself until his voice grew hoarse. Every few seconds, a blast of wind tore through the cabin and blew in bits of snow through minute cracks in the walls and ceiling.

Just as he was getting ready to go after Kensi, the door slammed open again, and she stumbled in with a giant armload of logs and branches.

“I found some wood,” she said unnecessarily as he rushed to help her. “There’s a shack about half a mile from here filled with chopped wood. I left another pile outside.” Her entire face was red and wind-chapped and Deeks wanted to demand she immediately get in bed and cover up.

Since that didn’t seem likely to happen, he brought in the rest of the wood while she was distracted with building a fire. By the time he finished, his hands were completely numb, his clothes completely wet and sticking to his skin.

As Kensi finished lighting the fire, he noticed her hands shaking uncontrollably, making her movements jerky and uncoordinated. She’d spent even more time outside, completely unprotected. She fumbled with the lighter a couple times before she managed to set the kindling on top of the logs aflame.

He grabbed one of her hands between his and rubbed them, wincing at the bright red color, and nearly white tips of her fingers.

“Baby, we need to get you warmed up,” he said, starting to get truly worried about hypothermia. Even with the fire, it would tale at least a couple hours before the cabin was warm.

“I’m fine Deeks,” she insisted, tugging her fingers from his. Ignoring his concern, Kensi grabbed her bag again, pulling out more first aid supplies. “Take your coat and shirt off.”

Deeks reluctantly pulled off both, knowing Kensi would probably freak out when she saw how much he’d bled. His shirt stuck a little, tacky with drying and frozen blood. He had to admit that the cut looked nasty with varied levels of dried blood smeared all around. As the cold air hit it full force again, it started burning more intensely.

Surprisingly, Kensi didn’t say anything when she leaned over him. She dabbed away the fresh blood with a couple cotton swabs and then tore open a packet of liquid bandage.

“Can you hold the edges together?” she asked. That sounded awful as far as Deeks was concerned, but he followed her directions, putting pressure on either side of the cut while Kensi squeezed the glue-like substance on in small incriminates.

“Ok, I think I’m fine with just bleeding out,” he groaned a few minutes later, the wound burning as the glue seeped in.

“That is not even remotely funny,” Kensi commented tightly. “Besides, I’m almost done.” Her hands were still trembling and a little clumsy. He didn’t comment on her technique though; if a slightly lumpy scar was the worst result of this catastrophe, he’d be a happy man. Kensi insisted on applying a cloth bandage just in case and then she was finally done.

“Ok, now we gotta get you warmed up,” he said as he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Kensi’s shoulder and then started tugging off his boots and socks.

“What do you suggest?” Kensi asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“There’s only one option.” He paused with a boot in his head and gave Kensi a serious look. “Naked cuddling.”