#filme 2016

[deputyrook]

“It is women who love horror. Gloat over it. Feed on it. Are nourished by it. Shudder and cling and cry out-and come back for more.” ― Bela Lugosi

[six-demon-bag]

TJ MIKELOGAN'S HALLOWEEN 2024 EVENT | DAY 31: WILDCARD -> DOGS IN HORROR

THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS (1991) dir. Jonathan Demme

THE THING (1982) dir. John Carpenter

OCULUS (2013) dir. Mike Flanagan

RAW aka GRAVE (2016) dir. Julia Ducournau

THE HILLS HAVE EYES (2006) dir. Alexandre Aja

THE AMITYVILLE HORROR (1979) dir. Stuart Rosenberg

CRIMSON PEAK (2015) dir. Guillermo del Toro

[indigomood]

The Handmaiden (2016) dir. Park Chan-wook

[bibluebutterfly]

I’m sorry but it’s absolutely hilarious and yet adorable how the series handles Broppy’s relationship. First we get them traveling together as rivals (which was a bit more one- sided on Branch’s part) before slowing learning how to work together and to change for the other. Also it’s heavily implied Branch has an underline crush on Poppy. Then we get True Colors, and everyone thinks “okay they’re in love now”.

Some people/audience members are on board, others not so much. BUT THEN it turns out that the “I love you” they say to each other was a PLATONIC love confession. Like “you’re my friend, and I value you.” Which is still sweet, but was unexpected. (Though it does explain why the writers decided to put another platonic love confession scene between Bridget and Poppy. Yeah, I get it now)

So they just go through the journey as bffs who have feelings for each other but won’t say anything. And again, they learn how to work and grow together as a team and make the necessary changes to benefit the other. And then FINALLY we get the romantic love confession.

But it doesn’t stop there, oh no. Now we get adventure #3, this time with them as a full on couple. And they are actually really cute. Actually the film doesn’t focus that much on their relationship but we see hints of how they are as a couple.

Poppy is still all over the place but she’s much less in her own head and far more open to listening and being a good girlfriend.

Branch on the other hand is still occasionally getting exasperated by her energy but this time also has an appreciation for it. Also he learns to open up to her a little more and she’s there to listen and accept him with open arms. (Bonus points to their flirty dynamic because wow. They were adorable here.)

And it’s ONLY THEN (7 years after the first film) when they get their first on screen kiss.

Anyway. In conclusion: Trolls is the slowest slow burn I have ever seen in a Dreamworks trilogy.

[seasonofhorror]

THE LOVE WITCH

2016, dir. Anna Biller

[madisoncounty]

"and then you look at it, and it looks... otherworldly. this is denis. he just creates this shape. it's not perfect. it's timeless. it reminds me of... do you remember arrival? you know those big alien creatures? that's the shape." — rebecca ferguson in an interview with hollywood insider

[zanephillips]

BARRY KEOGHAN Mammal (2016)

[kimseokjinn]

The fake maknae line

[andrew3garfield]

THE AUTOPSY OF JANE DOE (2016) — dir. André Øvredal

[cece693]

Clean and Tidy (Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader)

Since it's October, I want to provide at least a fic for some of my like (not love) slashers. First in line is Brahams from the movie The Boy (2016.) Beware it's short and not my best work.

Summary: The Heelshire's never posted that nanny ad. After all, you were perfect for the job. Not only were you Brahms's nanny, but you were also the caretaker of the house when the Heelshire's were away.

tags: neat/clean freak reader, Malcolm gets killed, never liked him tbh, Brahms is a kitten with claws

The house stood still and silent, a heavy darkness pressing against the tall windows. Outside, the mist clung to the forest like a second skin, thick and immovable, drowning the world in a damp chill. The Heelshires were away again, leaving me to keep the sprawling estate in order. It was a duty I took seriously—order and cleanliness were my sanctuary against the madness that sometimes threatened to swallow this house whole.

And, of course, there was Brahms.

"Come on, Brahms," I said, crouching to examine the muddy footprints he'd left in the kitchen. "You know the rules. No mud in the house."

There was a rustle, a shift in the shadows, and he emerged from behind the pantry door. His face, obscured by his mask, tilted downward like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "I’m sorry," he said, voice muffled and low. "It was raining."

"Well, it’s still no excuse. Upstairs, now," I ordered, pointing toward the staircase. "Shower, and I’ll clean this up."

He hesitated only momentarily before nodding and slipping away. I watched him go, a mixture of fondness and exasperation warming my chest. He could be dangerous, I knew that. But with me, Brahms was different. Gentle. Almost eager to please.

Everything had been routine, until that night.

Malcolm had come by with the groceries. He was the delivery boy from town, bright-eyed and persistent, always lingering longer than necessary. I’d noticed the way his gaze lingered on me, the way his smiles grew bolder over time, but I’d never encouraged him. Yet, that night, as I was wiping down the kitchen counters, he cornered me, his hand slipping over mine.

"You know," he said, voice low, "you don’t have to stay cooped up here all the time. I could take you out—just the two of us. No one would have to know."

I pulled my hand away, disgust churning in my stomach. "I’m fine where I am, Malcolm. You should go." He didn’t listen. He moved closer, his hand reaching for my waist. I froze, my mind whirling, caught between indignation and the sudden sense of danger that flared hot in my chest. Then I heard it—a soft rustling, a creak from behind the pantry.

"Malcolm, I’m serious." I warned, my voice sharp. "Leave."

But before he could say another word, Brahms was there, stepping out from the darkness. He moved with a speed and ferocity I had never seen before, slamming Malcolm against the wall. There was a flash of panic in Malcolm’s eyes, a gasp—cut off too soon. It was over in seconds. Brahms was breathing hard, his body trembling, and Malcolm lay crumpled on the floor, his eyes wide and unseeing. Blood stained Brahms' crisp white shirt, bright and stark against the fabric. I should have felt something—fear, horror, anything—but all I felt was a strange calm.

"Brahms." I whispered. He turned to me, the mask hiding his face but not the hunch in his posture. He was waiting for a reprimand, for anger, for anything that would push him back into the shadows. Instead, I stepped forward, my eyes narrowing as I took in the crimson staining his shirt. "Look at you," I said, my voice almost a sigh, "you've ruined your shirt. How many times have I told you to be careful?"

His head tilted, confusion and a flicker of relief warring in his eyes. "I’m sorry." he whispered. I didn’t answer. I turned away, stepping around the body without a second glance, moving to the kitchen sink to wet a rag. Behind me, Brahms watched, still as a statue, his gaze never leaving me as I crossed the floor to him. I began wiping the blood from his hands, my touch brisk and efficient.

"I'll have to dispose of that shirt and the body, which is on the verge of staining the carpet—"

"I’ll clean it." Brahms offered quickly, his voice hoarse. He was eager to please again, desperate for approval.

"Good." I met his eyes, my expression stern but gentle. "But next time, Brahms, be more careful. Bloodstains are a nightmare to get out."

He nodded, something like a smile hidden beneath the mask. There was a glimmer of gratitude, of understanding that I wouldn’t send him away, that I wouldn’t abandon him like the rest. I didn’t say another word as I watched him slip off to dispose of the evidence, like a cat slinking off with its prize. The house was mine to care for, and that meant caring for Brahms—the strange, broken boy who, for reasons I couldn’t quite name, trusted me to stay.

[anyataylorjoys]

Tell me again, about the lake. You remembered. I'm going to take you to Lake Navar. It's not too far from where we are now. It is the most beautiful lake you will ever see. And if we're quiet, you can hear just the smallest whisper of wind through the trees. It's our own paradise, Morgan. It's just like heaven.

MORGAN (2016) dir. Luke Scott

[deputyrook]

"oh no, that's hot" - sexual awakening through horror - a gifset for every person who ever watched a scene in a horror movie that made them feel something they'd never felt before, knowing it wasn't the 'right' thing to feel.

[six-demon-bag]

TJ MIKELOGAN'S HALLOWEEN 2024 EVENT | DAY 23: MODERN HORROR (2010-2024)

THE AUTOPSY OF JANE DOE (2016) dir. André Øvredal

[indigomood]

The Handmaiden (2016) dir. Park Chan-wook

[denastudio]

Lily Gladstone in Certain Women (2016)

[seasonofhorror]

RAW

2016, dir. Julia Ducournau