#fake title asks

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Fake summary please for this made up title:

Flip me off and I’ll flip you over

🎸 Flip Me Off and I’ll Flip You Over

It had been an honest mistake, hand to God.

Louis had seen him last night, two rows away from the front, eyes closed and mouthing along perfectly to All This Time, his sweaty tendrils framing his forehead and the sleeves of his Faith in the Future tee artfully cut off.

They had made flirty - some would even say, obscenely heated - eye contact under the bright lights.

That’s how Louis knew about the dimples; that’s why Louis ran to the barricade three songs too early and a little too far to the left. He didn’t actually see if one of the hands that had so desperately clutched at him belonged to Dimples, but he��d thought it safe to think so. (No one stood that close to the stage, totally dolled up in their little outfit just to make eyes at the artist all night and not try to touch him. Please.)

But the thing was, Louis was also just a wee bit hungover this morning; cranky, headache-y, and severely under-caffeinated after a late night at the club and an inhumane five a.m. radio interview call time. Not to mention being unceremoniously manhandled into the car by Joni after some fans got a tad too excitable at the entrance.

So when he saw Dimples for the second concert in a row, now strategically stationed outside his dressing room wearing leather trousers in 36 degree weather, smiling at Louis like that…

Well, he’d just kind of… assumed.

“Bit too early to be this thirsty for a back room shag, darling, innit?” Louis snarked over the pounding in his head. Though he squeezed his eyes shut behind his dark sunglasses, he didn’t miss the startled look on Dimples’ face.

“W-wh—” he stammered, seemingly bewildered. “I—I beg your pardon?”

Louis would roll his eyes at the impeccable feigned innocence if he wasn’t so dizzy. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he peeked one eye open at the same time he lifted his coffee up to his mouth. Caffeine would save him.

He smirked a little at the deep blush on Dimples’ cheeks; at how caught out he clearly was. The movement only made Louis’ head hurt more.

“Posh little thing, aren’t ya?” He observed off-handedly, wincing at the reverberating sounds inside his head over the brim of his cup. Out of the corner of his eye, he clocked the pen in Dimples’ hand and he tipped his head as far as he could without giving himself vertigo to point at it. “Want me to sign your chest or something? Will that get you to leave me alone?”

Dimples narrowed his eyes at Louis in what seemed like the perfect cross between confusion and annoyance. “Ex-cuse me—”

“Come on then,” Louis interrupted impatiently. With a heavy sigh, he gestured with his palm to hand over the pen. “Just lift up your shirt and let’s get this over with—”

“Oh good, you’ve met!” Oli’s voice was so loud it made Louis flinch. Well, it was either his volume or the two forceful slaps he clapped on Louis’ back as he beamed as Dimples. “Louis Tomlinson,” he said, with a dramatic drumroll-type tone to his voice, “meet the legendary Harry Styles, youngest senior concert critic in Rolling Stone magazine history!”

To say those were the absolute worst words Louis could have possibly heard at that moment would have been incorrect. Mostly because the absolute worst words Louis could have possibly heard at that moment were the next six: “He’s here to review your tour!”

Louis lifted his horrified gaze to Harry’s face slowly. Their eyes locked, anger flashing across Harry’s features as he crossed his arms over his chest. Ironically, the lanyard of his press pass was now painfully obvious where it hung around his neck.

“Charmed,” he deadpanned.

Whoops.

— or, Louis Tomlinson’s World Tour was off to a great start until he royally fucked up by mistaking a world famous concert critic for a groupie. Then again, it’s not like anyone said Harry Styles couldn’t be both.

[mollywog]

Roommate

Fake Fic Ask Game by @vasilissadragomir

🐑 (fake set of fic tags): modern au roommates, mutual pining, jealous!katniss, hot chocolate, meddling!Prim, misunderstandings

She’s smiling down at her phone when Prim snaps her fingers in front of the screen, “Are you even listening?”

“Oh! Yeah! Sorry,” Katniss says, placing her phone face down on the table.

“Who are you talking to anyways?” Her sister eyes the phone with curiosity and Katniss covers it with her hand lest Prim resort to snooping, “are you seeing someone?! You’re giddy, it’s weird”

“God no,” she has no desire for that, “Peeta’s doing a grocery run and asked about snacks.” They were going to watch Jurassic Park tonight and he’d sent her a picture of a bag of frozen Dino nuggets.

“Sounds cozy. What does Nutmeg think about her boyfriend Netflix-and-chill-ing with his super hot roommate?”

Katniss rolls her eyes, “Clove’s not in the picture anymore.” She doesn’t get it. Peeta’s the best, but his taste in women is the worst. She’d taken to giving them petty nicknames rather than learning their real ones. The latest had been a real cloven hoofed bitch.

“Oh,” Prim perks up, “So, are you gonna make a move?”

God, not her too! Maybe she’s been talking to Finnick. He keeps insisting she’s in love with Peeta. She’s not and the accusation is annoying, “No,” She says, tone firm, “Peeta and I are friends. Just friends.”

“Hmm” her sister sounds unconvinced.

“Hmm what?”

“I think you like him.”

“Of course I like him, he’s my friend.”

“Come on Katniss. You talk about him constantly, you spend all your spare time together, and you’ve hated every girl he’s ever given a second look.”

“Yeah, because they all sucked.”

“- his dick, and you were jealous.” Prim adds.

Katniss bulks, “don’t talk like that. Who raised you?”

“We all know who raised me. Don’t try to duck the topic! So, you’d be fine with him dating someone you approve of?”

Katniss shrugs, “of course,” it’s a trick question, because she can’t imagine anyone good enough for him.

“What about me?” Prim says, as if following her line of thought, “I must meet your standards. What if I started dating Peeta? You wouldn’t have a problem with that?”

“Didn’t know you were interested.” Why does her voice sound so high all of the sudden?

“I don’t know; maybe it’s all your glowing about how great he is. Answer the question.”

“I mean it would be weird, because you're my sister,” she says haltingly, “but obviously I think you’re amazing,” she briefly imagines Peeta leading Prim to his bedroom, and wants to vomit.

“So you’d be completely fine if I asked him out?” Prim eggs.

Her discomfort is overcome by a flare of annoyance at the challenge. “Want me to put in a good word for you?” She snarks.

“Nah.” Katniss exhales, feeling a little lighter. Maybe this will finally put the whole thing to rest, but then her sister continues with a smirk, “I’m a big girl, I don’t need your help.”

Part 2 | Part 3 or Ao3

[thursdayinspace]

Made up title: The Ginger Invasion

ohh okay. that is so very clearly sick!fic?!

Mulder is sick. He never gets sick, and it's awful. It's terrible. He can't even get out of bed, that's how terrible he feels. He tries, he does, but finds himself on the floor after only two steps. The room is spinning, his stomach is extremely angry at him, and he doesn't know how other people do it. He's been beaten up, he's been shot, he's been tortured, but he thinks this bug, whatever it is, might finally be the thing that defeats him. He can't even go to the bathroom.

Everything hurts. He's too cold, then too hot, his head is pounding and Scully will be wondering why he isn't at work. He should call her. What time is it? He doesn't know.

"Mulder?"

He just about manages to lift his head and there she is, Scully, in his bedroom doorway; she turns on the light and it hurts his eyes, but even as he squints against it the glow of her red hair in the sudden brightness is enough to make him let out a relieved breath. "Hi." He hates to admit when he needs help. But he needs help. And help just showed up.

"Oh god, Mulder," she says, crossing the room in a few quick strides, and as she puts a cool hand on his burning forehead, he knows he's gonna be okay now.

--

He drifts in and out of sleep. He's lost all sense of time; it doesn't matter. He opens his eyes and sees her hovering above him, hair falling over her eyes as she leans down to put a cool cloth on his head. He wakes up and sees a flash of red, turns his head to see her putting a cup of tea on his nightstand. She helps him to the bathroom, and even with how small she is she manages to hold him up -- he looks down on the top of her flaming red hair and feels such a rush of affection it makes his heart clench in his chest. The back of her head as she stands and looks out of his window. Her hair fanned out all around her as she naps on the other side of his bed, seemingly unafraid of catching whatever it is he's not dying of, she has assured him that he will be fine. He's already starting to feel better.

When he closes his eyes, the light of the room turns to orange sunrises behind his closed lids.

"You really don't have to stay," he tells her after the first time he manages to make it to the bathroom on his own.

"I know I don't have to," is all she says, and makes him sit in the chair she dragged into the room while she changes his sheets.

"I'd be okay on my own now," he insists.

She turns towards him, pillow case in her hand, and looks unsure. "If I'm invading your privacy -"

"No!" he interrupts her quickly. "No," repeats, shaking his head. He can do that again without making the room spin out of control. "You aren't. I promise."

"Good." She sounds relieved. "Just let me know when you've had enough of me."

The chances of that ever happening are below zero, he thinks. "What about work?"

"I called Skinner yesterday" she says," and told him we were both sick. He doesn't expect us back for another two days at least."

"What if you get sick too?"

To that, she just shrugs. "That's a risk I'm willing to take. I'm not just going to leave you here, Mulder."

This is not the right time to tell her that he loves her, he thinks, but it is one of those moments where it's hard not to. "I'd take care of you too."

"I know," she says, and gives him a smile. "I've never doubted it."

"Scully?" He waits until she meets his eyes again so she can see how much he means this. "I really, really appreciate your invasion."

She turns her head away but she can't hide the smile that's taking over her face. "Anytime," she promises, and he believes her.

There's a red hair on his freshly-washed t-shirt. She must have left it there when her head brushed against his chest as she guided him over to the chair.

He leaves it there.

[lovesickeros]

lord its so dark in here the sahara desert of tsaritsa content you are like a shining oasis. your characterisation of her compels me & mihoyo would be hard pressed to top it imo.!! caaaaan i humbly request yr thoughts on her first meeting w a reader of any kind, or maybe even multiple kinds (sagau, sagau god au, isekai, etc) if you so desire...

it really is like a desert here. being the fan of a character we aren't getting until the last damn nation is driving me up a wall but i will persevere bc if nothing else i support morally bankrupt women in media. we r in a severe drought over here but i do my best. unfortunately nothing i say is ever coherent so pull out your translation notes its abt 2 be messy

also this got out of hand but thats bc first meetings w the tsaritsa are tricky to write + a LOT of her characterization lies in deeper exploration then just surface level yknow...NOT A DIG AT YOU this is just my excuse for rambling. gently pats the tsaritsa she can hold so much complexity i do not have the word count to delve into it completely :]

gonna talk cult au for a bit here though because that's 99% of my content. and honestly? she thrives in sub au's of the cult au like villain au + imposter au. it's basically made for her. i mean, early days, the imposter au had been going around for a little while but one of the first few ideas was the Fatui taking reader in so like. it kinda technically actually was. pretty sure cult au Tsaritsa popped up because of the imposter au. a lot of it's writers kinda left though which. man am i getting old or.

anyway.

there isn't much of a chance her first impression is all that positive. at best it's usually neutral, imo, but rarely if ever positive. specifically because i view the Tsaritsa as someone who isn't as fanatical as most of the acolytes typically are towards the creator. she's not exactly going to worship the ground you walk on unlike a certain geo lizard. which is partially why i think she thrives in the sub au's i mentioned.

imposter au, for example. she meets you at your lowest. there's no gaudy extravagance or pampering from the acolytes waiting for you because your own acolytes have turned on you. for all intents and purposes you aren't a "god" at all. which is why i don't think she meshes well with normal cult au reader. the Fatui are made up of outcasts, basically, and imposter au slots right in just perfectly. you're weak, at your lowest, when you meet the Fatui in the imposter au. and the Fatui can help you, too.

a mutual exchange, really. the Tsaritsa sees a tool she can use to one up the rest of the nations and especially Archons, and she has no qualms about you using her and the Fatui in turn. you both want something out of it, after all. whether you just want to be safe from the rest of the acolytes, or you want revenge, or whatever else..she'll give you the power to fulfill it, and she gains the strongest piece on the chessboard when all is said and done.

the best way i can describe the first meeting is "practical", i suppose. she sees an opportunity in you. the ultimate gamble. because if she "saves" you, and you dont trust anyone else because they tried to kill you, well..she holds all the cards, doesn't she?

but the Tsaritsa, imo, is just as capable of being just as fanatical towards you as anyone else. she just won't worship you as the creator. but as yourself? clawing your way back to your divine power and taking back what belongs to you? the Tsaritsa is, to me, a character who's character flourishes in long-term fics more because she changes a LOT between "just met reader" and after having been with reader for some time. she's practically apathetic at the beginning but a lot of her character, in my characterization, shines through LONG after the first meeting.

[jbtwentytwo]

for the fake fic game: 🐝 mamma mia! here we go again

If you ask Daniel how he's feeling right now one week away from finally marrying his Max, his sweet, adorable Maxy, he'd tell you that it feels amazing. He really can't wait.

Now, what does he do instead? Still taking care of the bloody guest list because apparently someone— and by that he means Sebastian, decided to mess up the entire list just to ban Jenson from coming back to the island.

Daniel should be getting ready for his wedding dammit, not playing marriage counselor for Seb and Jenson. He deserved at least a massage and a good bottle of wine for having to hear Seb talking about how Jenson couldn't just stop being a slag and keep his eyes off other men instead of just staying with Seb on the island.

He is just on a business trip, Seb. Daniel would love to add, but he knows Seb wouldn't hear anyone right now. Hell, even Kimi already tried and he got a death glare from Seb.

Oh, and Max's dad is coming too. So yeah, everything's awesome.

(I hope this is decent enough to answer your prompt🥺)

want more prompts like this? here's how you do it.

[thegamingcatmom]

Would mother miranda get MC a matching birb mask? Matching couple fit?

Oh wait

Anytime she sheds a feather, she adds it to collection of feathers for like idk feather cloak?

Ohhh, I LOVE that thought! 🥰

But, yknow, just-

Miranda considers herself above everyone else - that includes MC, as much as it pains me to say it. (It doesn´t, actually. Birb Momma´s arrogance is fucking sexy.) She´s the one people pray to, a prophet of The Black God. As such, she would never allow someone to impersonate her. The audacity.

...She might be persuaded into letting MC wear her mask, though. After she cleaned it, ofc. Wearing an apron. And preferably nothing else.

Jokes aside though: I´m currently working on the next installment for my planned series of "Life as Birb Momma´s housewi-I mean assistant...or smt." (The name isn´t set yet...)

So, who knows, we might get to see a similar scenario play out soon. 😉

With that said:

The jewelry is off limits. End of discussion.

The cloak, however...

Like, I don´t see it as in wearing an actual garment, but what I could see happening is someone being covered in someone´s feathers...and nothing else. If you catch my drift. *wink wink*

I mean, listen-

Ofc Miranda´s gonna want to showcase her claim on MC somehow, so an outfit that kinda matches/resembles her own does seem like a sensible way to do it. Just-

...Not hers, you insolent wretch.

This village only has room for one prophet of The Black God.

.

.

.

Thanks a lot for your ask! 💋

[wisteriagoesvroom]

Fake fic title: "Elegant Sin"

elegant sin 78k lestappen au priest!charles and mafia!max, slow burn, repressed emotions, Sacrilegious with capital S, fall from grace, homoerotic tension

max is a wayward adult on the run from nefarious forces (the red bull cartel). he finds refuge in a quiet church in the remote italian countryside and a clergyman with a mysterious past.

snip for fake fic

"What do you know about the nature of original sin?" The clergyman asks. The white of the clergyman's collar is carefully starched, clean. Max remembers a job he had taken, once. How the blood of his mark dripped in ruby beads on a sharp white shirt. Max wondered once if that mark, that old man, had a family. He wonders if this clergyman would judge the nature of this sin - though admittedly not original in any way, just muscle memory that he has learned to repeat. "You can skip the lecture." Max says. "I am not here for that." "Va Bene. Stay as long as you like." Max gives a noncommittal nod. They are not in a confessional booth, just side by side in a pew. This clergyman has decided, for some reason, to take the spot closest to Max. As if he has read the tension of Max's hands gripped firmly around the dogeared bible, and sensed that he might in need of diversion. "I am Charles." "And I will appreciate some time to reflect upon my..." Max trails off. "Thoughts." Max stares determinedly forward, trying to figure out how to extricate himself from this conversation, as well as from the henchmen who have been on his tail. Horner has increased the bounty to a high seven figure fee, which is awfully inconvenient for Max in this current predicament of trying not to be put six feet under. "I think they will not enter this place. It is a refuge, after all." Charles says. With the same gaiety as one would have reading out some lottery numbers. Max turns to Charles. The clergyman's mouth is tugged up into a warm smile, and his eyes sparkle with mirth. Max's heart beats in alarm - at odds with the calm tone with which the brown-haired man spoke of the violence right outside the heavy wooden doors. Max pins the other man with his gaze. Charles does not look away. "Who are you?"

from

[balloonboyismyson]

Fic title ask game: Just Seeing Things... Right?

<Incorrect-fnaf-quotes

"Just Seeing Things... Right?"

It has been a year since that night at the Pizzaplex, but Gregory is still terrified. He holds a brave face, but inside it feels like fireworks are constantly going off next to him. Sometimes after dark he will see something out of the corner of his eye and freeze. Because of this, Freddy told him he is no longer allowed to drive at night. The only other thing Gregory can do besides drive is sleep, but his insomnia is so bad he just sits there for 8 hours. Tonight was no different. As he looks out into the trees, he sees something move. Rubbing his eyes, he takes another look. Those do not look like an animal's eyes.

Takes place after the van ending.

[oifaaa]

How is Bruce doing in the Jason lives au?

I means it's Bruce so even if Jason didn't die I'm sure he'll still manager to get worse just means he can't blame it on Jason's death in this universe

[meimi-haneoka]

[indiaalphawhiskey]

fake title: almost tethered

💋 Almost Tethered

This was, by far, the longest and most awkward silence in the history of mankind, and yet, Louis couldn’t, for the life of him, think of a single thing to say.

Because, really, what was he supposed to say?

He knew fuck all about the man sitting casually on his chaise in a frieghteningly sexy brown duck jumper, except that he had been crazy enough to agree to a threesome with Louis and his fiancé to help spice up their already very extended engagement (that every single person they loved was still waiting for them to call off).

Well, okay, Louis didn’t know ‘fuck all’ exactly. He knew he had a face that was a little too pretty to be true (so much so that Louis had bet Robbie they were being catfished and was now down £20), that he was probably making an obscenely (heh) good living if his (surprisingly tasteful, only-strategically-posed-artful-nudes) OnlyFans page had anything to say about it, and that his actual real name was Harry Styles.

So, Louis knew some things (four, he knew a total of four things), none of which he could use to fill this rather excruciating silence. Lovely.

It didn’t help that Harry hadn’t said a thing to him either since walking through their door – not that he could have, what with the way Robbie had bulldozed through the introductions before swiftly exiting to make everyone martinis.

(“Do you even know how to make a martini?” Louis had asked as they were getting dressed that evening.

Robbie had waved off his very pressing concern. “I’ll Google it. Wine just seems a little too pedestrian for a threesome, you know?”)

Louis began to roll his eyes at the memory but quickly aborted the motion, worried Harry might think it was directed at him. He reverted back to their mutual staring, though, admittedly whilst Louis was sure his expression was similar to that of a frightened raccoon, Harry’s was painfully cool. Collected and poised. Almost serene. Unbothered.

His smirk was soft; green eyes kind yet still somewhat appraising. Louis supposed he couldn’t help it, given their, ah, agenda for the evening. He actually found himself hoping Harry liked what he saw.

Louis certainly did; found himself wondering if it would be appropriate to lick at the swallows tattooed on Harry’s collarbones, or if that was more of a second session kind of thing.

Would there be a second session? Likely not, since the entire point of doing this with a stranger was to avoid all the awkwardness afterwards. (Which said nothing of the awkwardness during.)

He was overthinking and needed to stop, immediately.

God, say something! Louis commanded himself, unable to remember the last time he blinked. As had become habit since his engagement, his hand drifted down to fiddle with the watch he wore with a fierce kind of loyalty on his right wrist. His mind drifted to three words hidden under the expensive leather strap – his accidental life mantra, bestowed upon him by fate.

He thought of how the curve of capital D swooped, how the N had always been a little crooked, how he had learned the cursive version of an S before he could even write or read.

How Robbie hadn’t said the words when they’d met.

How, because of that, his family thought this engagement had been doomed from the start.

How Harry still hadn’t said anythi—

“Don’t be nervous.”

Louis’ answer was automatic, almost involuntary, because he’d been saying it in mock response all his life. “I’m not.”

Needless to say, the next time Louis found himself staring awkwardly back at Harry Styles, it was not because of their impending threesome. It was because said third in their impending threesome had just uttered his soulmark.

— Or, there were a multitude of awkward ways to meet one’s soulmate. They could say your mark from the urinal next to you mid-wee at a funeral, or sneaking out of your flatmate’s bedroom after a one night stand, or trying to upsell the newest state-of-the-art dildo in their family-owned sex shop.

Still, Louis was pretty sure his version was the one that took the cake.

[laniusbignaturals]

i have this idea that lanius would be really into epics like gilgamesh and stuff but at the same time i feel like legion indoctrination would be so against the idea of reading (or doing anything) for pleasure lol. i wonder how literate the average legionary even is…anyway, thoughts? I feel like you’d know the answer to this

I really like the idea of Lanius and epic heroes, but reading is a particularly difficult thing to square with his depersonalizing persona: maybe one of his minders reads to him? Lanius is attended exclusively by blind slaves, but he answers to Caesar and his lackeys. And apparently he’s “famous for his loyalty to Caesar,” so that obedience must take some demonstrable form.

In my headcanons, the Legate Lanius Persona and it’s affectations (the mask, the sword, the blind slaves) was first conceptualized by an enslaved woman, who serves as the Legion’s unofficial head of propaganda and the symbolic mother of Caesar’s monstrous creation. She personally performs the procedure of carving fresh scars into each new Lanius’ face, maintaining the legend of the tribesman who was butchered in battle long after the man himself was dead from infection. Perhaps she, or someone who worked for her, read Lanius epic tales to calm his nerves as he had his skull sliced up without anesthetic.

Imo, only the most privileged in Caesar’s Legion can read, and even then the skill is usually kept from soldiers and their families to maintain their ignorance. Female literacy rates are particularly low, although the few centers of “legitimate” authority which women have access to in the Legion (think wives & daughters, priestesses, professional enslavers, etc) have indirect methods for amassing knowledge amongst themselves. Legion cities are full of artisans, religious leaders, and other such members of the petit bourgeois who can only read and write in Latin. This keeps them feeling empowered and special while exacerbating their cultural isolation from the broader wasteland.

[partiallypearl]

fake title: It's Cold Outside

okay so the obvious idea would be something christmas themed. HOWEVER! i like going against the grain.

it’s cold outside -

big time rush gets asked to play a charity hockey game for make a wish foundation (or a similar charity). while practicing for it, kendall gets injured and the boys have to figure out how they’re going to play the game without him, and maybe they realize that they can be leaders as well.

[mollywog]

for the fake fic ask game! i hope no one sent this in yet but 🐝 clear as night 🐝 ^^

Tags: Canon Compliant, Grow back together

Summary:

Night has always been my time. Even more so now, safe in Peeta’s arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Bathed in the soft glow of moonlight that spills through our open window, I can see more clearly now than I ever could in the light of day.

Or

Vignettes of Katniss and Peeta bed sharing leading up to ‘so after’

Fake Fic Ask Game

[grimaussiewitch]

Some Made Up Fic Titles for you! (This is minecraftbookshelf on my main XD)

One For Fiction, Two For Truth

A Map To Nowhere

Down the Candle Road

One For Fiction, Two For Truth: Set after a life season, Martyn finally captures a watcher. He decides to interrogate it while he has the chance, unfortunately for him it doesn't want to help, only answering with taps. Two for yes, one for no. What’s it's name? Why hasn’t it escape? And where are they held?

A Map To Nowhere: Only a few players managed to escape in the outer ring of the nuclear blast. One lucky survivor being Eret who’s leading the charge out of the Dream Smp. Everyone believes in her guiding them out but can Eret live up to the leadership? Does he even know where they’re going?

Down the Candle Road: Pix is the best archaeologist in all of the empires. But some times you need a bit of help getting around ancient ruins. Calling in a favour, Scott the local thief helps Pix with a new and unexplored site where golden candles are forever lit, leading them down further into the earth.

Thank you so much for these titles mate! Sorry for the mass reblogged I just really liked your blurb answers XD

[just-here-for-the-moment]

YOU KNOW I GOTTA PLAY!! Lol 🥰

Okay, your title is;

The Messenger

“The Messenger” (1993, runtime 38 minutes)

This was Dieter Bravo’s first starring role, and it’s perfectly apropos that the only copies still available in 2024 are on VHS. While there has been a resurgence lately of transferring remastered films to DVD and Blu-ray, I think it’s better that this one stays right where it is. 

Bravo stars as titular character Gabriel Messenger (an overt reference to Christian theology and the angel which brought Mary the joyful news about her impending baby Jesus), which makes it all the more strange that Bravo delivers his lines in a dead-flat monotone laced with his original Boston accent. Gabriel is tasked with riding his messenger bike all over New York City to deliver letters, culminating in a meet-cute when he nearly knocks a girl over with his bike and they instantly fall in love. In the shuffle, the two starry-eyed teens accidentally switch messenger bags, and Bravo has to retrace his steps in an attempt to find both the girl and the bomb he was carrying. 

Just when you’re starting to wonder how many more hours a 38-minute film can last, the preachy film takes a wild left turn into soft porn: Bravo finds the girl, disarms the bomb, and the film ends with an everything-but-the-genitals, soft-focus, 8 minute sex scene set to an extended saxophone version of “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred. 

Please don’t make me watch this ever again. 🙏 ***

Fake movie titles starring Dieter Bravo - come play!!