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#Star Trek the predicament about demons
brookrose-xx · 1 year
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Star Trek: The Predicament About Demons
by Vulcan_Avenger_27
CHAPTERS: 23 / 23
Fandom(s): Star Trek: Alternate Original Series, The Irrefutable Truth About Demons (2000)
Warnings: Major Character Death; Graphic Depictions of Violence and Gore; references to suicide attempt
Main Pairing: Leonard “Bones” McCoy/James T. Kirk
References: Supernatural (TV series), Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag
After having left his old life behind, immortal Leonard McCoy is now the Chief Medical Officer aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise. He has come to like this new life of his when he is confronted with an old friend of his; a close friend whom he thought died many years ago. With her return into Leonard’s life, she warns him of the return of a former devilish leader by the name of Le Valliant.
With this knowledge, they come to the realization that Valliant will be after his daughter Joanna, as she has inherited unspeakable power from her father. Now racing against the clock to get from Starbase Yorktown to Earth, Leonard must save his daughter from a danger not known to anyone but he and his friends alone. Will they make it in time to stop Le Valliant from getting to Joanna? From gaining unlimited power?
Available on Ao3, Wattpad, & Quotev
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I updated and completed my fic!! 🥳
It took me a long time, I know, but I finally did it! I updated and edited all chapters, even adding new ones throughout, so I suggest to start from the beginning. Here's the link:
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blue-mint-winter · 4 years
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ST Voy s4e20 Vis a Vis - Paris-centered ep about him going through some sort of a crisis, he’s clearly unhappy with his life and has a lot on his plate, so he escapes into his hobby of tinkering with 20th century cars to cope. An alien with a new engine needs some help from him, but it turns out that the alien is a shapeshifter that steals people’s identities and DNA. It was both amusing and slightly horrifying to see what the imposter does with Tom’s life, because on one hand he was abusing everyone’s trust, on the other hand he counted it would be easy and it wasn’t because of Tom’s numerous duties that he couldn’t perform well. Everything ended well, but I think B’Elanna should be more horrified that she allowed some fake creeper to kiss her and do who knows what else.
s4e21 The Omega Directive - Very interesting episode in which a secret Starfleet protocole is activated that’s more important than the Prime Directive! Janeway has to destroy a molecule before it makes warp travel impossible. What makes this work is just how serious this ep is, the stakes are very high. I liked how Chakotay convinced Janeway to work with everyone instead of going off alone with just Seven on this mission. The complete secrecy was less important than dealing with the threat together. Also, the conflict between Seven who wanted to stabilize and preserve the molecule and Janeway was sharply portrayed. Things were tense between them, but they reached balance and understanding. Also, the beliefs of Seven and the Borg were explored, with their search for the molecule which means perfection to them. All in all, excellent ep.
s4e22 Unforgettable - Bland love story between Chakotay and a woman from a species that others forget after several hours after contact. I didn’t like the guest star, she seemed too perfect and calculated, after all suspicious aliens trying to take advantage of Voyager’s good will I was expecting she was lying about the whole love affair and just wanted to use them to get away from her pursuers. But the writing in this ep just wasn’t that deep. Amnesia can be a fun trope in romance stories, but here and with these characters it couldn’t work well. It’s just not good for a oneshot. If an established character had an amnesia and it was a whole character arc across several eps or even a whole season, that could be interesting and well explored. One ep about another species just can’t do that. What I mean is that this trope needs emotional investment in characters from viewers. The best thing about the ep was Neelix giving some good love advice to the local love guru Chakotay. Lol.
s4e23 Living Witness - I thought this was a Mirror verse episode, because everyone was out of character, but instead it was a different twist. Thankfully. 700 years in the future a historian of a race called Kyrians finds a backup module of the Doctor and finds out that the history of Voyager he knew is a lie. The ep tackles the interesting issue of revisionist history, how much of it is interpretation to suit current needs. The two conflicted but coexisting races blamed Voyager for genocide in their history to keep peace between themselves. At first, the Doctor just wanted to clear Voyager’s name, but things spiralled out of control when the riots started. In the end, the historian convinced Doctor to go through with exposing historical facts so that the conflict can be resolved at last. I think this ending to the episode is very optimistic as Kyrians seemed very stubborn about the version in which they were victims and martyrs. However, it’s quite a clever story.
s4e24 Demon - Voyager is low on deuterium and they stop at a Y-class or Demon-class planet to mine some or they’re going to shut down. Kim finally grew a spine and starts speaking up and taking initiative, even getting back at Paris. Personally, I think it’s the result of his continued exposure to Seven, not some kind of epiphany. I enjoyed the predicament and the twist in this ep, it was a little predictable if you know Star Trek, but it was still pulled off very well. Also, Neelix and Doctor having that argument about Neelix and 3 others sleeping in sickbay was pretty amusing.
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LOST TRANSMISSIONS (2019)
Starring Simon Pegg, Juno Temple, Jamie Harris, Alexandra Daddario, Rebecca Hazlewood, Tao Okamoto, Bria Vinaite, Robert Schwartzman, Daisy Bishop, Danny Ramirez, Grant Harvey, Jacob Loeb, Nana Ghana, Mickey Schiff, Andres Faucher, Cherise Boothe, Reef Karim, Anthony Rossomando, Corey Mendell Parker, Jonathan Oyhe, Nic D’Avirro and Marius De Vries.
Screenplay by Katharine O’Brien.
Directed by Katharine O’Brien.
Distributed by Gravitas Ventures. 105 minutes. Not Rated.
So, what do you say when you find a terrific, totally unexpected performance in a movie that is just okay? Do you suggest people check it out simply on the strength of the terrific acting job? Or do you soft pedal it because the film itself doesn’t quite live up to the performance?
I’m not sure, but that is the predicament with Lost Transmissions.
British comic actor Simon Pegg (Shaun of the Dead, Paul, the Star Trek and Mission: Impossible movies) tends to perform as comic release in movies. However, there is very little funny about his role here as Theo, an aging music producer who is schizophrenic and off his meds. It’s a terrific dramatic reading of a very messed up man, and Pegg surprises in the layers he finds in the tragic man.
The problem is Theo is spinning out. He’s unpredictable, often lashing out, acting out and running off. He is destroying what little he has left of his career, alienating his few close friends, getting into trouble with the law, losing his home.
Schizophrenics are difficult to deal with, and when people do it is generally because they feel a strong connection to the person they knew before the condition took over.
And this, sadly, is where Lost Transmissions sputters. The audience never feels that connection with Theo. Despite the fine performance, his acting out is hard to watch, and people who are not invested in him already may prefer to just tune him out or turn away.
Also, Theo is not the main character here. That is Hannah (Juno Temple), an aspiring singer/songwriter who had pretty much given up her dreams of making it before Theo championed her and made a demo of some of her old songs.
Hannah is also mentally disturbed, a severe depressive who is also on meds for her condition. She has a constant numbed look of dismay as she negotiates through life’s hardships. She somehow becomes Theo’s protector even though it did not appear that they were that friendly before all this happened.
She even potentially blows the opportunity of a lifetime which came from Theo’s demos, the opportunity to write for an alt-pop star (Alexandra Daddario, trying gamely to give the one-dimensional character some life), simply to save Theo from one of his many demons.
However, as the audience watches Theo self-destruct, they can’t help but think that the guy needs some serious medical care. This young woman, who is having a hard-enough time simply caring for herself, is just not going to be able to save him.
Hannah and Theo’s story is a tragic one, a somewhat illuminating one and certainly a realistic one. However, it is not the kind of thing most people will want to experience unless they absolutely have to.
As an audience, not everyone is going to want to sign up for that ride.
Jay S. Jacobs
Copyright ©2020 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: March 13, 2020.
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raybyanothername · 4 years
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stargate Atlantis Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Radek Zelenka Additional Tags: Kid Fic, Young John Sheppard Summary:
Some sort of ancient device has shrunken Lt. Col. John Sheppard into a child. Property damage and psychological trauma ensue. Zelenka will never be the same again.
-.-.-
"I didn't even know worse was an option!" Zelenka immediately started cursing in Czech while a tiny John Sheppard pouted in the seat beside him.
Small John was much the same as larger John, with arms folded and legs spread wide as he leaned back in his chair. His bottom lip was stuck out though, and his floppy hair fell in his eyes, "McKay let's me play!"
That phrase did not calm Zelenka in the slightest.
"John," Lorne pointed his hand at the boy, who met his gaze with a defiant eyebrow quirk. "We've talked about not touching other people's toys right? You have to ask first?"
John nodded. His head lulled to the side, "I didn't MEAN to make it go boom though. It said it would make a pretty light."
"Did you ask Zelenka before you touched it?" Lorne raised his eyebrows and lowered his chin as he pinned John with a look.  The resulting squirming answered his question, "And that's why you're in trouble. Dr. Weir will be here shortly."
He dismissed Zelenka with a quick nod as the boy shuffled down his chair to sulk properly.
-.-.-
AR-1 returned from their second reconnaissance mission of the Ancient lab to a jumping Lieutenant Colonel. He was grinning wide and hopping from foot to foot until the wormhole disengaged, then he launched himself at Rodney.
"McKay! McKay! Did you bring me any new toys?!" His fingers gripped Rodney's flak vest as he forced wide, pleading eyes on the stuttering McKay. "Zelenka won't let me have any of his."
Rodney's face pinched, "Why the hell not?" John grinned wide. "But no, no new toys, just information that will help me fix you."
"M-ckay!" John pulled on the vest as he slunk down, "I'm so bored! Fun first, fix later!"
McKay managed three steps with the dead weight attached to his front before pulling John up by his arm pits to carry in his arms. "We can do both," McKay continued walking and began to ramble on about the solution to John's current predicament.
"Lasers are awesome!" John contributed with excessive head nodding and squealing. Teyla and Ronan exchanged a look before Ronon grumbled and followed the chaotic duo.
"I take it he has been a…a handful?" Teyla turned to Weir with a sympathetic smile. "He seems quite energetic."
Weir chuckled, and nodded her head towards the stairs, "That's an understatement unfortunately." The two women sat in Weir's office. "I am beginning to understand why people thought he wouldn't get past captain though…"
"Oh?" Teyla arched an eyebrow as Weir poured them each a glass of tea.
"Let's just say there's been some property damage and some psychological trauma."
-.-.-
"No!" Zelenka stood firmly in the doorway of his lab, with eyes narrowed on Rodney and his small charge. "You bring him. You stay in your own lab!"
Rodney rolled his eyes and looked back at Ronon with a scoff, "Can you believe this?"
"He corrected Zimmerman's math!" Zelenka exclaimed, pushing his glasses up his nose. "He made an ancient grenade explode. And! He got finger prints all over my laptop!"
Rodney's eyes glazed over as the Czech began to swear in his mother tongue. John tugged on Rodney's sleeve before whispering (not very quietly), "Zimmerman's an idiot. He wasn't even using the right equation for linear progression."
-.-.-
"So he has his adult memories and knowledge then?" Weir arched an eyebrow as Teyla explained their discoveries at the Ancient lab.
Teyla nodded, "Yes. The device's purpose was apparently to extend one's life time. The issue is that it reverts your body back to a child-like state."
"Including brain development…" Weir sighed, lips pursing, "Has Rodney got a theory on how to fix it?"
Teyla pursed her lips as well, "Of a sort."
Weir sat up straighter, "I don't like the sound of that."
-.-.-
"So we place you in this chamber and hit you with the exact same laser bursts as the one from the lab, but with their polarities reversed!" McKay clapped his hands together, eyes wide as he looked down at his small companion.
John crossed his arms, bottom lip stuck out, "Reverse the polarities?" He tilted his head to the side, "That sounds more like Star Trek than science, McKay…"
"Star Trek?" Ronon furrowed his brows as McKay scoffed and started to pace.
"I'll have you know that Star Trek has inspired many a technological advances! And some of the episodes even touch on real theories from, well, theoritical physics."
John giggled as Rodney continued to rant, arms gesticulating widely as he paced up and down his lab. Across the hallway, Zelenka could be heard doing the same, in Czech, with significantly more crashes and bangs involved.
"Do I have to be big again?!" John whined to Ronon, head tilted all the way back to look at the Satedan. Ronon blinked.
"No." Ronon shrugged. "You can be small and vulnerable instead. I'm sure Weir would let you off planet again in...oh…ten, fifteen years?"
McKay yelped as John barrelled into his legs, "Reverse the polarities! Reverse the polarities!" John attempted to shake Rodney's shoulders, but only managed to twist himself into a heap in the other man's lap. "I can't be stuck here forever!"
Ronon smirked, "You heard the man, McKay. Get to work."
-.-.-
"I was a perfect angel!" Colonel Sheppard crossed his arms with a huff. The entire mess hall froze, eyes shifting towards Zelenka who sat a table away, muttering under his breath and glaring at Sheppard.
Rodney rolled his eyes and jabbed his thumb in Zelenka's direction, "You've officially broken Zelenka. Even I couldn't do that."
"What was it Zimmerman called you?" Ronon's lips twitched into a smirk. "Fluffy-haired demon?"
"Fluffy-haired hellhound actually," John said with a grunt as he  grabbed his fork to start eating.
"Yeah, and then you bit him." Rodney snickered. John stabbed at Rodney's plate, stealing a potatoe. "Hey!"
John hummed, chewing slowly, "Hellhounds get hungry."
-.-.-
If you liked this fic and you’re feeling generous, you can buy me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/raybyanothername
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Chapters: 17/?
Fandoms: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek, Irrefutable Truth About Demons (2000)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard “Bones” McCoy, Pavel Chekov/Hikaru Sulu, Ben Sulu/Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov/Ben Sulu/Hikaru Sulu, Harry Ballard/Bennie, Spock/Nyota Uhura, Leonard “Bones” McCoy & Nyota Uhura, Leonard “Bones” McCoy & Spock, Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Original Female Character(s), James T. Kirk & Joanna McCoy, Pavel Chekov & James T. Kirk & Hikaru Sulu, James T. Kirk & Winona Kirk, Jocelyn McCoy & Joanna McCoy, Leonard “Bones” McCoy & Original Character(s)
Characters: Leonard “Bones” McCoy, Jocelyn McCoy, James T. Kirk, Harry Ballard, Bennie (Irrefutable Truth About Demons), Spock (Star Trek), Joanna McCoy, Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov, Nyota Uhura, Le Valliant (Irrefutable Truth About Demons), Montgomery “Scotty” Scott, Ben Sulu, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Geoffrey M’Benga, Christine Chapel
Additional Tags: trigger warning, Fluff and Angst, Emotionally Hurt Leonard “Bones” McCoy, Leonard “Bones” McCoy Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Protective James T. Kirk, Protective Leonard “Bones” McCoy, References to Supernatural (TV), References to Heroes (2006)
Summary: After having left his old life behind, immortal Leonard McCoy is now the Chief Medical Officer aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise. He has come to like this new life of his when he is confronted with an old friend of his; a close friend whom he thought died many years ago. With her return into Leonard’s life, she warns him of the return of a former devilish leader by the name of Le Valliant.
With this knowledge, they come to the realization that Valliant will be after his daughter Joanna, as she has inherited unspeakable power from her father. Now racing against the clock to get from Starbase Yorktown to Earth, Leonard must save his daughter from a danger not known to anyone but he and his friends alone. Will they make it in time to stop Le Valliant from getting to Joanna? From gaining unlimited power?
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eurusholmmes · 6 years
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caress (i’m yearning for you) | tony stark
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@tone-stark has been waiting patiently for this, and now I finally have the time to sit down and write - so here it is! If you’ve been keeping up with my posts, requests are now closed until further notice. Thank you for all the love - It really means alot. 
enjoy some top content of my precious bby
Prompt: I see him in a softer way, hes a soft boy, a little spoon. Based on the song We Can Make Love by Somo.
i’m gonna say this takes place after im3
Tag: @weasleytheking - forgive me but I can’t recall if you asked to be tagged in tony stories 
Tony Stark was a man of many trades. A producer of top notch weapons of destruction, the heir to the biggest fortune this country has ever seen, the technical genius of the Earths Mightiest Heroes. But the one thing he could never seem to keep in check? 
His heart.
He doesn’t remember where he heard the saying, but it has stuck with him since he was a teenager. Each human being has a heart that is made up of pieces. When you experience heartbreak, it is up to either yourself or the person you cherish most to help reassemble the pieces. 
The first piece of his heart had been torn from him when he’d lost his parents to the fatal car crash that had killed them in December of ‘91. The rest gradually followed with his kidnapping, his torture in Afghanistan, New York.. You know the rest. By the time he came across your path the first time in a flower shop not too far down the street from the Avengers Tower, Tony Stark was the shell of a man he was desperate to be - cradling his bleeding heart in his hands everywhere he went. 
  “Can I help you, Mr.-” Your eyes widened as Tony turned away from the shelf he’d been admiring, pressing a finger to his lips as you pressed your hands against your mouth to suppress your squeal of surprise. “Stark? Tony Stark is in my flower shop?” 
  “Hi-” He bent down to peer at your nametag. Y/N. The perfect name of a beautiful woman who radiated happiness just from the gentle curve of your smile. “Y/N. Gorgeous name for a pretty woman like yourself.” 
It was hard to hide the blush spreading over your cheeks. “When I read the tabloids, they never tell me that Tony Stark is a suck up.” You mused cheekily, completely oblivious to the bouquet of sunflowers he scooped up as you moved to the cash register. 
  “Let me tell you a secret, sweetheart.” He replied, lowering his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose which gave you a clear view of his dark onyx eyes. You’d spent the years following New York immersed in the tabloids, constantly reading the interviews and articles about the daily life of the Avengers. While Steve Rogers was a man of loyalty and Natasha Romanoff was the strongest woman you’d ever heard of, Tony Stark was an enigma of unanswered questions that nobody seemed to know the answer to. “The tabloids aren’t always right.” 
It was the same question you were far too afraid to ask. Why was there so much tragedy lurking in the depths of those beautiful eyes that had seen so much? 
Tony comes back to your flower shop the next day, and then the following week, and before you know it, he is a regular customer of yours and is constantly buying the same flower. Sunflowers. 
  “Do you know what sunflowers signify, Tony?” 
Tony leaned against the counter with his chin propped in his hand, eyes locked on you as he caressed the delicate petals of his newest bouquet. “Not a clue, Princess.” He murmured. “Amuse me.”
  “Sunflowers are one of Gods most beautiful creations in the realm of flora. They are meant to symbolize adoration, loyalty and longevity.’
There is only one word in that entire conversation that sticks with him. Adoration. And after careful consideration (and some input from Rhodey, who was baffled at the amount of flowers inside the penthouse) He realizes  why he had bought those flowers specifically from you. 
 “You’re screwed.” Rhodes muses, laughing hysterically as he playfully punched his best friends arm. Tony pressed his lips into a thin line as he leaned against the glass window, eyes peeled for your form on the busy streets of NYC. It was that time of day where you’d be closing up the shop and headed back to your apartment. 
  “Yep. Totally screwed.” 
It take him a week and alot of tequila to muster up the courage to ask you to come to dinner with him at the Tower, which would give you the opportunity to meet the other Avengers. A friendly dinner, he had called it. You had spent over an hour rifling through the back of your closet for the perfect outfit, trying not to focus on the thought of how much Tony would be staring at you throughout this entire dinner. 
After one dinner became multiple, and the Avengers all told Tony how much they loved your simplicity and how kindhearted you were, he asked you to move into Avengers Tower. You were completely caught off guard by the question but absolutely elated that they had loved you enough to bear living with you. 
And that was how you found yourself in your current predicament - Being absolutely head over heels with Anthony Stark, and helpless to tell him about it. As far as you knew, you were the antidote to the poisons of his mind, the nightmares that plagued his sleep. It got progressively worse after Malibu and the Mandarin.
Your eyes were bleary from the lack of sleep, squinting through the darkness to read the soft glow of the clock at Tony’s bedside (you call it the star trek clock - there’s no actual ‘’clock’’ there) It reads 2:45 AM, and you curse underneath your breath. He hasn’t even been asleep three hours yet. 
  “Tony-” You breath, shifting your weight so you are facing him, gentle fingers tracing the shape of his torso as he fights against the demons of his nightmare. The whimper that breaks past his lips shatters your heart as his eyes shoot open, hands wrapping around your arms in a vice like grip as you suddenly find yourself pinned beneath his legs. “Hey, Stark. It’s just me.” 
The air in the room is electric as Tony’s pupils finally contract and refocus on you. You’re wearing one of his old Nirvana shirts and a pair of sweats, hair haphazardly pulled into a ponytail that has nearly fallen out in your sleep. “Y/N.” He whispers. A gentle smile quirks your lips upward as you shakily raise your hands to his face and cup his cheek, reveling in the warmth that radiates from him as Tony leans into your touch. “You’re here.” 
  “Course I am, sunshine.” You replied. “C’mon. Let’s get back to sleep.” 
We can make love
We can, we can just touch 
You swallow the fear rising in your throat as Tony scoots higher, face falling in the crook of your neck as you slowly begin to trace patterns on his back. The only sound in the darkness of the bedroom is his uneven breath, warm as it ghosts over the chill of your skin. 
We can make love, 
We can, we can just touch.
It’s easy to hear your thoughts about the man in your arms ringing in your head. I love you. I love you. I love you. But it never seemed to be the appropriate time to tell him. 
  “You’re touching a scar.’ He says it so quietly that you almost don’t hear him. Tony guided your hand back over the incision where they removed the shrapnel in his chest only weeks before. “The reactor was a part of the Iron Man for years before we met. A part of me.. and now it’s gone.” 
  “Yeah, but you know what’s still there?” You swung your arm over his shoulder and slid your hand down his chest until you felt the gentle thrum of his heart beneath your fingers. “Your heart. Your pulse. Do you know what that means?” 
  “I’m alive.’ 
You grinned widely at his answer. “That pulse means you are alive.” 
We can make love,
We can, we can just touch 
Tony’s fingers slid underneath your teehshirt and danced along your sides, eyes fixated on the door to his bedroom. You gently hummed a lullaby under your breath as the hour wore on, and you found yourself on the brink of slumber. 
Until Tony slid out of your embrace and back onto his side of the bed. You held your breath, afraid that he didn’t welcome your comfort, until you heard his gentle whimper of your name and saw his hand reach for you in the dark. 
  “Y/N?” Tony asked softly. “Hold me.” 
Without hesitation, you pulled Tony back against your chest and loosely wrapped your arm around his waist, face nuzzling his shoulder until it fell in the crook of his neck. Gentle hands gripped your own as Tony brought them to his lips, brushing kisses along the back of your hand as you sank into his body. 
He smelled like sweat and the faintest hint of some expensive cologne that you couldn’t put your name on. But the longer you held him there in your arms, the more you felt right at home. 
Tony Stark was your home. And you loved it. You loved him. 
  “Sleep well, sweetheart.” You whispered in his ear, brushing your lips against his neck as you sunk into the depths of slumber. 
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esonetwork · 3 years
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Timestamp #TW38: Immortal Sins
New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/timestamp-tw38-immortal-sins/
Timestamp #TW38: Immortal Sins
Torchwood: Immortal Sins (1 episode, s04e07, 2011)
It’s time for a history lesson.
Ellis Island, New York, in the 1920s: A man posing as Jack Harkness attempts to scam his way through immigration. He’s stopped by the real deal, but Jack visits him in jail anyways. The thief’s name is Angelo Colasanto and he knows that Jack’s visa was forged. Jack tells Angelo that he is a government agent of sorts. After a chat, Jack forges a visa for Angelo and secures the man’s freedom.
In the modern day, Gwen receives her orders to bring Jack to the antagonists. She is told to keep the lenses in because they are watching. At the makeshift Hub, Esther and Rex talk about Vera’s life. Gwen comes in, calls for Jack, and tasers him at the car before hitting the road.
In 1927, Jack and Angelo find a room for rent. Since it’s just the two of them, Angelo tells the landlord that he’ll sleep on the floor. Once alone, Jack mentions the coming troubles – the Great Depression and World War I – in passing before starting into a relationship. They seem happy together even if Angelo doesn’t understand Jack’s futuristic references.
Modern day: Jack wakes up in the back seat of Gwen’s car. She tells him about her situation but refuses to set him free. Jack asks Gwen to look in the mirror so he can address the antagonists. When he’s finished, Gwen demands to know who Jack has angered this time. She also refuses to yield to his negotiations. The figure behind the contacts agrees: “He always lies.”
In 1927, Jack and Angelo sit in a church and watch a wedding. When a pastor walks by, Jack joins him in the confessional. The pastor is their contact and the men are running liquor during the American Prohibition. They are taken before a crime boss and agree to help him in exchange for their lives. Jack and Angelo are to deliver a box from one warehouse to another, but they are not to look at the contents. Jack tries to drive Angelo away in order to save him, but Angelo wants none of it. Jack is inspired by Angelo’s bravery, comparing it to the relationship between the Doctor and his companions.
During the mission, Jack discovers that the cargo is a parasitic alien. The plan is an attempt by the Trickster’s Brigade to destroy the future. Jack destroys the creature, but is shot dead as they attempt to escape. Angelo is arrested and taken away before Jack resurrects in the alley.
In the present, Gwen muses about her life with Torchwood and how much she loved it. She blames it for landing her in this predicament and warns Jack that she will follow through with the plan if it means getting her daughter back. Jack replies that he will fight until his last breath to keep his newfound mortality. Right at the end, Gwen understands Jack more than she ever has before.
In 1928, Angelo is released from Sing Sing Prison and is startled to find Jack waiting for him. Angelo is terrified at Jack’s immortality, killing Jack and taking him before a butcher. Time and time again, Jack is killed and resurrected by a vicious and fearful mob. At one point, Jack awakens before three men who enter a partnership over this novelty.
Gwen and Jack watch as a car approaches near Mesa, California in the hours before sunrise. They share a few words about the fear of death.
In 1928, Angelo apologizes to Jack as he frees the immortal man. Angelo has no idea who the three men were. He and Jack run from the butcher, climbing to the top of a building so Jack can retrieve his trademark gear. Jack explains his immortality to Angelo, revealing that they cannot be together anymore. Angelo protests so Jack jumps off the roof to his apparent death. When Angelo reaches street level, Jack has vanished.
The sun rises over Mesa and the car arrives. A woman emerges with an armed entourage, but they are interrupted by sniper fire. Rex and Esther found out about the Eye-5 hack and came to the rescue, allowing Jack and Gwen to take up arms and turn the tables. Rex and Esther send a signal to Andy Davidson in Wales, prompting a strike team to free Gwen’s family.
Regardless, Jack is convinced to join the mysterious woman. She can take Jack to the one man with the answers.
Angelo is still alive.
First and foremost, this episode was an infodump. The vast majority of the story was a flashback to introduce a previously unknown character. Unfortunately, the present-day narrative suffered and was only advanced by small steps. The story presented here could have been spread across the previous six episodes, relieving some of the slow and meandering spots and streamlining the overall plot.
That’s the inherent downside to the Timestamps Project approach. The story was touching and the interpersonal relationships were warm, which is exactly what I would expect from a talent like Jane Espenson. It was beautiful to see and would be fantastic as a standalone. But it is presented here as part of the overall Miracle Day narrative and takes its place among other expository episodes.
Aside from the Jack-Angelo relationship, there were some really great elements to keep this episode buoyed up. I loved the brutality of a frightened mob trying to excise the demons in Jack by killing him over and over again. The sniper scene was a great way to include Rex and Esther in a story where they did not prominently feature, and it helped to reinforce their working relationship and skills. I also loved the inclusion of an alien and the broader Doctor Who mythos, which (sadly) were firsts for this block of episodes.
The appearance of Nana Visitor, whom I loved in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, was a pleasant surprise. I look forward to seeing more of her in the remaining episodes.
All things considered, a beautiful story balances the unfortunate placement in the overall narrative, bringing this to an average episode overall.
Rating: 3/5 – “Reverse the polarity of the neutron flow.”
UP NEXT – Torchwood: End of the Road
The Timestamps Project is an adventure through the televised universe of Doctor Who, story by story, from the beginning of the franchise. For more reviews like this one, please visit the project’s page at Creative Criticality.
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ao3feed-kirkmccoy · 3 years
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Star Trek: The Predicament About Demons
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Us9uGT
by Fandom_Fangirl_27
After having left his old life behind, immortal Leonard McCoy is now the Chief Medical Officer aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise. He has come to like this new life of his when he is confronted with an old friend of his; a close friend whom he thought died many years ago. With her return into Leonard’s life, she warns him of the return of a former devilish leader by the name of Le Valliant. With this knowledge, they come to the realization that Valliant will be after his daughter Joanna, as she has inherited unspeakable power from her father. Now racing against the clock to get from Starbase Yorktown to Earth, Leonard must save his daughter from a danger not known to anyone but he and his friends alone. Will they make it in time to stop Le Valliant from getting to Joanna? From gaining unlimited power?
Words: 3801, Chapters: 4/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek, Irrefutable Truth About Demons (2000)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi
Characters: Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Jocelyn McCoy, James T. Kirk, Harry Ballard, Bennie (Irrefutable Truth About Demons), Spock (Star Trek), Joanna McCoy, Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov, Nyota Uhura, Le Valliant (Irrefutable Truth about Demons), Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, Keenser (Star Trek), Ben Sulu
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Pavel Chekov/Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov & Hikaru Sulu, Ben Sulu/Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov/Ben Sulu/Hikaru Sulu, Harry Ballard/Bennie, Spock/Nyota Uhura
Additional Tags: trigger warning, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Depression, Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock Friendship, Emotionally Hurt Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Hurt Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Bisexual Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Leonard "Bones" McCoy Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, James T. Kirk Has Issues, Protective James T. Kirk, Dammit Jim, James T. Kirk Needs a Hug
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Us9uGT
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Okay, so, I’m already writing a fic where Bones is immortal and has had many past lives, but this suddenly popped into my mind:
Imagine if Spock was immortal and had a few past lives too.
Jim: Anyone else have any secrets they’d like to tell?
Spock: I used to be a serial killer.
Jim:...
Bones:...
Everyone else:....
Chekov, out of the blue: How many did you kill?
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Multi Fandom Extravaganza Ch. 1
This multi fandom fic is going to be a little different than my other fics in the past in that it’s not really a plot. It’s more of a collection of one shots. Each chapter will contain a collection of small drabbles which with move the story along. These are all of my favorite characters in all of my favorite fandoms. Here are the timelines from each series.
Supernatural: Season 15, they are battling Chuck. Pairing is Castiel/Hannah/Meg.
The Legends of Drizzt: takes place after the events of the novel Exile by R. A Salvatore. Pairing is going to be Drizzt Do’Urdon/Ellifain Tuuserail
Rurounni Kenshin: Takes place sometime in season one of the anime. No romantic pairings, just a platonic bromance between Kenshin and Sanosuke.
Star Trek: The Next Generation: Takes place in season seven. Pairing is Picard/Crusher
Star Trek Deep Space Nine: Takes place in season six. Pairing is Kira/Odo
Star Trek Voyager: Takes place in season seven. Pairing is Janeway/Chakotay
X-files: takes place some time in season seven. Pairing is Mulder/Scully
Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Takes place sometime in season four. Pairing will be Willow Rosenburg/Charlie Bradbury from Supernatural
Hobbit: Takes place during the battle of the five armies pairings will be Fili/Original Gnome character from the Forgotten Realms series, and Kili/Original Hobbit character
Lord of the Rings: Takes place during the battle of Helm’s Deep. No pairings, just Faramir, Legolas, and Aragorn bromancing together. There may be a Faramir/Aragorn thing but we’ll see.
Note: This story is not canon in anyway. It falls somewhere between canon divergence and AU. 
Note Two: I don’t own any of these characters (except Asphodel and Brenna, they come from my novel so they are mine, but I adapted them to fit into the Tolkien and Forgotten Realms verse and changed their backgrounds to fit. Everyone else belongs to their associated creators.
Note 3: No haters. This is a collection of rare-pairs for the most part. If you don’t like them, or their fandoms, then don’t read it.
Note 4: there is no real plot, I’m kinda writing as I go, letting my muse do the writing. I would love to have an idea beta, or two, or three for this so let me know if you are interested.
Warnings: There will be plenty of violence, survival themes, struggles, etc. Some of the characters have trauma, some of them start out as enemies. Some of them have violent backgrounds. 
The first chapter is kinda boring, there are a lot of characters and I wanted to quickly introduce them all.
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217501/chapters/66485341
FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13729681/1/Around-the-World
Chapter One: Introductions
Part One: On the shores of unknown
When Castiel woke up, his head throbbed with pain. But the sun beat down on him. As he opened his eyes, he found himself on the shores of a strange ocean; its sea-green waves crashed onto the sand as two suns hung in the air. 
“When did Earth get a second sun?” the angel wondered as he got slowly to his feet, glancing around him. As he did, he noticed three other figures lying prone on the beach. Quickly, he hurried to the first one. An agile looking creature with the darkest skin Castiel had ever seen, and his long hair was a stark white color as it spread out on the sand around him. 
Castiel knelt, touching the man, trying to see if he was alive. His touch provoked an immediate response, and the man, or creature, whatever he might be, was suddenly sitting up, brandishing a curved scimitar sword so quickly that Castiel nearly stumbled backward in an attempt to back away and avoid having his arm chopped off.
“Who are you!” the man demanded as he got to his feet. “Where am I?” He blinked as he gazed around at his surroundings, and Castiel was perplexed by his strange purple eyes and his pointed ears. 
“I could ask those same questions,” Castiel told him as he stood in front of the man. “My name is Castiel, but I just woke up here, like you.”
“I’m Drizzt Do’Urdon,” the man stammered, as he put a hand to his head and looked around, trying to get his bearings. 
“I believe we are all in the same predicament,” came another voice. Castiel glanced at the other two men. One appeared to be an Asian man with slightly feminine features. He was short and slim. He wore a burgundy men’s kimono with white hakama pants. His red hair was pulled into a ponytail. 
The other man almost looked artificial. He looked as though his face had been sculpted out of clay. He wore a strange tan and yellow uniform jumpsuit. 
“I gather that we aren’t on Earth,” Castiel surmised as he glanced around at the strange faces. Of course, he was wearing his usual beige trench coat and blue tie, but he doubted any of them suspected he wasn’t human. 
The clueless looks on all of their faces most likely mirrored his own. Castiel wondered if maybe this might be one of Chuck’s other worlds. It concerned him, considering that Chuck was busy destroying all of his worlds one by one. This one didn’t seem to be in any danger at the moment. 
“I believe we should introduce ourselves,” Castiel told his companions. “And then we can try to find out where we came from and how to get back.”
“Where I am makes no difference, I suppose,” The samurai responded. “I’m only a wanderer, after all. I do have friends I would like to get back to, however. You can call me Kenshin.”
“I’m Constable Odo,” said their last companion. Castiel turned his attention to Odo. He glanced at him curiously, and he explained. “I am a shapeshifter. I’m afraid I don’t do faces very well.”
“Shapeshifter,” Castiel pondered that. He had no reason to doubt that these people were who they said they were even if he had no idea what sort of beings they were. They all seemed to be from different worlds, perhaps even other realms altogether. “Well, you should all be aware that I am an angel, although I’m afraid I don’t have my wings.”
“I’m only a samurai,” Kenshin replied. “Just a wandering swordsman.”
“I am a drow,” Drizzt explained as he put his blade away. Castiel noted that Drizzt and Kenshin were both armed with swords. Kenshin wore a long katana on his waist while Drizzt wore two scimitars, one on each side of his belt. 
Drizzt wore his thick white hair long and flowing. As the wind picked up, his hair danced around him. He wore a thick green cloak, high boots, and a unicorn bone carving around his neck.
With the introductions concluded, Castiel looked towards the treeline of what looked like a forest. A small stream appeared to be flowing across the sand towards the waves.
“I think if we follow this stream, we may find some clues,” he suggested.
“I could just fly out and see if I can see anything,” Odo suggested. Castiel nodded, feeling envious. He missed his wings. 
Odo quickly morphed into a bird and took off soaring high above the trees. Castiel glanced at the others as they all waited for Odo to return. He could tell that these two both had stories to tell, and he thought maybe their being here was no coincidence. Perhaps he was connected to them somehow. He hoped he would find out soon.
Part Two: A desolate town
Hannah found herself lying in the middle of what appeared to be some sort of convenience store. It seemed to be abandoned, the rows of paper products and candy had been scattered about the floor, and the glass refrigerating walls containing various beverages were all smashed in. Hannah thought maybe there had been a struggle here, and the eerie quiet kept her on her guard.
She’d spend so long in the endless darkness that was the empty. She had endured the moans and cries of dead angels and demons as they called out into the darkness. Their sorrows, their regrets, she wished they could all be silent. 
But in an instant, she was dropped from the empty and left here on Earth. She had no idea why or how, only that she was an angel again. Glancing around her, she heard what sounded like voices outside. Carefully, she walked through the glass and debris towards the door.
The sun was bright and hot as she stepped out onto what appeared to be the concrete surface, which seemed to be a gas station. It looked so much like the many way-stations she and Castiel had visited that she almost expected to see him standing there, or perhaps leaning on his vehicle.
But he wasn’t there. Instead, Hannah found three women standing in front of the gas pumps, chattering to one another. They all glanced over, and one of them quickly produced what Hannah assumed was a weapon.
“Who are you?” the woman wearing a red jumpsuit and pointing a strange weapon at Hannah demanded. She wore short red hair, and as Hannah came closer, she noticed the strange markings on her nose.
“I’m an angel,” Hannah replied softly, holding her hands up as the three of them walked up to her. One of them appeared to be a child, being of much shorter stature, but as she got closer, Hannah could see she wasn’t a child at all, though she appeared young. She had thick curly red hair, large pointed ears, and she was barefoot. 
“An angel?” the third woman was a petite red-haired woman wearing a business suit and a long dark trench coat. Hannah seemed to fit in the most with her, as she wore her grey blazer, dark blue shirt, and jeans. “Even Mulder wouldn’t believe that.”
Hannah felt confused. “I don’t know who Mulder is, but I assure you, I am telling the truth,” she insisted. “My name is Hannah; I am an angel of the lord.”
“Prove it,” the woman insisted, crossing her arms across her chest and raising a brow. Hannah frowned as she realized her powers were weakened. The return from the empty must have drained her. But she gathered what strength she had and focused on a newspaper stand, and suddenly, it burst into flames.
Hannah was quick to put the fire out, and when she turned to the women, they all looked impressed and bewildered. “Is that enough for your approval?” she asked. The red-haired woman nodded.
“I’m special agent Dana Scully,” the woman introduced herself, coming forward, her eyes wide as she looked Hannah over. “I can’t believe I am meeting an angel.”
“My powers are weakened,” Hannah explained, and she glanced at the others. “I assume you all have names as well?”
The taller of the two nodded. “Kira Nerys,” Kira introduced. “I’m a Bajoran. I don’t exactly have any powers.”
“And I’m Asphodel Breeswillow. I’m a Hobbit of the shire,” said the short young woman. “This world is so strange. I knew I shouldn’t have wandered too far from home.”
“We will find our way back to where we belong,” Hannah assured her. “If we work together.” Hannah wasn’t sure of her own words. She didn’t know where they were or where they had all come from. And she wasn’t all that familiar with Earth anyway. But she sensed all these women were reasonable, and maybe with their help, they would all be able to find familiarity. 
Part three: Cave of Wonders
Beverly Crusher had thought she had gone to bed in her own quarters on the Enterprise last night, but when she woke up, she was anywhere but.
It didn’t take her long to learn that she was in a cave and that her companions were as lost as she was. Faramir, captain of Gondor, Meg, a demon, and Ellifain, a pretty black-haired elf, had all been close by when she opened her eyes. 
The mouth of the cave they were in was wide, and it provided adequate shelter for the insufferable heat. But as the four of them ventured outside into the vast grassy plains, which seemed to stretch on forever, they had little protection. The suns above them were relentless. 
“This seems to be a binary system,” Beverly commented as she walked through the tall grass. “Whoever transported us must be nearby.”
“I will be returned to the Moonwoods so I can complete my quest,” Ellifain demanded as she gripped her longbow. 
“What kind of quest are you on, Milady?” Faramir asked as they all walked close to one another. They were all strangers, but every Starfleet survival training course she’d ever taken had always emphasized the importance of working with others.
And in her travels, Beverly had encountered so many different species; these beings and their diverse cultures didn’t feel too strange to her. Though given Faramir and Ellifain’s clothing and attire, Beverly worried that she had stumbled upon a pre-warp society. 
“I’m on a quest for vengeance,” Ellifain explained angrily. “I was hunting him before I was brought him; I must find his trail again.”
“Ooh vengeance, eh?” Meg, the demon lifted a brow. “Sounds sexy. Do tell more.”
“It is not anyone’s concern but my own,” Ellifain retorted as she stormed ahead of them. “And I do not need anyone’s help.”
“I don’t think we should go too far from the cave,” Beverly spoke up as she came to a stop in the grass and turned back towards the direction they had come. A line of towering mountains loomed before them in that direction; the cave had been carved into the rock. “We might need the shelter. The heat can be dangerous.”
“I think she is correct, Milady,” Faramir said politely as he reached out and brushed a hand on Ellifain’s shoulder. The intense glare told Beverly that the elf didn’t approve of the touch. “We don’t know where we are. You may have to put your vengeance on hold for now.”
Ellifain seemed to think about that for a moment and then reluctantly agreed. Beverly was relieved. The cave was much cooler.
Part Four: Forest brook
Kathryn Janeway found the babbling of the brook comforting as she and her three companions sat on its banks, trying to decide on their course of actions.
It didn’t take long for them to understand that they weren’t where they ended up. They all seemed to have similar stories. They were minding their own business, going about their lives, when they’d all woken up here on this strange planet. Their only belongings had been what had been on them at the time.
Janeway was in her uniform, but as she had been off duty at the time and in her quarters, she was unarmed, and she wished she had a tricorder. She did have her communicator, but it seemed to have been damaged.
As she sat on a rock, trying to fix her communicator, the women around her tried to figure out their next course of action. 
“My phone isn’t getting any reception,” Charlie Bradbury said as she turned the device over in her hand, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. Willow Rosenberg, who had claimed she was a college student from California, sat beside her, trying to operate her own phone. The two of them seemed to be from the same world- or same time perhaps, as their sense of fashion seemed similar. They both wore jeans and t-shirts. They had also revealed something significant. That they were from Earth… but not the Earth Janeway had been hoping for. 300 years ago.
The fourth woman had been a very short-statured young woman with a brazen attitude. Brenna was a gnome from the north, at least that is what she had told them all. But she was quick to bark orders at everyone; her sharp tongue seemed to make up for her short stature tenfold.
“If we follow the river, it might lead us to a village,” she explained as she perched on a rock and put her hands in her lap. “They could at least tell us where we are.”
“If there are other people on this planet, we don’t want to startle them,” Janeway explained calmly. “And some of my crew may have ended up here; I want to get my communicator fixed. They’d at least be able to pick up my signal. 
“I don’t care for strange human devices,” Brenna sneered. “I was about to lead my people on a caribou hunt; I must return.”
“Oh, poor Rudolph,” Willow commented quickly as she glanced up from her phone. “Caribou are so cute.”
Brenna shrugged. “My people have lived off of them for as long as we have lived in the north,” she replied. And Janeway noted that she was wearing thick animal hides and furs, no doubt to keep her warm in the cold climate which she had described. 
It was then that as Janeway used a long hair clip to manipulate the controls in her communicator, everyone heard the familiar chirp. Eagerly, Janeway opened the comm, knowing it was a long shot.
“This is Captain Kathryn Janeway to anyone who is in range,” she spoke into the communicator as Willow and Charlie watcher her curiously. “Does anyone read my signal?”
“Kathryn?” came a familiar voice through the communicator. Janeway smiled with relief at the sound of Chakotay’s voice.
“Chakotay, where are you?” she asked, “I don’t know how I ended up on this planet, but I’m not alone.”
“Neither am I, Captain,” came Chakotay’s static-filled answer. “We’re in some sort of farmhouse in the middle of a pasture. We all just woke up here.”
Janeway frowned. Did Chakotay end up stranded on this planet too? They had to find each other. “I’m in a forest, near a stream,” she reported. “Stay where you are; we’ll try to make it out of here and try to find you. You must not be far.”
“We’ll do what we can, Chakotay out.” The comm disconnected, but Janeway felt a whole lot better knowing there was at least someone she was familiar with on this planet, and the comm signal told her that they weren’t too far away.
“How are you even getting service?” Charlie asked as she held her phone in her hand. “I’m not getting anything.”
Janeway didn’t know how to explain. The archaic-looking device looked primitive compared to her comm. “Futuristic technology,” she explained as she got to her feet. “Come on, we have to find Chakotay, and with any luck, we will be able to find Voyager.”
With that, the four of them headed along the river. None of them knew where they were going, and Janeway hoped that they were heading in the right direction and not further away from Chakotay.
Part Five: Desolate plains
Fili was glad that when he had woken up, his brother had been there—seeing Kili there beside him looking as confused and lost as he had made him feel better about their situation, precarious though it was.
But now, they were in real trouble. The two of them and their two companions- a human named Fox Mulder and a human named Sagara Sanosuke- had found themselves in the middle of a prairie, and it seemed to go on forever.
The suns were becoming dangerous. Fili was so thirsty, and beads of sweat trickled down his face as he pressed on. They had to keep going, he told himself. There had to be relief for them somewhere. 
“Brother,” Kili groaned as he stumbled along. “I… I can’t.” Fili turned and grabbed him before he fell. Kili gasped as he gazed up at his brother.
“Come on, brother, we have to keep going,” Fili insisted as Mulder and Sanosuke turned toward them. “We’ll find something soon.”
“Hey, I think I see something,” Sanosuke spoke up as he turned to gaze out towards the horizon. “It might be a town.”
Fili groaned. “It’s probably a mirage,” he suggested as he pulled Kili to his feet, and the four of them started walking again. “I am sure this prairie must go on forever.”
“We should head in that direction anyway,” Mulder said as he draped his trenchcoat over his head, shielding his head from the relentless suns.
Fili let out a breath as he complied. His legs felt like lead as he concentrated on stumbling along as Kili followed him. He worried about the battle that the two of them had left behind. 
“Do you think Uncle held the mountain against Azog?” Kili stammered, voicing Fili’s thoughts. Fili couldn’t be sure. And he wasn’t even sure this wasn’t the afterlife. He remembered Azog grabbing him; he remembered the fiery pain as he felt the orc’s blade enter his body. He was prepared to die; he thought he was going to die.
And then… he woke up here in the middle of this field with Kili and two strangers who were dressed very strangely. 
“I don’t know, Kili,” Fili said after a pause. “I hope so.”
All Fili knew is that no matter what happened, he had to look after his brother. He didn’t know if he could trust Sanosuke with his strange spikey hair or Mulder with his strange black coat, but they seemed as lost as the dwarves were and Fili felt compelled to follow them towards the horizon.
Part Six: desolate farm
Chakotay finished inspecting the farmhouse he had woken up in. It felt as though it had been there for ages. There were no signs of life except for the three he had woken up close to—two men from Middle Earth, and Captain Jean-Luc Picard whom Chakotay only knew by reputation.
“We found human remains,” Chakotay glanced up from his communicator after he ended his conversation with Janeway. He felt so relieved to hear Kathryn’s voice, and to know that she was here somewhere on this planet made him feel a lot better. 
But when he turned to see Picard, he focused on the tasks at hand. “Remains?” he repeated as he followed the captain along. He found Legolas and Aragorn out behind the house in the rocky pasture field; they seemed to be examining the bodies. 
“They have been dead for far too long,” the blonde-haired elf explained as Chakotay looked at the skeletons lying in the dirt. “Perhaps years.”
“They must have been the previous inhabitants of this place,” Chakotay surmised as he turned to look at the farmhouse. They had examined the interior already. It was a large house in an advanced state of decay. The wood was rotting, the furniture inside and the rugs had all turned to mold and dust. The glass windows were broken in. The wood had been in such bad shape that none of them would risk venturing upstairs to inspect the rooms. At the ground level, they had found an old antique kitchen with a wood-burning stove and furnishing that looked as though they belonged in the 19th century.
Chakotay was curious to explore this place, being that he enjoyed archaeology. He had learned quickly that Picard shared that particular interest with him, and the two had set about trying to determine what kind of people these long-gone inhabitants were and how they lived.
“They may have died of old age,” Chakotay suggested. Legolas and Aragorn knew one another from whatever world they had come from; they claimed they had been in a battle before they arrived here. And their simple hide leather outfits seemed to fit the part.
“I got ahold of Captain Janeway,” Chakotay reported to Picard. “She’s on this planet, in a forest somewhere. I suggest we wait here for her.”
“There seemed to be little else to do in any case,” Picard agreed. “Except look for more clues about the people who lived here.” As Chakotay watched, Picard pulled out his tricorder, scanning for any clue to where they are. Chakotay felt relieved that at least one of them had been equipped with a tricorder before being brought here.
“I am reading other life forms,” Picard explained. “More than a dozen humanoid life signs within a 10-mile radius. It’s hard to get a clear reading here, and I am picking up a faint federation signature coming from north of here; it's heading in our direction.”
“That has to be Captain Janeway,” Chakotay said. He didn’t know who these other life forms could be; they were all too far away for anyone to see. But many of them were heading in their direction, so Chakotay could only hope that they will be friendly.
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[Review] Mike Flanagan's GERALD'S GAME is a Loyal Adaptation But a Simple Film
New Post has been published on https://nofspodcast.com/geralds-game-review/
[Review] Mike Flanagan's GERALD'S GAME is a Loyal Adaptation But a Simple Film
After a world debut at Fantastic Fest 2017, Gerald’s Game landed on Netflix this past Friday. Hinging on the performances of its two leads, Carla Gugino (Watchmen, San Andreas) and Bruce Greenwood (Star Trek, Flight), the adaptation of Stephen King’s novel of the same name has met with generally favorable reviews. An ambitious project from director Mike Flanagan (Ouija: Origin of Evil, Oculus), Gerald’s Game tells the story of one woman’s struggle to overcome the demons that have eclipsed her entire adult life. While fans may be pleased to see a page-to-screen adaptation of King’s work, Flanagan’s strict adherence to the dialogue he so cherished ultimately hurts the presentation of the film. That said, Gerald’s Game is in no way a poorly made movie. Flanagan’s expert direction and editing is front and center, but it left this viewer hoping he would have taken more risks and delivered the true desperation I had been sold in the film’s premise.
Preparing for a quiet weekend getaway at their country home, Jessie (Carla Gugino) and her husband Gerald (Bruce Greenwood) have packed only the essentials: A few beach towels, overly expensive steak, and handcuffs. Trying to spice things up in the bedroom, Gerald asks Jessie to play along in his rape fantasy. Arranging to have the gardener and caretaker set up house before their arrival, the stage has been perfectly set for a very private, and secluded weekend alone. With the neighbors away, and the house set far back on the property, there is no one around to impede Gerald’s plans. He is so sure they will be undisturbed in fact, that he does not bother to close the front door when he leads Jessie into the bedroom after taking a little blue pill.
Unfortunately for Gerald, Jessie quickly calls it quits- And unfortunately for Jessie, so does Gerald’s heart. Secured to the bedposts with the keys just out of reach, Jessie is left to fend for herself after Gerald suffers a fatal heart attack. It isn’t until a stray dog comes in through the open door to feast on Gerald that Jessie realizes the severity of the situation. Soon after, under the stress and strain of her predicament, Jessie begins to hallucinate. When “Gerald” is suddenly up-and-about, criticizing and taunting her she knows something is wrong. But when a deformed and monstrous entity appears in the night, Jessie begins to wonder if what she’s seeing is a result of dehydration, or simply the grim specter of death all people face in their final hours.
Fans have been clamoring for years that adaptations of Stephen King’s work more closely resemble the source material. Unfortunately this is a bit of a double edged sword. Surely there are exceptions, but the medium in which a story is told is usually the only way the creator expected you to consume their material. Alan Moore’s Watchmen might be a perfect example, but Gerald’s Game is probably a much better choice. The key components of King’s 1992 novel have been (until very recently) considered un-filmable. Not necessarily because of the sexual assault at the core of the film, but because the narrative is almost solely Jessie’s inner-monologue. While Flanagan found a simple and visual method of showing us the voices swirling around Jessie’s head, staying too closely to the original text is not always a strong choice. In fact, in a recent interview with Vulture King touched on studios developing films from his work.
I think that sometimes when people buy a book, they just want the situation and then they’ll build the movie off it. […] With Gerald’s Game and 1922, they both follow the course of the books pretty closely, and the films that these guys made stand and fall on that.
  Flanagan does an incredible job adapting King’s material for the screen, even though some plot points would have been better left on the page. You really want to applaud Flanagan for staying so true to the book but I found myself wishing the credits had rolled ten minutes sooner, cutting out a wrap-up section that completely pulled me out of the movie. That said, this is one of more positively received adaptations of Stephen King’s work this year, with some incredible use of practical special effects toward the end of the film.
2/4 eberts
  If you’ve already watched Gerald’s Game yourself, and you are looking for a more in depth conversation on some of the film’s finer points, subscribe to the Nightmare on Film Street podcast to download our upcoming review! Hear our full thoughts on Thursday’s episode as well our recommendations from 2017’s Fantastic Fest.
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sending-the-message · 7 years
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I sold my soul for a used dishwasher, and would like it back. [Part Three] by PeteTheSeed
Part Two
It’s been difficult to write this third and final part of my tale. Honestly, no matter how I try to write it, nothing truly conveys what I’ve come to experience. I’ll do my best. We left off with Gary and I finding ourselves in Hell, which in itself is a rather precarious predicament. The search for my soul had been a rather tenuous one, and as we left ventured out from that warehouse and into the unknown, I felt a strange sense that everything was going to be okay.
I lost Gary on the first day. We traversed across the landscape of Hell, which is far less ‘pedestrian-friendly’ than you might think. Mountains scoured the horizon, broken apart by deep ravines that disappear into darkness. The sky was ablaze, and the lightning that rained down from its inferno left fissures large enough to swallow you whole. Winds strong enough to strip flesh from bone came and went, and carried with them the howls of those too unfortunate to get caught in its midst. If I’d came here on vacation, I’d give it two out of five stars.
We crawled and stumbled across the cliff face overlooking a vast expanse of land that stretched farther than the eye could see. Wilted forests and bodies of grey water littered the expanse, with figures and shapes darting around wildly. Predators and prey. Whilst we crawled across the jagged and crumbling rocks, lightning struck between us, which sent Gary tumbling down into the chaos. He cupped his genitals the entire fall as he rolled and collided with stone.
So, that was kind of lame. I managed to reach the end of the cliff face, only to find myself staring outwards at another stretch of horrors and obscenities. I was getting the impression that there wasn’t a great deal of aesthetic variance in Hell. I silently wished Gary the best of luck, and continued onwards.
I didn’t really have a plan in mind; Hell, as far as I knew, could be infinite in size, and the likelihood of just stumbling upon my soul could be less likely than two grains of rice adrift at sea bumping into each other. The only thing that was fuelling my soulless being was a pure sense of annoyance at the entire ordeal; I had faced a great deal of inconvenience thus far and didn’t want to admit that I’d wasted the better part of a week.
I eventually found myself a quaint little cavern overlooking what I’m pretty sure was an ocean of faeces, which I decided to use as a temporary retreat from the dreary horrors of Hell. I folded my jacket into a pillow, and sat down to enjoy some quality me time, where I could recoup and gather myself. I’d get some rest until morning, maybe lead a one-man search party for Gary, and plan my next course of action. I was relatively certain that, by the end of the next day, I’d be well on my way home and able to put the entire thing being me.
I was in Hell for over six months.
Less than an hour after settling down in my Hell-scape abode, I found myself being woken with a spear inches from my face. Well, I remember thinking, this is interesting. The man who held the spear was nothing but skin pulled tightly over thin bones, his eyes sunken deep into the skull and his lips well receded, revealing his broken and blackened teeth. Coating his skin was a mixture of bodily mutilations and tribal paint, that I sensed were largely a fashion choice. Behind him stood others, similarly styled and equally deranged. Never having been a ’fight my way out’ kind of lad, I pretty much surrendered on the spot.
Before I could protest the necessity of it all, I found myself bound by my wrists and dragged from my dwelling, poked and prodded with sticks and stones along the way. Outside of the cave stood what I can only describe as a roaming Hellish gypsy brigade; strange, horse-like creatures pulled along obscene carts built from bone and skin. Behind each lay a trail of poor souls bound the same as I, connected in a train and pulled behind each of the carts. My captures had innumerable friends, all of which marched and chanted and yelled crazily, taunting their prisoners as they went. I was attached to the back of one trail, and the gypsy brigade moved onwards with me in tow.
I don’t know how long we marched for; Hell had no day or night cycle, no change in season and certainly no calendars. I marked the passing of time as best as I could. The only real judge I had was the growth of my hair and beard; I’d long since accepted that it would take me at least three months to grow out what could be potentially described as a semi-successful beard, and whilst I was pulled along across Hell I went from clean-shaven to Santa Claus. We would march day in and day out, resting only for a few sparing hours for whatever rest we could get before being dragged along again. We were fed filth coated bowls of a gruel-like substance that I’m pretty sure the horse-creatures excreted; I’ve never been a picky-eater, but it took a few days before I even dared dip into the putrid mixture.
I won’t go into too much detail about my time captured in Hell; truthfully, every day brought a new nightmare, each one grimmer, each one more horrifying than the last. We were led through ceaseless valleys that held grand pits of the damned who writhed in their own misery. We trekked through deep caverns that burrowed into the earth, where spider-like creatures the size of mammoths roamed in numbers unknown. When we reached an ocean, boats were assembled and we sailed through storms across oceans of shit and blood and bile, baring witness to indescribable beasts whose lengths could span cities as they erupted upwards from the waters depths, bringing with them a bellowing cry that could deafen ears. We miserably trudged through swamps of long dead trees with bubbling pools of acid that exploded outwards and coated more than one of us, whom immediately writhed down into a puddle of their own being. If I had a soul, I’d have probably been pretty depressed.
When my ankles could take no more, I crawled. When I could crawl no more, I was pulled until the skin peeled from my back. After a lifetime, we reached our destination.
We were pulled into a grand encampment, a city of skin-forged tents and raging bonfires. Spikes adorned with severed heads were littered like street lights, discarded bones laying like trash. Tribal savages roamed and sung and chanted and danced in every direction. It wasn’t really my kind of scene.
Various other caravans were unloading their own hordes of captives, all lined up and chained like dogs. Forced to my knees, I was made to join them.
We were left there to rot. Occasionally, a savage would approach and inspect one of us; arms lifted and groped, legs tapped and stretched, mouths pulled open and examined. Sometimes they were then ignored, other times they were untied and taken away, not to return. I imagine they went to a happier, cheerier place. Maybe Morocco.
We slept on the floor. We pissed and shit on the floor. Scraps were flung at us, often just out of reach. Dignity was in sparse supply in those moments. As time passed, those who I had been brought in with dwindled one by one; some perished, others were taken. One chewed through his chain, reducing his teeth to broken, shattered stubs. He tried to run, and was ridden down and set alight.
Others came and were chained, but I remained. If they were selling us, my captors would need to offer a pretty substantial discount if they wanted to be rid of my sorry soulless ass, it seemed. I retreated inwards, spending my days staring into space as caravan after caravan rolled into the camp, selling their wares and trading in suffering.
“Psst… Hey! Dude!”
I snapped out of a daze at the words; it was the first language I’d heard since arriving that I understood. I turned my head as best as I could to look behind me, and saw another poor captured man trying to get my attention. He wore tattered, torn overalls and the remains of a black beanie.
“Oh, hey Dave.”
“Hey! It’s you! Remember me? I opened the portal and got us here? Fun times, right? Crazy times. So, how you been?” Dave had seen better days. Ragged, ginger curls hung down from his beanie, matted like a dog. His face was battered and bruised, and he looked as though he hadn’t eaten in a week. Oh, and he had one eye now. Or did he only have one eye already? I couldn’t remember.
“Oh, I’m not bad, myself. Did some sightseeing, worked on my calves, got a bit of a tan. Oh, and I’m pretty sure I’m a slave now, which is something.”
“You got your soul back though, right? Man, look at this place. Craaayzeee stuff, amiright?”
I realised that I didn’t like Dave very much.
“Nope, still soulless. I guess that’s kind of been a blessing, really. Puts things into perspective.”
“Really? The demon I sold it too is, like, right over there.” He pointed off towards a caravan, where a being that was more blob than man sat surrounded by various jars of peculiar glowing liquids. He had small, ill-fitting glasses and four arms, each of which was scratching a different orifice that coated his form. The caravan was coated in ornate, ancient jars, that each radiated a small flicker of light. Each one had a name, and each one seemed to be vibrating furiously, causing a rattle to the cart. “Yeah, that’s the guy. I found him not long after we wound up here, figured he’d help a dude out considering our pre-existing business relationship. The dude sold me for some sheets.”
“Huh. Well, that’s neat. Kind of annoying, what with the whole slave thing that I’ve currently got going for me.” I awkwardly manoeuvred myself into a sitting position, and stared at the caravan. It’s difficult to explain, but now that it had been pointed out to me, I could sort of feel a presence coming from the jars. One jar, in particular; it sat at the bottom of the cart, slightly damaged and it appeared to be leaking, surrounded by a few other equally damaged wares. My soul was in the discount, remainder bin.
That’s when Gary showed up again.
“Where the fuck have you been?!” Was pretty much all I said. I sat there, bound and chained and displayed like a piece of damaged fruit, staring at my spectral companion that I hadn’t seen in what felt like the better part of a year.
My hair was wild, my beard and skin coated in all sorts of filth. My jeans had, at best, a week left of decent use in them. My wrists were cut to the bone from my restraints. But I wasn’t the only one who had a change of appearance; Gary wore a hat now. More of a crown, actually; it looked to be made of bones and twigs. His once perpetually disgruntled expression had softened, seeming sunken with a hint of sorrow. His once proud ghastly erection was now but a humble semi. I dared not think what he had endured those past months, but his appearance said it all. Behind him was a small group of the damned. A baker’s dozen, at most. Each one of them wore strange cloaks that covered their forms, their faces expressionless and gaunt. When Gary stopped in front of me, they fell on their knees, and began to chant and bow clumsily. I guess Gary was their leader now, or their God. I don’t even know. Upon seeing me, Gary turned towards them, made a few gestures and removed his crown, placing it on the ground. A few of his flock began to tremble, a few burst into howling tears. One by one, they all departed. Gary looked at me and shrugged, a single ghost tear running down his ghost cheek. It was all ridiculous, honestly.
“Hey.” I said. Gary nodded.
Gary approached, and began fiddling with my restraints. In a few moments he had freed me, and none of my captors seemed to notice. I stood up, dusted myself off and threw up slightly as blood rushed to my feet. I stretched my back and coughed fiercely.
Gary gestured his head towards the soul-covered caravan. I nodded, acknowledging that I’d seen it.
“Well, let’s just take it and get out of here. Come on, Gary.”
“You can’t steal a soul, buddy!” Dave pipped up from behind. “Oh, and could I get a hand over here, too? Hell is overrated.”
I turned back towards the caravan, and then back to Dave. Then to Gary.
“You know what? I’m done. Let’s just say that we tried, we gave it a solid effort. Fuck this. Fuck Hell. Fuckity-fuck being a Hell-slave. Fuck you, Dave. Fuck the dishwasher. Fuck your god-damned boner, Gary. Fuck you and your boner.”
I collapsed, completely finished. Some may say that I was overreacting, but even a soulless husk has its limits. If only I could just rest.
Gary didn’t react. He looked down upon me, sighed, and disappeared into nothingness as though it was the most casual gesture in the world. I was alone again. I wasn’t counting Dave.
“Fuck this. Fuck whatever that is,” I was walking forward now, my blood boiling. I don’t know if it was down to the proximity to my soul, but I was starting to feel raw, unfiltered emotion seeping in to my skin. “Fuck souls. Fuck Hell so god-damned much.”
“Um, dude? A little hel-“ Daves voice faded into the background.
I reached the soul-trader, stood before him defiantly. He looked a bit confused, and a bit offended.
“Give me my soul.”
He blinked. He itched his slime stained scalp. A strange mucus dripped from one of his many orifices. He didn’t seem to mind. He spoke back in a broken tongue, and then turned away.
“Give me my damned soul, don’t be a douche.” I reached forward and grabbed the jar that was calling to me. It was cold to the touch, and felt far lighter than it should have. The blob guy looked at me, his eyes going wide. He pointed with all four arms and all twenty fingers, yelling. The savages around the encampment had begun to take notice. They muttered and whispered between one another, and began to approach and encircle me. I took steps backwards, gripping the jar close to my chest like a child grasps a pillow.
“Look, things might have gotten a little heated, granted. Now, if you just let me walk away with my soul, we can put all of this behind us-“ A spear flew in my direction, missing my skull my mere inches. “Now, that’s completely uncalled for.”
I ran. I don’t know where I planned and running to, but it felt like the best option at the time. I passed Dave as I went, and shot him the kind of look that said, ’sorry about leaving you in Hell. Oh, and fuck you.’ I left the encampment at full sprint, the savages quickly in pursuit. Nothing but open valley stretched around, the sky still burning and raging and my feet aching and my heart pounding. My brow dripped sweat. My fingers trembled. I was not letting go of my soul.
I fell, hard. I slipped down a small ravine, landing flat on my back. The jar flew off in an unknown direction. I felt warm liquid trickle down my leg. I’ll say it was blood, but it was probably urine.
The Hell savages were on me in no time. They circled like sharks, weapons outstretched. One of them carried a flaming torch. Another carried a barbed whip. I sensed my plan had failed miserably.
I spat out dirt. The jar was a few feet away from me. I began to crawl towards it, as the lash of the whip came cracking down on my back. I screamed, spittle’s of blood dusting the ground. I reached the jar. Another whip; I felt the skin on my back tear open. I raised the jar. Another whip. I felt the barbs crack bone. I brought the jar down to the earth as hard as I could, as I heard the air break as the whip began to bear down again. The jar shattered.
Nothingness.
I was adrift. Somewhere and everywhere. I was nothing and everything and something all at once. I felt no pain or ache, wasn’t tired or hot or cold or stressed or scared. Just complete and pure nothingness. Wherever I was, I felt as though I’d been there before. I could sense nothing, but at the same time everything was heightened and overloading. I have no experience in it, but I imagine it’s what meth felt like.
Then, as though nothing had happened at all, I was back. I felt different, but the same. It was disorientating. I could see nothing but the ground, and slowly the pain that radiated my body returned. I forced myself onto my back, which burned fiercely. I was still in Hell. Great. The savages stood around me now, eyes widened and weapons gripped. A few of them scowled, others looked frightened. I stood up, and waited for the inevitable killing strike. It never came. One by one, they began to turn-tail and run, fleeing back to the encampment. Soon enough, I was stood alone, surrounded by discarded weapons.
Well, that was odd. I guessed it was one of those things you just have to roll with. Exhausted, I scanned the horizon, decided upon a nice-looking hill to walk towards, and set off.
Upon my first step, the ground beneath me crumbled, and I was swallowed by the abyss. I faintly heard Dave’s voice as a whisper in the distance:
”You can’t steal a soul, buddy…”
I could see them beneath me as I fell; thousands of souls, all piled up upon one other, surrounded my nothingness, all reaching upwards towards me. I landed atop the pit, hard. The writhing mess of flesh accepted me, hands outstretching and pulling me inwards. Within moments, I was dragged deep within. I felt the pressure of it all on my chest, the air being forced out of my lungs. I tried to scream, but fingers wrestled into my lips and began to force their way down my throat. With my one free hand, I reached upwards towards the darkness, as I got what I knew would be my last glimpse of anything.
Light exploded overhead. Pillars of brilliantly white fury descended, burning away at the accursed souls who pulled me downwards. A thousand shrieks killed my eardrums, withdrawing. I looked up, blinded, and saw the most beautiful sight that any being has ever bared witness too.
Gary descended slowly, the light radiating from his glorious form. He floated above me, his angelic erection stronger and prouder than ever. He reached out his hand and took mine, and pulled me from perdition.
We rose together, Gary’s hand locked around my wrist as I hung beneath him. We rose and rose until we had left the abyss that I had been called too, until Hell was but a faint glimpse below. We ascended through the infernal sky, and I closed my eyes and embraced every moment of my saviour’s presence.
“Gary… Are you an Angel?” I don’t know whether I actually asked, or whether I merely thought it. Within my mind, a gentle and comforting voice replied. I don’t recall what it said.
The light grew brighter and brighter, until it was everything.
I awoke in my apartment, and that was that.
It turns out I was in Hell for about a day and a half, which is mildly frustrating. I’m pretty sure I have my soul back now, which is cool. I don’t feel as empty any more. I still have the dishwasher, too; I’m not really sure what to do with it. I guess I’ll just sell it for scrap or something. I can dream again, now; I must have slept for the better part of three days after my return. I’m not really sure what to make of my experience; I guess it’ll take some time to piece everything together, and come to terms with what I experienced, if that’s possible. I don’t see the dead anymore, either; the streets are once again only occupied by the living and the homeless. Yeah, that includes Gary, too. That’s okay though, I suppose. I won’t forget what he did, even if I don’t quite understand it. I think he’s still here. Every now and then, I’ll catch a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye, something that looks a hell of a lot like a disembodied penis, and I find comfort in that. He’s my friend.
Kind of a shame about Dave, though.
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gabetex · 7 years
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Today I came across a movie I haven’t seen in a while that I enjoy a lot, though it’s no classic like its associations: Alien VS Predator, released back in 2004. Personally, I love Alien and had to watch, ended up liking it and eventually bought a hard copy for the VHS and DVD collection I had then. A wrestling match between two titans of sci-fi and horror is a glorious sight to see, like Freddy VS Jason released the year before, another fun and gory movie prepared for admirers. That’s why these movies are made; for pure fun, cheap thrills and a few reasons to take life lightly yet be aware of all exits and maybe learn some karate.
Unfortunately, sci-fi and horror films don’t get much attention or respect and many great elements are overlooked. Within the industry of motion pictures, not too many have been nominated or won awards and, if they do, only win in production categories like Sound and Makeup. The only horror film that won the Oscar for Best Picture is The Silence of the Lambs (originally a novel by Thomas Harris), which also won Best Actor and Actress, Best Director and Screenplay, the only horror flick that has received so much praise. Many people in the industry speak strongly against sci-fi and horror films and refuse participation, calling the genres shallow and missed opportunities to portray human depth and morality, even though those same people have risen from such projects.
I believe horror and sci-fi flicks are the best method to explore humanity, raw emotion and instinct. Admittedly, sci-fi and horror adds to countless social stigmas and stereotypes, yet just like any other movie genre, all a part of the industry’s diversity issues that seem so evident in award ceremonies, scripts that are produced and castings. The cry for diversity in mainstream media has become a tangled tug of war and every shining accolade has become a tally versus a collective celebration of a motion picture, of direction, of a character, of a setting and predicament, of art. The fight for inclusion has shaken artistic expression and freedom, finding defined lines and requirements to please others, the real gesture that people recognize and party for since sensitivity over mere imagery is at an all-time high. Strong and defiant works of art fall through the cracks, especially those that are more fantastical and usually deep in situations that challenge reality and viewers.
Sci-fi and horror movies actually depict more stories of teamwork, diversity and color blindness, usually set in the future and moments of mind over unique matter. Monsters tend not to discriminate and really test the morality, intelligence and strength of the pool of victims around, the very reason I love zombie stories. Most of the films and characters that garner acclaim usually don’t add much to the conversation and philosophy of filmmaking or ease the diversity battle. As time changes things, a lot of work becomes obsolete or proves to be a negative. Great movies and performances are never celebrated and referenced as they should, lost under projects with bigger names, large budgets and absurd controversies. To be the example I want to see, I’m going to honor a character that has been overlooked by her communities. She is the perfect representative for characters like her from all genres and the casting mentality many people want across the board.
So, I present Alexa Woods, a leading character in Alien VS Predator (written and directed by Paul W.S. Anderson), portrayed by Sanaa Lathan (Love & Basketball, The Best Man). AVP is about just that and since the drama is set present day of 2004 on Earth, humans found a way to get in the middle of it and in turn have been for generations. A wealthy explorer hires a team to excavate an ancient kingdom that’s under ice in Bouvet Island, 2000 miles below the surface, in hopes of being the first to crack it open. Since the location is in icy territory, the expedition needs a knowledgeable and experienced guide, Alexa Woods.
Alexa Woods proves to be more capable and brave than her notable reputation. Not only is she able to trek high altitudes, a stickler for every safety rule and a cautionary tell, she’s a fighter for her entire team and against the story’s vicious creatures. I must say Alien and Predator, though fictional (allegedly), are far more dangerous than equality and personal demons and Woods takes them on with everything she’s got. With the movie’s conclusion, I’m surprised the communities that usually highlight and parade such characters haven’t pushed Alexa forward.
Alexa Woods checks very important diversity boxes that have a great impression on our society. Honing in, she is a mountaineer and survival guide, something that isn’t seen every day, though the mountaineering sport really isn’t a pop culture hit and readily available to most of us, which is a great example of accomplishment and strength, indeed breaking stereotypes and offers a visual that can inspire many to succeed in an extreme activity that entails research, practice and travel. The role could have easily been created or casted with what has been deemed as an obvious choice. This character is the epitome of what is being pursued in Hollywood; a diverse face for any kind of role. Sadly, this character has never been mentioned in any article or Top Lists, no matter how specific I get on Google, unexpected since Ellen Ripley of the original Alien popped up in a lot of what I found. Alexa even emboldens the mold her predecessor created.
I suppose Alexa hasn’t been noticed due to the movie’s success and simple substance generated for the franchises involved. AVP’s reviews were not good, gaining a 5.6/10 on IMDB, 21/100% from Rotten Tomatoes and 29/100% from Metacritic, though earning about $173 million over a $70 million budget. Should the critical failure, a duel franchise black sheep, diminish a tremendous character? No matter what was produced the character held her own in extraordinary situations, a hefty value when compared to any other story, and was a breath of fresh air for both cult worlds.
Whether AVP was good or bad, throughout the film there was never a mention or acknowledgement of ethnicity or gender. There’s a neutrality and relatability that allows the characters and setting to flourish. I see this notion as the modern goal of cinema and casting. Many communities want more stories of their gender and cultures, hanging Hollywood for not delivering. Yet those endeavors rest on their shoulders and they need to step up in creating a playground for their personal tales, since they cater to themselves and what’s produced usually tends to be biographies, historic retellings and ‘Look what I can do’s.
Movies like Alien VS Predator and characters like Alexa Woods are what the main stage needs. We need stories that use the ideal social climate, set an evolved normality and boast characters that can be anyone from anywhere. The past is the past and offering a cinematic showcase of people, places and moments that have existed will come and go and be forgotten just like the subjects, no matter the worth. In my opinion, history lessons for sale don’t change or prove much and images of suffering result in two ways.
One, they go unnoticed from the public and industry, like the TV series Underground (created by Misha Green and Joe Pokaski), a portrayal of runaway slaves, abolitionists and the Underground Railroad, done up with hard hitting realities and edgy suspense, recently cancelled due to changes at WGN. The Emmy nominations are out and not one is for Underground. People are excited for Viola Davis to play Harriet Tubman but have not celebrated Aisha Hinds’ brilliant undertaking of the prominent USA figure in Underground, an iconic force that has not had much screen time. Episode Minty of season two gives great insight into Tubman’s journey to freedom and the fight that still lies ahead, shining a light on Hinds talent among many great actors involved and the impressive aesthetic produced. Sadly, this series, the most relevant to USA today, will not get its owed dues.
Secondly, instead of flying under the radar, projects like Underground actually backfire and cause controversy, overshadowing the artistry and performances, lending themselves to ridicule, tension, resistance and woes of entitlement, though history and facts prove every word written and edit made. Either way, the public responds to pain and injustices so differently and the intended value falls down to a star rating, a critic’s review and a possible award nomination that leads to more disaster.
Out of the handful of movies that some say have changed society, like JFK, The Day After Tomorrow, Super Size Me, Rosetta and Philadelphia – I will never forget what my friend and film school classmate from Turkey told me how The Help informed her of life in USA during the ‘60s – all the issues represented are still alive and well. An honest education system should be teaching our history and more, which ought to humble everyone. The only character that has progressed, whether a mere detail or the main focus is technology, a sci-fi and horror favorite. The stories that depict gadgets to full on artificial intelligence are slowly becoming reality, shaping and shifting society by offering means to be anything and anywhere and reach millions of lives. How crazy would it be if our journey matched 2001: Space Odyssey, reliant on an entity like HAL 9000. That guy always reminds me of the questions: Does art imitate life? Or does life imitate art?
SPOILER ALERT:
So, going forward we should create more images, more movies, more art of, again, the ideal social climate, set in an evolved normality and boast characters that can be anyone from anywhere. Where are stories of trusting? Also, we need to celebrate the right stories, moments, details and characters to strengthen the prestige, theory and entertainment of motion pictures, even if corrections need to be made like Alien VS Predator. That’s what remakes are for. We need bold unifying characters conquering situations that can capture our hearts and minds without keeping the scenario of ‘us vs them’ within our species, defining ‘them’ as something completely different, like Alien or Predator VS Alexa Woods.
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The Power & Misses of the Motion Picture Industry Today I came across a movie I haven’t seen in a while that I enjoy a lot, though it’s no classic like its associations: …
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