#Dale Van Every

[dweemeister]

Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932)

For the bookworms reading this, fair warning: there have been almost no faithful film adaptations of an Edgar Allan Poe work. In the absence of any cinematic-literary faithfulness to Poe’s bibliography, there still remains a plethora of big-screen Poe adaptations that, from a cinematic standpoint, are simply mesmeric to watch. Robert Florey’s Murders in the Rue Morgue, starring Béla Lugosi one year after his career-defining role in Dracula (1931) and released by Universal, is one of the earliest such adaptations. Its atmospheric filmmaking reminiscent of the tangled geometries of German Expressionism and Lugosi’s creepy turn in a starring role may make Poe loyalists furious, but one hopes they can also see the remarkable craft of this film, too.

Though lesser known than both Dracula and Frankenstein (1931), Florey’s Murders in the Rue Morgue came about due to legacies of both those productions. Following the successful release of Dracula in February 1931, Universal considered Lugosi as their go-to star for horror films. Producer Carl Laemmle Jr. – the son of Universal’s chief executive and co-founder, Carl Laemmle – wanted Lugosi to play Frankenstein’s monster (often mistakenly called “Frankenstein”), and even had Lugosi play the monster in several minutes of test footage. That footage, now lost, is one of horror cinema’s greatest sights unseen. Sometime after that test shoot, Universal gave director James Whale a first-choice pick for his next project after the rousing critical and commercial success of Waterloo Bridge (1931). Whale chose Frankenstein, requested a screenplay rewrite, and cast the British actor Boris Karloff in the role. As consolation, Lammle Jr. gave the Hungarian American Lugosi the starring role in Murders in Rue Morgue.

In a Parisian carnival in 1845, we find ourselves in a sideshow tent. There, Dr. Mirakle (Lugosi; meer-AH-cull, not to be pronounced like “miracle”) provides a presentation that is anything but the freak show the attendees are anticipating. He unveils an ape, Erik (Charles Gemora – an actor in an ape suit; some close-up shots are of an actual ape), whom he claims he is able to understand and converse with – even though Erik is unable to speak any human language. In the audience, Mirakle spots a young lady, Camille L’Espanaye (Sidney Fox), and asks her to be his intrepid volunteer for a demonstration. The demonstration goes awry, to the ire of both Camille and her fiancé, Pierre Dupin (Leon Ames). As Camille and Pierre exit the carnival, Mirakle orders his assistant, Janos (Noble Johnson), to trail them. Thus sets in motion the film’s grisly plot.

The film also stars silent film comic actor Bert Roach as one of Camille and Pierre’s friends, Betsy Ross Clarke as Camille’s mother, character actor D’Arcy Corrigan as the morgue keeper, and Arlene Francis (best known as a regular panelist on the game show What’s My Line?) as a prostitute.

Murders in the Rue Morgue, with a screenplay by Tom Reed (1925’s The Phantom of the Opera, 1931’s Waterloo Bridge) and Dale Van Every (1937’s Captains Courageous, 1942’s The Talk of the Town), is one of the most violent pre-Code horror films from the early synchronized sound years. It was so violent, in fact, that Universal’s executives harbored trepidation throughout its entire production and demanded narrative and structural changes that ultimately harmed the film (including cutting grotesque and violent sequences, leaving behind the current 62-minute runtime). The best example of this damage comes from the film’s opening third. Unbeknownst to the carnival attendees, Mirakle has been performing horrifying experiments involving cross-species blood mixing and, through heavy implication by the filmmaking and Gemora’s performance, bestiality (hey, it’s a pre-Code movie!). Originally, Florey’s adaptation of Murders in the Rue Morgue began with Mirakle and Janos abducting Arlene Francis’ streetwalker and Mirakle’s torturing and experimentation on her. Only after that did the film transition to Mirakle’s sideshow presentation.

The reordering of these two scenes – in the final print, the sideshow opens the movie and the abduction and experimentation follows a turgid romantic scene between Camille and Pierre – makes the sideshow opening seem sillier than it should be. If the original order had been kept, Florey’s initial intention to instill dread during the sideshow only after the abduction and experimentation scene – as the audience would be well aware of what Mirakle is capable of – would have made the film’s exposition feel far less stage-bound and hokey than it does. The abduction and experimentation scene’s blood-curdling horror remains (the scene contains a boundary-pushing combination of bestial and religious allusions that some modern filmmakers might not even dare to push), but the romantic scene immediately preceding makes for a rough tonal transition. In comparison to later horror films from the Hollywood Studio System released after stricter implementation of the Hays Code in 1934, these scenes – in addition to a later investigation and the film’s finale – hold up wonderfully.

Crucially, Tom Reed and Dale Van Every’s screenplay alter genres from Edgar Allan Poe’s original short story. With the introduction of hobbyist detective C. Auguste Dupin, Poe’s The Murders in the Rue Morgue is a foundational piece of early Western detective fiction. Or, in Poe’s words, Murders in the Rue Morgue is a “ratiocination tale” – a name that was never going to catch on in any century. Poe’s Dupin, a character who later influenced Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot, undergoes a name change in Reed and Van Every’s adaptation, and we do not see nearly as much deduction and investigating here as in the short story. Reed and Van Every’s screenplay, which delete all but two scenes from the Poe short story, also elevate one of their own creations – Dr. Mirakle – at the expense of Dupin. In addition, it is clear early on who is responsible for the violent acts within the narrative. And, unlike the Poe’s original short story in which Dupin and the unnamed narrator read about the violence in the newspaper, the film shows these acts explicitly or the lead-up to them. Director Robert Florey’s film is decidedly a horror film, not a mystery.

Having Béla Lugosi in the cast in his first film after Dracula is a surefire way to confirm that you are making/watching a horror film. Reed and Van Every’s clunky dialogue might not do Sidney Fox and Leon Ames any favors, but it is a gift for Lugosi. Lugosi’s heavily accented English typecast him later in his career to mad scientist and vampire roles. Nevertheless, who else could stand there – with a mangled tuft of a wig, a makeup department-applied thick unibrow that appears to barely move, menacing lighting from a low angle – and tell Fox’s Camille (after receiving a gawking from Erik, the ape), “Erik is only human, mademoiselle. He has an eye for beauty,” with incredible conviction? The opening minutes of the film at the sideshow, because of the reordering of the film, are heavily expository and contain the bumpiest writing of the entire film. But Lugosi, with his signature cadence (notice how and when Lugosi uses silence and varies the speed of his phrasing – very few native English speakers naturally speak like that) and his physical acting, presents himself perfectly as the societal outsider – remarkably intelligent, but perhaps mentally unhinged. Lugosi’s performance completely outshines all others in this film. Here, in a magnificent performance, he confirms that his acting ability on display in Dracula was no fluke.

Early Universal Horror of the late silent era and early sound era owes a sizable debt to German Expressionism – a mostly silent film-era movement in German cinema in which filmmakers used distorted and geometrically unrealistic sets to suggest mental tumult and dread. Working alongside editor Milton Carruth (1932’s The Mummy,1943’s Shadow of a Doubt) and production designer Charles D. Hall (1925’s The Phantom of the Opera, 1930’s All Quiet on the Western Front), cinematographer Karl Freund (1924’s The Last Laugh, 1927’s Metropolis) found a team of filmmakers that he could work with to set an aesthetic that could do justice to Murders in the Rue Morgue’s macabre plot.

It also helped that director Robert Florey wanted to make something that looked closer to Robert Wiene’s The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1919, Germany) than Dracula. Together, Freund and Florey worked with Hall to achieve a set design that created long shadows and crooked buildings and tents more likely to appear in a nightmare than in nineteenth century Europe. The final chase scene across angular and rickety rooftops used leftover sets from The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923). All this endows Murders in the Rue Morgue with a gruesome atmosphere, oftentimes cloaked in dust and early morning mist.

For Freund and Florey, each saw in the other a kindred spirit in their appreciation of German Expressionism. If they could not achieve just the right shadow, they would instead paint it onto the set itself (painting shadows was commonplace in German Expressionism, but never in Hollywood movies). To achieve the ideal lighting for some of the rooftop or near-rooftop scenes, they shot outdoors, in chilly autumn weather, past midnight – most black-and-white Old Hollywood films, due to technical limitations at the time, shot nighttime scenes inside soundstages. In an era where cameras usually stayed frozen in one place, Freund invented the unchained camera technique, allowing cameras to creep forward into a set rather than relying on a cut to a close-up. Though the unchained camera is not as present here as in other movies involving Freund as cinematographer, it makes the viewer feel as if they are moving alongside the crowd at the carnival, as well as imbuing the audience with a terrible anticipation for what terror lurks around the corner. Freund and Florey’s collaboration was one of like-minded men, with similar influences and goals. In what was their only film together, the two achieve an artistry with few similarities across much of American film history.

Initial reception to Murders in the Rue Morgue was cold, in large part due to the film’s shocking violence and awkward acting. Despite finishing the film under budget, Robert Florey hit the apex of his career with Murders in the Rue Morgue. The disapproval from Universal executives took its toll, and given that Florey was on a one-film contract with the studio, he never returned. The French American director would bounce around studios over the next decade – from Paramount to Warner Bros. back to Paramount to Columbia and back to Warner Bros. – mostly working on inexpensive B-pictures, occasionally making a hit such as The Beast with Five Fingers (1946). Florey spent his later career with television anthologies: Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Four Star Playhouse, and The Twilight Zone.

For Lugosi, Murders in the Rue Morgue was the true first step for the horror film typecasting that he sought to avoid. Once considered by Universal’s executives to be the successor to the late Lon Chaney (The Man of a Thousand Faces passed away in 1930), the failure of Murders in the Rue Morgue among audiences and critics gave Universal pause when it came to extending Lugosi’s original contract. But the early 1930s were Lugosi’s most productive period in films, and they contained his finest, most memorable performances.

In recent decades, the reputation of Murders in the Rue Morgue continues to gradually improve, as do many films that once caused a stir due to their content during the pre-Code years. Awkward supporting actors aside, when one has Béla Lugosi cloaked in the shadows of German Expressionism and the spirit (albeit not so much intentions of the original text) of Edgar Allan Poe, what results is a foreboding work, one worthy to carry Universal’s horror legacy.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog. Half-points are always rounded down.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[esonetwork]

Dr. Cyclops | Episode 437

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/dr-cyclops-episode-437/

Dr. Cyclops | Episode 437

Jim discusses a classic sci-fi film from 1940 – “Dr. Cyclops, ” starring Albert Dekker. Janice Logan, Thomas Coley, Charles Halton, and directed by Ernest B. Schoedsack, for producers Merian C. Cooper and Dale Van Every. A reclusive scientist with a laboratory laboratory deep in the Amazon jungle invites three scientists to assist. Upon discovering a horrific secret, they are subjected to experiments involving radiation. Find out more on this episode of MONSTER ATTACK!, The Podcast Dedicated To Old Monster Movies.

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Make It Back

A/N: A right of passage- sticking the reader character into the 'Andrea shot Daryl' scene :) Reader goes OFF on her, so be prepared lol. Sorry if you love Andrea

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader

WC: ~4k

Warnings: talk of Daryl's injuries, falling down the cliff, Walker attack- nothing too graphic; Andrea shooting Daryl but just grazing him; mentions of gore/blood- nothing too graphic; angst, comfort, fluff, cuddling; Daryl being sassy; reader character fighting with Andrea (yelling match)

Summary: You confront Andrea after she shoots Daryl, thinking he's a walker. With your anger taken out on her, you then comfort Daryl as he spends the night in the Greene farmhouse.

You heard the gunshot. Everyone on the farm did. You just didn’t know exactly what had happened.

Following Lori’s lead, you jogged around the house, hoping it wasn’t another accident like the one that almost killed Carl. It was a single shot. Why would anyone risk a lone round out in the open like this? On this beautiful farm.

Once you circled the house, landing in a clump of Herschel’s family and a few others from your group, all you saw was sun. Its rays were blinding yellow as they cut over the tall, deep treeline on the edge of the meadow. It was the middle of a gorgeous day.

You heard Rick scream. It was a booming, worried thing. Then he screamed again.

“What the hell is going on here?” Herschel bellowed. 

You moved closer to the field, the gravel of the driveway turning to grass under your feet as you neared the van. Dale was standing beside it with his hands on his head, panic clear in his figure as he looked out to the scene in the pasture. 

“Shit,” Andrea said as she hastily climbed down the ladder from the top of the van. She started whining, more to herself than anyone else. “No, no, no, Daryl.”

“What?” you asked, a cold shock running down your spine from the back of your neck to your heels in the dirt. “What? What about Daryl?”

“I-I thought he was a walker,” she said.

Your head whirled to the cluster of men at the treeline. You tripped, your feet rooted to the ground in horror and misunderstanding. Was Andrea actually saying-

“I shot him.”

You bolted at her confession. These days, you were used to running, having done plenty of it through the woods to escape walkers. Then, you had to be careful of roots and puddles and dead bodies and the trees slowed you down, making sprinting difficult. Now, as you watched Rick fall to his knees in the distance, reaching for Daryl’s head after it hit the ground, speed came easily to you. The open meadow of freely growing grass under the clear blue sky was practically a racetrack.

Andrea panted behind you and the useless coins in Dale’s jeans clinked together, but you were faster, your feet agile in their swiftness. Your boots didn’t pound into the dirt like theirs. You sped to Daryl, only slowing when Rick threw one of Daryl’s arms over Shane’s shoulder and took the other one over his own. Daryl’s body fell limp against them, his feet dragging.

As the men caught their balance, you took Daryl’s face in your hands, seeing it drenched in blood.

“He’s unconscious,” Rick said to you. “We’ll get him back to the house.”

You nodded, otherwise silent. 

Andrea, however, let loose her apologies and worries in a shrill voice that made everyone around tense up like their limbs were attached to drawstrings. 

You didn’t listen to her words. Or T-Dog’s or Glenn’s and you didn’t notice Rick pull something from Daryl’s neck. Only the grass had your attention as your mind ceaselessly spun. Your boots pushed the tall blades around, making them sway with your every step. The shades of green were glowing in the slowly setting sun until they were marred- darkened by the looming three-headed shadow making its way across the field. Daryl’s blood dripped with every step, leaving red droplets behind with the last of the dew.

“I’m sorry,” Andrea said. When she touched your arm, you jumped, jarred back from the peace of the meadow and into the grisly present.

You didn’t answer her.

Daryl was still unconscious by the time Rick and Shane laid him down in the bedroom. While they’d carried him into the house, you beelined straight to Maggie, asking for a rag and some warm water. You ducked into the bedroom and dodged the panicking men so you could sit on the bed and wipe as much grime from Daryl’s face and hands as you could manage before leaving Herschel in peace to bandage his wounds.

When the door to the bedroom closed you out, you sat on the floor in the hall. Earlier, you had wondered if what Rick told you was true, if Daryl was only unconscious. If the bullet had truly only grazed him. You only fully believed Daryl was alive when you washed his face clean. His brow even crinkled when the wet cloth touched it. He was in there still. 

Lori sat down quietly next to you in the hallway. She patted your knee. She didn’t have to say anything. You knew her well enough by now to know what she thought. You’re a good friend to him, she’d say. And he doesn’t have many.

You leaned your head back against the wall with a soft thunk and closed your eyes. It was tranquil there for a moment before a familiar, unwanted voice interrupted. 

“Can I talk to you?”

You opened your eyes to see Andrea standing above you and Lori.

“Now’s not a good time,” you said. It was awkward and uncomfortable. “I’m waiting for- for some word.”

“I’ll be quick,” she asked, sliding down the wall and sitting beside you.

Andrea had a knack for rubbing you the wrong way at the worst times. You wouldn’t call yourself a ‘strong personality,’ but she certainly was. Whatever it was deep down in you was constantly butting heads with whatever lived in her core. You disagreed with her most of the time, but tried your best to be patient and gracious given the losses she’d suffered and the emotions clearly wracking her. Still, you couldn’t help but feel she went about most things all wrong.

Like insisting she speak to you now.

So you stood up. You asked Lori to come find you when Daryl woke or when you could go visit him- whatever came first- and you left the house. The turmoil in your chest almost made you scream. But instead of letting it rip through you, you sucked in a deep breath and walked down the front steps. To be alone.

“(Y/N), wait.”

You could tell it was her by the sound of her voice. 

“Andrea,” you warned, “I’m not in a place to talk right now.”

“To anyone? Or just to me?”

“Does it matter?” you asked, spinning around in the gravel to face her. “Can’t you just respect that I’m- I’m trying to-”

“What?” she shouted, hands in the air. “Trying not to yell at me? What if I want you to? What if I want you to scream at me? Tell me I’m reckless! Tell me-”

“Tell you what you need to hear? That’s not my job.” You were calm, considering the outburst in front of you. “Just leave me be.”

“No.” She ran in front of you, standing with her feet spread wide, blocking your path from the farm house. Like a child. “I need to… I need to apologize. To you. For what I did to Daryl.”

A laugh escaped you. “Apologize to me?”

“Yes. And-”

“You know who you need to apologize to, Andrea?”

“Daryl, I know, but-”

“And Herschel and Rick and Glenn and T-Dog, and everyone else you put in danger when you decided to not do what you were told.”

You watched her jaw clench and set in place. Lowly, she said, “I don’t need to be told what to do.”

“Apparently you do. Apparently you don’t have your head screwed on straight!” you said.

“What’s that supposed to mean-”

“No, Andrea!” you cut her off with a stabbing shout. “You’re gonna follow me around like this and beg for a piece of my mind? Let me give it to you! Lord knows no one else here will.” You took her arm, leading her away from the front of the house where your temper- or loss of it- wouldn’t disturb Herschel’s family. When she tried to talk over you, tell you she knew what she was doing with that gun in her hands, you snarled at her. “Shut up! I’m speaking now.”

***

You didn’t realize that the hidden spot you led her to happened to be just below the bedroom Daryl and the other men were in. You had no clue that your every word rode the breeze up and through the window above where Rick, Shane, and Daryl could hear you as clearly as if you stood right before them.

And you didn’t know Daryl was already awake.

Shane, arms crossed over his chest, peeked out the window at the sound of Andrea’s voice. He whistled to Rick. “Catfight.” 

“What?” Rick asked. He followed Shane’s gaze and shook his head when he saw you. “Nah, (Y/N)’s good. She’ll keep her head.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure,” Daryl grumbled. “Girl’s got a temper.”

“Never heard anything out of her,” Shane said.

“Thas ‘cause you ain’t never heard her complain ‘bout you.”

“Man, shut up,” Shane growled over Rick’s chuckles. “If (Y/N) gives Andrea a talkin’ to, that’s one less thing on my list.”

Daryl violently shifted the pillow under his head. “Dun even wanna know what’s on yer list.”

Shane shushed him, spitting on the window screen, and nudged Rick. “Wanna listen to her.”

***

You stuck an accusing finger at Andrea, keeping her staring at you and squinting into the low sun. “You need to understand, there’s no ‘girl jobs and boy jobs’ here. It’s not that simple. Just because you don’t like doing laundry and washing dishes doesn’t mean you get a gun to flaunt around by default.”

“They’re wasting my skills!” she hissed.

“Those guys,” you pointed out to the pasture, where Daryl went down, “Rick, Shane, Daryl- those guys are trained with those weapons. They were fucking cops and hunters, Andrea! That’s why they get the guns right now, not because they’re better than us, or whatever the hell story you’ve told yourself.”

“Then I should be trained the way they were,” she said. “Before they took it from me, I had my own gun for years-”

“After what you did today, I hope you never get your hands on another gun! You put every one of those guys in danger today. What if your aim was further off, huh? What if you shot Glenn? Or Rick? You could have killed him right in front of his boy! Right after Carl got back on his feet, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course it does!” 

“Are you sure?” The sun was beating down on your back. The heat of its rays added to the roiling in your gut, making sweat drip down the side of your face and pool on your lower back. Its slick had your t-shirt clinging to you. “Are you really sure? ‘Cause if your shit aim was a half an inch better, you would have killed him today! One of our own. And you’re acting like you barely care- you’re here apologizing to me?”

“You’re closest to him,” she grumbled. “I was trying to be-”

You spoke over her meaningless words. “Daryl is an asset to this group. He keeps us safe, feeds us- he was coming back from looking for Sophia and what thanks does he get? A fucking bullet to the head. You took down a good man today-”

“I thought he was a walker!” Andrea screamed in defense.

“So what?” Your throat ached from its work and Andrea flinched. You forced a calming breath before you continued slowly and deliberately, hoping some of your words would actually stick in her head. “We are so lucky we’re allowed on this property. That we found this doctor.”

“I know.”

“And he asked one thing in return. No guns. You were told by Rick, by Shane- no guns. You saw- you thought you saw one walker and you waste a bullet on it? That one gunshot could have led a whole herd to this house, Andrea. What would have happened then?”

“I get it, okay?”

“I don’t think you do. Four men went out there to take down that walker. They explicitly told you not to shoot that gun. And you did it anyway. And for what? Pride?”

She stared at you. Then she shrugged flippantly. “I wanted to do it. I knew I could do it.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it to you.”

***

Shane whistled again from his spot in the window. “If we ever need a lawyer, she’s the one.”

Daryl laid his head back on the pillow after holding it in the air to listen carefully to your argument. His cheeks, ears, neck and chest were hot and flushed from your words about him. 

“She still down there?” he asked. 

“No,” Rick said. He rounded the foot of the bed and walked towards the door of the bedroom. “I’ll go check on her. She’ll wanna know you’re alright.”

“He’s red as a tomato,” Shane said, slapping Daryl’s foot, “but alive, right Daryl?”

“Barely,” he grumbled. 

***

It was Lori who found you first. She grabbed your wrist and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Daryl’s okay,” she said. “You can go up and see him now.”

You ran your palms up over your cheeks and into your hair, feeling the sweat that had gathered. You sighed. “Maybe later. He should probably rest.”

“He was askin’ for you,” Rick said, appearing behind Lori with a hand on the small of her back. “Go on up.”

At that, you nodded and headed for the bedroom.

Miraculously, you didn’t run into anyone else as you made your way through the house. You would have been embarrassed to see one of the Greenes after what had gone down today in the pasture or even after scolding Andrea, whether anyone had heard you or not.

You couldn’t quite get yourself to open the bedroom door, even as you stood before it, hand on the knob. There was no talking or snoring or shifting of sheets from the inside and you debated if you would be a disturbance or a comfort to whatever mood you’d meet inside.

Finally, at length, you pushed it open.

Daryl was shirtless, legs tangled in the thin sheets on the large bed. He only took up a small portion of it, though he was laying almost diagonally across it so he could watch the door. Of course he and his tracker’s ears had heard you open it. He looked at you with narrowed eyes. 

“Hey killer,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t even.”

You stood in the doorway, watching him. His arm was tucked tight under his head as he looked away from you and down into the sheets. He tucked them up all around him, blocking his injury and most of his skin from view. You knew why, but ignored it. You instead stared at the bandage tied around his head. It made his short hair stick up wildly, like a bloody coyote in the woods. 

“You wanna be alone, or you want me to stay?” you asked, hanging onto the doorknob. 

He shrugged. “Dun matter ta me.”

That was the closest to a yes you were ever going to get. You closed the door behind you with a soft click and walked to the emptier side of the bed to sit on its edge. “You need anything? Water, or-”

“Got it,” he said, blindly pointing to the nightstand beside the bed.

“Kay.” The air in the room was hot, but since the sun was setting lower and lower each minute, you knew there’d be a breeze blowing through the lacy curtains soon enough. You wiped your brow again. “How are you feeling?”

“‘Bout as bad as I look.”

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

You breathed out a laugh. “You looked like death itself before, though, so this is an upgrade.”

He glared at you, but it was playful. For him, you knew it was. “Well, I was shot.”

“Yeah.” 

You swallowed hard at the reminder. Next to his glass of water was the bowl and cloth you’d brought to him earlier. You reached for it now, wringing it out some before bringing it to his forehead which was as damp with sweat as yours was. 

“What else happened out there?”

“Nuthin’,” he said, shrugging off the cloth. 

You didn’t budge and asked again. “You look rough, Dare. Herschel said there was something with your side too? I saw all the blood.”

He was quiet, attention again on the sheets as you dabbed at his forehead and cheeks. There was still blood on his chin and grime on his neck- mud and something else you didn’t care to guess at. You stopped at his shoulders. It was clear he didn’t want you looking anywhere near his chest or back, buried in the sheets. 

Then you noticed him watching you.

“You…”

“Hm?” you pushed.

“You were worried? ‘Bout… ‘bout me.”

“Of course I was. Still am. You’re one of us, we’re all worried-”

“I fell. And a couple’a walkers found me.”

Panic shot through you like lightning, branching through your veins and up your limbs. “Walkers?” No one told you. No one said anything about a bite or scratch or anything- “Is that, the injury on your side, it’s from a walker?”

“No,” he was quick to correct. “Nah, I fought ‘em off. Didn’t get me.” “Christ,” you whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to keep the unshed tears stuck in your eyes.

“When I fell down the cliff, I took an arrow through my back.”

It didn’t-couldn’t-register. “You fell down a cliffside?”

“Twice.”

That was all you could take. The emotion, the stress and panic of the day, of the weeks past, caught up to you in one drowning swell. You felt your lips tremble and tried to keep them shut up tight, tried to count the bumps in the washcloth still in your hands, dripping on the knee of your jeans.

“Ay,” Daryl said, gruffly. He took the washcloth from you and smacked your arm with it before tossing it near its bowl. “Dun do that. Dun- dun cry fer me-”

“Argentina?”

“Wha?”

It made you laugh. It was a wet, snotty laugh and the curve of your cheek pushed out a fat tear that carved its way down your face. “It’s a song,” you said.

“Don’t start singin’ neither.”

You chuckled again, losing more tears and the fight to not cry in front of Daryl. 

With a painful grunt, he moved himself on the bed, opening a spot for you. He patted the empty space, mumbling. “Come on.”

You kicked off your boots and laid down on the bed, mirroring him. One arm supported your head, while the other tucked tight against you, keeping to your own space as you looked at him. His teeth dug into his lip over and over as he studied the hair and freckles on his arm as if he’d never seen it before. 

“Were you scared?” you whispered.

After a long while, narrowed blue eyes met yours and he nodded.

“Out there alone.” Your voice broke, shaking with the tight breath in your chest. 

“S’alright. M’back now.”

You flopped on your back, away from him for a chance to breathe. You were losing your grip and you didn’t want to break in front of him. You were there to support him, not force him into comforting you. But the thought of him in fear and suffering alone was stubbornly lodged in your throat. 

“When I was out there climbin,’ that’s what I was thinkin’ ‘bout,” Daryl said. “Thought ‘bout comin’ back. Seein’ ya. Knew I had ta get back.”

His words hung in the air. They were soft and open, his voice less harsh than usual. 

“That’s right,” you said. Using the collar of your t-shirt, as sweaty and dirty as it was, you wiped the tear tracks from your face and cleared your eyes.

“Now we both look bad as I feel,” Daryl said.

“Shut up,” you said. But you laughed.

The air felt clearer now. It wasn’t so stifling hot and you watched the transparent curtains dance in the breeze coming in through the window. Again, you turned to him, laying on your side, able to study him more. Daryl, however, seemed like he couldn’t bear the attention. His flitting gaze fell on just about everything in the room except you until he seemed to settle upon the safety of the bare ceiling above, studying it as if it were a map to a hidden treasure. Like a cure to the world’s mess.

“You okay?” you finally asked.

“Did you mean it? What ya said?”

“When?”

One of his hands flew up, gesturing toward the window. “Earlier. To Andrea.”

You hummed, lips glued together for a moment. “You heard all that?”

He chuckled. “Loud and clear. She deserved it.”

“Mm. Just lost my temper.”

He grunted, agreeing. “But’cha- what ya said ‘bout me.” He struggled for the words, throat and mouth working for the right thing to ask. “Said I was a good man, ya mean that?”

“Of course.” You sat up, moving your face into his line of vision. You made him look at you. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. And I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I didn’t think it.” Your fingertips grazed his skin, tickling down his cheek until they turned the other way, your knuckles running the same path for good measure. “You are a good man. I see you. I see the things you do and no matter how much you like to hide it, I know you have a big heart. I’ve seen it.” You gave him a soft shove on the shoulder, teasing. While you were there, close to him, you brushed the hair off his forehead before returning your hands to yourself and laying back flat on the bed.

He grunted and pressed his lips together, staring at where your face had been, the spot that was just the bare ceiling now. Then he shrugged away from you and turned to the opposite wall and grumbled, “S’not what I asked, girl.”

“Gave ya some extra bang for your buck, that’s all,” you said. When he didn’t turn or even chuckle, you bent towards the floor for your boots. “Want me to go? So you can get some rest?”

He gave you nothing in answer. You at least hoped he heard what you said, took it to heart. But, you thought, that’s what you get for blubbering all over his bed. Only slightly bothered, you leaned towards the nightstand to see if he had enough water for the evening. Then, you’d leave-

“Dun haf’ta go,” he mumbled. 

“Oh.”

“So long as ya don’t go all girly ga-ga on me again.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he peeked at you over his shoulder. “You mean telling you that I actually care about you? Then don’t go tryin’ to die on me again.”

He flopped over. “Ya think I wanted to fall off the damn cliff? Fuckin’ horse threw me off.”

Setting your boots back down, you settled into the bed next to him. “Horse shoot you with your own crossbow too?”

“You shut your mouth, girl.”

“Mhmm.” you hummed, grinning.

Like two parallel beings, you laid opposite each other, close, but not touching. You used your own arm for a pillow and tucked yourself under the sheet of the bed. Daryl looked past you, as if watching the door as another breeze blew through the room.

“Here,” he said, shimmying up towards the head of the bed and sliding the arm of his uninjured side under your head. You laid close, tucking your arms into your chest so only your elbows and your knees crossed over into Daryl’s space.

At least, it was that way until he leaned down into you, resting his chin on your forehead and letting his other arm drop over your side. You let loose a sigh at the touch- he’d made it back.

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Watching Horror Movies Together

Super Short Headcanons || Modern Au

Genre: Fluff Featuring: Arthur, John, Dutch, Javier, Charles, Sean, and Sadie Warnings: None - super casual writing

AN: I know no one requested this but I was on a horror binge last night and couldn't stop thinking about how these guys would act during a scary movie marathon so I wrote a quick thing in my notes app to post teehee~ ---> Requests are open! Check out guidelines if you have questions

<><><><>

Arthur Morgan:

Is not scared at all - literally impossible to scare.

Thinks horror movies are predictable and kind of boring.

However, God forbid a dog dies in the movie because he will get up and turn it off and say that the writers went too far.

Grumbles and groans on movie nights where you choose a horror movie, but will always wrap an arm around you and insist of sharing a blanket because he just likes spending time with you and being able to hold you close.

Will tease you for your bad taste in movies but secretly loves watching them with you and finds himself getting sucked into them every now and then.

John Marston:

Is on the edge of his seat the whole time.

Claims he's watching them because he thinks they're funny, but actually really enjoys trying to figure out who the killer is and who's going to die when and where.

Jumps at every jump scare but acts like he didn't.

He needs to watch a Disney movie afterwards so he doesn't have nightmares. Will say it's for your sake and not his, though.

Man acts all big and bad, but once the music starts to get intense and there's a long hallway on the screen he is looking everywhere but at the TV so he isn't jumpscared again.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Probably taking notes during psychological horror movies on how to be manipulative.

Says the killer is misunderstood or that their tragic backstory makes the killing justified.

He will eat all the popcorn and then get upset when it's all gone. Cue the puppy eyes while he's begging you to go make more.

Spends a good forty-five minutes talking about how you and him would survive the movie because y'all are so much smarter than the main characters and would make it out of there.

Genuinely believes he's invincible and could survive any scenario.

Javier Escuella:

HATES horror movies because they genuinely scare him.

Well, he can handle slashers but he hates paranormal movies since he believes in ghosts 100% no questions asked.

Loves making a snack buffet for the movie - popcorn, candy, cookies, sodas, fries, and the works.

Encourages you to cuddle into him and hold him whenever you get too scared since he's so big and brave.

Will end up being the one hiding his face in your shoulder and holding you like a teddy bear because he got freaked out.

Charles Smith:

Loves to analyze horror movies in -like- an artistic way.

His favorite types are historical horrors because so much thought goes into them.

He will watch silly horror with you, though, like Scream and Tucker and Dale vs. Evil, but will spend the whole movie making fun of you. Lightheartedly, of course, he's saying that those aren't real scary movies and that you're kind of a wuss.

The entire movie his arm is wrapped around you and pressing you deep into his side so that you can cuddle and be warm. It's a little too comfortable though and you end up falling asleep there more often than not.

Loves it when you do that, it makes him feel all soft and warm on the inside.

Sean MacGuire:

Makes jokes the entire time.

Literally has something to say every 2 minutes that has the both of you laughing instead of being scared.

Honestly, it's the only way he can get through the whole movie.

If you start getting sucked into the movie and he's too nervous to fully focus on the screen, he will start throwing popcorn at you to get your attention.

Halfway through the movie he will make you pause it so that he can have a mental break from all the scary stuff and gore. Totally turns into a make-out session and the movie is long forgotten.

Sadie Adler:

Absolutely nothing fazes her, she LOVES scary movies.

She knows all the behind-the-scenes info about every movie you watch too because she deep dives into interviews and essays after watching them the first time.

Her eyes are glued to the screen but will have you lay your head in her lap so she can run her fingers through your hair to soothe you when you get scared.

Makes fun of you when you react at a jump scare. When you look up at her with a frown, she'll press kisses all over your face until you can't help but smile.

She loves that she can make you feel comforted and safe when you're scared, secretly loves it even more when you try to go to bed after the movie and you're clinging to her like a koala because you're still a little spooked by the film.

<><><><>

I know summer isn't even close to over yet, but I am so excited for Halloween this year, so here's a little Halloween in July (think like that Gravity Falls episode)

Hope you enjoyed <3

[olee]

My Bad | Simón Hempe

Part II

s*x scene & spanglish

A long silence lingered between you and Simón. It was late in Barcelona, and you were quite intoxicated, though feeling slightly better thanks to Simón providing you with a bottle of water and some painkillers. Unsure of what to say to him, considering he was your ex who had left without explanation, you now knew the reason behind his departure. Yet, there was a lingering sense that there was more to the story, something he was keeping from you.

After the long silence on the bench, in the middle of the Barcelona street, you looked at Simón and said,“Simón, llevame a casa, por favor. Estoy re cansada, y capaz no quiero hablar del pasado.” Simón replied, “Dale, vente. Yo te llevo y tú me dices por dónde es.”

You gazed at him, silently pleading for his support to lift you up, and he understood, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoulders. Together, you walked through the street for about ten minutes until you reached your building. Beneath the glow of a yellow street lamp, the atmosphere felt oddly romantic. Despite your inebriation, you resisted the urge to take things further, but deep down, you longed to embrace him and kiss him as you once did.

Beneath the street lamp 's light, Simón looked at you with concern and said,“(Y/N), perdón, sé que lo que hice no estuvo bien, y la verdad es que siempre te he amado, todavía pienso en vos. Pero necesito saber si sentís lo mismo que yo. Estoy tan confundido. Necesito que me digas, quizás no ahora, pero si podemos hablar mañana o tomar un café o algo así.” As the light illuminated him, you found yourself falling in love with him all over again; he looked so beautiful.

Suddenly, you kissed him, but he didn't respond, gently stating, "(Y/N), estás tomada. Será mejor que hablemos mañana." Shy and embarrassed, you agreed.

Yet, you told him, "I understand, I'm intoxicated, but I can't resist, I need and want you to kiss me, just like you used to when we were together." Simón looked at you with concern and asked, "(Y/N), you don't know how much I want to touch and kiss you, but... I need your permission, and you're intoxicated." You replied, "I don't care that I'm drunk, I want you to touch me, I want you to make me feel good. I miss how you touch me." With respect, Simón approached you, gently held your face, and drew closer to you, face to face, as if connecting with you intimately. You said to him, "Kiss me, please, Simón, I can't wait, just do it." Then he told you, "Yes... if that's what you want."

Drawing closer to your lips, he breathed you in and kissed you passionately and tenderly, softly and wetly, like delicately touching your lips. It was so soft and warm, you both enjoyed it, longing for his magnificent kiss.

Then he says, "Take me to your room, (Y/N)," and you lead him by holding his hand, ascending the stairs to your apartment. When you were about to open the door, Simón asked, "Are you sure?" And you reassured him, saying, "Absolutely." So, you opened the door, and he immediately began to kiss you, removing your clothes. You guided him to your bed, and he undressed, then started to kiss you passionately. You removed his boxers, and then he continued what he started, touching you deeply in circles, and you relished in the sensation, loving how he did it. When he stopped because you were feeling overwhelmed, he began to kiss you and touch you in every way, giving you tender kisses, and asked, "Do you feel better?" You replied, "Much better," and he said, "That's good, mi amor." You rested your head on his chest, and both of you slept soundly.

Fin.

[topazy]

Little dark age

Paring: Rick Grimes × reader

Warning: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 1.02

It’s hard to hold a smile back when Glenn looks so happy when he speeds by the van in the sports car. Everyone was so caught up in talking about Merle being left behind that they failed to notice.

“Who’s Daryl?” Ricks asks.

Morales snorts, “Merle’s brother, he’s going to be so pissed. It's probablyIt's probably best if Sammie tells him Merle was left behind.”

“Yeah,” T-dog says in agreement. “He won’t beat her ass.”

You turn back to squeeze his shoulder and say, “T, this wasn’t your fault; it was an accident.”

The rest of the ride back to the hilltop where your camp is set up is mainly in silence, aside from Morales giving the new guy directions. The guys weren’t wrong; Daryl Dixon was going to kick up one hell of a storm when he found out his brother hadn’t come back with the rest of you.

When you finally reach the camp, the first thing you see is Glenn standing by the red sports car. He drove back proudly, a wide smile on his face. Flatly, Rick asks, “Is this the place?”

“Yeah, home sweet home,” you snort. “It’s not so bad; most of the guys here are alright, a couple of assholes, but you’ll get used to working in law enforcement.”

“A cop?”

“Oh yeah. He’s told us plenty of times how he was a sheriff's deputy.”

You slide the door open, jump down from the van, and immediately receive a warm hug from Dale. “I’m glad to see your back without a scratch on you. Glenn told me you both had a couple of close calls.”

“It’s definitely an interesting story,” you laugh. You catch Shane’s gaze and greet him with a slight head nod before looking over your shoulder at Rick; he was still sitting inside the van, rubbing his eyes.

As others in your group reunite with their families, Shane asks, “How’d y’all get out of there anyway?”

“A new guy helped save our asses.”

“New guy?” He questions.

You walked towards the truck and knocked on the side of it, getting Rick’s attention. “Hey, sheriff, you should come meet everyone.”

Looking sad and unsure, Rick gets out of the truck and slowly makes his way towards everyone. Your eyes shift between him and Lori, who was consoling her son, who was crying. You really hoped, for the sake of the sake of the kids, that your theory was right. After a few seconds, Rick stops walking. He points and whispers, “Oh my god.”

Rick and Carl run to each other and say, “Dad! Dad!”

Lori looks shocked at first and stares stunned at her husband and son. Carl leaps into his dad's arms, causing them to both go down to the ground. While sobbing, Rick picks his son up and goes over to his wife for the three of them to reunite as a family.

Tears swelled in your eyes; it was the first time in a long time you’d seen such a sweet interaction.

—

Sitting atop the RV, legs dangling over the edge, you keep watch while everyone else is tucked up in their tents. There had been no movements, and the only sounds you could hear were light snoring and animals in the distance.

It was starting to become concerning that Daryl hadn’t returned from tracking since you'd been back.

Hearing footsteps, you flick the torch on and shine it where the sound is coming from while hoovering your thumb over your gun's safety. When you see it’s only Shane, you lower your weapon and say, “I thought Jim was on the next shift.”

“He was, but I couldn’t sleep, so I told him I’d take this one.”

He climbs up the RV and sits down beside you. Shane wasn’t one to usually show his emotions, but it seems like something has gotten under his skin. You reach for your backpack and say, “I got you something.”

“Oh.”

You pull out two packs of cigarettes and hand them to him. Before the apocalypse, you only ever smoked when drunk at a social gathering like a party, but now you allow yourself to indulge every once in a while. It was something you needed to completely nip in the bud, but the stress that came with living life the way you did didn’t make it easy.

When you pop the cigarette between your lips, Shane lights it for you, then does the same for himself.

“What do you think of Ed?” You ask quietly.

“He’s an abusive asshole. Why?”

You try to figure out the right wording for what you want to say next, and eventually you lick at your lips. “We have all seen the bruises on Carol. How long do you think it is before we see them on Sophia?”

“If it’s true, then Sophia’s life will become worse the older she gets.”

Everyone knew how bad of a man Ed was and that he abused his wife. But recently, there had been whispers about how he ‘looked’ at Sophia. The main reason you became a cop was to keep kids safe, but it was much harder to do that in a world already gone to shit. You finish your cigarette, then toss it to the ground. “Everyone is so concerned with keeping an eye on the dead that we forget how monstrous humans can be.”

Shane takes a deep inhale before saying, “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

—

Hearing a commotion, the closer you get to camp, the more you draw your weapon and step in front of Amy protectively. It’s not until you hear T-dog say someone’s got a knife that you sprint forward, holding Amy’s hand tightly to make sure she doesn’t get lost behind you.

When you reach the RV, you see Shane putting Daryl into a chokehold and then forcing him to the ground. “What the hell is going on?”

“Daryl didn’t take the news about Merle well,” Glenn says.

You swat at Shane’s shoulder, “Get off him.”

The former cop moves off him, then Rick kneels down so he’s eye level with Daryl. “I’d like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that?”

Shaking your head, you offer Daryl your hand and help pull him up. Merle was the only family Daryl had left; of course, he wouldn’t take it well that his brother was left behind to die. As Rick and T-Dog explain what happened, you watch as Daryl wipes tears out of his eyes. He was struggling to hold it together.

You felt bad for him.

After some back-and-forth discussion, Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and T-Dog decided to go back into the city to the building Merle was left in. Much to Lori and Shane’s dismay, understandably Lori didn’t want her husband gone again, and Shane was worried about the lack of bodies around camp.

Reloading his gun in preparation to leave camp, T-dog asks. “Sammie Rose, are you coming?”

“No, she’s staying.”

You frown at Shane, who answered for you, “Excuse me?”

Sighing, he steps out of earshot from the others and waves you over. Arms crossed, you walk over to Shane, waiting to hear his explanation: “Rick’s taking a lot of manpower with him; I’m going to need all the help I can get. I would massively appreciate it if you stayed in camp.”

You contemplated what to do; you had a routine with Glenn whenever you went on supply runs, and it went without saying you trusted him, T-dog, and even Daryl to watch your back. But at camp, who would have your back the same way they would? Something so minor has your head spinning.

“Sammi?” Carl walks up beside me, his eyes bloodshot from crying. “Are you going back into the city with my dad?”

You look behind the young boy and lock eyes with Rick, who looks beyond guilty. It couldn’t have been an easy decision for him to make. Smiling, you look back down at Carl and say, “I’m staying where you are. Besides, I believe I promised to show you how to start a fire. But only if your mom and dad are okay with it.”

Rick looks over and nods.

Lori sighs. “That’s fine, but Carl, you stay close to Sammi Rose and don’t wander off.”

—

Crouching down by the rocks in the quarry, you do your best to stay out of view of the other women. You liked them but didn’t want to revive another lecture about smoking, so until you’d finished your cigarette, your plan was to stay out of sight. Sitting in the long grass, you lean back against a rock, enjoying the peacefulness, until you hear Shane’s agitated voice.

“Lori, I don’t think that’s fair.”

“Shane, shut up. Don’t!”

You were confused. The last time you saw Shane, he was teaching Carl to hunt for frogs, and they seemed to be having a lot of fun. Curiosity gets better if you and Lori look over just as Lori walks over to him and pushes him back before slapping at his chest. You suspected they had sex previously, but listening to them argue only confirms your theory.

“Sammi?”

You leap to your feet and loudly ask, “Did you catch any frogs?”

“No,” Carl says, shaking his head. “My mom says I’m to go back to camp.”

You glance over the young boy's shoulder to see both Lori and Shane staring at you wide-eyed and terrified. You just hoped the kid didn’t hear anything. Smiling, you say, “Your mom’s just coming.”

Lori keeps her head low as she walks by you; Shane, however, doesn’t move his gaze from you.

—

“It’s not my business, Shane. I don’t want to hear about it.”

“I thought Rick was dead,” he murmurs. “He’s my best friend... I never would have—”

You toss the butt of your cigarette on the ground and start to walk towards the water to finish doing your laundry. “Seriously, the less I know, the better.

Rick seems like a nice family guy, but you weren’t about to get dragged into some kind of soap opera drama. When you get closer, you look down and see Ed gripping ahold of Carol on the arm and dragging her by it. The other women were trying to intervene, but it only caused Ed to become aggressive towards them as well.

“Shit!”

You jump down the small path and slam into Ed, causing him to stumble back and let go of his wife. Andrea catches Carol, who is sobbing, before she falls back. Ed regains his balance and slaps you hard across the face; your cheek stings almost immediately.

Shane appears behind Ed, gripping him by the shirt. He drags him further away, tosses him to the ground, and starts punching him repeatedly. It’s only when Carol begs for him to stop that Shane stops beating him.

“You put your hands on your wife, your little girl, or anybody else in this camp one more time; I will not stop next time. Do you hear me? Do you hear me?”

Ed slurs in response, “Yes.”

“I’ll beat you to death, Ed.”

Shane punches him once for time, then stands, kicking him in the side. Carol runs to her husband's side, sobbing apologetically, while the other women stare at Shane, horrified. Finally, lowering your hand from your cheek, you chase after him. Maybe it was wrong, but Ed was nothing but an abusive asshole who had it coming; it would just take the others time to see things that way.

Shane flinches when you grab his arm. He raises his arm to swing it back, but stops noticing it’s you. “I—he—fuck.”

“Come back to camp with me. I’ll clean your knuckles up.”

[redwolfstabs]

ALPHAWOLFSTABS - BILLY

gifs not mine ~ Through cuts and wounds it often flows, In whispers only blood bestows, A story etched in shades of red, Of every tear and word unsaid.

Meet the Blogger:

Howdy, hello, hi. My names Billy, He/Him pronouns only, I'm incredibly autistic so this is a friendly autistic space. DNI if you're a minor, no TERFs allowed, and basic DNI criteria.

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Writer, Gore Lover/Analysis, Billy Loomis Coded. You've been warned

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Disclaimer for my page:

18+

gore/violence

talks of abuse, sometimes

talks of drugs and alcohol, not often

mental illness

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I will always put warnings on what I post, always! I'll put warnings and a cut so everyone can avoid being triggered on my page. But please, do mind the tags I put and please stay safe here on my page. While things I talk about may be upsetting, I do not wish to upset or trigger anyone on here. Please please please, keep yourself safe on my page.

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My Fics:

Animosity: A pre-scream - current scream fic! Slow updating, very gay stuilly. A tad bit inspired by Sharps Debaser but it's not really all that similar, I assure you.

Crimson Moon: Stu discovers he's a werewolf and Billy needs to help him figure out how to navigate. [Unfinished/no longer being updated. However, Cereal occasionally draws Werewolf Stu, that's the art that inspired this. Go check that out]

Fangs Of Insatiable Longing: Vampire Billy, Human Stu. Billy has to learn to navigate this world, Stu helps him, still follows the plot of Scream with a few added things. Slow updates.

Shut My Brain Off, But Keep Me Breathing: Submissive Billy Loomis with Dom Stu, this one is very self indulgent.

The Vexation: A crack ship fic with Doug Van Housen and Billy Loomis. Slow updates.

To The Edge, Until We All Get Off: Sub Top Stu with Dom bottom Billy. It's Stu's birthday and Billy gets him a present, not super long but really nice.

You Like It Rough, But I Like It Rougher: Pure Smut, lots of blood and knives in this one. Be safe reading this.

Winged Insect, Funeral Pyre: Prison fic au, Billy is in prison but it's more of a rehabilitaion centre, focuses on his relationship with his mind, and the stupidly cute CO he likes a little too much.

JOYRIDE: Stuilly Week day one, bodyswap au, also short but fluffy

"Partner In Time": Stuilly week day two, timeloop au, Billy gets stuck in a timeloop and everytime he dies, he wakes back up in the kitchen with Sidney and Stu

Sailor Song: Stuilly week day three, ghost au. Billy lives after the massacre, Stu doesn't.

Domesticated.: Stuilly week day four, a survivor modern au, set in 2024. Not long, but it's purely fluff

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Up Coming Fics:

Malevolent Trinity: A soon-to-be Fic with Doug Van Housen + Stuilly. It will follow the plot of Scream, just with Doug added.

Unlikely Desires: A College Stuilly fic, in which Billy looks like Vincent from As Good As It Gets And Stu looks like like Tim LaFlour

Lost Years: A Team Loomis fic with Sam and Billy, Billy is alive and Sam kinda hates his guts but they get closer and become a good pair.

A Serpents' Song: A Fic sorta based around river dale, does include Stu.

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Requests:

I do take Drabble requests! If anyone is ever feeling up for me to write them something I will work on it slowly but surely. On top of that, I am starting Commissions soon for my fics. So if anyone is also up for that, keep it in mind for later down the road.

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Easy Links:

Stuilly Head Canons

Autistic Billy Loomis

Funny Scream Text Posts

Scream Script Thoughts

Drabbles

Poems

Stuilly Week 2024

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Additional:

My Carrd - This shows my name, my interests, and rules for my blog. :)

My Discord: Alphawolfstabs. Be careful

Letterboxd: AlphaWolfStabs or Here, Mostly horror movies to be honest. I am a Horror Movie nerd, I apologize

[lotties-ashwagandha]

CHRISTMAS WITH THE YELLOWJACKETS (headcanons)

SHAUNA

will forget to wrap your gifts until the very last minute and then spends hours wrapping , chugs a whole pot of coffee in preparation as if she bleeds espresso

her gifts are very thoughtful tho she gives the best christmas presents. shes perceptive to things you like and want, even if you don’t tell her she’ll notice if you’re eyeing something in a store while you’re out and will get it for you when you’re not looking

she can’t be fucked w christmas cookies though she’ll buy some at the store and plate them up all pretty and tell everyone she made them herself

anyway. she is passionate about the christmas tree (why does that sound dirty?) she needs the ornaments to be all in the right place and the lights to be equally distributed or else everything’s coming off and she’s putting it back on the right way

LOTTIE

NEEDS the entire wellness center to be decorated or else her seasonal depression makes her want to be chasing bitches through the woods with knives (again)

from the 5 exact same fics in the lottie tag i think we’ve all established that she can’t bake cookies even though she tries exceedingly hard

she buys all the seasonal coffee creamers that are all the fucked flavors , you’ll get in the fridge and be faced with “gingerbread candy cane sugar cookie mcgriddle subway sandwich taissa’s fresh farmed dirt” flavored coffee creamer

i can also see her getting hyperfixated on those “christmas baking championship” series , you don’t watch the show but you know everyone who’s eliminated each week by name

TAISSA

prepares a whole pot of dirt for the two of you

“I got this bucket of dirt from outside the boxing gym, it really packs a punch”

i’ll never not make fun of this bitch for eating dirt I’m sorry

anyway she probably hides your christmas presents but forgets where she hides them and then she has a little easter egg hunt for everything she bought you

you’ll be doing spring cleaning a few months later and be like oh my god look at _____ i told you i wanted this for christmas have you been hiding it???? and she’s like oh

she also has the BEST christmas songs playlist , possibly even better than van’s

VAN

if she buys you clothes they’ll be thrifted and she has this whole thing about how she doesn’t support fast fashion and at this point you’ve stopped asking for clothes bc girl keeps giving you dusty ass 60s shit and not the good kind

has old copies of all the good vintage christmas movies tho and you have movie nights with popcorn and blankets

she has a favorite peppermint scented candle that she always lights when you’re doing something christmassy, baking cookies or watching movies or whatever it may be

decorates the shop for christmas ‼️ and you help her and it’s absolutely gorgeous , she plays christmas carols all day during work

NATALIE

will probably buy you some rlly expensive alcohol tbh and you guys party like hell for christmas

will also get you something sentimental tho and act like it’s nothing when it’s everything

she’d be less into christmas than you but would be down to use it as an occasion to get lit, give you gifts, and tell you she loves you

and sex . just saying

MISTY

now LISTEN this girl goes all out

caligula has a miniature christmas tree in his cage and she reads the christmas carol to him every year

she really enjoys those little 5-7 minute vintage disney christmas shorts and will make you watch them with her because she thinks they’re so cute and funny

chip and dale reminds her of her and nat

she’s obviously chip in her mind and nat is dale

anyway

she’ll also hand make your presents, not all of them but I can definitely see her crocheting you something or smthn like that

in any case I’m going to bed my loves im exhausted and writing this before christmas bc i probably wont be active on christmas but MERRY CHRISTMAS i hope you all enjoy the holidays, thank you for reading and supporting <3

[campgender]

from The Preacher’s Wife: The Precarious Power of Evangelical Women Celebrities by Kate Bowler (2019)

transcript under the cut

As mainstream culture pondered questions of women’s liberation, evangelical readers wanted to know whether the most conservative kind of woman—a wife and a preacher’s wife no less—could ever be as happy. “The bras are burning, the flags are waving, and pins and bumper stickers burgeoning to announce the dissatisfaction of women. … The libbers are upon us and we must come to terms with them—and ourselves,” said one pastor’s wife. A whole genre of pastoral spouse literature answered with a well-publicized yes.

Wives of famous pastors were in an ideal position to combat the primary accusations of feminists: that housewives were trapped and unsatisfied. Ruth Peale’s 1971 The Adventure of Being a Wife was penned under the name “Mrs. Norman Vincent Peale,” which summarized much of her message: that her greatest achievements have come from being conformed to the image of her husband. Almost every famous preacher’s wife tried her hand at it. There was His Darling Wife, Evelyn about the wife of Oral Roberts and Woman: Be All You Can Be by Dale Evans Rogers, wife and co-star of singing cowboy Roy Rogers.

Other family members got into the game with books such as They Call Me Mother Graham, a celebration of the significance of Billy Graham’s mother “in a day when the bonds that hold families together are unraveling as never before.” The mother of famous 1970s televangelist Rex Humbard weighed in on the decline of modern faith with Give Me That Old-Time Religion, and the daughter of 1980s televangelist Robert Schuller wrote separate books about both her famous parents.

The appetite for stories of their lives soon translated into books like Living Cameos, featuring famous wives such as Edith Schaeffer, Shirley Dobson, Macel Falwell, Beverly LaHaye, and Rexella Van Impe. Even Rita Bennett, the wife of the Episcopalian priest who had helped kick off the charismatic movement in mainline Protestantism, became a star: I’m Glad You Asked That showed her looking like a beautiful bohemian, wearing a homemade floral dress and ultra-long hair, ready to answer intimate questions about husbands and wives.

Colleen Townsend Evans, whose book A New Joy had sold a quarter of a million copies, published reflections about her marriage and her famous husband—she had abandoned a thriving Hollywood acting career to wed Presbyterian luminary, the Rev. Louis H. Evans Jr. She revealed that he was not only her spiritual guide but also her friend. This was not a shocking revelation, but that was precisely the point: there was remarkable consensus about the importance of a woman’s submission. Each woman had her own brand of submission: Beverly LaHaye’s was political; Anita Bryant’s was bubbly; and Elisabeth Elliot’s was poetic as ever, even in the way she called the sexes “gloriously and radically unequal.”

The three major topics these women addressed were the true meaning of liberation, the acceptance of innate sexual differences, and the spiritual importance of femininity as a marker of the Christian counterculture. In the 1972 memoir One Woman’s Liberation by Shirley Boone, wife of 1950s chart-topper Pat Boone, “liberation” centered on her struggle for a happy marriage to a husband who battled the temptations of Hollywood while she struggled with loneliness and jealousy. The story wanders through the private rooms of their famous lives, giving readers a tantalizing peek at the ordinary dinner conversations and glamorous soirées, but it culminates with her discovery that the age’s “new morality” was a threat to her family and to the divine order of creation.

Pat’s accepting responsibility as the spiritual leader of their family restored Shirley emotionally and spiritually, and so the story ends with frank chastisements of women who will not accept their place. She fretted that “women’s libbers militantly object to the place in society God has ordained for their sex, but by doing so, they lose much precious liberty the Lord intended them to have.” The hard-won ease of their marriage came from a loving husband who “frees his helpmeet … by being head of the house and protecting her” and being a submissive wife who “relieved of a lot of the hard, emotion-taxing decision making.” A wife under her husband’s authority would not resort to nagging or counterproductive independent action. Freedom came from letting herself fall into the deep grooves of God’s divine roadmap for men and women.

Though the rhetoric made much of their inequality, it simultaneously elevated such women to one of the most powerful titles of all, that of wife. This was odd, given that most evangelical and pentecostal women were not only wives and mothers, but had joined the workforce in the 1970s. (African American and Hispanic women simply remained in the workforce, having never experienced a similar golden age of single-earner households.) But when white evangelical and pentecostal women looked for paid employment, they clung to the ideal of wifedom far longer than the American mainstream.

The wider society had already begun to valorize the working woman, and this trend gained cultural recognition by the 1980s in everything from Madonna’s power suits to the rash of Wall Street comedies like Nine to Five and Working Girl, proving women could make it to the corner office. By the 1990s, evangelical women were still critically considering their place in relationship to second-wave feminism and its various causes as a third wave crested in the 1990s. Though difficult to precisely define, third-wave feminism was typically characterized by sex-positivity and heightened awareness of the ways gender intersected with class and race to shape (and limit) women’s agency.

At least on the surface, the stars of the Christian industry seemed entirely undisturbed by the vast economic changes that had turned most women out of the house. They had instead become the greatest public defenders of private domestic life, and would soon do so from church offices with their names on the door.

[kaileidoscopio]

HACE FALTA QUE TE LO DIGA EVERY DAY I WAKE UP ITS ANOTHER CORONACION DE GLORIA SOMOS BICAMPEONES Y MAYORES CAMPEONES DE LA COPA AMERICA EN LA HISTORIA TODOS SE VAN A RE CAGAR TODOS PUTOS MENOS ARGENTINA DALE CAMPEOOOOOOON DALE CAMPEOON DALE CAMPEON DALE CAMPEON

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 7

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: The group encounters some obstacles on the way out of Atlanta, and none they were expecting. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; descriptions of explosion, violence, threat of violence, suicide, entrapment, ethical arguments

Chapter 7 - Outlands

They hopped between buildings on the way out of Atlanta. Rick kept talking into his radio every day, and when Iris asked, he explained that he was speaking to a man who saved his life, in hopes he could hear him.

They decided Fort Benning was their goal, and even though they had to siphon gas along the way, abandon cars, the journey would get harder still. Shane and Iris joined the group in the RV, while Daryl switched to his motorcycle.

It was the first time Iris had left the city since the outbreak. She was uneasy, out of her comfort zone, but comfort seemed to be a concept of the past. Shane was driving Iris crazy cleaning his gun and taking the pieces apart. Though, Andrea seemed to take a liking to him.

“Oh, jeez. Ah, no.” Dale grumbled. Iris turned to see the entire road blocked up ahead, cars flooding the highway. Daryl came back from scouting ahead, having an easier time weaving in between on his bike. “See a way through?” Daryl nodded, motioning for them to follow him.

“Maybe we should just go back.” Glenn suggested, analyzing the map in his hands. “There’s an interstate bypass—“

“We can’t spare the fuel.” Dale grumbled. T-Dog rubbed a hand down his face as they watched Dale weave carefully between the cars after Daryl. It was ominous, all these abandoned cars, all these abandoned lives. A few of the cars had corpses inside, but it was hard to tell whether or not they were walkers.

“Can we get through here?” Glenn asked as they came up to a particularly thin gap. His question was answered with a loud hiss and a pop as something in the engine broke, steam flooding Dale’s field of vision. He stopped the RV abruptly, wincing as it sputtered.

“Damn.” Iris muttered. Everyone filed out of the RV as the others walked over from the car.

“I said it. Didn’t I say it? A thousand times. Dead in the water.” Dale huffed.

“Problem, Dale?” Shane asked, walking around with a shotgun.

“Just the small matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of… okay, that was dumb.” He shrugged, looking around as Daryl started to loot the car in front of them.

“If you can’t find a radiator hose here…” Shane trailed off.

“There’s a whole bunch of stuff we can find.” Daryl stated, elbow deep in someone’s trunk.

“I can siphon more fuel from these cars for a start.” T-Dog hurried off with a jerry can. 

“Maybe some water?” Carol asked.

“Food.” Glenn nodded.

“This is a graveyard.” Lori stated, frowning at their surroundings. There was a long pause as they considered what she meant.

“Then make sure you say thank you before you put a knife in their skulls. They have no use for it, might as well benefit us.” Iris replied, wandering into the fray of abandoned vehicles. Lori scowled after her, shaking her head. Daryl snorted.

“C’mon, y’all. Just look around, gather what you can.” Shane called. Dale stayed and showed Glenn what he was doing, teaching him a thing or two while the others dispersed.

Iris was happy to dump out a duffle bag and fill it with things she liked, clothes, jackets. She found toiletries she collected as well as a few boxes of tampons. Someone was prepared when they left home. She turned as she heard some frantic whispers to see a hoard of walkers heading their way. She swore under her breath, pulling herself underneath a van. She watched as dirty shoes and feet meandered past, the others underneath cars all the way back to the RV.

She spotted T-Dog running between cars, his hand pressed tight to his arm that was bleeding profusely. She swore again. They would smell his blood. And, depending what he cut himself on it could be infected. He could get tetanus. He could bleed out, right there in the street. He stumbled, leaving a trail of fresh hot blood as he made his way closer to the RV. 

A few walkers caught his scent, coming toward him as he sat back against a flipped car. Daryl slipped quietly behind one, making quick word with a knife. Iris made to get up, but she watched as Daryl laid the dead walker on top of T-Dog, pulling another on top of himself. They walked past without a second look, and Iris was impressed.

After a few minutes the shuffling had subsided, and she waited for a few more before beginning to crawl out from under the car. She ran over to Daryl, helping T-Dog up and braced on their shoulders. Iris hauled open the door of a welding truck, hoping she was right in assuming it was equipped with a first aid kit. It was, alongside a bag of clean clothing. Iris grabbed a scarf, tying it over the wound as Daryl used his bandana as a tourniquet. They brought him back to the others, who stood by the edge of the highway.

“My baby, they’re after my baby.” Carol sobbed into Lori’s shoulder. Iris followed their gaze to Rick’s silhouette whisking Sophia off into the forest, a group of walkers on his tail. With T-Dog in safe hands, she and Daryl quickly jumped the barricade, going in after him. They followed Rick’s shouting to a creek where he stood by himself.

“No, no, she was here. I left her right here.” He muttered.

“Where’s Sophia?” Iris asked, jumping down into the creek next to him. He was staring into a tree well, shaking his head.

“She’s gone. I left her right here, told her to hide. She’s gone.” Rick explained, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Sure this is the spot?” Daryl asked, examining the tree well. Rick nodded.

“I left her right here.” He repeated. “I drew the walkers off in that direction up the creek.” He pointed.

“Without a paddle— seems where we’ve landed.” Daryl stated humourlessly. Iris raised an eyebrow. Shane and Glenn broke through the brush, scoping the tree line around the creek.

“She was gone by the time I got back here.” Rick shook his head again. “I figured she’d just took off and ran back to the group. I told her, go that way, keep the sun on her left shoulder.”

“She probably got lost.” Iris muttered. “Hard to see the road from here.”

“Hey, short round. Why don’t you step off to one side, you’re mucking up the trail.” Daryl chastised, tutting as Glenn shuffled off of the trail. Iris didn’t see much of a path, but Daryl seemed to know exactly what he was looking for.

“You’d make a terrible Indie.” Iris stated, coming up behind him. He straightened, giving her side-eye before turning back to tracking. Glenn turned to her with a half-grin and she flashed one back.

“Assuming she knows her left from her right—“ Shane started.

“She understood me just fine.” Rick snapped.

“Kid’s tired and scared, man. She had her a close call with two walkers. Got to wonder how much of what you said stuck.” Shane thought aloud. 

“We’ve got to consider all possibilities. She can’t be moving too fast, not tired and hungry like she is.” Iris argued.

“We’ve got clear prints right here.” Daryl agreed. “She did like you said, headed back to the highway. Let’s spread out, make our way back.”

“She couldn’t have gone far.” Rick nodded. Daryl pulled himself out of the creek, offering Iris a hand. She took it with a nod, Rick following behind her.

“Hey, we gonna find her.” Daryl assured, Rick nodding with uncertainty.

“She’ll be tuckered out, hiding in a bush somewhere.” Shane mused. Daryl led them down her trail, following her clumsy kid footprints. She’d been going straight, but started to veer off.

“She was doing just fine till right here. All she had to do was keep going. She veered off that way” He mumbled, pointing west.

“Why would she do that?” Glenn asked.

“Walker spooked her, she ran off.” Iris proposed.

“I don’t see any other footprints.” Daryl frowned. “Just hers.” Walkers made messy trails, that was for sure.

“So what do we do? All of us press on?” Shane asked.

“No. Better if you and Glenn get back up to the highway. People are gonna start panicking.” Rick denied. “Let them know we’re on her trail, doing everything we can. But most of all, keep everybody calm.”

“I’ll keep ‘em busy scavenging cars, think up a few other chores. I’ll keep ‘em occupied.” Shane assured. He nodded to Glenn, the two of them making their way back off to the highway. Daryl stood, rolling his shoulders as he led Iris and Rick further into the woods.

It was interesting, to watch Daryl work. He was fast, easily following whatever trail Sophia was leaving. Iris had to fight the urge to call out for her, but even if she was close by, drawing walkers was too risky. They slowed, weaving between trees, leaves and other litter layered heavy on the ground.

“Tracks are gone.” Rick mumbled.

“No, they’re faint, but they ain’t gone.” Daryl corrected. He pointed into the dirt. “She came through here.”

“How can you tell?” Iris asked.

“You want a lesson in tracking or you wanna find that girl and get our ass of that interstate?” Daryl asked. Iris and Rick exchanged a look, the former rolling her eyes.

They continued onward through the forest until the rustling of leaves caught their attention. They each fell into a crouch, raising their weapons. Rick gestured to the noise’s apparent source and they crept forward. They stopped, seeing a lone walker wandering through the brush at the bottom of a small slope. Rick turned back and Daryl gestured to them both to surround the walker. They ran down either side of the slope, Rick drawing it’s attention with a small whistle. It roared at him before Daryl put an arrow through it’s forehead.

They waited for a few seconds to see if that drew out any more, and when it didn’t, Rick leaned down to inspect the walker.

“Sophia!” Daryl called. Iris watched as Rick pried open the walker’s mouth.

“What are you doing?” She asked, recoiling.

“There’s skin under the fingernails. It fed recently.” Rick said lowly. “There’s flesh caught between the teeth.”

“Yeah, but what kind of flesh?” Daryl asked.

“Only one way to know for sure.” Rick said, in a ‘fuck-it’ sort of tone. Iris watched with baited breath as Rick opened its shirt and flicked open a knife.

“Here. I’ll do it.” Daryl offered, stepping over the body. “How many kills you skin and gut in your life? Anyway, mine’s sharper.” He flicked open his own knife and Iris shook her head. Everything was a damn dick-measuring contest. 

He cut open its gut, sawing through the muscle and fat and began to loot through the intestines. Rick recoiled, groaning and covering his nose with a hand at the smell. Iris watched as Daryl pulled a handful of tendon and sinew and chucked it aside as if he was carving a pumpkin. He was almost elbow deep in the damn thing.

“Yeah, hoss had a big meal not that long ago. I feel it in there.” He murmured. He ripped at a piece of flesh, pulling out the stomach. “Here’s the gut bag.”

“I got this.” Rick stepped in, slicing open the delicate flesh and stretching it open. He poked at a mushy lump of half-digested something, flicking it off the end of his knife. Daryl hummed in recognition, using his own knife to spear through the skull of an animal.

“This gross bastard had himself a woodchuck for lunch.” He mused.

“Great. Can we stop playing operation and keep looking now?” Iris grumbled, taking a big step back from their cadaver. 

“At least we know.” Rick stated.

“At least we know.” Daryl echoed. Iris nodded, using her bandana to tie her hair back as a bead of sweat ran down her neck.

They turned back once the sun began to set. There was no use stumbling around in the dark when they couldn’t see the trail, and none of them would be any use dead in a ditch like that gutted son of a bitch. Rick immediately went to Carol, the dejected expression on her face making Iris feel guilty for not staying out longer. 

“You didn’t find her?” She asked, resolve crumbling.

“Her trail went cold.” Rick replied. “We’ll pick it up again at first light.”

“You can’t leave my daughter out there on her own. To spend the night alone in the woods.” Carol sobbed. 

“Out in the dark’s no good.” Daryl shook his head. “We’d just be tripping over ourselves. More people get lost.”

“But she’s 12. She can’t be out there on her own. You didn’t find anything?”

“I know this is hard, but I’m asking you not to panic.” Rick consoled. “We know she was out there.”

“We tracked her for a while.” Daryl added.

“We have to make this an organized effort.” Rick said, addressing everyone. “Daryl knows the woods better than anybody. I’ve asked him to oversee this.”

“We’re not gonna stop looking, Carol.” Iris assured.

“Is… Is that blood?” Carol asked, looking down at Daryl’s clothes.

“Walker blood, Carol.” Iris said quietly, trying to keep her calm. “No sign it was anywhere near her.”

“Walker? Oh, God.” She sobbed.

“How can you know that?” Andrea asked, frowning.

“They gutted it to check.” Iris said, wincing at Carol’s alarmed reaction. She sat down on the edge of the barrier and Lori rubbed her back comfortingly.

“How could you just leave her out there to begin with?” She wailed, glaring at Rick accusingly. “How could you just leave her?”

“Those two walkers were on us.” Rick explained. “I had to draw them off, it was her best chance.” Carol began to hyperventilate.

“Sounds like he didn’t have a choice, Carol.” Shane said quietly.

“How was she supposed to find her way back on her own? She’s just a child. She’s just a child.”

“It was my only option. The only choice I could make.” Rick pleaded. Iris wondered at how sheltered Sophia must be that at 12 years old Carol was so worried. By the time Iris was 12 she was shopping for her dad’s cigarettes and sewing him up after he got too drunk at the bar and made a few mistakes.

“I’m sure nobody doubts that.” Shane stated. It was unclear from his tone whether or not there was any sarcasm there, but Iris wasn’t blind to the contempt Shane seemed to have for Rick. 

“My little girl got left in the woods.” Carol sobbed. Andrea came to her other side to comfort her as Rick walked off, presumably to do some soul searching. Iris walked over to T-Dog to check on him as they all made plans for the morning.

[disneytva]

The Disney Afternoon: The Making of a Television Renaissance Hints Potential Section Dedicated To Current And Upcoming Disney TVA Productions

New details have merged from The Disney Afternoon: The Making of a Television Renaissance by Jake S. Friedman, Disney Publishing Worldwide And Disney Editions Deluxe slated to be part of Disney Television Animation’s 40th Anniversary and 100th Series debut on 2024 has given new updates in what to expect with the book.

Recently it was revealed that a new section on the book is named "THE NEWEST WAVE: Or Rewrite History", no idea what it is but based on the book's release i wouldn't bet that the section is a celebration to the current "Disney Afternoon" with the following lineup:

-Phineas And Ferb

-Big City Greens

-Monsters At Work

-Mickey Mouse Funhouse

-The Ghost And Molly McGee

-Rise Up,Sing Out

-Alice's Wonderland Bakery

-The Proud Family Louder And Prouder

-Chibiverse

-Hamster And Gretel

-Firebuds

-Moon Girl And Devil Dinosaur

-Kiff

-Hailey's On It!

-Playdate With Winnie The Pooh

-Primos

-Robogobo

-StuGo

-Ariel

-Zombies The Re-Animated Series

-Tiny Trailblazers

-Cookies & Milk

-The Witchverse

-Rhona Who Lives By The River

-Dusty Dupree

-InterCats

-Fantasy Sports

-Royal Prep Academy

-Darkwing Duck Reboot

-TaleSpin Reboot

And upcoming shows on development for Disney Channel,Disney Junior and Disney+ at Disney TVA from the following creative members “Cheyenne Curtis, C.H Greenblatt, Thurop Van Orman, Nic Smal, Lucy Heavens, Amy Hudkins, Monica Ray, Latoya Raveneau, Daron Nefcy, Noah Z Jones, Ryan W Quincy, Molly Knox Ostertag, Raj Brueggemann, Dave Cooper, Jose Zelaya, J. G. Quintel, Pedro Eboli, Mark Satterthwaite and Patrick McHale” 

📚The Disney Afternoon: The Making of a Television Renaissance

Jake S Friedman

Disney Publishing Worldwide

Disney Editions Deluxe

November 5, 2024

When the Disney Afternoon premiered in 1990, kids tossed their backpacks aside to watch their favorite Disney television characters. Unlike with feature films, these stars had a new adventure every weekday, and their audience journeyed with them on a daily basis. Throughout the '80s and '90s, Disney raised the bar with a lineup of innovative, high-quality television animation. The characters were endearing, the writing was clever, and the art was exceptional. Those who grew up with these characters have continued their love affairs for shows like Darkwing Duck, Gargoyles, TaleSpin, and the irrepressibly beloved DuckTales, deep into adulthood. For the first time, learn the history of the Disney Afternoon shows, read interviews from the creative teams, and revel in rare, behind-the-scenes artwork, plus get the full making of story of the modern-day DuckTales series and the meta-driven Chip 'n’ Dale: Rescue Rangers film and its legacy connections to the past for a new generation of fans.

[final-girl96]

Broken World: Chapter Fifteen

Everyone got into the vehicle they would be riding in and we left. While the rest of us turned left, Morales turned right. Dale was in the lead in the rv, Rick was behind him in Carol's Cherokee. Lori, Carol, and the kids were with him. T-Dog and Andrea were in the church van behind them, then it was Daryl and I with Shane behind us. “This is such a stupid idea,” I mumbled. Daryl grunted beside me, he had one hand on the wheel and was leaning on the window with his other arm. I'm surprised he responded at all. “Better than going off alone,” he said. I shrugged, “I don't know, Daryl, I think Morales was smart not to come with us.”

“O'course you'd run off. You're good at runnin’ off,'' Daryl mumbled. I rolled and scoffed. “I left because I had nothing in that town to keep me there. My family didn't want me. Hell, they didn't even notice when I moved out of the house. I left so you wouldn't have to look at me every time you came to the bar or saw me on the streets. I had no family and no friends in that town, there wasn't anything or anyone, for that matter, holding me back.” He scoffed again and mumbled something under his breath. I wasn't in the mood to even have this conversation with him.

“I didn't do anything to ya to make ya leave.” My head snapped to look over at Daryl. “You called me a fucking pig, Daryl! I was doing my job. Your brother knew the victim, he was seen with him the night he was killed. I don't know why you idolize him so damn much. He's a drug addict, he's racist and sexist. He does nothing but put you down. You're a better man than that Daryl.” He scoffed at me, “You don't know a damn thing about me or my brother. So keep your damn mouth shut!” I just shook my head and looked out the window. “Why the hell did you want me to even ride with you? I should have just gone with Shane.” I didn't get an answer for that question. Dale honked his horn and we all pulled off onto the side of the road.

Jim wasn't doing so well; he wanted us to leave him there. He was coughing up more blood, his fever was insanely high, and he was having delusions, but he was clear headed enough at the time to know what he was talking about. Rick didn't think it was right to just leave him there. He was so set on the CDC still being up and running. He had way too much faith in them having a cure. In his mind all we had to do was get there and they could help Jim. But that's not the case. Jim would die before we got there and he would turn. It was the best decision for the group and Jim knew that. Rick and Shane helped him up the hill and sat him against a tree. Everyone said their goodbyes and we got back into our vehicles to continue our trip to the CDC.

“Had your chance to go with Shane,” Daryl mumbled as we slowly pulled back onto the road. “Yeah, well, although I don't like you at this very moment, I still feel safer with you. Shane gives me the fucking creeps with the way he watching Lori and Rick.” Daryl hummed in agreement. The rest of the ride was in awkward silence. The sun was starting to go down by the time we got to the CDC. Just like I had told Rick, the parking lot and the road in front of the build was littered with dead bodies. The smell of rotting was intense and flies swarmed around them. “Like I said, this place is a bust,” I mumbled.

I reluctantly walked with everyone towards the front doors. We zig-zagged through the dead laying on the ground, taking care of any walkers that got too close. The smell was so intense my stomach churned. I didn't like being this close to the city at night. I always tried to avoid going out into the city when it got back. I kept my light to a minimum while inside and stayed in the breakroom with the door shut and barricade. It wasn't the walkers I worried about getting it, there weren't any on my floor. I was more worried about people finding me. I got lucky with Glenn, but there were a lot of bad people out there roaming free, and the good people would turn bad. You'll do anything when it comes to surviving.

When we reached the front doors, the building was locked down tight. The metal gates were pulled down over the doors and there was no opening them from the outside. Night had started to settle in and more walkers were starting to slowly creep towards us. The children whimpered and held onto their mothers. “Rick, there is nobody here. We need to go now!” I hissed at him. “This place wouldn't be locked down if there weren't people inside.”

“Those people could be fucking dead for all we know. They work with very deadly shit, Rick! We need to go now! We can not be this close to the city at night,” I told him. Shane grabbed ahold of him and started to drag him away. Daryl, Glenn, and T-dog were taking out any walkers that got too close. “The camera…it moved! The camera moved!” Rick said, breaking free from Shane and started to pound on the door. “You're seeing this, man,” Shane told him, trying to drag Rick away from the door.

Rick was begging for whoever he thought was in there to let you in. “We have children, hardly any gas or food!” Shane was able to pull him away. “You're killing us! You're killing us!” Rick yelled. Walkers were getting closer, more showing up from all the noise that had been created by Rick banging and yelling. Shane tugged on Rick, pulling him away from the doors. We started to make our way back to the vehicles, taking out any walkers close by. The kids wrapped themselves around their mothers, soft cries and sniffles could be heard from them. Then the doors opened, halting us in our tracks and a bright blinding white light streamed out.

[paxesoterica]

As obnoxious as Bandai are being about Suletta's and Miorine's marital status, there's some small consolement to me that at least they're too greedy and cowardly to go back and do a 4kids-style edit on the show (and will most likely wait until queer marriage in Japan is less 'controversial' and then promote the heck out of Witch from Mercury)...and then I had a terrible, terrible vision which I'm now compelled to afflict on all of you.

"Sally Mercury is mostly your typical teenage girl - except for the fact that she grew up on the planet Mercury (the planet closest to the sun)! Sadly, she had no friends her age, and her only family was her mom, Patricia, a robot suit scientist, and a robot suit named Ariel, which Sally adopted as her 'older sister'.

Life was lonely for Sally, until one day her mom saved enough money to send Sally and Ariel to the Star Tree School of Science, where youngsters her age studied the business of robot suits...in space!

Sally is super-excited, with a whole list of things to do, and not even a rude meeting with the school's richest mean girl, Marian Rembrandt (descended from the famous Dutch painter), can upset her. But when she sees Marian getting bullied by one of the school's three princes, Gary Jeter, Sally knows she has to do the right thing, and sticks up for her. But somehow, this ends up in a robot suit laser tag match against Gary, which Sally easily wins - only to learn that she's now contracted to be business partners with Marian, and help her manage her family business when they graduate! Now Sally and Marian have to get to know each other, handle robot suit laser tag challenges from the other two princes, Alan Carrie and Shaun Sullivan, convince the school that Sally's not cheating at robot suit laser tag, *and* do all their schoolwork!

Even worse, unknown to both Sally and Marian, in the background their parents are secret rivals! Years ago, Sally's mom, Patricia, worked at the Van Buren Institute (named in honor of our 8th president) to fix a strange curse that was placed on Goodman robot suits, which would cause them to banish their pilots (and anyone nearby) into Dataspace. Marian's dad, Dale, only wanted to make Patricia look bad, but his actions caused an accident that trapped most of the Van Buren scientists in Dataspace! Left with only her daughter, Patricia has wanted to get even for years, and Sally's robot suit laser tag matches may finally give her the chance...

Will Sally be able to convince the three princes to stop being bullies? Will she be able to break the Goodman curse and not become trapped in Dataspace herself? Will she figure out how to be true business partners with Marian, despite their differences and their parents' rivalry? And, perhaps most importantly, will she have enough time to still make friends and graduate?! Tune in every Sunday at 5 pm to follow Sally, Marian, their friends, and their amazing adventures in 'Robot Suit Goodman: The Girl from Mercury'!"

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU [6] HELICOPTER BOY

Summary: Glenn is finally back and he brings another person to the camp. The group faces another problem.

Warnings: idk, language probably

Song: Silly Girl chloe moriondo

DAYLIGHT ON WATTPAD

The first thing they heard was the loudest car alarm that you could think of. It was echoing through the mountains, and in a second Dale was on his feet - like everyone else- on top of his RV. He had his binoculars up and was looking around the area.

"Talk to me, Dale." said Shane.

"Nothing yet." he said, still looking around.

They were all prepared to fight in case someone wanted to harm them. It was difficult to determine the direction and source of the noise due to the mountains.

"Is it them? Are they back?"

"I'll be damned." Dale smiled lightly.

"What is it?" asked Amy who was very nervous.

"Stolen car is my guess," Dale replied.

Before Charlie had a chance to say something, Glenn pulled up in a red sports car. He had a big grin on his face and his posture said that he was relaxed. The car looked like one that Charlie was being driven in by all those guys she was dating. He looked excited, not like a person who was stuck and surrounded just hours ago.

"You need a ride, baby?" those were the first words she heard as an Asian boy left his car.

"Silly." she smiled and hugged him.

"Told you I will be back. And you have to say that it's the coolest way to come back," he said and put an arm around her shoulder.

"Holy crap, turn that damn thing off!" Dale shouted in annoyance.

"I don't know how!" Glenn said.

"Pop the hood please," said Shane, coming to the car.

"My sister Andrea..." Amy almost tackled Glenn.

"Pop the damn hood, please?" Shane said through gritted teeth. "Pop the damn hood please!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Okay!" Glen was trying to shout over Amy while sitting in the car to do what Shane wanted.

"Is she okay? Is she alright?" Amy asked.

"YES." screamed an Asian boy, who couldn't bear the tension. "Yeah, she's okay! She's okay."

"Is she coming back?"Amy asked him another question.

"Yes!" he nodded.

"Why isn't she with you? Where is she? She's okay?"

"Yes!" was all he said to her yet another question.

"Amy, just give him space to breathe." Lori interrupted. "Andrea will be back."

"Yeah, she's fine," Glenn said with a smile that faded from his lips. "Everybody is. Well, Merle not so much."

Charlie furrowed her eyebrows, but her friend just gave her a sign that he would tell her everything later.

"Are you crazy driving this wailing bastard up here? You trying to draw every walker for miles?" Shane said nervously, leaning on the opened mask of the car.

"I think we're okay," said Dale.

"You call being stupid okay?" Shane furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at the older man.

"Well, the alarm was echoing all over those hills. Hard to point the source," he said and when he saw angry eyes of a cop on him, he added. "I'm not arguing, I'm just saying." Then he turned to Glenn and furrowed his eyebrows. "It wouldn't hurt you to just think things through a little more carefully next time, would it?"

"Sorry." he nodded his head with remorse, but as soon as he turned to look at Charlie he smiled, excitement pouring through the pores of his skin."Got a cool car."

She chuckled, happy that he found another bright side to the end of the world.

Van pulled up just a second later. More people leaving a car and hugging with their loved ones. It was a good sight, but Charlie saw how Lori was hugging Carl closer to her. The boy was crying, clearly sad that it's not his dad that is back.

"Amy!"

"Andrea!"

"Oh thank God," Charlie whispered looking up, so Glenn shoved her in the arm with a smile.

"You're a welcome sight." smiled Dale. "I thought we'd lost you folks for sure."

"We left him on a roof. Merle." said quietly, Glenn. "The new guy handcuffed him there because he was gonna put us all in danger," explained Asian.

"New guy?"

"How'd you all get out of there anyway?" asked Shane.

"New guy," repeated Glenn. "He got us out."

"New guy?" Dale asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"Yeah." Morales replied."Crazy vato just got into town. Hey! Helicopter Boy, come say hello!" he yelled to someone who was still near a van and looked at Shane. "He's a cop, like you."

Suddenly, Carl ran past her and straight into the arms of the new guy. All they could hear were sobs and words of love. Charlie's heart swelled as she watched the man kneel with his son in his arms, holding him tightly. Lori seemed shocked and slowly made her way over to her husband, embracing him. They all cried tears of joy together. Meanwhile, Shane stood there looking lost and attempting to conceal his emotions. He appeared devastated and bewildered, struggling to believe what he was seeing. However, when Lori's husband looked at him, he smiled.

As everyone huddled around the fire, Rick shared his incredible story. It was hard to believe that someone could endure so much, waking up alone in a hospital bed with no knowledge of what was happening outside. His voice trembled with confusion, but his determination to find his family never wavered. The new guy seemed kind-hearted with gentle features and was quite handsome and well-built - not as much as Shane, but still impressive. Lori was incredibly lucky to have him by her side.

Suddenly, a crackling sound interrupted her thoughts. Ed Peletier had just thrown another log onto the fire, and Shane watched with anger as sparks flew into the night sky.

"Hey, Ed." he said, trying to be calm."You wanna rethink that log?"

"It's cold man." he just shrugged.

"Cold doesn't change the rules, does it?"

Rick was confused about the whole thing and looked at his wife."Rules?"

"Keep our fires low, just embers, so we can't be seen from a distance, right?" Shane got up to kind of show off, making it clear that he's the leader, he's the boss.

"I said it's cold. Why don't you mind your own business for once?" Ed said back, annoyed.

"Sure you wanna have this conversation, man?"

"Go on. Pull the damn thing out, go on." Ed mumbled under his nose.

When two men were fighting, Carol walked up to the fire and took out the log from it. When she placed it on the ground, Shane stepped on it to prevent the flame from spreading. Then he crouched next to a mother and her daughter.

"Hey Carol, Sophia how are y'all this evening?" he asked kindly, not to scare any of them.

"Fine." Carol answered quietly."Just fine."

"Okay."

"Sorry about the fire," she said so quickly it was almost a whisper.

"No, no." Shane said abruptly."No apology needed. Y'all have a good night, okay?" he said and as he was getting up he added. "I appreciate the cooperation."

When everyone was seated back in their places and silence became overwhelming, Dale decided to ask the crucial question. "Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind."

Daryl was still out on a hunt. He left again, soon after they came back from looking for berries and was gone till now. It was not unusual for the hunter to spend a night in the woods, so his absence went unnoticed. However, today everyone seemed relieved that Daryl was gone because that gave them time to come up with a plan, they could choose a poor person, who would break the news to him.

"I'll tell him." said T-Dog. "I dropped the key. It's on me."

"I cuffed him. That makes it mine." said Rick, while caressing hair of Carl, who was laying on his legs.

"Guys, it's not a competition." interrupted them Glenn. "I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy."

"I did what I did." T-Dog shrugged. "Hell if I'm gonna hide it from him." he added.

"We could lie." proposed Amy.

And that would be the best option. They would make up a story, that wouldn't make Daryl as angry as the truth would make him, and everyone would be just fine.

But...

Charlie thought about her brothers. If she was in a place like Daryl, she would like to know what really happened. Because that would give her hope. Hope that she will see them again, talk to them again, just be with them. Or confirm that they are dead. Charlie would give everything to know where were her brothers.

"Or tell the truth," she said right after Amy.

"Yeah. Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he'd gotten us killed." said Andrea and looked at Lori. "Your husband did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it's nobody's fault but Merle's," she added, sure of her opinion of course.

"And that's what we tell Daryl?" asked Dale skeptically. "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you?" he looked at everyone's faces. He sighed and looked into the fire. "Word to the wise, we're going to have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt."

"I was scared and I ran," said T-Dog. "I'm not ashamed of it."

"We were all scared. We all ran. What's your point?" Andrea asked him.

"I stopped long enough to chain that door. The staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that. Not that chain. Not that padlock." he said. "My point: Dixon's alive. He's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us."

Charlie's heart fluttered with gratitude as she was lying in the tent, knowing that Glenn was back. The relief washed over her, knowing he was safe. Thoughts swirled in her mind about the newcomer, Rick Grimes, and what his presence might mean for their group. Would he bring trouble or much-needed assistance? It was already clear that his presence bothered Shane, who was an alpha in this camp - and had an affair with Rick's wife. His arrival might disrupt the delicate dynamics within the camp. Would he challenge their leadership? Bring conflicts they couldn't afford? Her mind raced with scenarios, each one more unsettling than the last. But those thoughts faded into the background as she heard the familiar footsteps of her friend Glenn entering the tent. She couldn't see him, only his dark silhouette in the darkness.

"Thank God, I'm here," he whispered, knowing she was awake.

"Yeah. I was worried," she answered. "I thought you died and I will never see you again," Charlie confessed.

Glenn turned in his sleeping bag, so they were facing each other. "I thought it was my last day today," he said. "I thought about you. I almost cried at the thought that Merle Dixon would be the last thing I see."

She chuckled.

"And then I saw this guy dressed in a uniform with a cowboy hat. Riding a horse through Atlanta. Probably every Walker in the city running after him. We saw him getting stuck in a trunk." he said. "I really didn't think much about helping him. I just did."

"You really are a hero Glenn," she said. "You sure you were pizza boy before? Not a Batman or something?"

He rolled his eyes, even though she couldn't see it, but he knew she knew he did it.

Silence fell between them. Both of them breathing calmly.

"What do you think, how will Daryl react?"

Charlie sighed. "I don't know," she said. "We don't know how we should even tell him that. We don't know who should do it. We know nothing."

This time Glen sighed.

"I feel sorry for him. He seems like a good guy."

"Daryl Dixon?"

"Yeah," Charlie said. "He helped me when you were gone. He has good eyes."

"You're like friends now?" asked Glenn.

"I'm not really sure he had any friends. I think Merle is the only one he has ever had." she shared her thoughts with her friend. "That makes this situation even more sad."

Glenn sat up a little, leaning on his elbows.

"You really are worried about Daryl." he more stated than asked.

"I also have brothers...well, had brothers," she said. "We were close like that, so I know what he might feel."

Rhee laid back.

"Then maybe you should tell him," he said before turning his back to her. "Night, Charlie."

"Mmm." She nodded and soon fell asleep.

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Dread by the Decade: Murders in the Rue Morgue

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★★½

Plot: A scientist obsessed with evolution abducts young women to inject them with ape blood.

Review: A solid Lugosi and great costumes and sets struggle against the weight of a bizarre plot and flat characters.

Source Material: "Murders in the Rue Morgue" by Edgar Allan Poe Year: 1932 Genre: Psychological Horror Country: United States Language: English Runtime: 1 hour 1 minute

Director: Robert Florey Writers: Tom Reed, Dale Van Every Cinematographer: Karl Freund Editor: Milton Carruth Cast: Sidney Fox, Bela Lugosi, Leon Ames, Bert Roach, Brandon Hurst, Noble Johnson

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Story: 2/5 - Why one of the earliest detective stories was adapted into a mad scientist tale is beyond me. The characters are mostly flat, with all of the women being doe-eyed and infantile.

Performances: 3/5 - Lugosi stands out, especially during his intro scene.

Cinematography: 4/5 - Some really excellent framing, shadow use, and camera movement.

Editing: 2.5/5 - Occasionally confusing.

Effects: 3/5 - The gorilla suit is fairly solid, all things considered.

Sets: 4.5/5 - Great. The carnival, street, and laboratory sets are especially of note.

Costumes, Hair, & Make-Up: 4/5

Trigger Warnings:

Mild violence

Anti-Arab racism (uncritical)

Anti-indigenous racism (uncritical)

Misogynistic caricatures