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xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years ago

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PrettyLittle GoodBoy

Summary: After Rami’s GQ Middle East covershoot, his girlfriend needs him to know just whose good boy he really is.

A/N: I hope it’s not too vanilla—if you’ve read my stuff, even my smut, you know I’m a soft bitch. So, this is me trying out that (soft)dom life.

Warnings: Forgive me, creator, for I have sinned (NSFW, 18+ ONLY, Sub!Rami)

After trekking through at least two football fields worth of dust and bramble, you and Rami popped out on location near the infamous HOLLYWOOD sign for his GQ Middle East covershoot. As you shook a piece of twig off your sneaker’s lace, a small crew of people rushed over to greet your boyfriend, including a fashionably-dressed man with reddish-blonde hair. As the man pulled his sunglasses from his face, he looked every bit like the hackneyed Hollywood producer, except his light blue eyes held nothing but a desperate plea.

Whatever he was about to ask, he was afraid Rami would say no.

“Listen, Rami—we decided that this location just isn’t good enough for you. Not for what we want to convey with this shoot. We want to take you to Jim’s place in Palm Springs. We know it’s a lot to ask—”

“Anything for you guys, Steve. I’m just grateful for the opportunity.”

With a firm handshake, Steve’s apprehension disappeared and he shouted to everyone to head out. He sent Rami the address for the new location and the two of you hiked back to the Audi.

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes at the producer’s hesitance to request something of Rami; clearly, he didn’t really know him.

“You should’ve said no—played the role of a diva,” you voiced.

Rami snickered. “Did you see how nervous he was? It’s not like they were asking me to strip naked and slide down the hillside on my ass or something.”

“They have no idea what a compliant guy you are,” you said as you waited with your hand on the door of Rami’s car. He pressed unlock and you opened the door and slid in, tugging on the front of the soft, white t-shirt you stole from him to fan yourself.

As soon as the car started, Rami fiddled with the AC.

“Makes me wonder how many people are total dicks. I mean, there is a paycheck attached to this kinda shit.”

You reached over and gave Rami’s thigh a squeeze, and he shot you a grin.

“Maybe I should become an asshole? Demand a dressing room lined with silk drapes? A snack of chips and guac with a ratio of 3 red chips to 1 white?”

You laughed. “Shut up. You would never do something so . . . Hollywood.”

Rami leaned over and pursed his lips, waiting for you to close the gap and kiss him. You did, and both of you smiled against the other’s lips before you pressed yours into his one more time, then settled back into your seat.

“Let’s go-ooo,” Rami sang, putting the car in drive.

* * * * *

Steve had made a good call; even though they were rapidly losing daylight, every space at the Palm Springs location seemed to mold itself around Rami as if it finally felt like it was being properly occupied.

And Rami was, of course, an absolute dream.

Which he was, of course, told again and again.

All the while, Rami had no idea what it was doing to you to watch him like that, to watch him eat up that praise, to watch him be such a good boy for the entire crew all afternoon and into the evening.

With every complied command, you thought about what you wanted to do to him, how you wanted him to please you.

“Rami—Rami look this way. Yes! Hold your smile. Fucking divine,” the photographer uttered as she snapped.

At the word divine, Rami chuckled nervously, ready to counter the utterance but the photographer kept going.

“Can we get Marissa over here? Just to touch up the sweat. Its hotter than the devil’s dick out here and you haven’t complained once, Rami. I love you!”

At the words I love you, Rami’s cheeks colored and his face spread into a shy grin, this time his lips not even bothering with a protest.

“Let me just fix this curl . . . perfection!”

At the word perfection, he lowered his eyes and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, successfully halting the widening of his shy grin.

“Yes, Rami. What an absolute joy you are. One more big grin—like the one I saw you give your girlfriend this morning—yes! That one!”

It was like that all day—praise after praise, and by the time the shoot was over and he climbed behind the wheel of his car, his body was invisibly vibrating from the high of being such a good boy all day long; you weren’t sure you had enough restraint to make it back to the twins’ house, the car refusing you the gift of distance so you were left with nothing to do but listen to his excited chatter, inhale the fresh scent of the high-end styling products and the brand new clothes, and glance over at the way the last outfit of the shoot clung to his body, custom made, just for Rami Malek.

* * * * *

Rami tossed his car keys on the kitchen island, something you would normally scold him for considering there was a mounted keyrack directly beside the door, but you were so focused on the way his ass looked in his black trousers that you forgot. Besides, you had an important question to ask.

“Is Sami home?”

“In DC with Jas, remember?”

“Oh. Right,” you answered in a soft tone as you flicked on the recessed lighting in the kitchen.

Rami pulled a beer out of the fridge, twisting the top off and tossing it on the counter, the lid skidding to a halt right next to his keys.

“Want anything?” he asked after a long drink.

You shook your head no.

Rami frowned as he realized how quiet you had been since the end of the shoot. “I’m sorry today ran long. We can do whatever you want tonight.”

As you toed out of your sneakers, you also bent to retrieve the shoes he had kicked off the second he walked in the door. As you walked both pairs into the mudroom, you knew your silence would make Rami guess at your mood. Were you upset with him? Why? His eyes slid to the keys on the counter, and he picked them up and took them over to the keyrack. Then, he plucked the beer cap off the counter and tossed it in the trash.

Rami leaned against the counter, twirling his beer which had begun to shed drops of sweat, and watched as you reentered the kitchen.

“I’m really grateful you spent your day off—"

“Go . . . sit . . . down,” you slowly and evenly enunciated as you held his gaze before dropping it to walk over to the big couch in the living room, the one that sat against a wall of windows that overlooked a section of woods and the many twinkling lights of the other homes in the Hills.

He abandoned the last dregs of his beer to follow you, and you could feel his mind working to puzzle out what he’d done to displease you.

You turned around and gestured to the middle cushion, and just as compliantly as he had been during the photoshoot, he took a seat and waited, his big eyes staring at you. You let him watch as your gaze drifted over his body. He was still in the last outfit from the photoshoot and you didn’t even want to know how much money he was currently wearing. The black Tom Fords fit him to perfection and the tan and black, tiger-striped dress shirt made his skin look smooth, dark, and ten years younger. The dim lighting that crept over from the kitchen dyed his hair to a pitch black of perfectly ringleted curls.

He looked so good your mouth went dry, and when you thought again about what a good boy he had been, your eyes slipped shut in a moment of greedy indulgence.

Rami’s eyes remained fixed on you, alert, despite his tiredness from the all-day shoot and the extended drive. He continued to watch cautiously as you slid onto his lap, his hands twitching once, twice, before deciding it was okay to touch you. He ran his hands up your bare thighs, toying with sliding them underneath the frayed edges of your denim shorts before grinning and moving them to your hips.

Your face remained stoic, fixated on how much you wanted to control him—to make sure he knew just whose pretty boy he was.

“You loved today, didn’t you?” you purred in a low voice that made all the blood in Rami’s body rush to his cock.

He licked his lips and swallowed audibly in anticipation; there was a flicker of recognition dawning behind his eyes, but he still hadn’t puzzled it all out . . . yet.

You pressed on, your voice still a sultry purr, “You loved being posed. Being praised. Being primped and petted. Didn’t you?”

His eyes dilated, now more grey than blue, as he watched your mouth move. That flicker of recognition blossomed into understanding, and he stilled, frozen and silent.

You fisted his curls, the oil the stylist had used feeling like a breath of wet silk as his hair twined around your fingers. You pulled, tugging so hard he gasped.

“Answer me when I ask you a question,” you bit out, your purr replaced with a forceful tone.

“Yes—yes I loved it,” he immediately whispered.

Your eyes roamed his face as the pulse of attraction beat between the two of you, and with your hand still gripping his curls, you kissed him, brutally sucking and nipping at his lips. Rami’s hands were still on your hips and his fingers flexed, digging into the flesh of your jean-clad ass.

You pulled at the button on his trousers and yanked at the zipper, not even pausing as you heard them rip at the juncture. His cock had already found its way out of his underwear, so you grasped its velvety hardness in your hand and began to jack him off, your grip tight, purposeful.

You controlled every inch of his body in this moment: your hand in his hair and the other on his dick, your tongue in his mouth, and his thighs pinned beneath your weight.

Rami whined into the heated kiss, and with a gasping breath, you pulled back and hissed, “And now you wanna be my good boy, don’t you? You wanna be my pretty boy?”

After pulling on his curls again, Rami answered with a shaky voice.

“Ye-yes!”

“Yes what?”

“I wanna be your good boy.”

“Then come for me, good boy. Come all over your posh clothes.”

“Fuck!” Rami keened as his hips bucked into your hand and he came, thick ropes of cum staining his expensive shirt and even more expensive trousers.

“That’s my pretty boy, good boy. Come hard,” you panted in his ear as he rode out his orgasm.

“Ohmygod,” he slurred. “Fuck, Y/N. Fuck!”

You relaxed your grip on his hair and let him catch his breath as you pumped your hand lightly up and down his cock, cum coating your palm.

“That was fucking ama—”

“Oh no,” you said, quickly moving your cum-covered palm to slap over his mouth. “Was implies that we’re done, and Rami . . . we’ve only just begun.”

He whimpered under your palm and you removed it, leaning in to kiss him, relishing in the taste of his cum on his lips. You took that same hand and wrapped it around the back of his head, once again controlling the kiss.

Leaning back, you smiled wickedly. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

Rami looked down at his clothes, and you knew he was inwardly groaning. Yes, he loved high fashion, but he remembered what it was like to live paycheck to paycheck, working a motely mess of jobs just to survive.

“What a waste—doubt those, what? $1,200 pants can be salvaged.”

“$1,520,” Rami stated, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth as he rested his head against the back of the sofa.

Stoking his inner conflict, you whistled before stating, “That’s a lotta dough, Ram.” You gave his face a few light pats before moving off his lap and on to the cushion next to him.

“I had to watch you dress and undress all day long and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Now that there is, be a good boy, stand up, and undress . . . just for me.”

Rami turned to glance at you and seeing no room for negotiation, he shuffled up and off the sofa. You put your foot on the edge of the coffee table and pushed, the light piece of furniture skidding back, almost into the wall beneath the television.

You raised your brow and waited, your face schooled into a mask of indifference.

His pants were tight enough to still cling to his hips, so Rami brought his fingers up to the top button of his tiger-striped shirt. He moved quickly and you tsked at him.

“Slowly, baby. Slowly.”

Rami’s thick fingers hitched before steadying over the next button, his head bent in concentration.

“Eyes up here.”

He looked up, obeying without hesitation.

“Good boy,” you praised, eyes locked on his as he continued to open his shirt, and at your praise, that part of him that was so alive during the photoshoot came to life again. When he reached the last button, he paused to let you drink in the strip of brown skin and the light dusting of dark hair on his chest.

When your eyes made their way back to his, he held your gaze as he unbuttoned his cuffs and shrugged out of each of the sleeves. He let the shirt pool to the floor, and the next thing his fingers reached for was his watch.

“No, baby. Leave the watch on.”

Rami’s tongue darted out to wet his lips before his mouth opened to take in more air. You could see his half-hard dick twitch, and your mask of indifference flickered as you smirked.

Rami’s hands grasped the expensive black fabric and tugged. Once his trousers were past the tops of his thighs, they slid down his legs and he stepped out of them. One of his socks was still pulled up properly while the other was drooped to his ankle. He bent to remove the drooped one, then he removed the other.

Your eyes slid over the thick, curly black hair on his legs and travelled back to your second favorite overly-proportioned part of his anatomy. As gorgeous as his cock was, his eyes would always hold first place.

You shifted on the sofa and raised your chin, looking up at his face as he slid his thumbs beneath the waistband of his black boxer-briefs. He was seeking permission to remove the last of his clothes and you smiled before giving him a single nod of assent.

Rami stood in front of you, naked and unsure of what to do with his hands. This always made your heart flutter; he was so sexy and confident for the public, but for you, he was demure and so eager to obey. Letting him squirm for a few moments longer, you used the time to drink in his nakedness before finally standing.

“On your knees.”

He complied, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, save for the occasional twitch of his fingers.

You circled him, once, twice, building his anticipation, and when you stopped behind him and brought your hands to his shoulders, he shivered at your touch.

Digging your fingertips into his flesh, you slid your hands forward and down over his pecs, kneading them before you found his nipples and tweaked them, rolling them between your index fingers and thumbs before giving them a tug.

Rami moaned, and you leaned next to his ear as you said, “Shh. Good boys are quiet as church mice. I don’t care if you bite your lips until they bleed—you are not to make another sound until I say so.

“Are you still my good boy?”

He nodded once, and you acknowledged with a swift, sharp smack to his right ass cheek.

Rami wanted to groan—in fact, he started to, but he cut himself off by biting down on his lower lip.

Always a sucker for synchrony, you smacked his left cheek so it blushed just as prettily as the right.

The sound of your denim shorts unzipping had Rami’s shoulders tensed. You could tell he was listening as you undressed, wondering if you’d be naked when you moved back in his line of vision. You weren’t ready to go that far yet, so when he did see you again, you were still covered by a plain white bra and matching white panties.

Gripping his hair once again, you pressed his face into your mound and Rami rubbed his nose against you, back and forth, before dipping his tongue between your covered lips. After hooking one leg over his shoulder and using his head and other shoulder for balance, you let him mouth at you until your panties were soaked with his saliva and your arousal. Try as he might, he just couldn’t get his tongue underneath the tight elastic for any significant portion of time. You could feel his frustration, but it only spurned you on.

“Poor baby. I know how much you love eating pussy.”

Rami sighed, his hands on your calves, his mouth reaching up to grip the waistband of the infuriating barrier between his teeth.

You smacked lightly at his cheek, and he retreated, head lowered.

“You wanna taste me that bad, huh? All right. Get on all fours.”

You walked in a half-circle, once again standing behind him as he got into the position you commanded.

A gorgeous, deep blush bloomed across his shoulders. Dropping to your own knees, you settled between his thighs and aligned your hips against his ass. You pushed into him, teasing him like you would if you had a different anatomy, and you knew Rami was fighting a losing battle to keep quiet.

You scratched his back and continued to press against him, bending to kiss down his spine and to reach around to lightly stroke his cock, which was hard again. When you tugged on his balls and slowly massaged each of them, Rami half-whimpered.

He was trying so hard to behave.

You dragged a finger between the cheeks of his ass and lightly fingered him, not with penetration—just a simple pressing of your index finger just enough to make him clench and lean back into your touch.

Chuckling, you moved to scratch up and down the backs of his thighs and in the same, low purr from earlier, you wove him a little story, something you knew drove him absolutely wild. “You want to come again. I can feel it—your balls are tight and hot, your ass is clenched. You should see how sexy you look from back here, baby. The muscles in your back are twitching, oh, and your thighs, too. I bet a part of you wants to end this, wants to force me to the floor and fuck me until that ache at the base of your spine bursts open. But you can’t. And more importantly, you won’t.

“All because you are my pretty little good boy.”

This time, your good boy did whimper, so you brought both of your hands down onto his ass cheeks, spanking him until they turned a pretty pink. You smiled at the little gasps that escaped from between his lips, and when you could no longer ignore your own body’s need, you pressed a kiss to the base of his spine, right where you knew he ached.

Standing, you finally slipped out of your bra and panties, and you walked to the sofa, taking a seat facing him. His eyes were wet and crackling like a livewire. While crooking your index finger, you hooked one knee over the edge of the couch and exposed your soaking pussy to him.

“Crawl,” you commanded.

His bottom lip was a mess, indentured from his teeth and you wondered if the inside of his mouth was wrecked, too. Rami was vocal, all of the time, so it was a true challenge for him to stay quiet, and you were basking in how well he was doing. When Rami’s face was no more than six inches from your pussy, he looked up, his eyes still electric, and he begged with them. Even though he could see and smell how aroused you were, he waited for your command.

“Do you want to fuck me with your pretty mouth?”

Rami’s eyes burned into yours as he nodded.

“Do it.”

His mouth was hot on your center and both of your hands thrust into his curls. His tongue was inside of you, his nose pressed against your clit while he licked and swirled as deep as he could reach.

“Enough teasing,” you groaned with a tug to his hair.

Shifting closer, Rami moved his mouth up and wrapped his lips around your swollen clit.

“Ah, fuck,” you moaned, lost to the pleasure of his mouth. “Make me come.”

Rami licked at your clit with short, quick bursts of speed before closing his lips and sucking. He had your thighs pinned open and his fingers were bruising as he fucked you with his face.

“Ah, fucking hell Rami! That’s my good boy!”

Rami moaned around your clit and you didn’t care because it sent you straight over the edge, crying out a slur of swears that were punctuated with his name.

He softened and slowed his ministrations as he rubbed his nose, mouth, and chin over your pussy, waiting patiently for you to regain your composure, knowing that you were far from done with him.

At some point, you had let go of his hair and reached up to grasp the couch cushions, so you sighed as you brought your hand down to push lightly against his forehead.

“Wipe off your face and rub it over your cock,” you commanded in an even tone.

Rami did as he was told and his eyes slammed shut, his throat uttering a noise even though he was still trying to stay quiet.

“Do you want to come again, baby?”

He nodded, his eyes still shut tight as his hand picked up its pace.

Lightening quick, you moved off the couch and grasped his wrist, yanking it from his cock. Rami yelped, like a wounded animal and your eyes burned into his as you scolded, “No—that’s a bad boy.”

Two tears leaked from the outer corners of his eyes and your intensity wavered. Those little beads of salt were too tempting to pass up and you licked away one tear, then the other before kissing him.

“Do you still want to be my good boy?” you asked as you pulled away and looked at him, making sure the game hadn’t gone on too long. “Answer me,” you pressed, cupping his face and leaning in to place sweet kisses over his cheeks, his nose, and his eyelids.

“I do,” he croaked.

You pulled back and looked at him, your eyes searching his.

“I do.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, your thumbs stroking his cheeks before you let him go so you could stand up.

“Bedroom—on your back, arms above your head. Wait for me.”

Rami used the edge of the sofa to pull himself up, and you went into the kitchen as he walked upstairs to his bedroom. You needed him to calm down just a little in order to pull off your next move, so you cracked open one of Rami’s beers and returned to the couch.

The first mouthful was so cold, so crisp and good, the perfect topping for your incredible orgasm. The second mouthful did nothing other than remind you of what Rami tasted like, and you began to ache for him again. Standing, you walked upstairs and to the bedroom, your beer clutched lightly in your fingers.

He was waiting on the bed, bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, and you were struck with such a profound urge to photograph him like this—to memorialize him as your perfect, good, boy.

“Such perfection,” you breathed, and Rami’s demeanor once again swelled under your praise. Unfortunately, so did his cock, and you just couldn’t have that. Shaking your head, you walked into his closet.

“Rami—you’ve got to close your eyes and think about something else,” you called out while digging around in the bottom drawer of the bureau in his closet. “Think about Sami,” you said with a devilish laugh.

Grabbing two ties, a purple one with silver polka dots and a silver one with purple polka dots, you emerged from the closet only to be greeted by his scowl.

“That worked,” you said, patting his thigh before you straddled his hips and tied one of his wrists to the bed post, then the other.

You laughed as you kissed his forehead, then climbed off of him again. You stopped to take another long drink, and Rami watched you, his cock starting to move from semi-erect to erect.

“No, no,” you scolded, laying your beer down.

With a growl of frustration, Rami shut his eyes. They shot open again when he felt the slick heat of the lube being dripped onto his cock.

“Be a good boy and close your eyes—you know you can’t watch without getting too hard.”

You slicked up his cock and his balls and quickly fastened on the cock ring, knowing you only had a small window of time. You didn’t fault him—you knew without certainty you had nowhere near the level of submissive willpower Rami had.

Well, that Rami mostly had.

You hadn’t even touched him yet and his dick was already swelling back to fully erect.

“Open your eyes, baby.”

You were rewarded with that same electric fire as earlier and held his gaze as you got back into bed and settled between his thighs.

“I wish you could see yourself,” you murmured, holding eye contact. “Your pretty cock all wrapped up and begging, begging for my . . . wet . . . heat.”

Rami’s cock swelled, his balls tightening and starting to turn a delicious shade of red.

You leaned forward on your hands and bent to lick his balls with teasing, tiny strokes of your tongue. You could hear him pull on the wrist restraints and suck in a breath.

“If you need to stop, what are you gonna say?”

“Stop,” Rami stated clearly.

You locked eyes with him and nodded—if he said, stop, you’d stop.

Before you bent to his cock again, you said, “I wanna hear how good I make you feel, okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed, his hips lifting on the bed in a silent prayer that you’d take him in your mouth.

Laughing softly, you licked his cock from base to tip, almost unwilling to believe that he could get any harder than he already was. As you straightened up to pump him, you glanced at the hands on Rami’s watch to make sure you didn’t push him for too long.

You positioned yourself over his hips and slid your soaked pussy along his cock, teasing and enjoying the way his rock hard dick felt when it brushed your clit.

Rami moaned and it was a beautifully desperate sound, an aching call for you to just finally fuck him. Shifting your position as you rocked your hips, his dick slid inside of you and both of you shuddered at the contact.

“Fuck, Rami. You feel so good—so fucking good.”

Rami’s wrists tugged at his restraints as his hips bucked under you, desperate for you to move, except you didn’t. Instead, you just perched on top of him and let your eyes run over his face and his torso.

“So good for me,” you said with a wicked grin. “Hold still, baby.”

Rami’s eyes filled with tears and a strangled cry sounded low in his throat.

“Shh. Just a little longer.”

His breathing hitched and began to come in shallow gulps as he strained against his ties, desperate to focus on anything, even pain, over his denied-ecstasy as you cockwarmed him.

“So good,” you said as you began to work your clit, your fingers finding a familiar, easy rhythm.

“Oh god,” Rami groaned as tears fell from his eyes. “Oh god, oh god.”

“Oh yes, oh YES!” you growled as you came quickly, your pussy clenching around him, causing him to utter a choked sob.

As the last waves of your orgasm ebbed, you began to ride him and you focused on his flushed, tear stained cheeks, you knew there was not a creature more beautiful than him in existence. He was your good boy, your pretty little good boy and he deserved to come inside of you.

Picking up your pace, you clutched at his chest, forcing his hazy eyes to focus on you.

“Are you ready to come, baby?”

“Yes! Please, please yes,” he begged, his voice so deep and desperate that he spoke more from his chest than his throat.

A flush of pleasure rushed through you as you reached around to unfasten the cock ring, and you didn’t even need to move before Rami’s orgasm tore through him, a scream of pleasure rushing past his lips as he came so hard you could feel every spurt of his hot cum splashing inside you.

Gently, you rode him through his intense orgasm. When Rami’s head thrashed from side to side, and he said, “Stop. Stop,” you moved off of him immediately and reached up to unloop the ties from the bed post, knowing it would take a minute to get the knots around his wrists undone.

You kneeled beside him as ragged breaths tore through his lungs. Working the knots off his wrists, you soothed him, “Rami, baby, you did so good. You were such a good boy. No one, no one is as good as you, baby. No one.”

Rami took a gulping breath as his chest evened out. He stretched his legs and his arms, flexed his wrists and reached up to wipe the sweat off his brow.

“Oh, sweetheart—god, you’re perfect,” you said with a kiss to his sweaty temple. “What can I get for you?”

“I’m so thirsty,” he rasped, his eyes half-lidded, that electric fire finally sated.

“You’re gonna be starving in about ten minutes, too, so I’ll order something while I’m in the kitchen.”

“Mmmkay. So good to me,” he murmured with a sweet smile that melted your heart when you turned to look at him from the bedroom door.

“I love you, Rami.”

“Not as much as I love you, Y/N.”

You smiled at each other, wide, mirrored grins of happiness, and after one more glance, you dashed down to the kitchen to take care of your good boy.

#Rami Malek #Rami Malek x Reader #Female Reader #Rami Malek smut #SMUT #sub!Rami #at least I think so #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fic

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nemossubmarine · 4 years ago

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Warhammer 40k: Wrath & Glory RP #13

Before leaving to go find a girl kidnapped, there’s few more things the party needs to do on Dimmamar. Firstly, Coco asks Larry if Ranan and Hackney may join them, as they’d be useful. Larry says sure. Coco goes to ask Ranan and Hackney if they want to come along. Ranan says sure, but what about the Devil, which leads to a long conversation into which Izarak and eventually Larry and Alice are both dragged into. Ranan and Hackney can’t stay to watch after her, because they’d be easily recognized. Coco suggests they let her know they want to talk, which Ranan shoots down. She’s the Cardinal’s bodyguard, she doesn’t hold audiences. Larry says that attacking the Cardinal would be one way to get their hands on her bodyguard. Also a good way to get killed. In the end Izarak calls up Birdie and asks if she could keep an eye out whether the Cardinal leaves the planet. Birdie, happy to hear Izarak is alive and surprised to hear Izarak has other friends (when he explains he is going after a friend’s missing relative), agrees.

Izarak lets everyone know he has some business he needs to attend to and slips off. Coco decides to go check up on Vivek and the Wolves, and pretty quickly notices she is going in the same direction as Izarak, so she catches up to him. [INSERT #1]

So they’re off to the station. On their way there, Iris has a quick chat with Larry about the things they still need to do in the ship. She’s made a small bucket list, and can do two of the things (one on the way the station, other while on the station). Larry picks machine spirit appeasement and a new paint-job, so Iris gets to those with a little help from Alice.

They get to the station. Larry and Alice head out to see if they could locate Shanice’s ship. They come across it, and also a disgruntled Administratum parking officer, asking if they own the ship, as it should have been moved ages ago. Larry says he doesn’t, but he might like to buy it, if the owner doesn’t show up. He also has a little fun with the officer, pretending to be someone important and rich. They get the sense that Shanice might still be in the hanging-around area of the ship so they go there, where Coco and Izarak have already gone. The four meet up at the entrance of the bar, where Izarak and Coco were planning on asking about Ferrus Navrátil.

There’s people in the bar, mostly at the booths, and they seem to be avoiding a man sitting by the bar. Izarak approaches the barkeep and asks for Ferrus Navrátil, and the barkeep points at the man sitting at the bar, who turns to look at Izarak. He’s a man in his thirties, with a sickly look complete with grey-ish skin, blue-ish lips and scabs all across his face. The reason why people avoided him becomes clear as one can clearly spot a closed eyelid in the middle of his forehead. Ferrus comments on his years of avoiding Sunday service may have finally caught up with him, and Izarak lets him know that he’s not here for that, that Roberto Navaros sent them (how’s the old bastard? asks Ferrus, to which Izarak says he is fine). Izarak explains that they’re looking for Ada, and Ferrus says they should probably take a booth. They do (people clear one out as soon as Ferrus approaches).

Ferrus was not aware that Ada was kidnapped, mentioning that he talked with her when they ran into each other on the station. She seemed to be looking for someone, boys or girls Ferrus hazards. She did join up with the station’s own crazed preacher by the name Caprice Jastremski, which was a bit odd. Caprice is not an actual priest, but one of those people who are way into worshipping Sanguinius. Ada presumably left with her. Ferrus also mentions that another person was asking after Ada, a woman hiding her face and sporting two swords. Mysterious.

Larry asks whether Ferrus is on the job, and Ferrus mentions he is currently employed, though not particularly happy with his gig. Apparently he goes for the highest bidder, so if Larry has the money then he’s willing to jump ship. Larry says there may be some other benefits in working with him, and then winks. Ferrus smiles and lets him know that he doesn’t work with people he’s slept with, because it makes him feel cheap, and he is not cheap. But a quickie in the bathroom can happen if Larry finds another Navigator.

With that, the party shuffles off. They decide to go check Caprice’s apartment, which they find with its door ajar. It’s a small apartment with a mold problem. Inside they find the helmeted woman studying a wall with scribbles on it. The woman (who we later learn is called Lilith so that’s what I’ll use) may be surprised to see people (she’s wearing a helmet) (it’s hard to tell). Izarak explains that they’re looking for Ada, same as Lilith, so maybe they could work together. Lilith explains that she is not interested in Ada in particular, she is working for someone who is worried about the people Ada has managed to gather around her (points at wall), her apparent effect on people and what she might be looking for. Lilith is very very vague (her employer’s anonymity is apparently very important to her). Alice comments that she probably is very ugly under the helmet, which Izarak says is not very nice. Lilith doesn’t seem to mind. [Insert #2]

Izarak examines the wall. There are notes about angels (seems to be prayers), that turn into talks about “her” (“she can hear it” / “she can find it” type of stuff). There also some kind of a map, that seems to be pointing towards a mountain range near Izarak’s home village. He asks Lilith to join the party, which she agrees to. He also suggests they grab Ferrus, because having someone Ada knows and trusts with them might be prudent.

While they walk towards the bar, Larry has a quiet chat with Lilith. She had mentioned not being very familiar with the Imperial Faith, so he asks about that, whether she believes. She answers non-committal, saying she wasn’t really taught much about that in her home. Larry asks about her home, and she says it’s a planet called Athelaq, far from here. It was a beautiful planet, apparently though now war-torn. Coco pops into the conversation and asks whether she misses her home and she says doesn’t everyone. Coco says it depends on what one considers home. Larry even stealthily smells Lilith (leather and flowers).

Anyway, Izarak goes to the bar where Ferrus is playing solitaire alone. Izarak asks him to join up, saying that Roberto can pay for his time. Ferrus mentions again that he doesn’t like getting paid by people he’s slept with. Izarak goes “oh” and says he can pay for Ferrus himself (with money he got from Roberto, but still...). But Ferrus seems agreeable, mostly because he wants to help Ada. He asks Izarak to help him get off his current deal. So they go to the ship of Captain Carras. Ferrus lets her know that he is leaving because of a family emergency, to which the Captain shoots back that he doesn’t have a family, spitting out that he’s a lazy bum, as he ducks to go gather his stuff. Izarak explains the situation to the Captain, who complains that her Navigator is being stolen, and there’s no way he’ll be returning and she’ll be losing a lot of money. Izarak puts on his best priest-face and soon has the Captain blubbering apologies. Ferrus returns with a rucksack and some scrolls beneath his arm.

They all go back to the ship. Ferrus asks Izarak whether they need him for navigating (Izarak says no) and how the G’s are on Treshan (Izarak doesn’t know), as Ferrus apparently doesn’t do great with high gravity having lived on small ships most of his life. Back on the ship Larry approaches Lilith again, and says that he can’t help but think she is hiding something (her face for instance). She accuses him of attempting to find out too much and not offering much in turn, and then says she should get back to her notes.

Larry joins the others and voices her suspicions that something is up with Lilith, she’s weird, and, smells weird (have you been smelling her? - Noooo? - It’s good manners not to smell other people). Anyway, Larry has a gut feeling she might not be… entirely human. He wonders if that’s going to be a problem with Coco and his boyfriend. Coco shrugs and says maybe not, depends on the xenos? Anyway, Izarak says he’s certain she’s human (and Larry can see he is lying). Larry says to take Izarak’s word on this one.

Alice comments that she is more worried about their lazy Navigator. His former captain did call him a lazy bum. Larry agrees, he even asked not to do any navigating. Izarak says that at least Ferrus seemed motivated about finding Ada, and that’s what counts.

We have a bit of a Christmas break starting now, but next time, we’ll get to Treshan and maybe will find Ada Navaros and maybe find out what’s up with her? One of the three at least.

#nemo roleplays #long post #wag rp s2 #wag rp writeup #campaign tag: the story of a runaway girl #two new npcs im very fond off :P #who are both a bit hard to get to know #(lilith for frankly quite obvious reasons)#(ferrus bc he's not v social at least for the moment)#(might have something to do with being a lazy bum) :P #and more interesting npcs coming up #im v happy about ada's stuff #i think it's p cooool #ill leave you with that for the next three weeks

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brokehorrorfan · 5 years ago

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DVD Review: Shark Bait

Shark Bait collects six schlocky shark movies - Swamp Shark (2011), Ghost Shark (2013), Zombie Shark (2015), Ozark Sharks (2016), Mississippi River Sharks (2017), and Santa Jaws (2018) - along with a bonus alligator flick - Alligator Alley (2013) - for good measure. The fin-tastic DVD set is available now from Mill Creek Entertainment in celebration of Shark Week.

Although Mill Creek presents the features in no discernible order, I opted to view them in chronological order to see if there were any patterns or growth over the seven years spanned. They're all cheesy, but it's interesting to see which of the movies embrace their inherent absurdity, which makes them easier to swallow. Case in point: Sharknado became a cultural phenomenon because it went all-in on the concept.

In viewing all seven of the movies over a short span of time, the formula is apparent. A cast with a couple of celebrities past their prime and a bunch of wooden, inexperienced actors play one-dimensional characters that spout unnatural dialogue (usually with an obligatory Jaws reference) in between animal attacks accomplished with laughable CGI.

Another fascinating fact is that a mere two directors are responsible for all seven movies. Griff Furst (Lake Placid 3) was in the director's chair for Swamp Shark, Ghost Shark, and Alligator Alley, while Misty Talley helmed the other four. I imagine making these movies is good fun, although it likely becomes tedious after a few. But their work was clearly successful enough to warrant repeat hirings, so more power to them.

Swamp Shark is an example of a pre-Sharknado creature feature that takes itself far too seriously. An animal smuggler accidentally releases a rare shark with a virtually impenetrable exoskeleton into a Louisiana river. Despite the swampland being infested with the added threat of alligators, the opportunity for shark vs. gator action is sadly missed. While the shark is predominately created with crummy CGI, a couple of shots admirably utilize a good, old-fashioned rubber head.

Kristy Swanson (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) toplines the film as the person tasked with stopping the flesh-hungry shark before it wreaks havoc at the annual Gator Fest. The cast also includes Robert Davi (The Goonies), D.B. Sweeney (Spawn), and Baseball Hall of Famer Wade Boggs. After years of independent and made-for-television work, Swamp Shark cinematographer Lorenzo Senatore recently shot the new Hellboy.

Ghost Shark is a strong contender for the most entertaining movie in the set. It starts with a practical, fake great white in the prologue until it's killed, after which point it becomes the titular, translucent Ghost Shark. It can materialize in any water, and its appearances become increasingly more outrageous, from the ocean and a swimming pool to water pipes and a slip and slide. I won't give away the most ludicrous highlight, but it's a rare unforgettable moment in a Syfy movie.

Levity is key, which is why the last act becomes more tiresome when it focuses on the why and the how, although I appreciate that its mythology is taken seriously despite the silly premise. Mackenzie Rosman (7th Heaven) stars as a girl with a personal vendetta against the specter. Richard Moll (House) brings surprising nuance to the role of the alcoholic lighthouse keeper with a dark past. Thomas Francis Murphy (The Walking Dead) plays the small town’s sheriff.

Zombie Shark (also known as Shark Island) finds a shark - named Bruce, of course - escaping from the scientific facility in which it was the subject of experimentation. It proceeds to find food on the shore of a nearby, secluded island. The shark spreads its undead virus to other sharks and, eventually, to humans. There's no shortage of voracious fish action, including a first victim that caught me off guard; a rarity in these oft-predictable films.

Cassie Steele (Degrassi: The Next Generation) stars as one of four friends on the quaint island for a getaway, and Jason London (Dazed and Confused) co-stars as the facility's head of security hunting down the shark. Although not a "name" actor, Roger J. Timber provides solid comedic relief as an islander who serves as host to the guests.

Ozark Sharks follows a family's long-weekend trip to an Arkansas cabin that holds a special place in the grandmother's heart, only to find that bull sharks have invaded the nearby lake. This happens while the town is gearing up for a big firework festival. Much like Zombie Shark, the first kill is a welcome surprise, but the film culminates with an unnecessarily melodramatic finale.

Allisyn Ashley Arm (A.P. Bio) stars as the angst-ridden lead who becomes the final girl of sorts. Thomas Francis Murphy is back, this time playing the soothsaying owner of the local bait shop. He owns an arsenal of homemade weaponry that adds a dash of fun to the bland proceedings, including a giant air canon, an oar turned into a high-voltage cattle prod, a double-bladed katana, and a crossbow that shoots dear antlers.

Santa Jaws not only has the best title, but it may very well be the strongest effort in the set. Although it lacks the star power of the other movies, it offers a radical deviation from the creature feature formula; it's a coming-of-age movie. When a dorky teen boy receives a magic pen that turns its drawings into a reality, he uses it on his comic book, Santa Jaws. Soon there's a killer shark with glowing, red eyes, a candy cane horn, and a Santa hat on its dorsal fin targeting his family amidst their Christmas gathering.

The result is something like Jaws meets Krampus by way of Ruby Sparks, if it were produced by the Hallmark Channel. Shark excitement takes a backseat in this one, and there’s a whole lot of unintentional camp present, but the youth-driven approach to the material is a breath of fresh air. With no hackneyed military or science roles, the characters feel more natural and developed.

Though not quite as far a deviation as Santa Jaws, Mississippi River Sharks spices things up a clever meta element. Jason London plays a fictionalized version of himself, the star of the Shark Bite franchise. He's the celebrity guest at a podunk town's fishing competition, and his inflated ego leads him to believe that he's the most qualified person to save the day when sharks start attacking. Unlike his blase role in Zombie Shark, London lights up the screen in this supporting role.

The real hero is Cassie Steele's Tara, but it's Dean J. West (The Hunt) who shines when London is absent. In the comedic role of Tara's friend, Wyatt, he's an overzealous Shark Bite fanboy who relishes the opportunity to live out his favorite movie... even if he doesn't know what he's doing. A brief cameo from Jeremy London (Mallrats) - Jason's twin brother - furthers the meta aspect.

Alligator Alley is included as a bonus film. Thomas Francis Murphy plays another pivotal role, this time as a bayou redneck who brews chemically-enhanced moonshine. He dumps a string of bad batches into the river, mutating the local alligator population to the point where they can shoot spikes from their tails. He has a long-standing family feud with another local Cajun family, with two star-crossed lovers - one played by Jordan Hinson (Eureka) - caught in the middle, but they must band together to stop the gators.

The first half of the film is a bit dull, as you're essentially waiting for all of these annoying characters to get eaten, but the pacing picks up when concept that can only be described as weregators is introduced. The left-field plot point is so preposterous that it makes the film vastly more interesting. And maybe it's because I had just watched six shark movies and water is hard to animate, but the CGI isn't half bad considering the time and budget.

Shark Bait crams all seven films onto two discs. Compression is apparent in every movie (particularly with murky underwater footage, for whatever reason), and of course there are no special features, but it still beats watching them with Syfy's incessant commercial interruptions. Each one clocks in at under 90 minutes, so even the poorly-paced movies - of which there are several - are over before you know it.

Although far from high art, the best films in the collection - Santa Jaws, Ghost Shark, and Mississippi River Sharks - subvert expectations by mixing up the trite formula, and they don't shy away from levity. If you're lamenting the lack of a new Sharknado film this year - the franchise concluded with its sixth installment last year - fill the shark-sized gap in your heart with the Shark Bait collection.

Shark Bait is available now on DVD via Mill Creek Entertainment.

#shark week #sharknado #syfy #jaws #santa jaws #swamp shark #ghost shark #zombie shark #ozark sharks #mississippi river sharks #jason london #article #review #mill creek entertainment #gift #dvd

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thetaylorfiles · 5 years ago

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No, totally. It’s only about London. Not her boyfriend.

Except when it’s about her boyfriend. Like here:

“You know I love a London boy

I enjoy walking Camden Market in the afternoon

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you

Took me back to Highgate, met all of his best mates

So I guess all the rumors are true

You know I love a London boy

Boy, I fancy you (ooh)”

Oh, and here:

“So please show me Hackney

Doesn't have to be Louis V up on Bond Street

Just wanna be with you

I, I, I fancy you, oh

Stick with me, I'm your queen

Like a Tennessee Stella McCartney on the Heath

Just wanna be with you (ooh)

Wanna be with you

I fancy you (yeah), fancy you”

Oh, shoot. And how it’s all about London because Taylor moved there to be with her boyfriend and it’s all about what he likes that she now like.

Damn. Guess it’s not an advertisement for London after all.

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cobaltpanther · 6 years ago

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When I first heard of the character of Rocket Raccoon, I practically did a spit-take. It was so offhandedly crazy and stupid - a wisecracking, talking raccoon that flies spaceships and shoots laser guns - how could something so asinine actually work? Even in the crazy madcap world of comics, how could that EVER have worked? Even after the Guardians of the Galaxy film, I wasn't entirely convinced that a talking raccoon could deliver emotionally in a film. He did better than I had expected, but I still wasn't sold. But then Guardians Vol. 2 and Infinity War happened, and WHOO BOY DID HE DELIVER. Suddenly this wasn't just a hackneyed comic book character. He meant something to me and I liked him. Not for what he was - he was still a raccoon in space - but who he was; a damaged soul who had been hurt once and pushed others away so he wouldn’t feel the same hurt again. That connection to his character only grew stronger through Infinity War, until by the time the Endgame trailers started rolling out, the character I feel the most empathy towards, genuine interest, and concern for, was Rocket.

That's the power that these films have over people. That's what makes them important in our contemporary cinematic history, and it's why they shouldn't be dismissed outright. They don’t just make these characters accessible to a new collective of fans, but they depict them in such a way that they mean something to us.

#MCU #Rocket Raccoon #infinity war #Avengers #guardians of the galaxy

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toasttz · 6 years ago

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How to Make Games: Gacha Games

Hey, do you wanna make more money than several member nations of the EU?! I know I sure did, so when I was 12 my sister and I set up a lemonade stand that made several times the value of Greece's GDP when you consider that negatives cancel each other out. Hey, do you want to make MEANINGFUL amounts of money and have zero moral compunctions that might inhibit your success even though the road to the top is steep and lined with unethical business practices? Well, just insert $29.99 (397.48 Canadian dollars) and I'll teach you how to make some fuckin' gacha games! Gacha games, games inspired by a terrifying Japanese tradition known as "Seppuku" where you shoot pinballs in order to undress a girl carrying a bowl of ramen - before I go any further I feel that my understanding of Japanese culture may be a little out of date, so apologies where necessary - and something else happens, blah, blah, blah, and you get some toys or some shit. When it was discovered that Android and iOS can be programmed in such a simple and fast way that typewriters and some house plants with high RAM amounts can run the code, the market soon became flooded, but not saturated, with gacha games. Why hasn't the market hit saturation point despite the fact I can't scroll further than a gnat's dick in winter's length on the Google Play Store without hitting one? Because, as the wise Chinese philanderer, Aristotle, posited, "The difference in hardcore pr0n and gacha is a string bikini and $39.99 USD, but the amount of shame is equal in both," So, the games are retardedly easy to code and the only decision you'll spend one afternoon making is if you want to spend 2 hours making it a fully-automated RPG, 5 hours to make it a complex battler with some meaningful gimmicks, or 15 minutes copying Puzzles & Dragons. These options have totally not been done to death, so feel no worry if you can't be arsed to innovate. Once you have done the easy part, the next part is to locate someone with artistic talent and ask them to draw girls. Lots and lots of girls. Unlike H-games, the theme here can be as broad or narrow or as obtuse as you want. In fact, you can use multiple themes or just do what most of these games do and just steal from history and myth and make them all girls! It literally doesn't matter how deep or nuanced your story or gameplay are if the 2D waifus are cute enough. Lots of girls are necessary - tall girls, short girls, thicc girls, lean girls, brown girls, bunny girls... just don't stop making girls. Ever. You'll be expected to actually update about every two weeks or so, but that's getting ahead of ourselves. Lastly, for each summoning banner, place four characters on them in varied, dynamic poses and outfits in the ratio of 3 girls and 1 guy. "Guys?" I hear you ask incredulously. Yes, I recently read a very scientific study that said girls sometimes use the internet now and, so, to compensate for this possible oversight, each banner needs one shirtless guy, but unlike girls, never vary their body types. Just watch a few Marvel movies for their shirtless stud scenes and copy that - that's all you'll have to do! And sometimes give them different hats, so they know they're different guys. What? Sound design? Pffft. Don't be ridiculous. Everyone's going to be playing this game at their jobs when they can't play their real game libraries, so they're just going to mute them. Those that don't will be the creepy weirdos just listening to their waifu of choice's voice actress anyway. Besides, Wendee Lee is gonna do 85% of the voices anyway. You can just skip this part. The core of any gacha game, as it was foretold in the Japanese romcom, The Art of War & Peace, by Leo Toystore, is their summoning mechanic. You need some kind of in-game currency to exchange in order to summon heroes to make up your party. Sure, you'll give the players some generic filler heroes, but they'll all be bottom-tier and Worst Waifus(TM) with no real potential for growth, but that way no one can call foul on your game design. The real draw will be summoning, so make your orbs or your gems or whatever, just be sure that they're artificially inflated like nations that no longer rely on the gold and silver standards, because just like those nations that no longer rely on the gold and silver standards your imaginary currency is backed by fucking nothing other than your insistence that, yes, 300 platinum gems totally costs $49.99, stop asking so many questions! The second-most pivotal point is that your exchange between currencies and summons is completely irrational. Anything from 5 to 150 is acceptable, just so long as it's never, ever 1:1. That would make it easy for your fans to deduce the true value of your currencies and that's literally the last thing you want. You can set aside special vouchers for people who acquire enough "Good Boy Points" by making the game a habit rather than a game in the requisite "Daily Login Bonus" category. But those are entirely secondary and should still have the same low, low rates of drawing heroes anyone gives a shit about. About once a year you can hand them 5-Star Summon Vouchers, if they have enough Good Boy Points and throw them a bone to keep them in the dopamine loop. So, once the game is on market, just rotate your banners every two weeks, usually in the pattern of "Useless, Fanservicey" Banner twice, then "Mechanically Powerful Characters" Banner once, then repeat. That way players are inclined to waste their currencies on bathing suit beauties or Valentine's Day honeys instead of the St. Patrick's Day themed Hero who has S Ranks in Strength and Defense. This will incentivize players to routinely pay up like the good little whales they're meant to be. Err, I mean... it will encourage players to contribute to your work economy, so your studio can keep the lights on... like the good little whales they're meant to be! There we go, much better. Now just slap on a campaign mode and a crap-ton of side missions - preferably one or more for each hero you make in order to pad out the game length - and then slap a Stamina Bar on top of that! Make sure they can't do more than 10 missions in a day's time at the highest possible levels, so they don't blast through your paper-thin experience and keep ponying up properly. This will also tie back into the "make the game a habit" goal we talked about earlier. Once you have enough starving artists ball-n-chained to their writer desks churning out waifus, that's pretty much it! You have a sustainable game in the same way a drug cartel overlord does! Now make another following the above and enjoy double the money, ad infinitum! Also, one last bit of writing advice: never actually finish the story. Just keep adding new 'twists' and 'complications' no matter how hackneyed they may be! If they're getting bi-weekly banners, they aren't complaining that the story only updates every financial quarter when the investors start asking questions! Bonus points for making your characters aware of the events as they come and go and reference past banners - this will add the illusion of depth to your writing and characters. Congrats! You're contributing to the blight on the Earth's surface known as cell phone games. When the aliens find us and we try to rationalize all the good we've done, yours will be one among many sins that cause us to get vaporized to make way for a cosmic-scale McDonalds. But, hey, you can't take all that shit-ton of money you'll make with you when you go anyway. You're welcome.

#satire #video games #games #gacha

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ocw-archive · 3 years ago

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The New Kids - Rolling Stone; August 20, 1998

They're not yet thirty, but they're playing with the big boys. by Pamela Colloff On an overcast afternoon this past winter, a crowd of autograph hounds and hangers-on stood in silent reverence outside Don's barbershop in Houston, craning for a view of the star rumored to be shooting a film inside. Across the street, while traffic crawled past the white trailers and frenzied production assistants cluttered the sidewalk, gawkers stood on the hoods of their cars, squinting under the white-hot floodlights. But it wasn't comedian Bill Murray at the center of the disarray; unbeknownst to the crowd, he had already shot his scenes and flown back to New York. Rather, it was Wes Anderson, the gangly 29-year-old director and co-writer of Rushmore, who was pacing the barbershop floor and running his pale hands through his unruly thatch of hair. Wearing a slouchy green cardigan, faded corduroys, and Converse All-Stars, he looked more like a distracted graduate student who had wandered onto the set than someone shooting his second feature for a major studio.

At an age when most aspiring auteurs are still either lucklessly grinding away at film school or doing grunt work on other directors' films, Wes and his 29-year-old co-writer, Owen Wilson, have already gained access to the seemingly impenetrable world of Hollywood -- which is to say, they've received respectable financial backing for their first two efforts: $5 million for 1996's Bottle Rocket, and $11 million for Rushmore, which will be released this fall. Both films are oddly wistful black comedies -- a far cry from the hackneyed writing and formulaic plots of most youth-oriented scripts. "When I showed [L. A. producer] Barbara Boyle their first script, she said, 'You've caught lighting in a bottle,'" recalls producer L. M. Kit Carson, the co-screenwriter of Paris, Texas. Producer Polly Platt (The Evening Star), who helped jump-start the careers of Peter Bogdanovich, Garry Marshall, and other promising filmmakers in their early days, agrees. "Most scripts you read are pale imitations of films that have already been made," she says, "but I had never seen anything like their work. As a producer, you live for -- you pray for -- finding that kind of writing. It was unique, unhomogenized, brilliant."

The particular success of Owen and Wes' pairing may owe to the fact that one grew up in front of the camera, the other behind it. Owen learned to feel at ease before the lens early on because his mother, Laura Wilson, a celebrated still photographer who had worked with Richard Avedon (and is a regular contributor to Texas Monthly), would often take pictures of him and his two equally striking brothers during their early years in Dallas. Wes, by contrast, grew up in Houston scripting, directing, and shooting his own Super 8 films, building sets out of cardboard boxes and casting neighborhood kids in elaborate action sequences. "My wife and I would see snippets of his footage -- kids staggering across the sand dunes by our beach house with fake blood on them," remembers Wes' father, Mel Anderson. "We didn't know quite what to make of it."

Owen and Wes didn't meet until 1989, their sophomore year at the University of Texas at Austin, where they were both slogging through the same uninspired playwriting class, all the while daydreaming of making films. Wes was taken aback by Owen's habit of brazenly reading the newspaper during their intimate nine-student seminar, but after an initial conversation, he decided to cast him in his new play, A Night in Tunisia (his peculiar take on Sam Sheperd's True West). They soon became roommates, and their early work -- "I wrote a term paper for Owen," says Wes, "although that wasn't exactly a collaborative effort" -- stemmed from late-night conversations about their favorite directors: Cassavetes, Peckinpah, Scorsese, Altman, Malick, Huston. But it wasn't until they began cooking up schemes to end a lengthy dispute with their landlord over his refusal to fix several broken windows -- a feud that ultimately drove them to stage a mock break-in and later to move out in the middle of the night, only to be tracked down by a private investigator -- that their "grandiosely absurd" vision, in the words of Rushmore producer Barry Mendel, was born.

The result was the feature-length screenplay of Bottle Rocket: the story of two aimless misfits, played by Owen and his brother Luke, who halfheartedly attempt to turn to a life of crime. Wes and Owen adapted that script into an eight-minute show, and what followed was the sort of accidental collision of talent, blind luck, and timing that unestablished filmmakers only dream of. Kit Carson, a family friend of the Wilson who looked for interesting independent films to pull out of obscurity, watched the short Bottle Rocket and knew immediately what they had accomplished. He helped Owen and Wes tighten up their screenplay and lengthen their short, eventually sending it on to Hollywood, where it landed on the desk of producer James L. Brooks (Broadcast News, As Good as It Gets). Brooks, too, loved Bottle Rocket and, in a generous leap of faith, offered the roommates a deal: He would not only give them $5 million to turn it into a feature but also give them access to a cinematographer, editors, a crew -- all the tools they needed for bringing their ideas to the big screen.

Bottle Rocket generated a loyal following among critics and filmgoers, paving the way for Rushmore, which tells the story of a fifteen-year-old prep school oddball who enlists the help of a cynical tycoon (played by Bill Murray) in winning the affections of a teacher. Owen and Wes' clever script touched off a bidding war last year that ended in a deal with Disney's Touchstone Pictures. Meanwhile, the unfinished script for their next film, Black Irish, a tongue-in-cheek western, is already generating interest.

"Sometimes I stop and think how strange this all is," explains Owen, who can be seen in this summer's could-be blockbuster Armageddon. "Something that began as a little idea in Austin, that Wes and I just walked around talking about between ourselves, has turned into all this." He motions toward the sprawl of people outside Don's barbershop, and he shakes his head ever so slightly in amazement -- as if it was dawning on him for the first time that, unlike the short-lived sparkle of a bottle rocket, he and his friend are in no danger of fizzling out anytime soon.

#1998 #article

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erius-vidi · 1 year ago

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Hackney shooting: Boy, 16, charged over murder of ‘beautiful’ mum Lianne Gordon ‘gunned down in front of daughter’

Hackney shooting: Boy, 16, charged over murder of ‘beautiful’ mum Lianne Gordon ‘gunned down in front of daughter’ Read Full Text

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#Politics #UK #US #World

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orbemnews · 4 years ago

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There were at least 12 mass shootings across the US this weekend The shootings took place across eight states — Illinois, New Jersey, Ohio, Indiana, South Carolina, Virginia, Texas and Minnesota. CNN defines a mass shooting as an incident with four or more people killed or wounded by gunfire — excluding the shooter. Here’s a look at the shootings that took place over the weekend. 4 injured in Chicago Chicago Police are investigating a shooting that left four men injured Sunday afternoon in the city’s West Side. The men, ages 20 to 41, were “near the outside of a residence when they heard shots and felt pain,” an incident report from the police department’s website said. Three of the men are in good condition while the fourth, who is 41, was struck multiple times and is in critical condition, according to the report. Detectives are investigating the shooting and no suspects are in custody, the report said. 4 injured in Illinois shooting Just 35 miles south of Chicago, violence erupted at a private event in Park Forest, Illinois, early Sunday morning, according to police. Police responded to a celebration event at a theater shortly after 1 a.m. Sunday morning, according to a Park Forest Police Department news release. The initial investigation into the shooting indicates a physical altercation took place inside the business and the shooting took place shortly after. Officers responded to the scene and paramedics took three injured adults to a local hospital. A fourth injured adult took themselves to the hospital, the release said. Two of the four shot sustained serious injuries, according to the release, but none of the injuries are life threatening. Police believe there was more than one firearm involved in the shooting. The investigation is active and police do not have a suspect, the release said. 3 dead, 3 injured in Youngstown, Ohio, shooting Three people were killed and at least three others were injured in a shooting at an Ohio bar early Sunday morning, according to the Youngstown Police Department. Officers were called to the Torch Club Bar & Grille in Youngstown shortly after 2 a.m. after reports of a shooting, police said. Victims were taken to St. Elizabeth Youngstown Hospital. Police did not know the conditions of the victims. No details were released on any possible suspects, and the motive was not immediately clear. 1 dead, 3 injured in Indiana shooting One person is dead and three were injured in an early morning shooting at an apartment complex in Fort Wayne, Indiana, according to city police. Gunfire was still going off when officers arrived at the apartment complex around 12:45 a.m. Sunday, police said. After checking apartments that were hit by gunfire, police said they found three people with life-threatening injuries and one with non-life threatening injuries. There appears to have been some sort of disturbance between multiple shooters in the parking lot of the complex, police said. The shooting victims were hit by stray bullets from the activity in the parking lot. All victims were taken to nearby hospitals and one victim was later pronounced dead, police said. One person remains in life-threatening condition and the conditions of the two others are not life-threatening, according to police. Authorities did not release the identities of the victims. 4 injured in Norfolk, Virginia Police officers in Norfolk responded to a shooting early Sunday morning, according to a tweet from the agency. Four adults were taken to the hospital with gunshot wounds. The wounds were non-life threatening, Norfolk Police said. Investigators are asking anyone with information to submit a tip or call. 5 injured at gathering in Paterson, New Jersey Five people were injured in a shooting at a large gathering in Paterson, New Jersey, early Sunday morning, according to a statement from Passaic County Prosecutor Camelia M. Valdes and Paterson Police Chief Ibrahim Baycora. Police found three people injured after responding to a report of shots fired. Two other people who were involved in the same shooting also sought treatment at a local hospital, the statement said. A 26-year-old man is in critical condition and the other victims sustained non-fatal gunshot wounds, according to the statement. The Passaic County Prosecutor’s Office asks anyone with additional information about the shooting to reach out. 1 dead, 5 injured in Columbus, Ohio, shooting A 16-year-old girl was killed and five others were injured in a shooting late Saturday night at Bicentennial Park in Columbus, Ohio, police said. Officers responded to reports of a shooting shortly before midnight and found “numerous victims,” according to a police report shared on Twitter by Columbus Police. One victim, the 16-year-old girl, was taken to a local hospital where she died shortly after 1 a.m., police said. Five others were also taken to local hospitals, police said. They are all are expected to survive. Two victims — a 16-year-old boy and a 19-year-old woman — were treated at Ohio State University Hospital Wexner Medical Center. One victim, described only as a “juvenile,” was treated at Children’s Hospital for gunshot injuries. A 19-year-old woman and a 19-year-old man were also treated at nearby undisclosed hospitals. 2 dead, 12 injured in New Jersey shooting A house party in Cumberland County, New Jersey, packed with hundreds of guests devolved into chaos when gunfire erupted, killing at least two people and wounding a dozen more. A man and a woman were killed in the shooting, police said, and at least 12 more people were shot in the melee on East Commerce Street in Fairfield Township around 11:50 p.m. Saturday. Cooper University Hospital in Camden said it received six victims from a shooting at a home in Cumberland County. It’s not clear how many victims in total were taken from the scene to area hospitals. No arrests have been made as of Sunday, according to a New Jersey State Police Facebook post. 1 dead, 13 injured in South Carolina shooting A shooting at an unauthorized concert in North Charleston, South Carolina, late Saturday night left a 14-year-old dead and 13 others wounded, police said. Officers responded to the area of Piggly Wiggly Drive and West Jimtown Drive in reference to a shooting at about 10:30 p.m. Saturday and found numerous victims with gunshot wounds, North Charleston Police Deputy Chief Scott Deckard said. The victims were treated and taken to local hospitals. Several additional victims were located at area hospitals after being transported by others. Deckard said a fight broke out near the concert stage prior to the shooting. Police had no information about a possible suspect or suspects. Child among 4 injured at sports complex in Texas A 5-year-old boy was one of four people injured in a shooting at a Texas sports complex in San Angelo Saturday, San Angelo Police Department spokesperson Tracy Piatt-Fox told CNN. “Just before 9pm, San Angelo Public Safety Communications received multiple 9-1-1 calls concerning shots fired at the Texas Bank Sports Complex located at 1800 Rio Concho Drive,” Piatt-Fox said. The three adults and child were treated for minor injures, she said. A suspect was taken into custody and an investigation is ongoing. San Angelo is about 200 miles west of Waco. 1 killed, 8 wounded in Minneapolis There were at least nine gunshot victims, including one man who died, after a shooting in downtown Minneapolis early Saturday morning, police said. Two people were standing in a crowded area on North First Avenue when they argued, pulled out guns and began shooting at each other, according to police. Officers working “evening bar close” heard the gunshots and ran toward the gunfire, police said. They arrived at an “exceptionally chaotic scene” where two men had already died from their injuries. Jawan Contrail Carroll, 23, was arrested in Bloomington, Minnesota, on probable cause of murder and taken to the Hennepin County Jail, Minneapolis Police Department (MPD) spokesperson John Elder told CNN Saturday evening. Police believe the second shooter was among those killed. The names of the victims as well as the nature and cause of death will be released by the medical examiner in the coming days, police said in a statement. Friday night shooting leaves 2 dead, 4 injured in Jersey City Police found two people dead and four more injured after responding to multiple reports of gunshots just before 11 p.m. Friday night, according to a statement issued by Hudson County Prosecutor Esther Suarez. The deceased men were identified as Randolph Black Jr., 25, and Jason Crutcher, 26, the statement said. Suarez’s statement said three other men, aged 25 to 35, and a 20-year-old woman were also injured in the shooting. They are all in stable condition. The prosecutor’s homicide unit and the Jersey City Police Department are investigating the shooting and ask anyone with information to contact them. CNN’s Eric Levenson, Holly Yan, Alta Spells, Deanna Hackney, Jamiel Lynch, Natasha Chen, Kevin Conlon and Chuck Johnston contributed to this report. 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