#also dipped into 1978 too

[glorfys-glorioushair]

So I uh made a thing...

[moonymoodz]

Damnatio Memoriæ

The one with the bed creaks.

Pairing : Sirius Black x Fem!OriginalCharacter. (+ kind of unrequited Peter Pettigrew x Fem!Original Character)

Wordcount : 1.7k

Genre: quite suggestive, angst or fluff depending whose pov you’re on lol.

Warning : very suggestive, some may call it smut, depending on your personal sensitivity, but it’s not particularly graphic. Kind of (very) voyeuristic situation. Also, you might actually experience pity for Peter Pettigrew, which I feel is a warning in its own right, although you might also dislike him even more, it’s kind of a gray area ig.

Disclaimer : I’m not a native English Speaker so there might be some mistakes. Tough shit.

Masterlist

—

Saturday May 17th 1978.

If there was one thing Peter Pettigrew had mastered, it was the art of silently waiting in the wings while others owned the stage.

The dorm room was dark, save for the faint silver light of the moon filtering through the heavy window. Peter lay on his side, the curtains around his four-poster bed drawn tight. Sleep wouldn’t come—not with the ghost of the common room’s laughter still ringing in his ears. He could hear their celebration dragging into the early hours, punctuated by bursts of laughter, drunken slurs, and the occasional crash of something breaking.

The door creaked open.

Peter’s breath caught as he heard the click of the latch, followed by the faint shuffle of feet and soft, muffled giggles. His heart thudded in his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself invisible beneath the covers.

“Shhhhh,” a voice whispered, and Peter’s heart stopped.

Godric, please, no.

Cordelia’s voice was hushed but tinged with laughter, “Pete’s right here—“

“Relax,” Sirius drawled in a low murmur, his voice teasing. “He’s probably snoring. Aren’t you, mate?”

The freckled boy froze, his breath hitching, his fingers curling tighter around the blanket. He couldn’t move, couldn’t respond.

The sound of soft, fumbling movements suddenly filled the space again—the thud of shoes hitting the floor, the rustle of fabric as clothes were shrugged off and discarded. The mattress on Sirius’s bed creaked, and Peter’s cheeks burned with the realization of what was happening.

“Wait,” Cordelia whispered again, sharper this time, though her voice wavered slightly. “He’ll wake up.”

“Let him,” Sirius replied, his tone lazy. “He might actually learn a thing or two.”

Peter bit down on his lip, his breath trapped in his throat. His cheeks burned with humiliation, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. The bed creaked louder.

“Don’t be an arse,” she murmured, though there was still playfulness to it.

“Come on,” he spoke casually, “all I’m saying is, this might be the closest he gets to actual action before graduation.”

“Stop it,” she hissed in quiet warning.

“What?” He said, his grin practically audible, “It’s not exactly a secret. Poor guy is all stammering and blushing. You know he probably still fancies you, right?”

“It’s not funny,” she whispered again, sharper this time, her tone a mix of scolding and embarrassment.

Peter’s entire body burned with shame, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. He could’ve strangled Sirius in that moment. Strangled himself too, actually.

And yet, what followed was somehow even worse.

“Alright, alright.” Sirius let out a chuckle. His voice dipped lower, quieter, almost conspiratorial. “No more talk of Wormtail.” The bed creaked as he shifted, his tone turning warm and wicked in the same breath. “I’ve got much better things to do with my mouth right now.”

When Cordelia let out another quiet moan, soft and breathless, Peter’s stomach twisted again.

“You’re too sweet,” Sirius murmured between kisses. “Always worried about other people when I’m trying to get you to focus on me.”

“Sirius,” she whined, though her voice betrayed her, breathy and warm.

The sound of a kiss followed, wet and soft, the faint rustle of fabric as they moved.

“Godric,” Sirius murmured, his voice low and deliberate, “you’re too gorgeous for this world, you know that?”

Peter’s stomach twisted, his hands gripping the blanket so tightly his knuckles ached.

“I’ve heard it once or twice,” Cordelia whispered nonchalantly, though her voice trembled.

“My pretty girl,” Sirius teased, his voice thick with amusement, “And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

Cordelia let out a soft sound, almost a laugh but warmer, needier. “Shut up.”

“Go on, say it,” Sirius whispered, his tone dripping with something that made Peter’s skin burn. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she breathed.

Peter’s chest tightened as a soft, stifled moan broke through the air, and suddenly the dormitory felt too small, too hot. He could hear everything: the shift of sheets, the creak of the mattress, the faint gasp as Sirius planted kisses up and down her body.

Peter wanted to be disgusted, wanted to be angry, but his body betrayed him. His face burned with embarrassment as his heart raced, his breath quickening despite himself. He hated this. Hated that he couldn’t block out the sounds—the faint gasp as Sirius whispered something too low for him to hear, the soft hum of Cordelia’s voice as she responded. The slick sound of skin against skin.

Peter shifted under the covers, his body rigid, his breaths shallow. He kept his eyes shut tight, trying to will away the rhythmic creak of the mattress.

But then, against his better judgment, something compelled him. His hand trembled as he reached for the edge of the curtain surrounding his bed, pulling it back just an inch. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as his gaze darted to Sirius’s bed.

And there she was.

Her skin glistened with the faint sheen of an early sweat. Her hair tumbled loose across Sirius’s pillow, her lips parted as she arched her back slightly, the muscles of her neck taut. He could see the curve of her breast, the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped quietly.

Peter froze. It was nothing like he had imagined—and he had imagined it. More than he cared to admit, in stolen daydreams and restless nights.

Only, in that moment, he almost wished she were covered in warts, her skin marred and rough, anything that would make her less perfect, less unreachable. But no. Of course her skin was smooth as silk, calling to be felt.

A muscle in his jaw tightened as his gaze darted back to her face, catching the faintest frown of her brow as her head tipped back further with a whine.

Peter snapped his head back, his body flinching under the covers, when Sirius came into view again, his dark hair falling across her face as he shifted above her, blocking her features from sight.

The curtain fell back into place, and Peter’s fingers shook as they clutched the blanket to his chest. His breath came fast and shallow, the heat rising all the way to his face.

Then came another sound—soft, quiet, hers. A cry, muffled but unmistakable. It was delicate, almost shy, and it clawed its way under Peter’s skin.

“You like that, don’t you?” Sirius cut through the quiet, his voice lower now, rougher, laced with amusement.

“Stop it,” Cordelia whispered, her voice shaky, breathy—and Peter hated how much it betrayed her. She didn’t mean it.

“Stop what?” Sirius teased, his tone dropping into a growl, intimate and wicked. “This?”

There was another cry, sharper this time, and no less devastating. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, his fists trembling with the effort to keep himself still, silent.

“Sirius,” she gasped, her voice tight, a mix of warning and something else. “Come on—”

“Filthy girl,” Sirius muttered, his tone edged with a smirk. “Think what your etiquette tutor would say—”

Peter bit down harder on his lip, the sharp metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

His hands curled into fists beneath the blanket, the fabric twisting in his grip as the humiliation and anger bubbled inside him, hot and bitter. How could they?

How could Sirius—knowing he was there, right there—do this? Sure, it wasn’t the first time Sirius had brought someone into their dormitory. Year four, five and a decent chunk of six had been booked and busy—a parade of giggling girls, each one more forgettable than the last. Peter had long since grown numb to it, forcing himself to ignore the creaks of the bed and the muffled laughter. It had been easier, then—back when it was just another girl, another conquest Sirius would brag about the next morning over breakfast, all charm and smirking arrogance.

But this wasn’t just another girl.

This was Cordelia.

And Peter knew—had known for a while—that Sirius and Cordelia were a proper thing now, serious in a way Sirius had never been with anyone else. It wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t even surprising, not really.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

The bed creaked faster now, more erratic, until it stopped suddenly, and Sirius groaned, low and guttural. The bile rose to Peter’s throat.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, heavy and uneven.

Then Sirius chuckled softly, a sound Peter had heard a thousand times before but now couldn’t stand.

“Merlin,” he murmured, still catching his breath. His voice dropped low, almost too soft to hear. “How the hell can anyone live without this?”

Cordelia laughed faintly, “Without sex?”

Sirius hummed softly, the sound low and unhurried, as if considering it. When he spoke, his voice was quieter now, laced with something surprisingly close to devoutness. “Without you.”

The sound of a kiss followed, soft and slow, and Peter turned onto his back staring up at the dark canopy above him. He wanted to rip the curtains open, to shout at them, to do something. But he didn’t.

Instead, he lay there, silent and still, as the laughter and whispers faded into nothing.

Something dark began festering inside him, a feeling that had been passively brewing in the depth of his soul for longer than he cared to admit. Hatred.

He hated Sirius for taking everything as if it were owed to him.

He hated how Cordelia surrendered it to him so willingly.

But most of all, he hated himself for imagining there’d ever be a scrap left for him to enjoy.

—

Hope you enjoyed it! If you’re interested in more please do interact, comment, reblog or send me a message! there is so little interaction with what I’ve posted before I think I might just end up dropping this blog :(

[see-arcane]

What horror movies would each of the crew enjoy? Who dislikes them?

Mina is at the front of the line for scary stories and horror movies alike. She's a bit of a classic ghost story fiend, so the original The Haunting and The Innocents would be her top picks. She'll also re-watch adaptations of M.R. James' ghost stories every December.

Jonathan may have a soft spot for Shakespeare's theatric scares, but straight horror is not for him. The closest he'll come is the type of 'horror' that really amounts to a romance with scary elements painted over it. He knows it doesn't count, but he quite likes The Shape of Water and, he will very hesitantly admit, Only Lovers Left Alive.

Lucy also doesn't consider herself a big horror fan, but will make exceptions for juicy character dramas dipped in corn syrup blood. She considers The Craft a favorite and--so long as she isn't watching it alone--Carrie.

Jack pretends Psycho is his favorite for Classic Cinema Appreciation cred. It's really Ex Machina. No comment.

Arthur is just Not a Fan of Horror. Full stop. His eyes water every time the pet inevitably gets killed off. He cries outright over sympathetic monster stories. Anything more harrowing than a stop-motion Henry Selick flick will have him hiding behind a pillow, and even then he needs to have someone's hand to hold. (The Rhino in James and the Giant Peach gave him nightmares for a week.)

Quincey isn't really a movie guy, period. He is sadly one of those types to hear rave reviews of such-and-such movie or series, swear he'll check it out, and then immediately forget or ignore it into oblivion. The one exception was Jordan Peele's Nope, which Jack and Arthur herded him into. They all thought it was just a sci-fi modern western-adventure movie. Jack staggered out of the theater afterward. Arthur just passed out. Quincey saw it two more times in the theater and now watches it at least once a month at home.

Van Helsing is also not much of a movie guy, but will watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978) and The Thing (1982) around Halloween. A bit of a masochistic selection, considering the subject matter, but the stories are too well-done to let the 'conscripting body horror' of it all overwhelm him.

Renfield is fond of telling Jack his favorite is Silence of the Lambs--no guesses why--but if he's being honest, he's a shameless sucker for the type of escapist monster media where the protagonist goes 'Oh no! I've been bitten/cursed/otherwise transformed into a supernatural super-powerful-cool monster who kills all their problems away! Oh nooo~' ...But then, he doesn't consider any of these horror movies. Honest answer? The Fly (1986). He'll never say why.

BONUS:

Dracula watches 30 Days of Night whenever he needs a laugh. He'll binge the entire Hannibal series in...other moods. His roommates know to avoid him when he brings out that particular box set and to pointedly Not Mention a certain soliciting someone for the duration.

The Weird Sisters watch fun old romps like Audition, Fatal Attraction, and both versions of Suspiria for a cozy evening. They only watch The Hunger (1983) when they're feeling maudlin.

[lyledebeast]

August 22: Jennifer's Body (2009)

Oh, what to say about this one. I first saw it a couple of years ago and loved it, but this is only the second time I've watched it. The reason I didn't post this last night was that I had too much to say and was too tired to say it, so here goes now.

Jennifer's Body was directed by Karyn Kusama but written by Diablo Cody. An earlier film for which she is well-known, Juno, was taken as some kind of pro-life manifesto because the titular character briefly considers having an abortion but chooses to carry the pregnancy to term instead. Cody is pro-choice. Like Jennifer's Body, Juno focuses on a teenage girl coming to terms with her sexuality and the complexities that result, but the central relationships in that story are between Juno and her baby's father, her own father, and the woman who wants to adopt the baby. It's a very good movie from what I remember, but you can see how conservatives might twist it to support their agenda regardless of Cody's intentions.

She made sure that would not happen again!

Jennifer's Body is reviled by people who loved Juno for two reasons. The first is protagonist Needy's (Amanda Seyfried) queer, polyamorous desires for both her boyfriend Chip (Johnny Simmons) and the titular Jennifer (Megan Fox). While she loves Chip, her complex friendship with Jennifer both predates and certainly threatens their relationship. The other reason is that Jennifer's body is one that consumes males rather than existing for male consumption. The scene that struck me the hardest on this rewatch comes after Jennifer's first onscreen kill when she takes a swim in the lake, leaving all her clothes on the dock. It is so similar to a scene in Ti West's X that I wonder if it played some role in inspiring it. However, when Maxine Minx takes her nude dip in the lake, there is an alligator pursuing her, and when Jennifer takes hers, the only beast in the water is her.

There's something very appealing about a character it is no real stretch to call a rape survivor becoming so formidable. I have to wonder if Jennifer's name isn't an homage to Jennifer Hills, the protagonist of the 1978 rape revenge thriller I Spit on Your Grave. Although this Jennifer is not avenging her own rape, she certainly uses her sexuality to lure boys to a fate that benefits her but has very little to do with sex. Megan Fox is perfect in this role. I've seen her acting criticized a lot, but you can't write a character as "the hot girl" and be surprised when the actress doesn't turn in an Ingrid Bergman performance. She is a hot girl, but here she gets to be hilarious and powerful too. People hate to see a woman have fun!

Finally, even though Needy does kill Jennifer in the end, it's not just about avenging her slain boyfriend. She also sets her sights on avenging what was done to Jennifer to set all this tragedy off. In the end, it is a rape revenge narrative, it just takes a very wild ride to get there!

[sherlockianscholar]

part 2 (1991-1995): the saga of jeremy brett through the scuttlebutt archives

go here for part one!

since 1971, sherlockian and baker st irregular, peter blau has published a small "gossip" sheet for all sherlock holmes news under publication of the "Scuttlebutt from the Spermaceti Press." after the advent of computers, peter started digitizing all his sheets from 1985 onward.

we are now officially in the later stage of granada's sherlock holmes. production was driven by the desire to make large profits. thus, the quality of the show took a significant dip. our only remaining constants were jeremy and edward. but their acting stood strong even through significant trials and tribulations. by 1991, jeremy's health (mentally and physically) would continue to worsen dramatically, which ultimately led to his death in 1995.

March 1991: mmmm, not sure he's joking there

October 1991: jeremy finally commits to doing all of the stories

January 1992: first of all, Y I K E S. this is so messed up and homophobic to sherlock holmes. why, because of his usual celibacy?and "to the relief of fans who have wondered about his bachelor lifestyle." what the fuck.

this might be reading too much into it, but i think it might've been a jab at jeremy's sexuality. He had (at least) two long-term homosexual relationships: gary bond (1969-1976) and paul shenar (~1973-1978). while jeremy never publicly came out as bisexual, his relationship with gary bond was considered "one of the first relatively out" couples in the acting world. at least in the industry, it was common knowledge.

now i'm going to wildly speculate, so here goes. jeremy and joan married in 1976, which is also when jeremy and gary bond broke up. it's unknown how long jeremy and joan dated prior to their wedding. reportedly, jeremy dated paul shenar from 1973-1978 (and they remained close friends until paul died of aids in 1989), which overlaps with jeremy and joan's marriage. jeremy and joan spent a lot of time apart, with her in the usa and him in manchester. now, i don't think jeremy would EVER cheat on joan. but, i wonder if they had an open relationship (or maybe some form of polyamory). mind you, i have nothing to back that up, but it's something i've wondered about before.

circa 1993: this is the earliest article i've been able to find on jeremy's mental illness, which still makes me wonder when his difficulties became public. the details of his psychotic break in this article are heartbreaking to read.

as stated prior, linda pritchard (the interviewee) was jeremy's companion/probable girlfriend for the last seven years of his life. they met backstage during the secret of sherlock holmes. linda approached jeremy for help raising money for cancer research, which he naturally supported with a passion. she nursed and took care of him. she provided life-saving mental support and no matter how painful or how much jeremy's bipolar lashed out, she made sure he felt safe and loved. she's kind of controversial because she's written a lot of books about jeremy. firstly, she doesn't actually profit off them at all--she just wants to share jeremy's story. and at the end of the day, who cares? that woman loved and protected jeremy during the most vulnerable chapter of his life. she was there till the end. she will always have my respect.

March 1993: okay, sean day-lewis, you have no idea what you're talking about and your views are bad.

June 1993: we have 1 hour episodes back! but it's too little, too late.

July 1993: happy birthday, young michael! according to the sherlock holmes society of st. charles, "jeremy became very fond of the young boy by his side and they corresponded for many years. his father was one of the leaders of the chester baskerville society and editor of the devonshire chronicle."

on a heavier note, this is the beginning of the end. jeremy's health began slipping faster and faster. as did the the future of granada's sherlock holmes. once again, what could've been if jeremy hadn't gotten ill?

September 1993: okay, so there's a lot to unpack here.

firstly, they label jeremy as "a heavy drinker." this is the only thing/quote i know of that could approach that statement:

"i started drinking champagne as a kind of celebration to lift my spirits. it started with just a glass in my bath, and grew until i needed a whole bottle to put me to sleep at nights. well, that was getting entirely out of hand, and it had to stop." -jeremy brett during the beginning of granada

but i don't think that really spells out "heavy drinker" or "alcoholic."

secondly, jeremy's physical illness has become extremely noticeable and is officially out of the bag. but not the specifics. "jeremy brett has been struck down by a crippling illness." he "was taking medication for most of the day and at one stage had an oxygen mask to help him breathe." jeremy is now "suffering from pleurisy," which a granada spokesperson "confirmed" was true. but they were only the symptoms of a far greater problem--jeremy's heart disease and the lithium poisoning/complications that led to it.

November 1993 #1: and now we're calling it an "asthma attack." again, stating a symptom, but failing to understand how that piece fits into the big picture.

November 1993 #2: the big picture is revealed (except for the key piece of info--that this was because of the lithium). granada's june wyndham-davies (and presumably the rest of the major staff) remained publicly optimistic.

December 1993

February 1994

Spring 1994: JEREMY BRETT BREAKS HIS CONTRACT WITH GRANADA

March 1994: another psych ward stay. although it says that jeremy had a "nervous breakdown" in 1986, it's highly probable that it was actually a psychotic break. i believe the quote below is about the article cited above, but i'm not certain b/c i don't have an exact date for this quote nor do i have the article in question:

"i went there to pick him up, and two tabloid newspaper men, from the sun, had actually been clever enough to use his real name at the door, which is jeremy huggins. they went up to his bedroom where he was waiting for me, burst in with a camera, and said, 'we have come to see if you have got aids.' he kicked them out." -june wyndham-davies

April 1994: "i have bounced back like bambi," said brett. "i'm as fit as a fiddle, though still a little fragile." if only...

his second psych ward stay in a month. jeremy's lithium poisoning becomes public. (i'm on lithium! which literally saved my life. when i was first prescribed it, a nurse actually sat me down to make sure i knew how serious potential complications could be if i didn't adhere to exactly what the doctors told me. that never happened with any other medication.)

when the very last episode of jeremy brett's sherlock holmes premiered: "after completing 'the cardboard box', jeremy brett was back in the hospital--a mental hospital. in his own self-effacing way he called it 'the nuthouse.' when the memoirs was screened in britain, the man who was sherlock holmes failed to see his own last series because he was in a ward where the other patients preferred to watch another station. jeremy brett deferred to their choice of viewing." -david stuart davies from bending the willow

June 1994: jeremy continues to remain optimistic

December 1994: even though jeremy was incredibly ill, he decided to try and continue acting as best he could. "after mad dogs and englishmen, he had to renounce the fine projects proposed to him: the role of ebenezer scrooge at the national theater with a script by john mortimer, a season in chichester and the role of professor higgins in a new version of my fair lady. he hoped to at least to be the voice of a deer or an elephant in a future disney cartoon, but even this modest ambition proved impossible." (ACD encyclopedia)

can you even imagine how delightful jeremy would've been as a disney character? that would've been priceless.

January 1995: at this point, i believe jeremy began to realize he was dying

February 1995: jeremy is "on the mend"

July 1995: jeremy is forcibly retired from acting

September between 3rd-11th 1995: jeremy's doctor told him that he needed a heart transplant. jeremy's reply, “that's too dramatic, darling, even for me.”

September 12, 1995: peter jeremy huggins dies at the age of 61

“bless your darling hearts. much love, keep warm and dry and if you see him whisking around the corner – you know who, SH – then wave, because that’s all you’ll see of him. bless his darling heart, isn’t he wonderful, streets ahead of us – still.” -jeremy brett, 1995

and bless your darling heart, jeremy. thank you for everything.

[danothan]

Your dc posting is beginning to convert me … How does one become a superman fan? (the FUN kind. My brother just watched the Man Of Steel 2013 movie and i have never seen something so unfun and grey) Asking for a friend.

asks that make you say YAY outloud

you can start where my sibling and i started, which is superman 1978 (recently watched the second one too which was also fun)! it’s classic, lays the groundwork for superman lore, and most importantly, it’s a true characterization of superman: sweet + silly + human. it also has a great lois, which i consider essential to any superman media

superman vs the elite is another fantastic movie, my “objective best” out of every dc movie i’ve seen so far actually (including the non-superman ones). this is the one i would show ppl that had a misunderstanding/bad faith reading of superman. highly recommend w subtitles, i could not understand like half the characters </3

i think all-star superman is an emotional roller coaster if you’re okay w not having context, and superman/batman: apocalypse isn’t exactly abt clark but it shows a great relationship between him and kara (his long lost cousin) as well as bruce

can’t vouch for any shows bc i haven’t seen any of them in full, but my sibling loves superman animated, and i enjoyed the eps i did see!

and if after all of that you wanna dip your toes in the comics too, you can’t rly go wrong with world’s finest. i have the 1990 copy by dave gibbons and i personally love it, but there are some reviews abt it being pretty pictures w no substance. i think simple is a great place to start tho, i certainly derived a lot of substance from it. but maybe that’s just bc i already like superman and batman haha

i hope your superman journey goes well, whichever path you choose to explore it! thanks for the ask, it always fills me w joy when i can introduce someone to dc!

[cor-ardens-archive]

Dear Mari. What are your favorite, sensual horror movies? I’m just dipping into the genre and I would love some tips. I was also wondering if everything worked out with your medication in the end. I hope so! 💗

it did, thank you so much for your concern 💖

"sensual horror" is an interesting way to put it! i'm not the best person for recommendations because i always forget several titles, and i'm also not the most movie person here tbh, i have mutuals who would know much more than me about this, but i'll try!

i'm taking "sensual" to mean something particular that maybe isn't precisely what you intended, but i guess we'll find out.

jean rollin's films are very sensual, and i especially recommend la rose de fer for this because it's the epitome of sensual horror to me, but they all have that languid & melancholy sensuality. jesús franco made a lot of erotic horror movies that i would call sensual as well (my favorite is the other side of the mirror, but maybe nightmares come at night is a better example of this). walerian borowczyk too, his movies were gorgeous, but i don't know if he has any that would be considered horror besides the strange case of dr. jekyll and miss osbourne (which is very beautiful).

some specific titles: ganja & hess (1973), nosferatu the vampyre (1979), audition (1999), don't look now (1973), the hunger (1983), the house that screamed (1969), panna a netvor (1978), daughters of darkness (1971), candyman (1992), nekromantik 2 (1991), thirst (2009), the blood spattered bride (1972), perhaps some dario argento... i don't know, i think i'm a little unsure exactly how i'm categorizing sensual, but i think these titles may fit what you're looking for!

[aorus-of-the-sea]

jori songfic/music video idea

i was too lazy to write this into a full songfic but it's been sitting, collecting dust in my writing archives, so i figured i'd share

A description of a music video featuring the HA 6 Set to: "Firebird" by Galantis

Beck is driving his newly restored 1978 Pontiac Firebird. His dad had gotten it for him as a graduation present, and he’d been working on restoring it all summer. Now, with college looming over all their heads, and the hourglass of their shared time running lower than ever, the six friends enjoy a midnight joyride to the beach.

Top down, 4 are squished in the back seat, Beck and Robbie hold hands across the gearshift in the front 2 seats. Tori is in the middle between Jade and Andre, and Cat is laying across all their laps.

The ones in the back alternate standing on the seats/sitting up on the T-roof to dance in the wind and just have their arms up as they zoom down the PCH.

Andre and Tori yell karaoke into the wind. Tori and Jade nuzzle noses, until they eventually share a kiss, under the stars. Cat and Jade simply scream carefree like they haven’t since middle school.

It all started because Beck didn’t feel tired after the movie they all went to see together. Tori, Andre, and Cat carpooled because Jade was just getting off her shift and planning to give Tori a ride home (and probably sleep over). Andre and Jade left their cars at the theater parking lot, and everyone piled into Beck’s Firebird.

Now, Robbie is sitting up in the passenger seat, standing almost, as he raises both his linked and his free hands up to the wind, also yelling carefree. He presses a kiss to Beck’s knuckles with a smile.

Eventually, they make it to a beach, close to a beachside boarding school called PCA. Tori smiles wryly at her past life but doesn’t dwell on the memories. She’s pulled back into the moment by Jade who wraps her arms around Tori into a bear hug from behind. Jade rests her chin on Tori’s shoulder.

Cat and Robbie eventually get a roaring bonfire going on this quiet stretch of beach, and they’re off. Drinking, dancing, singing, being obnoxious little teens for one last night.

Montage of them laughing, getting into hijinks, maybe going for a small dip (just enough to wet their feet, maybe up to their knees).

End with dying embers crackling their last, and Beck announcing sleepily that he needs to get his old man boyfriend home (Robbie is passed out leaning on Beck’s shoulder.) Jade is similarly passed out, as is Cat. Tori, Andre, and Beck urge their partners to get up and head back to the car.

This time, Cat is curled onto Andre’s lap, and Jade is all but curled into Tori completely.

In a sleepy mumble, Jade says, “I love you, Tori.”

Tori strokes Jade’s hair and whispers back, “I love you too.”

[thisaintascenereviews]

Top 20 Favorite Albums Of All Time: 2024 Edition

Ranking the best albums of all time is really hard, because there are thousands of albums out there, and you maybe haven’t heard a lot of those albums you’d love. I’ve been a music fan for the last 17 years, give or take, and I’ve listened to tons of albums, but one thing I don’t usually do is make ranked best of lists of albums I personally love. I like doing yearend lists, because that’s only the single year, not of all time. I’ve only done a best of all time ranking once, and that was maybe a decade ago, but in the span of that time, my taste has changed. I thought it would be interesting to take a look at my favorite albums of all time. It took awhile, but over the last few years, my taste has changed a lot. It’s going to, as that’s how tastes work. I’ve always thought of tastes in media are fluid, and not finite, because you can have different opinions at different points in time. With that said, some albums I used to absolutely revere aren’t always I love that much anymore, so if you’re wondering where something is, it’s probably that I still really love it, but not that much. I do have a handful of honorable mentions, and some of these albums are ones that I used to really love, and while I may still love them, they didn’t make the cut. I did have one rule, however, when I made this list: only two albums per band / artist on the main list. That’s because I love multiple albums from a lot of these bands and artists, so I only limited myself to two albums from any artist, but the honorable mentions might have an album that didn’t make the cut. They aren’t in any order, either, but let’s start with the honorable mentions, starting with…

Beastie Boys - Licensed To Ill

A lot of the albums on the entire list mean something to me, whether it’s the first album in a genre I discovered, or an album that I have a lot of nostalgia for, and Beastie Boys’ debut, Licensed To Ill is one of those, for sure. This is one of the first hip-hop albums I listened to, at least a few years after dipping my toes into the genre, and Beastie Boys blew my mind with their brand of hip-hop meets metal and punk, especially with Slayer’s Kerry King having a guest spot on their debut. Truthfully, their later albums are better, but I have a soft spot for their debut, because it’s so much fun and scrappy. For one of the first rap albums I ever listened to, I love it.

Childish Gambino - Because The Internet

Speaking of hip-hop, I don’t want to spoil too much of what you’ll see later, but Childish Gambino (otherwise known as Donald Glover) is the first rapper I ever listened to. I have another album of his on the list, but his sophomore album (not counting mixtapes), 2013’s Because The Internet, is a fun and experimental romp through hip-hop, R&B, pop, psychedelic, and electronic music. It’s got some of my favorite songs of his, but it’s also a really interesting and unique album that still doesn’t quite sound like anything I’ve ever heard.

Van Halen - S/T

Hard-rock band Van Halen is one of my favorite bands, and their 1978 self-titled debut is one of the best hard-rock albums ever made. This is the album that introduced people to both David Lee Roth, and Eddie Van Halen (may he rest in power). This isn’t anything necessarily unique, but it’s one hell of a record with some great riffs, solos, and hooks.

Black Sabbath - Paranoid

Arguably the first metal band, Black Sabbath’s debut album, 1970’s Paranoid, is also considered to be the first true heavy metal album, and it rules. It’s got a couple of their most beloved and well known songs, but it’s the album that first showcased heavy metal as its own sound, versus being bluesy hard-rock. This album was one of the first traditional heavy metal album albums that I listened to, and showed me that a lot of classic metal albums have merit to them.

Miles Davis - Kind Of Blue

I’ve become a jazz fan over the last few years, at least more than I used to be, and one of my favorite jazz records, as well as the first jazz record I ever listened to, is Miles Davis’ magnum opus, 1959’s Kind Of Blue. This is such a dynamic and interesting little jazz album that took the genre into new and unexplored territories, especially with Miles Davis already being an influential band leader by that point.

Dio - Holy Diver

Along with Black Sabbath’s Paranoid, Dio’s - 1983 debut album, Holy Diver, is one of my favorite traditional heavy metal albums that got me into that style. Dio, the band, is made up of the 1980 - 1982 lineup of Black Sabbath, sans Tony Iommi, but one could also argue that Holy Diver was an influence on power metal. Ronnie James Dio isn’t only one of the best and most expressive metal vocalists, his sense of lyricism was more based on Lord Of The Rings and fantasy, versus the typical cliches of rock and metal at the time. This album is really catchy, fun, anthemic, and larger than life, but that was Dio in a nutshell.

Metallica - Ride The Lightning

Ah, Metallica, you know they’d be here, but this is one of the exceptions to my “two album rule,” as I have three albums from this legendary and iconic band on the list, although only two on the actual list, so I kept one here. That album is 1984’s Ride The Lightning. This is their second album, where they honed their sound a bit, but this isn’t the first album from them I listened to, nor is it quite my favorite, although this album is legendary, and for good reason.

The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

A decade ago, The Beatles were easily my favorite band. I went through a whole couple of years where they were all I listened to, and truth be told, 1967’s Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, is still a great album, and it’s one of my favorites, but I haven’t gone back to it as much in recent years. Maybe I’m just burnt out on them, or my taste has changed, but this isn’t quite my all time favorite. I still love this album, and it’s a wonderful rock album, being a monumental album both for the genre and for its time.

Fleetwood Mac - Rumours

Arguably the best pop / pop-rock album of all time, you know Fleetwood Mac’s 1977 masterpiece Rumours had to be here. This album is a lightning in a bottle kind of album that could only have been made under the right set of circumstances. If just one small thing was off, who knows what this album would have sounded like? This is the best example of a breakup album that’s written by both parties of the breakup, let alone writing songs about each other and singing on each others’ songs. Talk about awkward, but that awkwardness makes for some of the best music ever made.

Spiritbox - Eternal Blue

This is the most recent album on my list, but I’ve gone on record as saying that Spiritbox’s debut album, 2021’s Eternal Blue, is one of my new all time favorite albums. It was my favorite album of 2021, and it’s one of the best albums of the 2020s so far. This band mixes alt-metal, djent, metalcore, progressive metal, and even pop and electronic sounds to make for a very fun, catchy, accessible, and palatable sound that is only getting better, especially with their newest EP from last year.

Okay, it’s time for my top 20 favorite albums of all time, so here we go!

20: Justin Timberlake - The 20/20 Experience

One of my all time favorite solo artists is pop and R&B singer Justin Timberlake, and I’ll go into more detail later, but his 2013 comeback album, The 20/20 Experience, is one of my favorite pop and R&B albums. I’m gonna cheat and just point you to the direction of the ten-year retrospective I wrote last year, because I go into a lot more detail than I could here.

19: Paramore - Riot

A huge congratulations is needed for Paramore in their Grammy wins last week, but the first album from them I ever heard is 2007’s Riot, and it’s also one of my favorite albums from the MySpace / scene era. It’s held up surprisingly well, but it’s such a catchy, energetic, and rambunctious pop-punk album that only began to show how talented that band really was (and frankly still is).

18: Bruce Springsteen - Born In The USA

You can’t have an all time favorite albums list without The Boss himself, Bruce Springsteen. At least my list, anyway, because I love me some Springsteen, but my favorite Springsteen album will always be 1984’s Born In The USA. Something about his gruff vocals paired with shimmering and catchy pop-tinged instrumentation is so good, but some of these songs are among his most iconic.

17: Sam Cooke - The Best Of Sam Cooke

I’ve come to love a lot of music from the 1940s and 1950s, and Sam Cooke is my favorite singer of that era, especially with his 1962 greatest hits album. I first listened to Sam Cooke in the movie Hitch, and it took me a long time to figure out who it was, but I absolutely love his work. His voice is among the best of all time, and that greatest hits is such a short but sweet collection of the best of the best.

16: Judas Priest - Screaming For vengeance

Judas Priest is among my favorite bands, and their 1982 album, Screaming For Vengeance, is the first album I ever listened to from them back maybe a decade ago. This is where the band went from a bluesy hard-rock / metal sound to a faster and more energetic sound, more akin to speed metal from that era, but that’s not to say that their earlier material isn’t good, either. Screaming For Vengeance is one of my favorite Priest albums, and for a long, it was my favorite of their albums, at least until I heard another one (which we’ll talk about soon enough).

15: The Gaslight Anthem - Handwritten

Handwritten, the 2012 album from The Gaslight Anthem, is one of my favorite rock albums, but this wasn’t the first album I listened to from them. That would be 2010’s American Slang, and while I enjoyed that album a lot, their foray into classic rock with Handwritten, just resonated a lot more. Brian Fallon and company sound great on this album, and it’s still my favorite album from these guys. Despite releasing one more album in 2014 before going on hiatus until releasing a comeback album last year, which was ultimately disappointing, nothing tops this album for me.

14: U2 - The Best Of 1980 - 1990

Like with Justin Timberlake’s The 20/20 Experience, I’m going to cheat a bit by saying check out my piece on U2, and how I’ve grown to love this band, but their first greatest hits album is an utterly killer album. Out of everything here, this is the most “recent” discovery I’ve made, but I truly do love U2, and this greatest hits album.

13: Metallica - The Black Album

Oh yeah, The Black Album, now we’re talking. I absolutely love this record. Metallica’s most accessible album, and depending on who you talk to, it’s either one of their best or worst albums, but this is where the band really honed in on their penchant for good hooks. This is their catchiest album, but it’s still heavy. Some of these riffs are downright nasty, and it features some of their best solos to date.

12: Fall Out Boy - Folie A Deux

It’s no secret Fall Out Boy is my favorite band, so it would make sense that 2008’s Folie A Deux is one of my favorite albums of all time. This is their catchiest and most accessible, but like with The Black Album, it has some of their best hooks and also some of my favorite Fall Out Boy lyrics. This album deals a lot with their newfound time after their last album came out, and it’s got a lot of biting social satire and commentary, but it’s also just a damn good time.

11: Judas Priest - Painkiller

Judas Priest became a full blown speed metal / thrash metal band in 1990 with Painkiller, and this was their last album Rob Halford until the 00s, but this is a monster of a record. It’s the best Judas Priest album by far, and easily my favorite, but for good reason. Sometimes all you need is a kickass album, and that’s what this is.

10: Guns ‘N Roses - Appetite For Destruction

Top ten time, and first up, is Guns ‘N Roses’ debut, 1987’s Appetite For Destruction, and this is another kickass album, but it rides the line between being hard rock and metal. You can call GNR a metal band, because this album leans very much into that territory, especially with how popular hair metal was at the time. Hair metal was at its prime in 1987, and this album is among the best of that sound, or at least, very close to it. Axl Rose and Slash are one of the best duos in hard rock and metal for good reason.

9: AC/DC - Back In Black

In the beginning of the same decade, AC/DC released the massive Back In Black, and this record is one of the first hard rock albums I ever heard, as well as “classic rock,” and this album will always have a place in my heart. I don’t listen to this album much anymore, because I’ve already played it a thousand times, but every time I dust this album off, so to speak, I think to when I was 12 or 13, listening to this album for the first time.

8: Iron Maiden - The Number Of The Beast

You know I had to put some Iron Maiden here, and of course, I went with 1982’s The Number Of The Beast. This is the quintessential Iron Maiden album, as well as a quintessential heavy metal album (especially from the 1980s). I feel like a lot has been said about this album already, and I’ve talked about it a lot over the years, so I don’t need to say much else other than this album rules.

7: Justin Timberlake - FutureSex / LoveSounds

Justin Timberlake is back, folks, and this time with 2006’s FutureSex / LoveSounds. This was one of the first pop albums I ever listened to, especially after randomly picking it up at FYE one day back in 2012. I was wanting to get out of my comfort zone, and I had always heard great thing about this album, all of which are founded in truth. This record is one of the best pop albums I’ve ever heard, and there’s only one that surpasses it, but we’ll talk about that in a second. This is JT at the top of his game, whether it’s the production, the vocals, or even a lot of the lyrics, this is an iconic album for a reason.

6: Eagles - Their Greatest Hits / Vol 2

I’m a huge fan of the Eagles, and instead of putting their first greatest hits album from 1975, I decided to cheat and put both that and their 1980 second one. Both greatest hits albums have some of my favorite songs from them, but they feel like two halves of a whole. You can’t have one without the other, but if you want some great harmonies, lyricism, vocals, and just the whole package of a band that first started as a country / folk-rock band and turned into one of the highest selling and most influential arena-rock bands, you can’t go wrong with these albums.

5: Childish Gambino - Camp

Childish Gambino’s debut, 2011’s Camp is the first rap album I ever heard, and it’s also one of my all time favorite albums, even today. This record showed me that hip-hop could be emotional, interesting, introspective, and was more than what the mainstream perpetuated. I’ve come around on the genre tenfold, but back then, I was just getting into other styles of music, and I was a fan of Donald Glover already, thanks to Community, and this record blew my mind when I first heard it. I think it holds up quite well today, too, but I plan on writing a piece on this, so I’m gonna save a lot of my thoughts for that, but I love this record a lot.

4: Van Halen - 1984

Hell yeah, brother, 1984 by Van Halen. This is a great album, and it turns 40 this year, although I believed it just did, actually. I talked about their self-titled debut earlier, but their 1984 LP of the same name is my favorite album of theirs. Songs like “Jump, “Top Jimmy,” and “Hot For Teacher” are god tier 80s rock and metal songs. This album is also really awesome for featuring synth, especially at a time when synths were becoming more popular, but not for rock music. Van Halen made it work, and 1984 is one of the best albums of all time.

3: Metallica - Master Of Puppets

A couple of years ago, I made a list ranking the first five Metallica albums, and I put 1983’s Kill ‘Em All as my number one, but I’d like to change my ranking a bit here, and put 1986’s Master Of Puppets as my number one, although I do still love their debut, and I go back to it quite a bit, it’s not their best album, or even my personal favorite anymore, but Master Of Puppets isn’t only my favorite Metallica album, it’s also the first album from these guys I listened to. I guess you could say this was the first thrash album I listened to, but metal in general doesn’t get any better than Master Of Puppets.

2: Fall Out Boy - Infinity On High

You know, I’ve said for the longest time that my favorite album of all time is Fall Out Boy’s Infinity On High, and I suppose you can say that the final (and top) two albums are interchangeable, but I’ve been thinking about what album is truly my number one. It depends on the day which one would really be my favorite, but with that said, these final two albums are two of the most influential albums on me personally. Fall Out Boy’s Infinity On High is the first album I ever got into, back when I was a wee lad, and only discovering music for the first time, so this album has a history with me. I just wrote extensively about this album on its anniversary a few days ago, so check that out for some more context on this album.

1: Michael Jackson - Thriller

Michael Jackson’s 1982 juggernaut Thriller is a GOATed album. Let’s not mince words here. I saw a clip of Donald Glover being interviewed by his costar from Mr. And Mrs. Smith about what album is considered the GOAT and he said Thriller. I’ve been thinking about that, and the more I keep saying to myself that’s true. This album is the first pop album I ever listened to, because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone of being into rock and metalcore, like I was at the time, so I remember seeing a copy of Thriller and I decided to grab it. Little did I know that album would blow my mind to smithereens, whether it was for its production or its vocals. I had only known Michael Jackson from the tabloids, especially before he passed, and didn’t understand how important and influential his music was, but knowing that history and context, this album is the highest selling album of all time for good reason.

[charmtion]

Okay—so say someone is hyper-fixating on the 1978 miniseries I, Claudius but didn’t know anything about the Julio-Claudians or Ancient Rome, where would you recommend them starting to Educate Themselves? Asking for a friend.

I love this for you ❕ I mean, your friend—I love this for your friend; who has v good taste, impeccable taste, the best taste.

for a historical overview of the imperial period which is clean, clear & dips into various pots of intrigue, drama, marginalised voices, & sequestered societal niches without becoming too stuffy, heavy, overly-specialised & therefore obsolete, I recommend R. Alston's (1998) Aspects of Roman History: AD 14—117 💫 latterly it's split thematically, but it begins with single chapters on each of the Julio-Claudian emperors & their mess of a family tree; as a broad, overarching introduction to the period & its characters I think it's brilliant (he is also a very droll, dry man irl, & that comes across in his v simple, unpretentious writing style which is always a win in my book when it comes to the world of academia!)

& for primary sources on the period—omg buy yourself some Tacitus, you will not regret it; he is a salty queen who just f*cking rips the imperial system to shreds (the Annals) when he feels like it whilst finding the time to fawn over his father-in-law (the Agricola) on the side; but seriously his smooth dissection of power politics, mirroring of anti/heroes, & sharp pinpointing of the hypocrisy at the heart of all that he comments on was fascinating to me as an undergrad, & still is. ✨ x

[still-single]

Records I Am Glad to Have Found in 2023: Part 2

"Part" may be the wrong way to express this as a series but it's too late now.

Superdragons – "Super Dragon" promo 12" (Mercury, 1976)

There's a shop north of Chicago that's the kind of place where the immediate charms of digging for wild records are often rewarded. I have a regularly scheduled appointment out near this shop, which gives me an excuse to stop in every few months and see what's changed. Every time I go, I seem to clean out a section that doesn't immediately get replenished, but in typical crypt-style record store fashion, there's always something more to find.

In recent years, that section has been their 12" singles. If this is the thing you're looking for, record shops with heavy inventory truly cannot be beat. You won't typically have much competition getting down on the floor and looking under the browsers or whatever dusty, low-traffic area this format is typically relegated to.

Which is to say, on a previous visit I found a promo-only Bohannon single and was regaled with a story about The Gilbert Kong collection. Kong was a Mercury Records mastering engineer who at some point dipped out to work on his own, but I'm told he kept his contacts and worked with the label steadily throughout the '70s. His craft is most readily apparent on a series of 12" promo singles, pressed for radio and disco use, which were generally not for sale. A relative who had inherited his collection wound up selling it to this store, they found an acetate of the first Rush album out of it (which they donated to a Rush museum, apparently, after being rebuffed when presenting UMG with the chance to use it for a reissue), and most of the 12"s quietly went out for sale.

You can identify these records by their monochromatic, plain sleeve art, and a catalog prefix of MK. In every instance I've come across, the record is mastered LOUD, with incredible fidelity and bass response. Kong had no compunction about spreading three minutes of music across an entire side of a 12", and the results are about as deep and rewarding as you'd expect from an audio standpoint. Whether the music – typically disco records pushed by the PolyGram fam, top 40 hopefuls, and sampler albums – is your bag, that's another thing. A frequent target of bootlegging, these promos weren't pressed in significant quantities; the appeal of DJing with a really full, loud copy of, say, the Osmonds "I, I, I", as opposed to the squashed fidelity of the same song on the LP, cannot be overstated. Second-market pricing on these varies wildly, from a few bucks to a few hundred.

I grabbed a bunch of these releases on my last visit, sound unheard. The bare, red print of "Super Dragon DISCO VERSION" by Superdragons did its best to blend in, but the anonymity of it all, a heady year of release, and a production credit for Bunny Sigler held promise.

Did it ever! Clearly a product of Philly's finest studio musicians, "Super Dragon" looks to glom as many popular song ideas together as a single track could hold, with panicked, immediate strings, parping brass, rolling rhythms and virtually nothing at all to say. "Draaa-gon! Draaa-gon! Super dragon, super dragon." That's all you get! You also get notions of Bobby Womack's "Across 110th Street," Rhythm Heritage's "Theme from S.W.A.T.," and Steve Miller's "Fly Like an Eagle," three tracks I wouldn't have thought should go together until now. "Super Dragon" is a full-tilt disco hustler with big main title soundtrack energy, and I wasn't surprised to find out it was used for just that (an excerpt turns up in a Bruce Le movie, 1978's Bruce and Shaolin Kung Fu).

Superdragons left it all out on the field after this one; the B-side contains the same song, in case you wear it out. Apart from a customary pressing as a 45 (with Part 1 and Part 2 indicators), this was it. This 12" presents a unique disco mix with no side break, and at 5+ minutes runtime gives you everything you came for and a little more.

Crown Heights Affair – "Say a Prayer for Two" b/w "Galaxy of Love / I'm Gonna Love You Forever" promo 12" (De-Lite, 1978)

Probably don't need to say much about this known disco slammer, presented here with a little more of an intro. The bass response on this one is fucking insane, and if this isn't getting your floor moving/potted plants dancing off the shelf, you might be doing it wrong. A high point in these Mercury promo offerings, and my favorite song from this group.

City Boy – "5.7.0.5." promo 12" (Mercury, 1978)

Loved this song from the first time I heard it. City Boy's biggest hit, this has some real right place/right time energy, the vaguely new wave screamer ELO never really had in 'em (at least not in '78). Grooves on this one are cut so wide you can almost sightread them from across the room. I was hoping one of these would be in with the rest at this shop.

(Doug Mosurock)

[motownfiction]

naughty

Sam takes Eddie with him on his annual Christmas shopping trip this year. Usually, he’d go with Sadie, but she’s a bit busy with Michael, who’s not quite eight months old yet. After about a day of feeling hurt and abandoned by his own twin sister (“And for a baby!” he wailed to Dad on the phone, as Dad tried desperately to be impartial), Sam called Eddie. Two could play at this game.

Also, as Sam added to Eddie on the phone, it’s a good idea to introduce your new boyfriend to your old traditions.

In four months of dating, it was the first time either of them had used the word boyfriend to describe the other, but they didn’t make a deal of it. Eddie’s cool, and Sam has never been interested in big deals.

They sit at the frozen yogurt café inside Hudson’s and decompress. So far, Eddie’s watched Sam buy presents for Sadie, Charlie, Daniel, Lucy, Will, and Elenore (so many presents for Elenore, way more than Michael, but in Sam’s defense, she’s seven years old and way more into Christmas than an infant). Eddie, on the other hand, has only purchased one thing: a tie for his father, which he’s absolutely certain he’ll pretend to hate.

“I still don’t get it, though,” Sam says as he dips his spoon into the chocolate. “Why would he have to pretend?”

“My dad doesn’t like to think of himself as a formal guy,” Eddie says. “He usually goes to work in a t-shirt and jeans. He’s been making fun of me for being formal since the first time I used air quotes.”

“What were you describing, and how old were you?”

“I said I wasn’t ‘weird,’ just unusual, and I was five.”

“There you go, then.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, good-natured, but hard to tell unless you care to know him (and oh, how Sam cares to know him). Sam puts his yogurt cup down on the table and looks around at all the kids in the mall, dressed in turtlenecks, red tartan, and their best shoes with paper scrolls pouring out of their little hands. All on their way to see Santa. Sam smiles.

“Were you ever on the naughty list?” he asks.

Eddie looks up, a little confused.

“What?”

“The naughty list,” Sam says. “You know … ‘He’s makin’ a list / checkin’ it twice / gonna find out who’s naughty and nice …?’ Santa? Were you ever on the naughty list?”

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Um, no. I guess not. We never really did the whole Santa thing. Jesus, yes. Church, absolutely. But not really Santa. My grandmother told my father that Santa was witchcraft, and I don’t have to tell you how hardcore Catholics feel about witchcraft.”

Sam nods. He remembers the time a few conservative mothers tried to pull the plug on a Halloween party at school in the second grade. Nonetheless, he is mortally offended.

“You poor thing!” Sam says. “How did you even enjoy Christmas?”

“My parents got us some presents,” Eddie says. “It wasn’t bad. Plus, I never had to come home crying because of a rumor I heard on the playground. Tons of bonuses.”

“Sounds like hell to me. So, if you never believed in Santa … did you ever write a long Christmas list?”

Eddie shakes his head. Big surprise.

“My Christmas lists were pretty streamlined,” he says. “Never took up the whole sheet of paper my mom gave me.”

Sam laughs.

“I needed a whole notebook,” he says. “My mom used to say I was being selfish, but I think she got a kick out of it. Secretly, anyway. Maybe very secretly. OK, maybe she just really hated it.”

Eddie laughs a little, too. It’s always good to see.

“Would she still happen to have one of those notebooks?” he asks. “You know, in case … in case some boyfriend of yours ever wanted suggestions for what to get you.”

Sam blushes. It’s the second time either of them has ever used the word boyfriend to describe the other, and damn, if it doesn’t sound better coming from Eddie’s stoic mouth.

“I don’t really think you want to get me a Princess Leia action figure from 1978,” Sam says. “But that’s the only one I never got. I always had to use Will’s. It’s like my parents weren’t buying me that one because she was a princess. But Will’s parents bought it for him, and they were way, way more concerned with gender than my parents ever were. Then again, maybe they bought it for Sarah. No, it wouldn’t have been Sarah. Rachel. That’s it. It would have been Rachel.”

Eddie stares at him like so many others have stared at him before – like he’s too weird to get by in this world. He bows his head a little, out of habit.

“I know,” Sam says. “I’m a little much.”

“No,” Eddie says, almost maybe sort of entranced with him. “I was just thinking … you’re incredible.”

Sam blushes again and turns back to his chocolate.

Incredible, he thinks to himself. Incredible, incredible.

He’ll take it.

[charles-and-camilla-fanfictions]

Jealousy - Part 3

This is part 3 of 4 in a short story set in 1978.

“I love Scotland in early June. It really has the best of weather at this time of year.” She said that as she bent down to run her fingers over the crest of the water and then flicked it upwards to splash her son. That caused a riot as Tom retaliated and she clasped onto Charles’s arms and hid behind his back. He loved the feel of her hands against his bare skin. Even wet with the sea water they felt warm against him. “You’re a torment.” She kissed his back, between his shoulder blades as a response, brushing her cheek slightly against him, then calmed her son down, squatting in the ankle high water and drawing him to her. “If we stay very still, we’ll be able to see the fish. They’ll come out of their hiding places.” Her voice was a whisper but it carried on the wind. Sure enough, she was correct and under the sparkle of the tiny lapping waves in the sandy pool, a whole shoal of darting fish emerged from the seaweed. “They’re gobys. I think those ones are two spot gobys. Give me your net.” Quickly, she dipped into the water and sure enough pulled out a fish. Keeping it submerged in the water, she pulled the net so Tom could see. “See the black spot on its tail? That’s a two spot goby. Also you’ll find it poking around the seaweed. Why do you think it stays in the seaweed?” Tom prodded at the fish with his chubby finger. “To hide?” “Exactly. Clever boy. To hide from predators, other fish and crabs which might eat it.” His back was burning from where she’d kissed him and he could still feel her fingers against him. It was so difficult to pull away from the immediate fantasy of her. He tried to think of the cold water against his ankles, the sun on his shoulders. She hadn’t hitched up her shorts enough so they were trailing in the water but he knew she wouldn’t care. He enjoyed watching her interact with Tom. She was everything he had never experienced in his own childhood. It made his heart grow with a strange sort of pride that had nothing to do with him. He also enjoyed watching Tom’s serious reactions to everything new. It made him spend hours seeking out different activities that he would enjoy, mentioning them to Camilla nonchalantly on the phone, whilst they chatted, as though he’d thought of them by chance. He wished he could be there to see them together more often. “Shall we take him crabbing?” “We’ve not got any bait. Anyway, he needs to get used to the net first.” There was a wail from the beach and Camilla sighed. “That’s your call.” “Feed me Seymour.” He laughed. “Go and satisfy your daughter.” “She’s never satisfied. The sooner she’s on solids, the better. Don’t touch that, Tom! It’s a jellyfish!” “Yummy!” “Not that sort of jelly.” She made parenting seem chaotic. Even with help she seemed stretched in all directions, with Tom being far too clingy with her. A very loving and slightly manic chaos. And she was utterly fed up with being tied to feeding her baby every few hours. He’d found her with an odd contraption stuck on her breast, literally milking her on her first day here. Granted, she’d burst straight into tears when she saw he had seen her and it had taken a good twenty minutes to reassure her afterwards. “Oh, it’s been days since I had one of these blues moods. I thought they’d stopped.” “I think some of that was shock and another part was inbuilt shame. Shame for something your body does naturally to keep your baby alive.” Of course, he’d insisted on watching, to her mortification and ignored her protests of her having nothing sacrosanct left with a chuckle. After her admitting what she was doing, and why, “so I can have a night in peace,” he managed to extract from her that there was an extra level of shame here, about her not being a good enough mother. He assured her that everyone felt that, without actually knowing if what he was saying was true or not. He watched her now, although with one eye on Tom, as she hid under a blanket. There was no one on the beach other than the nanny. He rolled his eyes. With just him, now, at least, she’d stopped bothering. The one night her nanny had off,

Laura slept in her room, with the both of them and when she cried for food, Camilla retrieved her, climbed back under the covers with him, shoved her pyjama top over her head and plonked her baby on her chest unceremoniously. “It’s meant to be a wonderful bonding experience.” “Good God I wish she’d sleep through the night.” He watched Laura reaching for her, her mouth opening in greedy anticipation, Camilla with her eyes closed, ignored her, and he moved Laura into position so she could feed. It wasn’t long until Camilla sighed and sat up a bit to watch her and to hold her and stroke her back. “It is nice. It’s a nice feeling. I really do enjoy it. I love how close she is. But I’m so tired. I just want to sleep. I just want to stop being a cow.” She was silent for a while and they both watched Laura. “The noises she makes. They’re so adorable, I want to eat her up. The way she grunts and sighs, it makes me laugh… Oh, she’s so beautiful. Look at her. She’s so greedy. Yes you are, my beautiful, you’re a hungry little girl, aren’t you. Have you finished sucking me dry, my little, greedy girl?” She placed her on her shoulder to Laura’s displeasure and she tried to cry in between spluttering out the milk. The crying continued and her tiny limbs wriggled out her unhappiness. “Really? You want a second boob? I can’t keep up with you, Darling. Please to God let this send you to sleep.” But it didn’t and she got up, pacing the room with the baby crying each time she stopped bouncing her on her shoulder. “Please go to sleep.” “Milla...” “I’m sorry. I’ll take her out. Then I won’t disturb you.” “Camilla, don’t you dare. I chose to sleep next to you tonight. It’s the one night I get to be with you. I knew what that entailed. But you look like you’re going to crack. Let me get dressed and I’ll take her for a walk.” “I’m her mother.” “If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t offer.” “Thank you.” “Did you know babies are programmed to cry. It means that their parents won’t have sex. They get resources to themselves for longer and they’re more likely to survive.” “Cunning and effective evolutionary strategy. But the idea of sex…” “Yes, you’ve told me. You’re broken and have no desire at all.” “I’m not broken now.” “That’s good to know.” He took the baby from her and she wiped sick from around Laura’s mouth. “What’s desire again?” He chuckled. “Well, perhaps it’s morphed into a need for sleep?” “Definitely.” She climbed into bed and slipped onto his side, taking his pillow and pushing her face into it. He smiled and dimmed the lights. He and Laura enjoyed a good chatter around the castle. She was the perfect listener. She was wide awake and smiling at him as he talked to her and pointed things out to her, trudging softly around each nook and cranny, turning on every light and examining everything around him. He’d just started explaining a portrait to her when her eyes closed and she slumped against him, her breathing telling him she was asleep. Thankful for this, he walked back to Camilla’s room, placed her down and crawled back into bed with Camilla, his clothes dumped at the side of the bed in a heap. “You’re freezing.” “Warm me up, then.” His arms slipped around her and he felt her warm hands slide up his back. “I thought you’d be asleep.” “I am asleep.” He smiled. Her bare chest felt so good against his and he tightened his arms around her shoulders, around the base of her back to hold her closer. His fingers stroked down the hollow of her spine, so gently, and he heard her slight intake of breath with surprise. “Are you okay?” “Yes.” It was whispered to him quietly. “That feels good. Whatever you’re doing.” He could feel her tensing against him, ever so slightly shifting her body and then her fingers grasped onto his neck and he found her lips pressed against his. These weren’t like the safe, soft kisses they had shared since she had arrived. These were slow and deep and sent shockwaves through his body. He let his hand trail down her spine and over her bottom, his fingers spread out and slightly digging in before he moved back to her

spine again. He continued to run his fingers up and down her back, venturing out each time to a new place, her hips, her stomach, the side of her breasts. Feeling her gasp when he touched her, feeling her kiss get more intense to where she pulled him on top of her. He was split into two opposing sentiments. It had been so long since he’d made love to her. He wanted her. He wanted her so badly it was agony to be so slow. And the antithesis; a niggling sense that perhaps not like this. Perhaps not when she was so unsure about what she wanted. Perhaps not in the same room as her baby. He felt her tugging at his briefs, felt her shoving down her pyjama bottoms, felt her skin under his and decided that he wanted her far too much to stop her. Her tongue slipping into his mouth made him push down against her and she grasped onto his back, pulling him closer, pressing against him, making him ache for her. He wouldn’t initiate anything. That was as good as he could be. Her initiation, her decision. “I want you.” Her voice caressed through his body and then he felt her teeth against his neck. “Are you sure?” He didn’t know where the words came from. “No. But I want you.” He didn’t know whether that was a yes or a no but she didn’t move to try to get him to push into her. He kept kissing her and she relaxed but tensed up again when she felt him move slightly. She gave a little squeak and tried to pull herself up, away from him. “You’re not ready, are you?” “I want to. I’m scared. I’ve never been scared.” He sighed and rolled to the side of her, pulling her against him and wrapping her in his arms, kissing the top of her head repeatedly. “I’m sorry.” “No. It’s me. I’m sorry.” “We were meant to talk about this first. I’m sorry.” “You feel so good. I’d forgotten what you feel like.” “Don’t cry, Darling, it’s okay.” “What if I never get better?” “You will. You just take time to heal. If you’d broken your leg, you wouldn’t be apologising for it not being fixed already. I’m just glad you still find me attractive.” “You’re going to go off and sleep with one of your other fancy women.” “That’s a little unfair.” “But true.” She tried to pull away from him but he held her tightly. “Would you want me to stop seeing anyone else?” “No. I know you have to.” “That’s not what I asked.” She pushed her face into his neck and ignored his question. He felt her nestle into him and let his nose tangle in her hair, breathing her in. This was different to last time, to the time before. She seemed so much older and much more vulnerable. They used to laugh about his various conquests and she’d tease him about them. She’d never been grumpy about them. He’d never hidden anyone from her. Not until recently. But it had seemed wrong to talk to her about sleeping with other women, and there had been that slight change in the current between them. And then she became pregnant and he knew how conscious she felt about being fat, about feeling unattractive. And even though she had been the one to call things off between them, he’d felt like he was doing something wrong. So he’d not told her about the other women he was having affairs with. Just about the ongoing search for a wife. Judging from her comment, she knew about them anyway. A mixture of guilt and self righteousness washed over him. It wasn’t fair for her to make any sort of claim on him. She was the one who was married. He was entitled to sleep with whoever he pleased. But the indignation didn’t shave away the fact that she was a lot more than just a women he was sleeping with. That she was the one he called, day in, day out for love, for tenderness, for understanding. That she was the one habit he couldn’t break when attempting to find a suitable girlfriend. He cared about the others, but he loved her. “I never changed my mind.” “What about?” He tried to pull away to see her face but she held on and he had to just listen to her quiet voice, deep yet a little unsure. “I still want to kiss you. I still want to lie in your arms forever. I still wish we were lying here, looking after our baby. It hasn’t

changed. And, Darling, you have been so wonderful with me but it needs to stop. I can’t fall in love with you. It’s going to hurt too much when I lose you.” “What are you saying?” “I’m saying you need to make sure I’m not the only woman in your life. Because this could very easily become a love affair that destroys us. I can’t be the only person you think about. I need to know that you’re not mine. Don’t hide things from me. I don’t want to slip into a pretence.” “So you want me to do what Andrew does to you?” “No. I need to not have you being everything I wish he would be. It’s too difficult. Don’t bind me to you so tightly it destroys me when you get married.” “I want you to bind yourself to me. I want you to need me, to want me.” “I can’t. I can’t be so in love with you.” “What does that even mean?” “You’ll know when you feel it.” “That’s rather condescending. We’re going to love each other a great deal. We’ve so much shared experience and history built over years. You can’t stop that. Love just grows over time.” “No it doesn’t. You have to work at it.” “We don’t work at it.” “Yes we do. We take the time to be together. We talk. We try to do things together to build memories. We support each other. We nurture our relationship very thoroughly.” “Through all those things, love grows. Yes, okay. But what’s this ‘in-love’? It’s a nonsensical fantasy. It’s the fairytale that’s shoved down our throats and sold as though it’s real life. ‘I fell in love with her at first sight’. What utter Trollope.” “Did you not fall in love with me at first sight?” “No. I didn’t know you. I was attracted to you at first sight. You were very exciting. But I needed to talk to you, to laugh with you, to get to know you before anything like love could start.” “I think there’s a distinction between loving someone and being ‘in love’ with someone.” “I think it’s a load of rubbish.” “You’re a load of rubbish.” “You’re incredibly annoying. But absolutely wonderful.” He kissed her ear before pushing his tongue into it, hearing her giggle with a smile. “What about…” He pushed her over, onto her back again and propped himself onto his elbow to look at her. The curtains were heavy but there was enough early morning light peeking through for him to be able to see her outline. “What about if I go on a fact finding mission?” “Fact find…” But he had slipped his hand down her body and somewhere around her stomach, the words had been forgotten. “Fact finding mission, Darling. Find out exactly what you want me to do and what you don’t.” He kissed down her neck as he reached for that soft skin on the inside of her thigh. It was the best place for his hand. So, so soft and surprisingly warm. He liked to just hold onto her there. Partly because the slightest movement of his fingers there made her body react, and partially because it was so intimate. He felt like she belonged to him. “I think it’s important for me to know…” He trailed his lips over her clavicle and down her chest. “…which parts of you are still broken, and which parts are demanding my attention.” Sometimes, being the person with all the power, yet not the satisfaction, is the more pleasurable role. It wasn’t a role he was used to playing but as he obsessed over her, he decided it was one he needed to play more regularly. Watching her desire him, respond to him, reading her face, her movements, all those instinctive signs that she wanted him. Hearing her stifle her moan and feeling her hips press up against his mouth and then continuing until she had to call out again, and moan his name as quietly as she could. Knowing that she trusted him completely and revelling in those breathy kisses, where she clung to him, her body hot and sticky, her eyes so dark they shone at him with an intensity he would die to get used to. She fell asleep long before he would have wanted to stop and then he realised that he wasn’t even remotely tired. There was only so long he could actually watch her sleep before he found himself bored and after a few hours he found himself a useful pastime when he realised Laura

was awake. Dressing quickly, he scooped her up, finding her calm and interested in the world around her. Wrapping her up, he took her out onto the terrace, into the soft warmth of the morning sun. There, he propped her up so she could see, not that he was certain how much she could see yet, and started telling her all about the landscape around them. When he looked down at her, he found her seriously studying his face and met her eyes, his crinkling down at her. “So really, Laura, you’ll see it’s quite difficult to find people who agree with me about all this. But you’re right, we should be trying to make our local farms as self sustaining as possible.” Laura smiled at him and started burbling. “Well I’m glad you’re in agreement.” She really was beautiful. Her little cooing and then blowing out of bubbles. “Morning, Darling.” Laura turned at her mother’s voice, instantly, and her face scrunched up to complain, a whine escaping her mouth. “Yes, Darling, I know. I’m here.” She kissed him on the cheek before taking Laura off him, who settled against her chest, resuming her cooing. “Your hair’s a little wild, my Darling.” “Can’t think why.” He kissed her then, feeling her press back strongly before moving to stand behind her, his arms wrapped around them both, enjoying the sunlight. “Look at her. Someone’s hungry.” He placed a kiss on her neck before looking down at Laura and chuckled. Her mouth was open, drooling and he could see her trying to suck Camilla’s pyjama top into her mouth. “You won’t get much there, little one.” “You really are feeding her constantly.” “It’s never ending. She’s grown so much this past week and has needed so much food! It’s really getting difficult. She’s not always full and I don’t really want to move her onto formula. My sister keeps on going on about it. Apparently I’m really old fashioned and it’s really ‘icky’ to be breastfeeding.” “I can’t imagine my mother breastfeeding me.” She laughed. “Did you have a wet nurse?” “No! I wasn’t born in the 1800s!” “Carnation milk on a spoon?” “Surprisingly enough, I can’t remember.” “My mother breastfed me.” “Of course.” “Why ‘of course’?” “Because you have a healthy relationship with your mother. And she didn’t even have a nanny.” Laura started to scream, evidently getting frustrated from her futile efforts to feed and Camila rushed her inside. He followed her, sitting next to her on the sofa. “The other thing I don’t do, which I get told off for not doing, is spacing. Apparently I’m meant to listen to her crying like this, that cry which is like a knife through me and not feed her. I don’t know how. It hurts. My boobs ache when she cries like this. I have to feed her. But I’m told I have to feed her no sooner than four hours apart. It’s no good. I can’t do it. I’m certain her nanny does. But I just can’t. I hear her and that’s it. My boobs start leaking. Yes for you, that’s right, my greedy little princess. All for you.” Laura just guzzled happily, her blue eyes looking up at her mother’s. Camilla wasn’t particularly talkative whilst she was feeding her, other than cooing at Laura. He’d heard of men who got jealous when their children took all their wife’s attention and could see how it might happen, if you didn’t have the relationship with the child yourself. He wasn’t sure how you could fail to bond with a baby, though. The impulse to interact with her was instinct. Laura wasn’t his and he was bonded with her. He had a bond with Tom too, although he hadn’t seen as much of Tom when he was really little. It seemed a strange thing to fail to do. “Do you know, Darling, it really was a good job we didn’t have sex last night.” “We did have sex last night.” “Well… I mean…” “What about it made it seem to you to not be us having sex?” “There was a major part missing…” “Did I not satisfy you?” “Of course…” “Define sex.” “You’re such a pedant. Okay. What I meant was, it’s a really good thing we didn’t have ‘penetrative sex’ last night.” “Did we not? Was there no penetration?” “Oh my God, you can be annoying…” He smirked at her. “Go on…” “Well we would have

been using no form of contraception…” “You’re still breast feeding.” “It’s not a guarantee.” “Well perhaps you need to go to the doctors.” “I can’t.” “Why not?” “Because, my Darling, I still need my husband’s permission to get it.” “Really?” “Yes and no. Technically I can. But my doctor doesn’t believe that a woman should get contraception without her husband’s agreement. What am I meant to do, drag Andrew along and then tell him I don’t want to be having sex with him yet? That this is for the man I’m having an affair with, not him?” “I don’t think Andrew would care.” “He bloody would.” “Yes, I suppose he would.” “Anyway, supposing I find another doctor, there’s nothing I can use.” “What’s wrong with the pill.” “I’m breastfeeding.” “I don’t actually know anything else. Well except the obvious.” “Condoms?” “I was thinking coitus interuptus actually.” “You are shockingly bad at either.” “I am not. I’m very diligent actually.” “Well you’re not with me.” “That’s different.” He felt the atmosphere change the second the words came out of his mouth. “I didn’t…” “Why is it okay to be less careful with my health, with my body than with anyone else?” He looked across at her, hearing anger in her voice, seeing that she was upset. His mind whizzed with thoughts about how to justify what he’d just said. He couldn’t think of anything. “Because I knew you were on the pill.” That was the wrong thing to say. He knew that the second he said it. “So when I’d asked you to be careful for whatever reason I might have had and you ‘couldn’t manage it’ for whatever ridiculous reason you had, it was because it was me, and you didn’t think it was important, because I’m not important. Who cares about her honor, her marriage, her life. But with everybody else, you thought you would respect their wishes, you would respect them. And you couldn’t extend that same respect to me?” He stood with his mouth part open as if to speak but with no words to come out. It was such a flippant remark but it was true and he had nothing to say to defend himself. “This was the reason we stopped sleeping together. You’d get so carried away and we wouldn’t be careful. And now you say you can be. But you don’t think I’m worth the effort?” “I do think you’re worth the effort. You are important…” She raised her hand and shut him off. “I’ve taken responsibility, the entire time, I don’t know why. I guess I just thought you were clueless. And I accepted it. And it turns out you are just like Andrew, after all. In your own way, it all about you and your needs. So incredibly selfish. And I’m just, not worthy of your care or regard. Not if it impacts your life in any way negatively.” “Milla… Please…” But she turned on her heel and headed back into the grounds of the castle. He didn’t follow her. She needed to calm down and he needed to figure out a way of explaining himself. She was sat stone still when he returned inside to find her. He could tell she was upset although her face now was expressionless. He pulled up an arm chair and sat adjacent to her. Reaching for her hand, she let him take it but it was cold and limp. “Let me at least try to explain…” She didn’t respond. “I’m sorry. I have some attempt at a reason but really, I’m just sorry.” There was a pause but she wasn’t helping him. “You were my first serious girlfriend. The first woman I ever spoke to about anything to do with sex. I didn’t even think about any forms of contraception before that. It wasn’t something I needed to think about. Not until you. You’re going to hate this, but I was really young. I wasn’t ‘grown up’. Not like you. And I just didn’t take it seriously. To be honest, Milla, it was even more stupid than that. I just assumed I was going to marry you. So who cared? We were going to have children anyway. And I didn’t think about you, in terms of what you wanted. I was just thinking about myself. And I’m so sorry. I really am… “And then you married someone else. And I was hit with the stark realisation that I did not want any of these women I was with after you to get pregnant. In fact, one of them

might use it as an opportunity to ‘bag’ me. And I’d be stuck with some miserable woman for life because I couldn’t be careful for a scant few minutes.” He looked up to see if his self deprecating comment had made her smile. It hadn’t, but there were slight creases around her mouth which told him she had found it amusing. “When we started sleeping together again, it was a mixture of things. Habit. From both of us. Some of it was a bit tongue in cheek, a bit of a reference to times gone by. I didn’t realise you didn’t trust me. It was such a relief to be sleeping with you, sometimes I really wanted to have something to bind you to me. But I never ever did. I wasn’t actually careless. I was being flippant. I’m sorry. But it came from the truth and I’m sorry. I can’t really excuse myself other than pleading youth and naivety. “And, my Darling, there is a little bit around expectations too. You expected me to behave that way, so I did. And I wasn’t mature enough evidently to take responsibility and change how you thought of me and change the way you thought I should behave. I just carried on. So I guess I didn’t challenge your expectations, instead, I lived up to them. “But you need to tell me when something upsets you. I find out about it afterwards. After you have stewed on it for months. For years in this case. You need to tell me. I want you to think well of me. I want to be better for you. But I don’t know how. Not always. You need to tell me.” He reached over and kissed her and she responded. Two strained, awkward kisses. To apologise, for comfort, and then he got up and left her to think, to give her time to respond. She didn’t come to find him, although he waited in the most obvious places he could think of; his study, the library. Eventually, he realised she wasn’t coming and went in search of her. It wasn’t difficult. He followed the noise. He found her sat on the floor in the bathroom, cradling a screaming Laura whilst Tom stood by the bath tub, completely naked, howling. “What’s wrong?” “There’s no bubble bath.” “This is over bubble bath?” “Evidently.” He grabbed an enormous towel and wrapped it around Tom, lifting him up and taking him out  of the bathroom. He had no idea what he was going to do with him, furious with Camilla for giving her nanny time off. Tom went limp in his arms, his howls more like sobs now than fits of temper. He sat down on the next available chair and held him. “I want bubble bath…” “I know, Thomas. But there isn’t any.” “There is. Mummy’s…not listening.” His chest was rising with great wracking sobs that he was trying to control. “I think your Mummy was a little busy with your baby sister.” “She only loves her now. Not me.” “That’s not true. She’s just so little she needs more help and more love than you. You’re a big boy so you can do things yourself, can’t you?” Tom nodded, tearfully. “When we go back, you can give Mummy a great big hug and a kiss and then you can have your bath.” “Bubble bath.” “I’ve not got any bubble bath, Tom.” “I have. In my bag. Nanny put it specially for me.” Charles agreed to collect the bubble bath with him, and then picked up the dropped towel as Tom climbed off his knee and reached for his hand to take him there. He had his other thumb in his mouth but now didn’t seem a good time to say anything about it. The bathroom was much calmer by the time they returned. Laura was lain, freshly bathed on a towel and was on her tummy, trying to lift herself up. Camilla was still sitting on the floor but resting her back against the wall, looking down adoringly at Laura. “Mummy…” She looked up at her son and held out her arms. Tom crawled into her lap and rested his head on her chest as she gave him a squeeze. “Are you ready to get in the bath, now?” “Yes.” “Good boy. Go on then.” “Kiss.” He proffered his face to her and she kissed all over, making him giggle. “Bath.” He scrambled to his feet as she gave him a well timed pat on the bottom, making him laugh. Then Charles grabbed his arms and lifted him into the bath. Tom looked at it and he put his finger to his lips

before shaking his hand in the water, generating bubbles. Tom nodded seriously and smiled, sitting down and making the water bubble, singing to himself as he did so. When he looked back at Camilla, she was back to cooing at Laura and he found himself strangely redundant. Quietly, he turned to leave. “Charles?” That stopped him, he looked down at her. “Sit with me.” There wasn’t much room but he wasn’t arguing, squeezing next to her. She turned her head towards him, speaking in a very low voice so that Tom couldn’t overhear. “I don’t like that you take no heed of our shared responsibility. I want it to be shared. I want to be able to trust you.” “I know… I know…” “I hate that you hide your sex life from me. It means I’m not actually making an informed decision. And it really hurts to hear it from somebody else, telling me to see my reaction. You need to be man enough to tell me yourself. I won’t like it. I’m not going to pretend I do. Just give me a bit of space to digest it.” “Okay…” “I want to be first choice. If it comes to a choice between seeing me or going out with some other fluzy you’re sleeping with, pick me.” “Darling, I’d pick you over any potential wife.” “Don’t wind me up about Andrew. Don’t make smart remarks about him or those pointed comments you love to make. Andrew hurts me, yes, but I love him and I can’t cope with you pointing out his flaws like I don’t know them. I can’t change him. I have to just accept him. Don’t make it harder for me.” He understood what she was saying now. “Is there anything else?” “Not that I can think of.” “Okay.” “What’s your list?” “My list?” “Of things you’d like to let me know?” “Oh. Don’t sleep with anyone else. I want to be the only person. I accept you don’t have a choice with your husband. But no one else.” “You do.” “I know. But I won’t now. I’m just looking for a wife. I will dump all the others. Nicely. So they might tail off but they’re going.” “Thank you. There’s never been anyone other than you. That’s an easy ask.” “Let me see you when you’re feeling vulnerable don’t close off and push me away.” He looked down at her face, looking worriedly at him. “That one harder, yes?” She nodded. “And tell me when things upset you. That’s a hard one too. I know.” Tom was singing a theme tune badly, and rather loudly in the bath, “Dee dah dee dah dee dah doh doh, deee dah dee dee doh...” Laura was fast asleep on her tummy. He kissed Camilla on the temple, knowing Tom couldn’t see. She smiled at him before getting on her knees and peering over the bathtub at Tom. “Oodalaly oodalaly golly what a day!” He could hear Tom giggling at her singing and not for the first time felt the sting of regret that this wasn’t his life and she wasn’t his wife. “Robin Hood and little John walking through the forest…” “Oodalaly oodalaly golly what a day!” “That’s not the words Mummy!” “Sing it for me, Darling.”

[theparanormalperiodical]

The TRUE Story Behind Friday The 13th (1980), And America’s 7 Most Haunted Campsites & Lakes That Will Definitely Ruin Your #VACAY

It was sometime around midday when Nils Gustafsson’s body was found on the shore of Lake Bodom. The 18 year old was alive, however, despite his broken jaw and the concussion. 

The three people lying next to him were not.

In the early hours of June 5th 1960, Nils, Irmeli Bjorklund, Tuulikki Makiwer, and Seppo Boisman were attacked by an unknown person armed with a knife whilst camping at one of Finland’s most serene tourist spots.

12 years later, a former suspect confessed to the crime. The local kiosk keeper was known to be irritated by the presence of the youngsters in the area and it was assumed he took his rage into his own hands.

He alleged that he did indeed commit the murders in a suicide note before drowning himself in the lake that overlooked them. His wife has since provided evidence that refutes this.

This tragic story is still under investigation to this day, with the sole survivor being put up for trial for killing his own girlfriend and her friends himself. But what makes this tale quite so terrifying is that we’ve heard this story before.

We’ve read it on r/nosleep, we’ve heard it at a sleepover, and we’ve told it round the campfire. We’ve even seen it on the TV, too.

It’s been 41 years since the terrifying events at Camp Crystal Lake were recounted in the horror classic Friday The 13th (1980). But what happened at Lake Bodom is not the only time the stories we tell around the campfire actually happened. And right by the crackling logs, too.

Today we unmask the dark inspiration behind Friday The 13th and make some smores at the most haunted campsites in the US, each with their own tale as terrifying (and tragic) as what happened at Camp Crystal Lake.

First, Let’s Recap Horror’s Most Iconic Franchise, Friday The 13th

It’s not easy to summarise a franchise lumbered with 12 films, a TV series, and a gaggle of video games following in close pursuit. But I’ll try.

This American horror franchise follows Jason Voorhees, a serial killer who drowned as a child at Camp Crystal Lake while the camp councillors were having *sex*. Following this tragic event, the lake was rumoured to be cursed according to the superstitious locals and became the setting for several mass murders carried out by Jason or in his name.

It was one of the original slasher flicks released in an attempt to cash in on the success of Halloween (1978) and was actually the highest grossing horror franchise of all time - until about 3 years ago.

The reboot of it’s arch nemesis, Halloween (2018), left Jason in the shadow of Michael Myers.

The franchise starts by introducing us innocent viewers to the mysterious folklore surrounding Camp Crystal Lake when the new councillors rock up to revamp it. Then Jason Vorhees’ mother starts pickin’ em off one by one in vengeance for the death of her son who was born on - yep, you guessed it - Friday the 13th.

There’s actually not much mention of the date in the franchise, with some claiming only on his birthday does Jason commits the murders. But this is what’s so great about the films: at its core it’s a story told around the fire by American kids at summer camp. 

Just like ‘The Hook’ or ‘Killer In The Backseat’, Jason’s murder spree fits a simple plot line copy-n-pasted for urban legends. There’s a mysterious killer with a mysterious motivation who does terrible things at a mysterious location.

We see the events of these baseless stories happen in the grainy footage of the 80s and the pierce-your-eyeballs HD of 2009, right where the stories are typically told. It’s meta. It’s mindful. It sounds like a boring 90 minutes stretched out of an urban legend you could tell in 45 seconds flat.

The franchise does sprinkle in a handful of bad luck symbols amidst the buckets of blood ‘n’ guts to fit the title, but it’s setting on this infamous day is merely a technicality to pull us headfirst into the not-so-urban and not-so-legendary plot line.

Most urban legends are just that: legends. Rumours pieced together from random scraps of information until they juuuuuust about make sense. But most of these rumours have basis in reality. Despite the creators claiming it was not directly based on a true story, we already know events eerily similar have taken place.

But what happened at Lake Bodom was not the only occurrence of such terrible events. We will get them later.

Even if Victor Miller wasn’t inspired by the cursed lakes and haunted campgrounds littered across the States, they clearly took inspiration from one paranormal phenomena.

(Hint: it’s in the title.)

Why Is Friday The 13th Considered Unlucky?

We’ve never had a good relationship with the number 13. Triskaidekaphobia can be traced back as far as Norse mythology when 12 gods were having a dinner party until Marvel-fan-favourite Loki arrived and arranged for someone to be shot.

The god that was shot, Balder, died, and it was then that the “earth got dark. It was a bad, unlucky day.” A similar dinner party, this time hosted by Jesus and his disciples, also gave ‘13’ a bad name.

Judas was the 13th to sit at the table during the Last Supper and his betrayal of Christ gave it its more mainstream reputation.

There are many more events like this, whether mythical or based in reality, that link the number 13 to bad luck. But what is about Friday the 13th?

Friggatriskaidekaphobia - or fear of Friday the 13th - lumps together the cursed backstory of the number 13 and the fear of the unluckiest day of the week. Eve gave Adam the apple on a Friday, their son killed his brother on a Friday, and Jesus was crucified on a Friday.

It’s not looking good.

But fear of the date Friday the 13th was only planted in mainstream Western culture in the 20th century. 73 years before Jason Vorhees mother slut-shamed those camp councillors, Thomas William Lawson published the book Friday, the Thirteenth (1907).

Lawson told the tale of an NYC stockbroker who used superstitions about the date to create chaos on Wall Street and rake in the cash.

*sweats in GameStop*

From here furore about the date festered with every occurrence (which can be as much as three times a year). There’s no escaping it, even if a hockey-masked killer is interrupting your campfire sing along.

To this day, the American economy loses about $900 million every Friday the 13th. Flights are half-filled, spending is reduced, and some daren’t leave their homes until midnight strikes.

Funnily enough, the franchise only contains 12 movies so far, but this echoes the unluckiness of 13 that much further. Another reason we fear the number is because 12 is used so much to represent completeness. The months of the year, the hours in a day - 13 goes beyond that. 13 plays on that.

It takes what we know and twists it a ‘lil. But just enough to strike fear into even the least superstitious.

The 7 Haunted Campsites And Lakes That You Should Emotionally Block Out When You’ve Finished Reading This

Holy Ghost Campground, New Mexico

Nestled in the Sante Fe National Forest, this is an isolated but serene location perfect for pitching a tent and starting a fire. But 300 years ago, something happened there that might make the howling wind that much more terrifying.

The area is reportedly haunted by the spirit of a Spanish priest murdered there in the 18th century. But the entire area has a reputation similar to the Bermuda Triangle. People just tend to disappear into thin air over there. No clothing is found and no bones or bodies are discovered.

UFOs have been sighted overhead, shadows have wandered through the forest, and voices have echoed into the night. Just like the Bermuda Triangle and the lesser-known Alaskan triangle, there are claims of a ‘cosmic doorway’ where different energies and entities flit between realms.

Big Moose Lake, New York

Grace Brown was only 18 years old when she died. She was unmarried and she was pregnant by her boyfriend, Chester Gillette. This was a bad situation to be in in 1906.

She went with her soon-to-be-fiancee to the Adirondacks mountains assuming he would propose during the trip, saving her from a ruinous fate. But one day, she would not return to the campsite from which they stayed.

Knowing she couldn’t swim, Gillette paddled their boat out to the middle of the lake, grabbed a tennis racket from inside his bag, and smashed in her head.

She then fell into the water and drowned. To this day, campers have reported supernatural occurrences around the lake. She is often seen wandering the shores of the lake, visiting the local cottages nearby, or reliving her traumatic death.

According to local legends, she is trying to extinguish all the lights in the local houses. No one knows why.

Lake Morena, California

On the other side of the US, events similar to those seen in Santa Fe were playing out.

In 1983, these supernatural occurrences were reported in the local paper: “More than Fish Haunt Morena”. Park rangers and tourists have witnessed and reported a vast range of phenomena, not limited to heavy footsteps following visitors, noticing the figure of an old man in the corner of their eye, and even seeing people levitating.

One of the most infamous sightings of paranormal activity was when a ranger had a relative staying over in his house. The relative woke up in the middle of the night to see a baby’s christening gown float across the room.

“It floated to her, brushed her cheek, floated back where she had first seen it and disappeared.”

Lake Ronkonkoma, New York

To this day many locals won’t dip a toe in Lake Ronkonkoma - and it’s easy to see why.

Long Island’s deepest lake was once the setting of a tragic love story. Just like Romeo & Juliet, but far wetter. Legend has it back in the 17th century a Native American princess fell in love with a colonist on the other side of the lake.

The star-crossed lovers were forbidden from meeting, and the princess wrote notes confessing her love on a piece of bark and floating it across the lake. Heartbroken by the lack of response, she canoed to the middle of the lake, stabbed herself in her broken heart, and her body slumped into the icy waters below.

Some versions of the legend claim before she died she cursed the lake.

Whichever you believe, the routine drowning of a young man on a yearly basis is enough to stir up the story. There have been at least 160 drownings here from the 1850s to the 1970s. A majority were men, fitting the story.

Is she still looking for the man she could never be with? Or is she punishing the local community for the divide that kept her from her love?

Lake Lanier, Georgia

There are a number of ghosts seen at this lake. There’s the spirit of a woman in a flowing blue dress roams around this lake, and several pairs of supernatural hands have been felt reaching out of the depths and grabbing swimmers mid-stroke…

But this paranormal phenomena is nothing compared to what lurks underneath the water.

The lake was actually created in the 1950s by flooding valley communities. The local government wanted to provide surrounding towns and the city of Atlanta with water and power, but to do this they’d have to create ghost towns and then effectively drown them.

Locals that had sold land to the government gathered during the building of the dam and watched the waters rising above the place they once called home. But in these communities were cemeteries. The dead did not consent to this.

More than 200 people have died in mysterious accidents on the lake since 1994.

Manchac Swamp, Louisiana

The Manchac wetlands are known for being, well, grotesque. They’re thick with pea green ooze, riddled with bugs, and festering with ‘gators. But according to some, the greatest threat was the local Voodoo priestess, Julia Brown.

She was known for her charms, curses, and singing strange songs on her porch. But there was one verse which in hindsight makes a lot of sense: "One day I’m going to die and take the whole town with me."

On the day of her funeral a huge hurricane swept through Louisiana. On September 29th 1915, the 125mph winds killed 300 people with homes, buildings, and railways destroyed.

Locals claim this was caused by a curse created by Brown. She is even rumoured to still be seen cackling by the water’s edge.

Lake Tahoe, California

Tahoe-Truckea is steeped in paranormal tales, stretching back as far as the legends of the local Native Americans. Many hotels and cabins claim to have their own supernatural entities concealed within their hotel which you can see for yourself - for a booking fee, of course.

But the spirit that haunts Emerald Bay can be seen for free.

Captain Dick Barter was known for telling stories of his seafaring days in the early 19th century. His encounters with capsizing in frosty waters, grizzly bear attacks, and by the sounds of it serious alcoholism made him talk of the town.

Apparently Captain Barter just can’t stop reliving his glory days.

One night after goin’ heavy in the bar, Barker boarded his boat to sail home. But he was never seen again. Somewhere on the route back he capsized and died. His body was never found.

His spirit is often seen swimming in the area during foggy moments, trying to find his way back to the tomb he built years before he passed.

So that was depressing.

Anyway.

If you liked this post/it traumatised you but hey you’re living for the spooks, make sure you like and reblog to let me know!

And if you simply can’t wait for more articles on the paranormal, then you best be hitting the follow button. I post a new article every weekend AND a new ghost story everyday.

(That’s really sad, isn’t it?)

Oh well. See you next week, kids!

[tommylindsay]

Eamonn’s New Smart TV

Eamonn was one of these old guys who refused to move with the times. The technology in his house stretched to an old Nokia from the 90s and a Grundig that he had sat and watched the 1978 World Cup on. He hadn’t even moved on to computers yet.

That was all to change though because Eamonn’s son had bought him a Smart TV for his birthday and, even though it was one of those dodgy, unknown-brand ones, he had to sink a right good few quid into it. They aren’t cheap. The brand was called something daft like Cyclometric but Eamonn’s son was sure it would be just as good.

The thinking was that Eamonn was prolific telly-watcher and would not be able to get enough of all the on-demand channels. After about four hours of setting it up and showing Eamonn how it worked, he was left to his own devices to watch what he wanted. On top of his boy paying a monthly for the Smart TV, he was also bankrolling all the premium monthly services for BritBox and all that other shite. There was limitless potential at his finger-tips.

Eamonn flicked through everything he recognized. There was the BBC, Channel 4, iTV and Sky but then there were some stuff he didn’t recognize. Hulu? What the fuck was that? That’s an American thing isn’t it? Ach, he thought. I’ll leave all that alone. Eamonn switched on his favourite programme and placed the remote control triumphantly on the side of the couch. It was time to get comfy.

This was the way of it for months and months. Eamonn could not get enough of this new gadget. He had watched endless documentaries, the entire series of EastEnders and was even radicalized by American neo-political talk shows. Eamonn absolutely loved it. But there was a lingering thought in the back of his mind. What were all those channels with funny names?

He had watched everything that there was to watch and he couldn’t bear the curiousity anymore. Eamonn dipped his proverbial toes into the second page of apps and channels. A risky move. After all, it was all Greek to him. There was that hulu but, upon opening it, the information message stated that it was only available in the United States. What’s the bloody point of it being there? Eamonn thought. He kept scrolling.

Cluster TV, XVTILive, Jumblo. He just didn’t get any of this. Each logo seemed more impenetrable than the last. It got to the point where they were completely illegible, even with Eamonn’s specs on. He got to the very end. There was nothing more beyond this final tile. The black rectangle was filled with the letter X over and over and over again in a white font. The description didn’t say anything - or it wasn’t loading. Eamonn hit enter.

It wasn’t as much of a television application but more of a photo gallery. It had waves upon waves of black-and-white pictures of old people like a digital memorial. Whenever you pressed on a photo frame, it said a person’s name but nothing more. Richard Donnachie, Douglas Robertson, Elizabeth Henderson... It just kept going and going. Never-ending. Eamonn scrolled all the way to the bottom and at the very end of all the photo frames was a black space. A shadow. A silhouette. Eamonn pressed enter on the blank photo.

He vanished. Sucked in. Gone. Without a trace. Added to the list of the many who fell into the trap, the list of people out of their depth. Not just the elderly but anyone who thinks they can distract themselves from their miserable lives through television. Anyone with a carer, a parent or a legal guardian who ignores their own responsbility in favour of the big black box. Anyone who needs their fix. Eamonn was just another number. Another statistic to be taken advantage of. Now, he is in too deep. Irretrievable. Lost. Forever...

That’s why you should never cheap out.

[tlbodine]

The History & Evolution of Home Invasion Horror

Here’s my prediction: In the next couple of years, we’re going to be seeing a sudden surge of home invasion movies hit the market. For many of us, 2020 has been a year of extreme stress compounded by social isolation; venturing outside means being exposed to a deadly plague, after all. 

And while many people have already predicted that we’ll see an influx of pandemic and virus horrors (see my post on those: https://ko-fi.com/post/Pandemic-and-Pandemonium-Sickness-in-Horror-T6T21I201), I actually think a lot of us are going to be processing a different type of fear -- anxiety about what happens when your home, which is supposed to be a literal safe space, gets invaded. Because if you’re not safe in your own house...you’re not safe anywhere. 

Home invasion movies have been around a long time -- arguably as long as film, with 1909′s The Lonely Villa setting down the formula -- and they share many of the same roots as slasher films in the 1970s. But somewhere along the way, they separated off and became their own distinct subgenre with specific tropes, and it’s that separation and the stories that followed it that I want to focus on. 

The Origins of the Home Invasion Movie 

In order to really qualify as a home invasion movie, a film has to meet a few requirements:

The action must be contained entirely (or almost entirely) to a single location, usually a private residence (ie, the home) 

The perpetrator(s) must be humans, not supernatural entities (no ghosts, zombies, or vampires -- that’s a different set of tropes!) 

In most cases, the horror builds during a long siege between the invader and the home-dweller, including scenes of torture, capture, escape, traps, and so forth. 

To an extent, home invasion movies are truth in television. Although home invasions are relatively rare, and most break-ins occur when a family is away (the usual goal being to steal things, not torture and kill people), criminals do sometimes break into people’s homes, and homeowners are sometimes killed by them. 

In the 1960s and 70s, this certainly would have been at the forefront of people’s minds. Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood detailed one such crime in lavish detail, and the account was soon turned into a film. Serial killers like the Boston Strangler, BTK Killer and the “Vampire of Sacramento” Richard Chase also made headlines for their murders, which often occurred inside the victim’s home. (Chase, famously, considered unlocked doors to be an invitation, which is one great reason to lock your doors). 

By the 1960s and 70s, too, people were more and more often beginning to live in cities and larger neighborhoods where they did not know their neighbors. Anxieties about being surrounded by strangers (and, let’s face it, racial anxieties rooted in newly-mixed, de-segregated neighborhoods) undoubtedly fueled fears about home invasion. 

Early Roots of the Home Invasion Genre

Home invasion plays a part in several crime thrillers and horror films in the 1950s and 60s, including Alfred Hitchcock’s Dial M for Murder in 1954, but it’s more of a plot point than a genre. In these films, home invasion is a means to an end rather than a goal unto itself. 

We see some early hints of the home invasion formula show up in Wes Craven’s Last House on the Left in 1972. The film depicts a group of murderous thugs who, after torturing and killing two girls, seek refuge in the victim’s home and plot the deaths of the rest of the family. In 1974, the formula is refined with Bob Clark’s Black Christmas, which shows the one-by-one murder of members of a sorority house and chilling phone calls that come from inside the home. 

Even closer still is I Spit on Your Grave, directed by Meir Zarchi in 1978. Although it’s generally (and rightly) classified as a rape-revenge film, the first half of the movie -- where an author goes to a remote cabin and is targeted and brutally assaulted by a group of men -- hits all the same story beats as the modern home invasion story: isolation, mundane evil, acts of random violence, and protracted torture. 

Slumber Party Massacre, directed by Amy Holden Jones in 1982, also hits on both home invasion and slasher tropes. Although it is primarily a straightforward slasher featuring an escaped killer systematically killing teenagers (with a decidedly phallic weapon), the film also shows its victims teaming up and fighting back -- weaponizing their home against the killer. This becomes an important part of the genre in later years! 

In 1997, Funny Games, directed by Michael Haneke, provides a brutal but self-aware look at the genre. Created primarily as a condemnation of violent media, the film nevertheless succeeds as an unironic addition to the home invasion canon -- from its vulnerable, suffering family to the excruciating tension of its plot to the nihilistic, motive-free criminality of its villains, it may actually be the purest example of the home invasion movie. 

Home Invasions Gone Wrong 

Where things start to get interesting for the home invasion genre is 1991′s The People Under the Stairs, another Wes Craven film. Here the script is flipped: The hero is the would-be robber, breaking and entering into the home of some greedy rich landlords. But this plan swiftly goes sideways when the homeowners turn out to be even worse people than they’d first let on. 

This is, as far as I can tell, the origin of the home-invasion-gone-wrong subgenre, which has gained immense popularity recently -- due, perhaps, to a growing awareness of systemic issues, a differing view of poverty, and a viewership sympathetic to the plight of down-on-their-luck criminals discovering that rich homeowners are, indeed, very bad people. 

Home Invasion Film Explosion of the 2000s 

The home invasion genre really hit the ground running in the 2000s, due perhaps to post-911 anxieties about being attacked on our home turf (and increasing economic uneasiness in a recession-afflicted economy and a growing awareness of the Occupy movement and wealth inequality). We see a whole slew of these films crop up, each bringing a slightly different twist to the formula.

*  It’s also worth noting that the 2000s saw remakes of many well-known films in the genre, including Funny Games and Last House on the Left.  

In 2008, Bryan Bertino directed The Strangers, a straightforward home invasion involving one traumatized couple and three masked villains. By this point, we’re wholly removed from the early crime movie roots; these are not people breaking in for financial gain. Like the killers in Funny Games, the masked strangers lack motive and even identity; they are simply a force of evil, chaotic and senseless. 

The themes of “violence as a senseless, awful thing” are driven further home by Martyrs, another 2008 release, this one from French director Pascal Laugier. A revenge story turned into a home-invasion-gone-wrong, the film is noteworthy for its brutality and blunt nihilism. 

2009′s The Collector, directed by Marcus Dunstan, is another home-invasion-gone-wrong movie. Like Martyrs, it dovetails with the torture porn genre (another popular staple of the 2000s), but it has a lot more fun with it. The film follows a down-on-his-luck thief who breaks into a house only to encounter another home invader set on murdering the family that lives there. The cat-and-mouse games between the two -- which involve numerous traps and convoluted schemes -- are fun to watch (if you like blood and guts). 

In a similar vein, we see You’re Next in 2013, which starts off as a standard home invasion movie but takes a sharp twist when it’s revealed that one of the victims isn’t nearly as helpless as she appears. Director Adam Wingard helps to redefine the concept of “final girl” in this move in a way that has carried forward right into the next decade with no sign of stopping. 

2013 of course also introduced us to The Purge, a horror franchise created by James DeMonaco. If there was ever any doubt as to the economic anxieties at the root of the genre, they should be alleviated now -- The Purge is such a well-known franchise at this point that the term has entered our pop culture lexicon as a shorthand for revolution. 

Don’t Breathe, directed be Fede Alvarez in 2016, is one of the creepiest modern entries into the “failed home invasion” category, and one that (ha ha) breathed some new life into the genre. Much like The People Under the Stairs, it tells the story of some down-on-their-luck criminals getting in over their heads when they target the wrong man. However, there is not the same overt criticism of wealth inequality in this film; it’s a movie more interested in examining and inverting genre tropes than treading new thematic ground. The same is true of Hush that same year. Directed by Mike Flanagan, the film is most noteworthy for its deaf protagonist. 

But lest you start to think the home invasion genre had lost its thematic relevance, 2019 arrived with two hard-hitting, thoughtful films that dip their toes in these tropes: Jordan Peele’s Us and Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite, which both tackle themes of privilege in light of home invasion (albeit a nontraditional structure in Parasite -- its inclusion here is admittedly a bit of a stretch, but I think it falls so closely in the tradition of The People Under the Stairs that it deserves a spot on this list). 

What Does the Future Hold? 

I’m no oracle, so I can’t say for certain where the future of the home invasion genre might lead. But I do think we’re going to start seeing more of them in the next few years as a bunch of creative folks start working through our collective trauma. 

Income inequality, racial inequality, political unrest and systemic issues are all at the forefront of our minds (not to mention a deadly virus), and those themes are ripe for the picking in horror. 

I know that Paul Tremblay’s novel The Cabin at the End of the World has been optioned for film, so we might be seeing that soon -- and if so, it might just usher in a fresh wave of apocalypse-flavored home invasion stories. 

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