bakerstreet | "Bad" Movie Meme

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"Bad" Movie Meme

Bad Movie Meme

Your character has woken up in a terrible (allegedly) Movie. Welcome! Choose your flick from below, or choose another of your own. Play the scenario. You know the drill!

There is an ~alien~ on the loose, and only you and your compatriots can stop it. It's a real bloody menace. Or maybe a giant..
There's a ~irradiated creature of man~ on the loose, and only you and your friend can stop it! It might be someone you love! Or an ant.
You have been turned into a CREATURE because of your love for SCIENCE. Or maybe you were abducted by a scientist and now you are a head on a platter. THAT TALKS.
You are in a musical. Maybe there's a talking plant. Maybe it's the 80s. *Go*
Everything you do is getting commented on by these VOICES. But where are they. WHAT are they. (They're robots and a janitor)

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An exiled European scientist abducts people with the intention of turning them into a race of atomic supermen so he can take over the world.

It's a beautiful night in southern California. A cool breeze blows off the ocean and with it drifts the smell of—

"Crumpets!" Xander practically barked it out, clearly heated over something. "Crumpets, Buff. How am I supposed to know what crumpets smell like?" As he asked his questions (which had to be rhetorical for all the time he was leaving her to answer them), he paced along the length of the dinner table, gesturing emphatically along the way. He paused suddenly, leaning as if to whisper a secret to his best friend. "Until I was sixteen, I was convinced a crumpet was some kind of jazzy trumpet! Brassy, not bread-y."

He huffed out a breath and returned to pacing, to ranting. "You know, I'd expect that kind of haughty enthusiasm for frybread from Giles, but Spike? That guy survived on dirt clods and crazy and washed it all down with a fresh glass of blood-flavored Slurpee."

Finally, he flopped down across from Buffy, arms resting on the tabletop. "He called me an 'uncivilized gorilla-backed prat,'" Harris mimicked. His finger poked at the table, mouth pinched. "I'll have you know, I am not gorilla-backed." He paused before tentatively finishing his thought, gaze distant. "When I was on the swim team I shaved it and it never grew back." He returned his focus to her. "But that's not the point."

The spill of words stemmed for the moment, Xander folded his hands together and looked across at Summers. Outside, an overgrown bush scratched at the window; the wind was picking up and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Buffy watched her friend, bemused by his ranting. While he was venting, she was folding invitations to the Magic Box's latest salestravaganza on strict orders to do so handed down by General Anya. Willow and Xander were supposed to have been fulfilling similar duties, but Will was MIA for the evening and Xander was... well, he was pacing. A lot. And not helping. And eating everything in the kitchen to boot.

She laid what had to have been the millionth folded page aside, reaching across the table to snag a bowl of popcorn. She leaned back in the chair and munched a few pieces. Around the mouthful, she asked, "Isn't a crumpet a cookie?" She furrowed her brow, chewing thoughtfully. Seemed to her crumpets were one of those things that went with tea, and Giles definitely drank tea, though she couldn't specifically recall him ever eating anything alongside. She didn't remember Spike particularly liking tea, either, but then, he was English, so...

She sighed upon the realization her meandering meditation on the snacking habits of a whiny vampire compared to those of her Watcher were not adhering one million address labels to the invitations she'd already folded. Leaning forward, she resumed her mundane task, grateful at least for Xander providing some diversion. She took the opportunity to egg him on.

"You know, this whole thing could have been avoided." Buffy lifted her eyebrows and gave him a wry look. "Maybe you shouldn't have asked him for his help."

"Oh, sure, take the side of Xanders long past," he snapped, but it lacked any real edge. "Wish you would have said something before Anya was convinced that she could intimidate the baker down two dollars a dozen via Mr. Pointy I. Teeth. I should have been the one intimidating that baker and wow that is not something I thought I'd ever say," Xander finished. If he could still feel embarrassment, he'd probably be considering a speedy exit.

How does this kind of thing happen? One second they're hating Spike, the next they're including him in all the "fun." It was like a wicked roller coaster with loop-dee-loops of vampire/slayer drama perfectly positioned precisely at the peaks of the Barf Mountains.

Feeling compelled to do something with his hands, Harris grabbed up the nearest envelopes and began stuffing the invitations in, completely oblivious to Anya's warning against anything less than absolute perfection. "Tell you what, I'll just be glad when this salestravaganza's over. If people don't buy up those stupid jars of scarab wings, the Xand man's going in there with and advance on next week's paycheck, clearing the shelves, and dumping them case by case into a certain crypt belonging to a very high class British Crumpeteer."

He tossed down the three envelopes he'd managed to stuff incorrectly and pressed back into his chair. "At this point, I'm actually praying for the end of the world so I can stop hearing about how my twos look too much like nines," he huffed. "It's not like I wanted to order an extra seventy cases. I'd rather she volunteer me for positions that don't require legible writing, like... well, anything else."

Sadly, he could go on like this for hours. On the bright side, the smell of fresh crumpets permeated the breeze blowing through the open window, signaling the approach Europeans.

"It'll work out at the Magic Box, and Anya knows it. She's just..." Buffy trailed off with a shrug; Xander knew how Anya was better than anyone. And in the same manner the former demon was happiest when she was loading tidy sums of cash into the register drawer, Xander was often happiest when he was complaining about Anya.

Buffy stuffed envelopes for another few minutes in relative peace. Abruptly, a strong gust of wind rattled the house to its foundation. The stiff breeze blew in through the open window, unseating a few stacks of envelopes. Huffing a bit, Buffy gathered them quickly and went to the window, intent upon closing it when a figure walking across her backyard caught her eye.

The man was hunched over, shuffling slightly, but he peered up into the starless black sky through one eye by tilting his hoary head to one side. Thunder rumbled and that seemed to startle him, and he cowered a bit before raising a fist toward the dense clouds.

"Uh, there's someone outside," she said flatly. The Slayer, folks: a marvel of keen senses and brisk action.

Moving from the window, Buffy headed to the back door and out into the yard. "Hey!" she began, but by the time she stepped into the grass, the man had vanished. She started toward the back gate, surprised to see it was closed and latched. That stooped old man couldn't have scaled the hedges, could he?

What was she thinking? They were in Sunnydale: a nursing home bandit simply hopping an eight-foot shrubbery was mundane at best.

Hanejima Yuuhei, talented actor of crappy ~~TV series~~ movies, at your service~! I feel like this could be "Vampire Ninja Carmilla Saizou, part 2: THE REVENGE" or something. XD Either way: Kasuka will be acting for this meme.

[If you're in a bad movie? Well, guess whose fault that is.]

[After a couple hours drinking at the bar in 'The Girl in Gold Boots', while watching the repetitive jiggling and hip-swaying, Balthazar is feeling fairly mellow. There's no way your standard Trickster should be this powerful, and he can't even begin to figure out what lesson he's supposed to learn here, but it could be much worse. He can spare a few days (weeks? months?) to work out the message, especially given the campy but hardly unpleasant surroundings.

Of course, the scenery could always change, too.]

((IDEK how this would happen, but I can come up with all the B-movie settings anyone could want.))

[You can never be too careful when you're an archangel in witness protection. Harassing the Winchesters is almost too much effort in the opposite direction. However, it's just too fun - and who else was going to give those boys hard object lessons? But when Gabriel crosses paths with one of his little brothers, he starts to feel just a little bit antsy about it. It's an old instinct, now. Running into Castiel hadn't really helped it any, even with Castiel cut off from Heaven like he was (imagine that, Castiel cut off from Heaven; it really was end times).

Terrible cable reruns aside - from the depths of which he'd plucked this entertaining bit of Americana - there's no shame in ogling self-created doubles of those girls, right? Say it ain't so. Gabriel fixes himself at the bar with a drink, cheered up by the prospect that this little brother hasn't started trying to blast his way out or shout at him for 'not knowing his place'. Maybe there was some hope for them, yet.]

How's an 80's musical sound? Plus or minus the plant.

"How do you think it sounds?" Xander paused as if Spike might actually glean his meaning by tone alone. "The plant's the best part! How can you have Little Shop of Horrors without Audrey II? You can't. Otherwise you have "Moderately Sized Office of Mild Terror."

As he dug into his pocket, Harris continued to complain about Spike. Mostly to himself. The high schooler behind the counter looked at him expectantly until he finished on a the solid sound of a twenty dollar bill slapping down on the glass counter top. "Gummy bears. Make it quick and there's a tip in it for you," he added as an aside. The girl scoffed and it was exactly the kind of reaction that cued Xander on go-ahead to continue his one-sided argument with Spike.

"By the way, this is the worst date I've ever been on. Not only did I have to buy your ticket, but I have to treat myself." He said, practically dripping sarcasm. He grabbed up the three measly bags his hard earned money purchased and brushed past the vampire. Ten o'clock on a Friday night and what is he doing? Babysitting a vampire. Or maybe being babysat. It's a bit hard to tell with Buffy these days.

(He was MADE for this meme)

Xander was to his feet in an instant. Any distraction from that mess of invitations was a welcome distraction, especially since he'd always been a little creeped out about the act of licking envelope glue ever since he saw that episode of Seinfeld where Susan kicked the bucket.

As he approached Buffy, he considered the implication of his thoughts and realized that he'd rather it be him than Anya if those invitations were poison. Dammit, how does she do that to him? "When you say someone's outside, do you mean someone-someone, or a Hellmouth-born demonic-someone? Because there's a crucial difference and you tend to treat them all the same." As he said this, he inched around her to take a couple cautious steps out into the windy back yard.

"Coast looks pretty clear here, but I swear I can smell crumpets. Am I crazy? That's it, isn't it? I've gone crumpet crazy." He raised his arms helplessly and turned on his heel to get a better look at the overgrown bushes. One of these days he'd find the time to help out with the yard work. In the meantime, it served as a pretty decent privacy hedge. He contemplated the wall for a few more seconds and then turned back to Buffy, completely oblivious to the ominous rustling of every leaf behind him.

[Balthazar, meanwhile, has been watching the crowd. Theoretically, his host should be around sooner or later. Gabriel is quick to catch his eye, just because he looks the least dated of anyone there (possibly including Balthazar himself). The younger angel watches for a few minutes, attention shifting from the dancers to his drink, to Gabriel. At last, though, he rises and wanders over, sliding into a seat next to him.]

I think they ought to learn some new music, don't you? [He comments mildly, nodding at the band. They're preparing to take a break now, which is probably just as well.]

As she looked on, a roll-shouldered elderly gentleman with comically large eyebrows exited her hedge and clamped his hand over Xander's mouth. He tried to shake the man off valiantly for about thirteen seconds before his eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the ground.

Buffy sprang into action the very moment Xander's face touched the grass. She swept low, aiming to bring the man to his knees figuring on asking for an introduction once she had her hand around his throat. Surprisingly, the man stepped aside easily and Buffy was forced into a roll, climbing to her feet to just miss a swipe from the littler man.

"C'mon!" she whined. "I have to finish envelope-stuff... er, never mind." She beckoned him closer, inviting him to take a swing. "This is more fun." Buffy took a wider stance and braced to throw a punch or two (or three - grass-stained blouses were just about as bad as blood-stained, after all).

Just then, the garden gate swung open (knocking into the still-unconscious Xander's still-on-the-ground head) to revel Willow.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, taking in the scene. "Buffy. Sorry - I didn't know you were, uh, having guests over."

It was all the distraction Buffy needed to strike. One well-aimed kick later, the old man was face-deep in the yard.

"Thanks, Will." The other girl smiled, and together, they bent to Xander's aid.

As he came to, Xander let out a groan. His hand came up to cradle his head. Wait, did that hurt before? He was pretty sure it didn't, but since the ache was turning dull, he figured it wasn't worth mentioning (especially if he'd done something amazing like hit his own head on the way down).

"Thanks for the assist," he groaned as the ladies supported him to a righted position. From his vantage, he could only see the old man's boots and legs stretching in front of them. "Geez, did the guy try to kill me or what? Unconsciousness wasn't enough?" Okay, so maybe it was worth mentioning.

Willow winced, a nervous laugh escaping her. "Well, haha, bad guys usually do go for the gusto," she agreed, "but this time it was kind of... my fault. Sorry."

Xander stared for a second, looking between Rosenberg and Summers. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and made the last push to his feet. It's not like he could be mad for long... or at all. "Don't worry, there'll be plenty of time for recovery. And apology-flavored milkshakes."

"Oh! With malt?" Somehow the witch had no problem being excited at the prospect despite the situation at hand. Of course, the look she received back immediately put her in check. "After we figure out what all this attack-y stuff's about," Willow finished sagely.

"Right," Buffy agreed, nodding. "Step one should be tying up the attack-y guy." She cast a look back to the toppled terror, though all she could see was a snowy white head of hair framed by green grass. She supposed she'd need to mow the lawn soon.

Willow got to her feet. "I'll get the rope," she volunteered cheerily. "I love that we get to question someone." With that, the redhead turned from them and went into the house.

Buffy helped Xander to his feet and together, they lifted the unconscious perpetrator (well, okay - Buffy did the lifting, but Xander executed all the important door-opening and chair-getting parts). They met up with Willow in the living room.

Once the guy was bound, Buffy slapped him awake (since the smelling salts were all the way upstairs and all).

"Huh? Uh..." he groaned, slumping over bit. The man's vigor flagged, and Buffy readied her slappin' hand once more, but then he raised his confused eyes to her and mumbled, "Wo bin ich?*"

Buffy raised an eyebrow, and she heard Xander gasp from behind her. "What?" she asked, turning toward her friend. "What's he saying?"

*"Where am I?"

[Gabriel glances over at them, quirking a grin.]

I think all they do when they're not here is listen to the smooth jazz station.

[Which is no way to live. Even if, technically, this is just the two of them surrounded by constructs. But really, whoever had been responsible for the music in that movie should have been subjected to a little bit of Gabriel's justice. In his opinion. Hopefully their career had ended, and that's justice enough.]

Can't argue with the dancers, though.

Xander looked at Buffy, both eyebrows raised. "What did—? No, uh— No, I was just reacting to those grass stains," he told the Slayer. "It's going to be hell getting them out of a such a delicate fabric." See? He pays attention once in a while.

The old man in the chair rolled his head, lulling it from one side to the other. "Ach. Vhere am I?" He asked, because the odds of these stupid Americans speaking his language was slim to none if this conversation was any indication.

"So you do speak English." Leave it to Harris to state the obvious.

"Ja, sie dumm fuhrt.* I speak English."

Xander crossed his arms. "Well, why didn't you say so before?" Willow squeezed in next to her friend and bent over a bit, talking to the captured man. "I speak some German," he told him, voice encouraging.

"Forget it. Zis iz not up for ze debate. English iz fine. Now, vhere am I? Iz zis... Z- Sunny-dale?" The man had to sound it out, as he found no one recognized Zunnydale as said with his accent.

*"Yes, you stupid head."

[ooc: he was indeeeed.]

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"Bad" Movie Meme

Xander Harris | Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Bride of the Atom, yo!

Kit Walker - American Horror Story: Asylum

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Lauren Reed || Alias || OTA

Rachel Gibson || Alias || OTA

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Heiwajima Kasuka | Durarara!! | OTA

Gabriel } Supernatural } ota

omg, yes please

Balthazar/Supernatural/open

ilu for that choice

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Crow T Robot | MST3K

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:D

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Re: Crow T Robot | MST3K