#about; || thomasin;

[llimerrence]

also here's the line that absolutely sent me earlier:

No, It wouldn’t be until she finally looks at little Philip, who is crying in relief that she’s home, that she would realize she was alive. And only then would Thomasin realize that she had seen hell, she had survived it, and it is now standing in her room, clutching to her as though she was salvation.

[archive-double-knots]

Thomasin sits at the table, picking leaves off their stems and dropping them into the waiting pot of water to soak. Looking outside, she sees the Wittebane boys helping her father with the daily chores.

"Mom?" Thomasin asks, continuing her work. "Why can't I do what Cale and Pip do?" She looks to the woman, stirring a pot above a small flame. "I can't wear pants, and I don't get to do the chores with Dad, and I can't shoot the muskets either."

"Because those are things that boys do." Felicity responds, lifting the ladle and watching as the green liquid dribbles back into the pot.

"But why just boys?" Thomasin asks, shifting so she can sit on her knees; now able to reach across the table to get the rest of the herbs. "You let me do that sorta stuff before the brothers came to live with us. And now, we even do this sorta stuff in secret too."

"That's because the Wittebanes aren't one of us." Felicity replies, her eyes glancing out the window to watch as Caleb took the axe from her husband. He was capable, and far more open minded than the others in their town. "They're one of the townsfolk, of Gravesfield. And we don't show ourselves to them. We blend in." Yes, in time, Caleb Wittebane would make a fine suitor for her daughter. He'd be someone who could fit into their world. "Remember, the townsfolk won't accept us. Won't like us. They'd chase us, hang us, burn us. They would never let us go."

Thomasin thinks this over, watching as Philip tries to take the axe from Caleb, who simply seems to hold the axe out of reach. A small sigh escaping from her lips, "Then why do we live here? Why live in Gravesfield if they don't want us here?"

Felicity blinks at this question, lifting the ladle up once again; this time catching the liquid into one of her signatural shaped vials. Ones that her husband had made for this sole purpose. As it fills into the vial, it slowly takes on a gentle glow.

The older woman walks over, placing the vial into Thomasin's hand, before crouching down low. Now, looking up into her daughter's beautiful aqua colored eyes, her own forest green eyes also appear to glow the same as the vial.

"Remember, Tommy, the fox never looks for a mouse in their den."

A sinful smirk lifts on to the woman's lips; as she presses Thomasin's hands around the vial even tighter. Thomasin's eyes begin to glow a pale blue, and the vial feels warmer than before.

"No matter the predator, it never searches its own home first." Felicity continues, "Hide in plain sight, befriend them, offer them gifts, tell them praise, and give empty words of flattery. Do whatever it takes to keep them from suspecting you. That's the only way to live."

Thomasin nods, the vial is burning against her skin. Her lips part, as if to ask a question, but instead, she closes her eyes, and feels the magic flowing out of her into the vial. Suddenly, her mother's hands leave hers. Her eyes open, and so do her hands, looking down at the vial now containing a bright blue liquid.

"If I hide in the den, will I eventually get to live as a fox? Or am I always stuck being a mouse in hiding?" Thomasin asks after a moment, looking up at the woman who returned to her pot.

"Tommy, if you manage to live in the den, you'll be something even greater." Felicity chuckles, gesturing to the window; at the Wittebane brothers.

"You'll be a mouse with two foxes bowing before you."

[awakenatmidnights]

it's now 2am, i just finished "last night in soho" and i can't help but feel like this movie just changed the trajectory of my life

[daughter-of-melpomene]

For the plot bunny ask game: Ruby Barker + Little Women (2019) please??

@dancingsunflowers-ocs ✨💛✨

Oooh, okay, this one kinda slays, thanks so much, Alexandra!! (Also gonna tag @ginevrastilinski-ocs since I think I remember her liking Little Women?? <3)

NAME: Alice Thomasin.

LOVE INTEREST: Meg March.

SUMMARY: Alice had been loving Meg March from afar for as long as she could remember. Though the two young women had never exactly been friends, as it were, since the March sisters were not always able to come to social gatherings and Alice, being the eldest daughter of a wealthy family, was expected to attend all of the ones that were held, they had always been friendly, and it had only taken a view short conversations for Alice to fall into a dizzying, head-over-heels love for the other girl that had lasted a long time. However, she has never been able to be sure that Meg feels the same things she does about other young women, and so Alice has resigned herself to pining from afar and eventually marrying someone that her parents choose for her - until, during a social call to old man Laurence’s nephew results in an offer to spend more time with the March sisters, which leads Alice to believe that, just maybe, she might have a chance with the object of her affection after all.

OTHER INFO:

We’re just gonna pretend that homophobia doesn’t exist in this time period and that two women can marry each other, okay? Okay.

Anyways, yes, meet Alice! My dearly beloved hopeless lesbian who falls in relatively unrequited insta-love with Meg that eventually does turn out to be requited, once it’s been given some time.

Basically she’s over paying a social call to Laurie and his grandfather when the sisters come over to visit Laurie, and Jo really likes her after talking to her for a bit and offers her a membership in their play-writing and performing club, which the others don’t have nearly as much of a problem with as with Laurie given that at least Alice is a girl. Seeing an opportunity to be close to Meg for a while, even if she still can’t have her love returned, Alice accepts immediately.

Their love story is kind of a ridiculous slow burn, because Meg still needs to accept the fact that she likes women before she can even acknowledge whatever feelings she might have for Alice, but they do eventually get together and get married and the whole thing, and it’s so sweet and soft and lovely.

Alice develops an amazing BROTP with Jo, and is actually the one to help the other girl realize that she’s aro-ace (because you can pry aro-ace Jo from my cold dead hands, so why shouldn’t I make it canon if I can?).

send me a fandom and a faceclaim/love interest and i’ll make an oc!!

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Fandom: Bridgerton + FC: Anne Hathaway

Yes yes okay

Thomasin Elkins in Message In A Bottle (x Jon Lockwood)

Details tbd, she's a widow and has been a widow for at least a few years, close friends with Violet and Agatha. Jon asked her to dance at one ball to avoid intense mamas, they flirted, she's not sure if she should but she wants to be with him, Jon adores her and wants whatever he's willing to give her

head empty on plot they're just vibing

[folklorepoetsdepartment]

watched eileen (2023) yesterday at the cinema and not to be all i’m a creep i’m a weirdo but why was i the only one laughing at the funny parts

[where-our-stories-start]

Jojo Rabbit (2019)

[arlo-venn]

I went to see a John Waters comedy show tonight with Tyrell bc whomever she was supposed to take with her backed out, or something, and I don’t dislike John Waters but it was really… stupid? Saw lots of Cincinnati folk that I recognized and despite having lived here for ten whole years, that still amazes me— as a person who spent the first twenty years of their life moving around constantly.

Tyrell’s dad came, his seat was very far away from ours thankfully because he asked a very embarrassing question at the end 😅 We got to sit next to our neighbors, the ones who also have a dog named Arlo. I found out that they refer to my son as the better behaved Arlo! Which is good for my ego.

Anyway, I wasn’t expecting a John Waters comedy show to be so… basic? is the word that comes to mind? I was promised that he’s a weirdo but he just seemed like a normal 77yo queer man. I ended up stealthily playing my favorite numbers game on my watch for the second half. But I’m glad I got to go with Tyrell and be there with her for the experience (she’s obsessed with him) and the memory.

[hayleylovesjessica]

Anne Hathaway: I'm Rebecca. Thomasin McKenzie: I know

Me: (screams)

[double-knots-archive]

i am crying, i am sobbing 

"Sounds like big bro got a hot witch girlfriend and little bro got upset."

thomasin has left the chat room

[darishima]

THOMASIN MCKENZIE YURI?!?3!2?2!2!3!3!3!:!:!:!3!3!4!:!:!3?3?4?4?3!3?3!2!3?3!4!3!4!3!!3!3 I OWE YOU TWELVE MILLION DOLLARS/EUROS/POUNDS/ETC

GODDAMN RIGHT IVE GOT THOMASIN MCKENZIE YURI!! so much of it in fact. ... THANK YOu!!!! <3333

[llimerrence]

Things that should be analyzed tm but i cant because i just get emotional: (Note: all of these were not planned and mainly things i noticed long after i did it lol)

Tia's magic is golden in color. && Golden guard / Hunter's magic being gold

Empress Tia being called Aunt/Auntie by Hunter

Thomasin having silver/white hair / dressing in pastels && evelyn being all dark colors in both clothes and hair

Thomasin slowly going from dark forest greens to bright red and pink pastels to midtone purples

Her middle name being "Memorantia", which means "Remembering", and her immortality curse

Philip being the reason Thomasin got trapped and Hunter being the reason she gets free

Caleb calling her "Memora", but Philip calling her "Tommy"

Tia's mother being burned alive && Tia's speciality being fire/lightning magic

[archive-double-knots]

now the only question i need to answer is: what the fuck is thomasin actually doing with her life 4 years later

she literally has no reason to continue living. Belos is dead. Philip has been dead for years (and she would come to accept that during 'thanks for them'). Caleb is gone, and he can actually rest now that Belos is gone. She'd be able to find the traces of her family and such within the first year of the aftermath.

But Thomasin is still cursed. As long as Gravesfield continues to tell the story of the Wittebane brothers, as long as the Isles speaks of Belos; as long as the Collector lives to remember the events; Thomasin will remain.

Thomasin will live as long as the remains of her former friends sticks in someone else's mind.

[filo-academia]

the vvitch is a narrative about girls and women who have so much desire to be more than what they are in their lives but has no means for it except estranging themselves from their families i.e killing them, garner their hatred, etc. you are a witch when you are a woman who wants to see the world and live deliciously

[mysticmemos]

I love Thomasin’s journey to freedom in The VVitch. From the start she was blamed for things that weren’t her fault and you can see how ingrained the hypocrisy of christianity is into their lives. When her brother noticed things about her it was her fault, when her father sold their silver cup it was her fault, when the twins never did their chores it was her fault. Her father succumbed to pride, her mother to envy, her brother to lust and the twins to sloth. She was the purest member of her family, yet they blamed her for their own sins. Thomasin had likely been dealing with this long before the witches preyed on her family, yet when they did she was blamed for that as well and accused of being a witch. Some people believe Thomasin didn’t have a choice to sign Black Philip’s book because she was manipulated by outside forces for so long. That she traded one master for another, but I don’t see it that way. Her family, who had already succumbed to cardinal sins, were exiled from their village and moved out into the middle of no where. The witches likely would have preyed on her family anyway but they saw Thomasin as an opportunity so they gave her an in. Thomasin signed Black Philip’s book and for the first time she tasted freedom from the hypocrisy of christianity. When a master offers freedom, freedom from subservience, freedom from hypocrisy, freedom from from blame, is he really then a master? No. When a master offers freedom, he is not a master, he is a liberator.

[schrodingerspsycho]

Meet Cut(e) - Chapter 2

Pairing - Tara Carpenter x Reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 2.9k

Summary - You and Tara take some time to get to know each other better.

Author's Note - Happy Birthday Jenna Ortega!!!🥳

Chapter 1

Help Palestine by clicking this link!🇵🇸

“So I take it you didn’t enjoy the movie?” you said as you and Tara walked out of class on Monday.

“God, no,” she replied, making a disgusted face. You laughed. “Why, couldn’t you tell?”

“I had a hunch when you only added to the discussion two minutes before class ended. And you just reiterated what I had just said.”

“Yeah, because that was the first time you didn’t talk for five minutes straight!” she exclaimed, nudging you. You grinned. “Seriously, you talked more than Professor Johnson did. And your eyes were sparkling the whole time like it was the most interesting topic in the world!”

“Sparkling, huh?” you smirked, raising an eyebrow at her. She just shoved you again.

“Yes! I don’t understand it! How can you get so much joy out of such a boring movie?”

You shrugged your shoulders dramatically. “Well…”

“No,” she commanded, pointing a scolding finger in your face. “I cannot stand hearing you talk about that movie anymore. Or any old movie for that matter. I forbid it.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll talk about something else,” you chuckled. “Why don’t you go on and on about something then?”

“Like what?”

“Those elevated horror movies you were texting me about all weekend,” you suggested. Tara’s eyes lit up.

“I wasn’t annoying you with all those texts, was I?”

“No, of course not.” You shook your head, trying to get rid of the blush you felt creeping up your neck as you thought of how you’d waited with bated breath for her next message. You’d nearly screamed with excitement when she’d sent I’m so proud of you! after you’d told her you’d seen all of Jordan Peele’s films. “I like hearing you talk about horror movies.”

Tara beamed, and you couldn’t help but smile at her. “Okay, which movie did you end up watching?”

“I watched two, actually. The Witch and Midsommar.”

“And what did you think?”

“They were great! Especially Midsommar. The cinematography and special effects really enhanced the growing sense of dread throughout the movie.”

“Oh my god, I know! Ari Aster is, like, one of my favorite directors ever, his work is so innovative” she babbled. “What about The Witch?”

“I loved how they used the Puritan setting to convey the theme, but if I’m honest, I thought it dragged a bit in the middle.”

Tara stared at you in disbelief. “Oh, I know you didn’t just call one of my favorite movies boring.”

“I didn’t say that!” you insisted, throwing up your hands in surrender. Then you grinned mischievously. “I just think it’s a little surprising you didn’t like Metropolis.”

She stopped walking and crossed her arms childishly. “I don’t even want to talk to you,” she scoffed, turning up her nose. “That’s the most insulting thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you said, rolling your eyes. “That can’t be true.”

Tara gasped.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding,” you chuckled. She glared at you, and you smiled at her softly. “Tell me about The Witch.”

She pretended to be angry for another moment before dropping her arms back to her sides. “Fine,” she huffed, trying to hide her grin. “But you’re still an asshole.”

“It takes one to know one, Coffee Girl. Remember, you insulted one of my favorite movies first.”

Tara ignored you and launched into her spiel about why The Witch was so brilliant. She explained the origins of the folklore and the texts that Robert Eggers referenced when writing it, and she had a lot of thoughts about Thomasin’s strained relationships with her family members. You couldn’t imagine your eyes had ever sparkled half as much as hers did now. She made you want to watch the boring movie again if only to keep that beautiful smile on her face.

“If that’s what I sounded like in class, then I’m sorry,” you joked when you reached the crosswalk. She slapped your arm, her nose scrunching adorably as she snickered. “I wish I could hear more of your riveting analysis, but this looks like the end of the road.”

“Actually, I was going to go to the campus cafe and get some coffee,” she said, dipping her head and glancing up at you hopefully. Her cheeks flushed. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to get some caffeine in me.”

“Okay, let’s go.” She turned toward the cafe and you followed eagerly. “So as I was saying, I find Thomasin’s relationship with her mother to be the most compelling dynamic in the movie,” she continued without missing a beat. You just nodded.

You arrived at the cafe and ordered your drinks, smiling awkwardly at each other as you sat at a small table by the window. You took a sip and your eyes widened in surprise. “Damn, this is good!”

Tara giggled. “Have you not been here before?”

“No, I’ve been meaning to check it out, but I haven’t got around to it. So, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Now, I know why you love The Witch, but I don’t know much about you,” you said after a moment. “What are you into besides elevated horror? What’s something I need to know about Tara Carpenter?”

Something flashed in Tara’s eyes, but it disappeared before you could identify it. She shifted uncomfortably, gripping her coffee cup, and you noticed the scar on the back of her left hand. “Oh, I… I’ve been talking for a while. Why don’t you tell me something about you? Tell me about your tattoos!”

She gestured to your arms as she took a big gulp of her coffee, and you smiled sheepishly. “Well, this one is a reference to my favorite TV show,” you said, leaning forward and pointing to the design on your right bicep. Then you pointed to the tattoo opposite it on your left arm. “That one is a reference to my favorite band. And this one’s a reference to my favorite book.” You held out your right arm to show off the intricate design on your wrist. “They’re all things that mean a lot to me. In one way or another, they’ve kind of changed my life,” you explained. Tara smiled. Then you pointed to the bats on your left forearm. “And this one’s just because I think bats are really cool.”

Tara chuckled. “They’re really pretty.”

“Thanks.”

“How long have you had them?”

“Well, I got this one back home in Kansas on my eighteenth birthday,” you said, pointing to the one on your wrist. “And I got the other ones here over the summer.”

“I wonder if you bumped into my friend Chad, he got some here over the summer too,” she said. “I figured most other out-of-state students moved in at the start of the school year.”

“Yeah, well… I guess I just needed a change of scenery,” you replied, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I get that. It’s why we moved during the summer, too.”

“We?”

“My friends go to Blackmore too, so we moved at the same time. And my older sister kind of followed me here.”

“You must be close if you let her do that,” you commented.

Tara stared into her coffee with a small smile. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“So, is there anything else you want to know about me?” you asked her. She thought for a moment.

“What kind of stuff do you write?”

“Oh, I hope you’re ready for me to ramble at you again,” you grinned. “I’ve written some sci-fi and fantasy stories and a couple of short films, but right now I’m working on a horror story.”

“Ooh, tell me about it!” Tara said, leaning forward excitedly. You did the same, and as you began to describe your passion project, her eyes sparkled almost as much as yours did.

You couldn’t help grinning all the way home. Tara had loved the idea of your horror story, and after making her beg you to let her read it, she had loved the first few scenes even more. Then when you had refused to tell her how it ended, she had thrown napkins at you until a server came over and told her to stop. Her brazen insistence that the server was in the wrong made you forget all about being embarrassed, and you talked for another hour after that. The conversation spanned a wide range of topics, and even though she hadn’t told you much about her past, you felt like you knew Tara pretty well now. Every moment you spent with her made you like her even more, which was why you decided to be bold the next time you saw her.

“Ugh, how many stupid silent films are we going to watch?!” Tara exclaimed as she slung her backpack over one arm, her eyes daring you to challenge her. You chuckled.

“For once, I agree with you. Even I think The Passion of Joan of Arc is boring,” you smiled.

“Finally! God, I was wondering when you would start making sense.”

“But Professor Johnson’s not wrong though. It has some great close-up shots and really interesting set designs,” you continued. Tara groaned.

“Why can’t you just hate the same things as me?”

“Because I have better taste than you,” you said, your smirk growing wider as she pouted back. “If you’re free this weekend, you should come over to my apartment and we can watch it together. It might make it a little more bearable.”

Her expression darkened, and she drifted to the edge of the sidewalk. Away from you. “Sorry, but I can’t- I’m busy this weekend. I can’t… go to your place.”

She avoided your eyes, and you felt a cold dread seep into your chest. Was that too forward? You thought you were friends by now. But of course, you had to go and ruin it. You stumbled over your words, rushing to apologize before she could tell you she never wanted to speak to you again.

“Oh, yeah, no, of course! It’s totally fine, I get it. I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought- never mind. I’m sorry.” Your entire face felt hot, and you could’ve sworn she could hear your heart pounding in your chest. She looked at you, her expression probing, and you felt small under her gaze. Then she smiled shyly.

“How about after class on Friday,” she suggested. “If you reserve one of the study rooms in the library, I’m there.”

“Sounds good,” you grinned, heaving a sigh of relief. “Yeah, you got it. I can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” she said. She nudged you playfully. “I never realized how awkward you are.”

“I’m just a treasure trove of new information, aren’t I?”

Tara giggled. “Yeah, and you’re going to use all that information to help me pass this class.”

“Ah, that’s the real reason you hang out with me. You’re using me for my intelligence.”

“Oh, for sure,” she grinned. “No other reason.”

“Understood,” you said, nodding as you approached the crosswalk. “It’s good to know where I stand.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in class, Y/N,” Tara smiled. “And I’m going to hold you to what you said about making Joan of Arc less boring.”

“I’ll do my best,” you promised. “See you later, Tara.”

You fiddled with the drawstring on your hoodie as you walked to the library on Friday. Tara followed as you led her to the study room you’d reserved, the large oak tree outside the window blocking the sunlight and making it feel like a little movie theater. You had spent an hour scouting all the rooms to make sure you got the best one. Not that you would ever tell her that.

“Have a seat,” you said, gesturing to the plush chairs spread out in crude rows across the room as you pulled down the projection screen. You’d also made sure you had the room with the best furniture. “I just need to connect my laptop, and then we can start the movie.”

“How long is it again?”

“About two hours.”

Tara threw her head back against the chair, her eyes screwed shut in a pained expression. “Your job today is to convince me not to drop this class.”

“What, is getting to hang out with me not enough for you?” you smirked. She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you the one who chose to be a film major?”

“Yeah, but I want to learn how to make movies now, not watch films from a hundred years ago!”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Okay, I’ll do my best to convince you. Do you remember what we’re supposed to be paying attention to?”

“Yes,” Tara replied. “But I think you should say it anyway. So I’ll know if you remember or not.”

You smiled in spite of yourself. “The use of close-ups and the things that are off-kilter in the mise en scène.”

“Yeah, good job! You got it right,” she grinned.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” you said as you started the movie.

“Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

You didn’t respond as you settled into the chair next to her, feeling self-conscious under her mischievous gaze. “Watch the movie,” you said softly, and you heard her chuckle.

You did watch the movie, at least for a while. Then, as you neared the forty-five-minute mark, Tara’s fidgeting became unbearable. You raised an eyebrow at her as she crossed and uncrossed her legs for the hundredth time, an affectionate smile painting your face. “Do you want to watch it at double speed?”

“Oh, thank god. Yes, please,” she said, heaving a sigh of relief. “Seriously, I don’t know how you can watch this. It’s torture.”

“I never said I liked every silent film,” you replied, getting up to speed up the movie. As you sat back down, you noticed that Tara was shivering. You took off your hoodie and handed it to her with a smile.

“Are you sure?” she asked, glancing from you to the hoodie and back again.

“Yeah, take it. The library is always freezing, and I run hot anyway.”

“Thanks.” She took the hoodie from you, and you realized she had a scar on the palm of her left hand. You couldn’t quite tell, but it looked like it was almost parallel to the one on the back of her hand. But before you could decide if it would be too insensitive to ask about, you saw her poking curiously at the snake embroidered on your favorite hoodie. She looked more adorable than you could’ve imagined, and you weren’t sure how you’d ever tear your eyes away.

Luckily, your hoodie seemed to have placated Tara, and she sat still for the rest of the film. Whether she actually paid attention remained to be seen, but as long as she wasn’t complaining you considered it a win.

“Thank god,” Tara professed when it finally ended. “That was the most boring movie I’ve ever seen.”

You smiled at her. “Now we just need to finish the assignment, and then we never have to talk about it again.”

“I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, opening a new Word document. “What did you notice?”

“Professor Johnson was right. There were a lot of close-up shots.”

“Yes, but what purpose did they serve?”

“I don’t know, making me uncomfortable? Why can’t you just give me the answers, I thought that was the whole point of watching it together.”

You shook your head. “I said I’d help you, not do it for you. The point is for us to collaborate.”

“My fist will collaborate with your face,” she grumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing!” she said, smiling up at you innocently.

“Why did they make you uncomfortable?” you prompted, choosing to ignore her.

“The angles were weird and the shots were so long. It felt like I was stuck in her head- oh.”

“There you go!” you cheered. “Now do you get why we had to watch this movie?”

“It’s still a terrible movie,” she insisted, but she couldn’t keep the shy smile off her face. “But maybe that was a really cool effect. And maybe I kinda, sorta, almost, just a little bit liked it a lot.”

You beamed. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, blushing.

It didn’t take you too long to finish the assignment. And if you let her write down some of your thoughts, well, nobody needed to know. She put away her laptop and stood up, preparing to leave.

“Wait,” you said, holding up a hand to stop her. “Do you have anywhere to be right now?”

“No, why?”

“Well, if you want, the room is still reserved for a couple more hours. I figured we could watch a horror movie or something, to cleanse our palates.”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” she smiled. “Good job, Burgers. Maybe this is why I keep this class.”

“Happy to be of service,” you joked. “I’m glad you don’t have plans. I mean, I still would’ve enjoyed watching a movie without my roommate barging in and interrupting, but I’d rather watch something with you.”

“So, what do you want to watch?”

“You’re the horror movie expert, right? You choose.”

She tapped her finger against her chin. “Hereditary. It’s Ari Aster’s first film, I think you’ll love it.”

“Aye aye, captain,” you smirked, saluting her. You started the movie and sat back in your chair, and Tara laid her head on your shoulder.

You knew anything would seem exciting after watching The Passion of Joan of Arc, so you happily settled in for another slow-burn elevated horror movie. And it lived up to your expectations for a while. But then you felt Tara tense, hiding her eyes in the crook of your neck, and then-

“Holy fucking shit!”

It quickly became your favorite scary movie.