#jack goodman imagine

[hauntedhowling]

"Doomed yaoi" this "toxic yaoi" that. WHAT ABOUT THEM?

[sylensombrr]

Since there is no way in hell kessler wolf didn't make a huge fucking mess leaving Alex's house, assuming that Jack can actually interact with the living world and its not just in David's head, I like to think that while kessler wolf was going on his rampage Jack stayed back to clean up cause I mean what else is he supposed to do XD

[falafel14]

Jack Wolfe as Gabe Goodman

So I've had a few "Tell me everything!" responses to my recent post about the Donmar Warehouse's stunning new production of Next to Normal. Knowing the audience here, I'll narrow my focus to writing about what I know my fellow 'Six of Crows' fans will most want to hear - Jack's role as Gabe. I won't be recapping the show itself, as I assume most folks reading this will have listened to the soundtrack, read the script, or watched a Broadway bootleg. Or at least I hope so, because below you will find MAJOR SPOILERS for Next to Normal and specifically the Donmar's staging of it.

Gabe is introduced to us as the Goodman's teenage son, who seemingly has a close affectionate relationship with his mother, Diana, but frosty relationships with his father Dan and sister Natalie, neither of whom acknowledge his presence. About thirty minutes in we are shown exactly why. Diana brings out an 18th birthday cake when the family have Nat's boyfriend Henry over for dinner and it is revealed that today would have been Gabe's birthday...if he'd been alive. But Gabe died when he was a baby and Diana has only been imagining him growing up all these years.

Up until this point, Jack has been playing Gabe as a cheeky rebellious teenager, but when he slinks back on stage to blow out the candles on his cake, he becomes a much more ethereal and impish presence. In I Am The One, his expression transforms from sweet and devoted when singing to his mom, to menacing and malevolent when singing to his dad. Gabe manifests as different personas for each member of his family and it's thrilling to watch as Jack shifts between them all. When Natalie comes downstairs to sing Superboy and the Invisible Girl we see Gabe as the cocky conceited older sibling, who seems to revel in being their mother's favorite.

In her next therapy session, Diana is asked to speak about her son and this is when we get Gabe's showstopping I'm Alive solo. This number really did raise the roof. I'll admit when I saw videos of Jack singing it at Tom Kitt's concert, I was worried he wasn't giving the song the necessary attack. But on stage he goes absolutely full-throttle with it. He starts at the top of the stairs with a mic stand, looking like the frontman of a rock band, then he brings the mic down, roaming all over the floor. At one point in the song, Natalie and Dan have an argument and Gabe comes to stand between them, looking amused as he passes the mic between them. However Gabe starts to lose some of his swagger as Diana's doctor suggests that - as 18 is the age that children typically leave home - maybe Diana should think about her son this way and finally let him go.

In the next scene, Diana is in the kitchen, clearing out Gabe's things. She holds up a baby-grow and then starts playing a music box she used to use to help Gabe to sleep. Gabe comes down the stairs with a rucksack and duffle bag, like he's a kid being kicked out of the house by his parents. Diana can't seem to go through with it as she pulls him into a dance and they end up hugging with Gabe's head tucked under his mother's chin, like a needy child. This leads into There's a World, a hauntingly beautiful song with a very sinister undertone as we learn this is Gabe leading Diana towards a suicide attempt. This song and Catch Me I'm Falling are an excellent display of Jack's high range (he'd make a wonderful Orpheus in Hadestown - the UK production is coming next year, so...please??)

Following the suicide attempt, Diana is given shock therapy and consequently loses her memories of the last eighteen years. In the early part of Act 2 and for the song Aftershocks, Gabe is up in one of the upstairs rooms, like he's been locked in a cell - not gone, but no longer able to get to Diana. When Diana finds and plays Gabe's music box, there's this very chilling sight of Gabe's silhouette, his hands pressing to the screen, as he sings along to the melody. The lighting here is eerily reminiscent of a sonogram. When Diana regains her memory of her lost son, Gabe breaks free of the room, comes down the stairs to sing his I'm Alive (Reprise) from on top of the kitchen counter. After his wife's relapse, Dan crumbles to the floor, his back pressed to the kitchen counter. Gabe disappears behind the other side of the counter, and (I'm told, I couldn't see from my angle) he sits in the same position as Dan. They both stay like this for about 15mins while scenes with Diana, Nat and Henry take place.

As Diana leaves, Dan finally rises from the floor and begins singing his I am the One (Reprise). In other videos of this song that I have seen, Gabe is played quite aggressively, stalking around Dan, goading his father into acknowledging him. Jack does this scene very differently and effectively. He stays behind the counter, his eyes downcast, his manner meek as if quietly pleading for his father's attention. When Dan yells out "Why didn't you go with her?!" Gabe leaps up onto the counter and throws his arms around Dan, desperately clinging to him. When they get to the chorus, Dan turns round to face Gabe, gripping his arms. Then at the end, Dan staggers back and tearfully says his son's name for the first time. When Gabe responds with his "Hi Dad", Jack's face his full of shocked awe. He plays it like a child realizing the father he thought hated him, loved him all along. It's a devastating moment that had everyone in tears.

After the song, Dan reaches out a hand towards Gabe, but he stops as Natalie comes downstairs. Dan tells Nat her mother has left and Nat asks him - "So it's just me and you for now?" and there's a hesitation where Dan glances at Gabe, who is still sitting on the counter. When Dan finally answers yes, it's just the two of them, Gabe's expression is accepting, not resentful like earlier in the show. As he leaves to go upstairs, Gabe gently touches Nat's hand, almost like an apology. Natalie gives the slightest reaction, as if she is sensing something. It's a beautiful resolve to Gabe's role, and when he appears for the last time for his verse in Light, he no longer feels like a malevolent spirit, but more like this serene angel watching over his family as they all try to heal and go on with lives.

This is honestly a star-making performance from Jack as a young musical theatre actor. And as much as I want Jack and the other Crows actors to be off filming their spinoff show once the strikes are resolved, I also feel strongly that Jack belongs on the stage. Between his acting, his presence and his vocals, he's sure to be a performer in demand in the West End. Here's hoping there's award nominations to come. He's deserving of them.

[mariacallous]

Griffin Dunne has just written a book. He had been meaning to do so for ages. It was one of the items on his bucket list: learn a musical instrument, master Spanish and write his damn memoir. “One down, two to go,” he says, beaming in via video link from his home in upstate New York. The actor and film-maker turns 69 this weekend. He reckons that still leaves him time for the music and Spanish.

Dunne imagined his memoir as a family portrait in the style of David Sedaris’s Me Talk Pretty One Day. He pictured something light on its toes, witty and poignant, a weave of essays and anecdotes. But then the book changed direction, as though it had a will of its own. It went where it wanted and needed to go. He says: “On some level, I knew there was this big subject ahead. And so, as I’m writing the book, I’m thinking: oh, OK, I know where this is going now.” The story leads to the scene of a 40-year-old crime. It revisits the death of Dunne’s younger sister, Dominique, and the grisly murder trial that followed.

I tell Dunne I really like the book, which sounds crass in the circumstances, but is true. While The Friday Afternoon Club is about the death of a loved one, it’s full of light, life and colour. It’s a startling tale of precarious American privilege, spotlighting a family that is blessed and cursed.

Dunne casts himself as the Hollywood prince at its centre, surrounded by famous faces, clamouring to be noticed. He tells how Sean Connery rescued him from the family swimming pool, how Billy Wilder critiqued his childhood pranks and how he roomed with Carrie Fisher before she went off to make Star Wars (“This movie is going to be a fucking disaster,” she said). Dunne was raised among storytellers (his dad and uncle were authors; Joan Didion was his aunt) and he writes with a loose, easy swagger. His memoir is tart, buoyant and playful right up to the moment it’s not.

In the early 1980s, when he was in his 20s, Dunne was hitting his stride as an actor. He had secured his breakout role in 1981’s An American Werewolf in London, playing the undead grad student Jack Goodman, doomed to haunt the adult cinemas of Soho. His 22-year-old sister was also faring well, having co-starred in 1982’s Poltergeist. But, on 30 October 1982, Dominique was strangled by her ex-boyfriend, John Sweeney, and died in hospital five days later. The trial, says Dunne, was outrageous, a farce. Implicitly, it seemed to put the Dunnes in the dock, framing the bereaved family members as frivolous dandies. Sweeney was convicted of manslaughter, but acquitted of murder. He served just three and a half years in prison.

Four decades on, Dunne’s account of events burns with rage. He is furious with the judge who intervened to block crucial evidence. He is furious with the killer’s employers (the Los Angeles restaurant Ma Maison), who stepped in to pay his legal fees. He is furious with Dominique’s then co-star, David Packer, who remained inside the house while Dominique was being attacked outside. “All the old anger got re-stoked,” he says. “I tapped right back into my vengeful side.”

During the trial, Dunne was approached by a mobster who offered to have Sweeney killed. He discussed the idea with his brother, Alex. “At that time, we would have been diagnosed as crazy people,” he says. “I told my brother that we had an opportunity to have the killer dealt with in the county jail. We decided not to kill him, but to mess him up, to have his hands smashed, like we were ordering pizza and choosing different toppings from the menu. And that was just the beginning of our madness; it carried right through. Even writing it down, I thought: I’ve got to let this go, because you can’t live in hate.”

In the end, they did nothing. Dominique’s killer changed his name after being released from prison and is likely still alive today. “I will neither forgive nor forget,” Dunne says. “But I’m not going to let that be the A-story of my sister’s life.”

Dominique was a victim, but that doesn’t make her life tragic. What is clear from the book is that people adored her. She comes across as whip-smart and droll, grounded and private. “She was a serious, substantial person,” he says. “Serious about her acting, her animals, her family. And, actually, rather intimidating, even though she was the youngest of the family.”

Dominique cared for their mother, Ellen, who had multiple sclerosis. She also cared for their father, Dominick, who was bisexual and closeted and yet confided in her. “So she was somebody we were all a bit in awe of. She was always wise beyond her years.”

She sounds like the family’s moral compass. “Yeah,” he says. “But also a bit bossy. She always knew what she wanted. My brother and I were a little fearful of her. It was like she’d been born already built.”

Dunne, by contrast, was a work in progress. In his memoir, he says that his first word was “taxi” and that he was always in a hurry – always running before he could walk. He was expelled from school for smoking pot. He was “coked to the gills” on the night Dominique was attacked. He was bumptious and entitled. His sister’s death changed him, he says, because how on earth could it not?

“For one thing, I never thought about domestic violence, the abuse of women. I grew up in Los Angeles and when I was in high school, pre-Roman Polanski, it was incredibly common for 13- or 14-year-old girls to be dating guys in their 30s. They’d go to these decadent parties in the hills and then come back and tell us all about it. And that was the culture; it felt exciting. I was unaware of what it meant. But then you have my sister, a 22-year-old girl, who finds herself in a domestic violence relationship with someone who’s twice her weight. So everything looked different to me afterwards.”

Perhaps it affected his career as well. In the mid-1980s, Dunne was on the threshold of stardom. He combined the charm and grace of a leading man with the prickly intelligence of a great character actor. The door kept swinging open, but he seemed to keep shutting it. He turned down The Fly and Sex, Lies, and Videotape in favour of making Who’s That Girl, with Madonna, and a reviled comedy, Me and Him, in which he played a yuppie architect who quarrels with his talking penis.

Dunne’s agent accused him of making “self-destructive choices”. He had always craved fame, only to find that it spooked him. “Too much attention at that time was a little fearsome for me,” he says. “I found it very stressful.” He hesitates. “And also my father,” he adds. “That had a lot to do with it, too.”

Dominick is the third main player in The Friday Afternoon Club, a high-flying producer who came to earth with a crash. He would eventually find his voice as a writer. He became Vanity Fair’s star reporter, first covering the Sweeney case, then the OJ Simpson and Claus von Bülow trials. But the in-between years were hard and humiliating. He suffered a reversal of fortune that took the whole family aback.

“I saw my father fail,” Dunne says. “I watched real failure in action in real time. He was a man who had a big house and a beautiful car and a great job and entertained the most famous actors and directors in the world. And everything was taken away from him, partly through his own actions, but nonetheless. People came out of the woodwork, kicked him when he was down.

“They were like: ‘I always hated you, I always knew you were closeted, you’ll never work again, pack your bags.’ And the effect it had on me, just entering the business as he was being destroyed in that business …” He draws a breath. “Well, it had a lot to do with the choices I made.”

In hindsight, the 1985 black comedy After Hours was his fork in the road. It’s also the picture with which he is most identified. Dunne developed the film as a co-producer and convinced Martin Scorsese to direct. He also took the lead role of repressed Paul Hackett, who embarks on a long, dark night of the soul through the streets of Lower Manhattan.

On set, Scorsese made one big stipulation. He ordered Dunne not to have sex for the duration of the shoot. I am gobsmacked by this, but the actor was unfazed. “It made perfect sense to me,” he says. “I knew what he meant. The character had to be boiling over with this unfulfilled anxiety. You had to see …” He pauses. “Not to be crude, but you had to see the semen build up to where it’s practically coming out of his eyes.”

One Saturday night, though, Dunne cracked and broke the rule. The next day of filming, Scorsese spotted the change and went berserk. “You’ve fucked up the whole picture,” he shouted. “I don’t think I can finish it now.”

Dunne says that he was probably being directed here, too. “Because now I’m afraid. I’m terrified. And it turns out that a certain level of fear is the same as not having sex. So [Scorsese’s] second piece of direction is telling me that I’ve ruined his movie. That’s excellent direction. It brought all the old anxiety back.”

It should have been a tough prospect, sitting down to write his book. Emotionally, because it meant revisiting the worst time of his life. Practically, because the Dunne family had already set the bar high. They are all dead now: his dad in 2009; his journalist-screenwriter uncle, John Gregory Dunne, in 2003; Joan Didion in 2021. But their reputations are daunting. It must have felt as though he were writing in the shadow of Mount Rushmore.

Dunne says it wasn’t that way at all. He had always assumed that writing a book would be a lonely endeavour. In fact, it felt warm, intimate and weirdly convivial. “I didn’t feel daunted, trying to write and being related to all these prominent figures. Quite the opposite. I felt their presence. When I described them, it was like I was seeing them again, living with them again. It was like I was back meeting Joan for the first time. It was as though I was spending time with her and John, my father and my sister,” he says. “They were alive to me. When I finished the book, that was the sad part. It felt like I missed them all over again.”

[mrvlbimbo]

hear me out. hear me out. saul goodman x reader where the reader works for him, right? but it's just saul jacking off to the thought of reader who he's been lusting after ever since she started working for him. maybe she walks in and catches him by accident and they have really cool office sex.

content: blackmail (not the way you think), male masturbation, age difference, boss/employee relationship

WC .9k

Late nights at the office used to be reserved for work, he was a bit of a crook but he was nothing if not a hard worker.

Unluckily for him, his night hours had been somewhat occupied since he hired his new assistant.

She was young, too young for him. A recent graduate of law school, she had been vying for any experience she could find in the industry. He's embarrassed to say, he decided to hire her the second he saw her.

There were other women before, but after his most recent wife it was mostly hookers taking up his time.

She was different, sharper than she looked. He was delightfully surprised to find she was actually very useful around the office because he didn't even bother to check her resume.

It was a good thing that she was helpful because she was a serious distraction for him.

After he sent her home it was like her presence was still in the air, he could never help himself. He checked the locks, watching her car leave the lot before he retired into his office for his nightly routine.

When he noticed the scarf she was wearing that morning in the lobby, he knew it was his lucky day.

His belt was off and the last few buttons of his dress shirt were undone to make it easier to roll up his shirt.

By the time he even touched himself his cock was already hard and leaking in his lap, practically begging for attention.

This wasn't right, he needed to be working right now. He had already spent a good portion of the day fantasizing about bending her over his desk and running his rough hands over the smooth expanse of her legs as he pushed her skirt up over her ass.

He already knew she wore lace underwear as he had caught a glimpse of it once when she bent over to pick up a paper he had dropped. That was a benefit of his age, she never thought anything when he asked for her to bend down and pick something up for him. In reality he was perfectly capable but he would never pass up a chance to see up her skirt.

When he imagined fucking her, he imagined keeping the lace panties on, pushing them to the side just enough so he could slide his cock into her. That way he could snap the waistband against her delicate skin and watch as a faint redness appeared.

He was so caught up in the fantasy and the slick sound of his hand gliding over his cock, that he didn't hear the knock on his office door.

He also didn't hear the subject of his fantasies walking into the room tentatively, shaky on her high heels after a long day on her feet.

“Oh fuck. I’m so sorry,” she gasped when she saw him. Despite her sentiment, she didn’t take her eyes off him. Her pupils were wide in the dim room, drinking in the sight of him sprawled out in his luxurious office chair.

"I left my scarf." Her eyes were now drawn to his hand, where he was clutching the aforementioned scarf.

He nodded, eyes wide, at a loss for words. How was Slippin' Jimmy gonna get himself out of this mess?

"Ew," she giggled, sauntering across the office to stand in front of him in a way that almost seemed taunting. "Are you jerking it right now?"

"I was," he replied gruffly, slowly unwinding his fist from his cock so he could pull his pants back up.

She took the scarf from his hand, very aware of what he had been doing and what he had been thinking about. "Kinda perverted," she teased.

"I'm really sorry, what can I do? I'll give you paid time off? How about a big Christmas bonus?" He scrambled to make things right, he'd offer her just about anything not to spill about what she had just seen.

"Pull your pants back down first of all." Her nails curled into the band of his boxers, carefully tugging them back down and exposing him to the stale air of the office.

"Is this ok?" she asked, her hand delving down to his cock and stroking it teasingly slow.

"Yeah. FUck, that's great," he groaned, hand tangling into her hair when she fell to her knees in front of him.

"Yeah?" she sighed, her tone light and breathy. The question was clearly ironic, since she could taste the salty precum beading at the tip of his cock when she sealed her lips around it. The evidence of his arousal for her.

He had no excuse now, not that he really needed it.

"God, this is so dirty. I cant believe this is happening." His head tipped back, eyes snapping shut when she tongued a particularly sensitive spot on his shaft.

She pulled back, letting a glob of split fall from her mouth and onto her hand that was still clasped around him. "I still want that bonus," she said before crawling into the office chair to straddle him.

"You can have whatever you want if you let me fuck that sweet pussy." He growled when she pushed her panties to the side and teased the head of him with her warmth.

"I don't want to be your assistant anymore, I want to be an associate." Her stare was sharp, she was serious about this. He wasn't sure how she was still thinking so coherently, because he sure wasn't.

"Yeah yeah, sure whatever." He wasn't sure if he would actually grant her request but for now he would entertain it because he was so close to being inside of her and he wasn't going to stop now.

[crustyweirdo]

smash or pass but it‘s pretty much the entire BrBa cast and i‘m adding my weird headcanons (queer edition)

please don’t take this too seriously, these are my preferences and most of the headcanons are obviously jokes. 18+ please!!

Walter White: hell nooo he worked with n*zis and wears those tighty whities. definitely needs pills to get it up

Saul Goodman: smash, i feel like he‘d call me mommy. minus points bc he‘d make dad jokes during it.

Jesse Pinkman: 1000% SMASH HES SO FINE!! would smoke in bed with me after. i feel like he has piercings down there too, don’t ask why. definitely whimpers

Skyler White: had to think abt it a little but i‘d smash, misunderstood queen. lots of aftercare too

Hank Schrader: hard pass. he‘s a cop and has the personality of a paper bag.

Gus Fring: sure! more of a hookup though because i can’t imagine him being kind and gentle. he‘d say no cuz he‘s gay fr

Mike Ehrmantraut: probably not what you guys wanna hear, but smash. call it a guilty pleasure, ik that guy has experience. would focus on my needs first. i‘d do it in his car

Jane Margolis: yes omg are you kidding?! her style is everything and she’s genuinely so hot, i‘d gay panic being in the same room as her. definitely uses toys

Walter Jr: pass, too young for me and i don’t find him that attractive

Marie Schrader: smash! she‘s genuinely so sweet and pretty, perfect balance. hank didn’t deserve her

Todd, Jack and co: hardest pass, i don’t think i have to explain why. would go on about how women don’t deserve rights when they’re on top of me

Tuco Salamanca: no, he scares me. probably into knife play or some weird shit

Skinny Pete: yes! he‘s an acquired taste guys

Badger: probably? this is a hard one, smash if i got paid like 50 bucks. for free if it‘s with pete. but i‘d definitely go on a date with him

Steven Gomez: pass bc he‘s a cop. if i had to choose between him or hank i‘d choose him any day tho

Hector Salamanca: pass, no disrespect. rip Mark

Lydia Rodarte-Quayle: i‘m anxious 24/7 so her nervous attitude would make it impossible for me to enjoy it. she‘d accidentally insult me during it in some way

Gale Boetticher: smash because i love his personality. he‘s a keeper, husband material. lasts 2 minutes :(

Combo Ortega: pass i like him but not like that fr

Ted Beneke: hard pass. wouldn’t shut up abt his stupid company for five minutes. he makes really weird sounds during it and asks if you came right after (u didn’t)

Eyebrow Guy: i like hair but not like that

Andrea Cantillo: yesss baby bring it on. easily one of the pretties characters. sadly her personality wasn’t shaped out well in the show

Gretchen Schwartz: i feel like she‘s too smart for me don’t ask why. would absolutely reject me

Elliot Schwartz: maybe if he wears a hat to hide those big ass ears. i‘d do it if he paid me tho

Wendy (blonde meth head): seems very sweet and i love her style but i‘m a fan of hygiene and her teeth are not it

Carmen Molina (principal): yeah i guess, she‘s pretty

Huell & Kuby: pass bc they‘re silly little guys. only come package deal

Donald Margolis: sad guy but seems very sweet. smash? he cries when he finishes

Salamanca Twins: probably never had sex ed, lots of uncomfortable stares… pass

Krazy-8: i don’t remember much of him but going off looks, smash

Jesses Therapy Group Leader: pass, he has those crazy killer eyes

hope you enjoyed! :D

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Inside Llewyn Davis (2013, Coen brothers)

14/02/2024

Inside Llewyn Davis is a 2013 film directed and written by Joel and Ethan Coen and starring Oscar Isaac, Carey Mulligan, Justin Timberlake and John Goodman.

The film is inspired by the life of folk singer Dave Van Ronk, active in New York in the sixties.

It participated in competition at the 2013 Cannes Film Festival, where it won the Special Jury Grand Prix.

New York, February 1961: Llewyn Davis is a struggling young folk singer whose recent solo album, Inside Llewyn Davis, was a flop; being without money and nowhere to go, he sleeps on the sofas of friends and acquaintances. One evening, after playing at the Gaslight Café in Greenwich Village, he is beaten at the back of the venue by a mysterious and rude individual for reasons not immediately specified.

He subsequently accepts Jim's proposal to record a new song, agreeing to be paid immediately 200 dollars in exchange for the transfer of the copyright, in order to have the money for the abortion.

The young man accepts a ride to Chicago in the company of the laconic poet Johnny Five and the grumpy heroin-addicted jazz musician Roland Turner; during the trip he reveals that his musical partner, Mike Timlin, committed suicide by jumping off a bridge.

In an expanded version of the film's opening scene, Davis performs at the Gaslight and Pappi reports to him that a "friend" is waiting for him in the back; Davis then watches a young Bob Dylan perform on stage.

The film starts from the Coen's reflection on the rebirth of interest in folk music in the sixties, and in particular that despite the genre's exquisitely rural identity, in that period it was followed above all in a metropolis like New York, and that so all its major performers were natives, like Brooklyn's Dave Van Ronk and Ramblin' Jack Elliott.

When writing the screenplay, the pair of directors drew mainly from Van Ronk's autobiography, published posthumously in 2005, The Mayor of MacDougal Street but, even before starting to write it, the Coens had started from a single idea: imagine Van Ronk getting beaten up outside Gerde's Folk City in the Village.

Producer Scott Rudin, who had previously worked with the Coens on True Grit and No Country for Old Men, collaborated on the project. StudioCanal helped the production financially in the absence of a US financier/distributor.

On May 9, 2013, shortly before the presentation of the film at the Cannes Film Festival, the red band trailer and a new poster were also released.

The soundtrack was curated by T Bone Burnett, songwriter, producer and Oscar winner for the song The Weary Kind, and by Marcus Mumford.

[jokersphantom]

The Taste Of Death

Jack Goodman X Reader smut

WARNINGS: this has literal cannibalism in it, please do not read if you don’t yearn with your mouth. PIV sex, creampie, oral sex (reader receiving), mention of birth control.

A cold gust of wind brushes against your bare leg. The skin ripples slowly, like your body isnt used to being put in a situation where it has to heat itself and has since forgotten basic function. However if your body had decided to ignore you, you couldn’t quite tell because your mind was beyond comparison in terms of being vacant.

You received a phone call from Jack’s mother, informing you of your friend’s death across the sea. Her voice trembled and she practically sobbed as she told you of how horrible of a condition he was in and how David was a suspect in his murder. You should’ve been sad, but all you felt was disbelief; like you expected Jack to start laughing on the other end of the line before asking if you’d like to grab dinner with him (and David, of course, always David). You wish you cried, that you joined his mother in her quivering voice and choked sobs; instead, all you could do was think of how little of this she would share if she wasn’t so deeply disturbed and upset.

You went to Jack’s funeral, and discovered early on that you’d be waiting awhile to actually see him because everyone else who hadn’t given a shit in the past years decided to make up for it today. One of his exes showed up with her new boyfriend but started sobbing violently as she began to give a loud speech about how good of a man he was. As she spoke, you imagined Jack rolling over in his grave; or at this point, coffin; at her tears. “Wasn’t good enough for you to keep your pants on when Mark showed up!” You imagined him saying.

What stood out the most was the fact his casket was closed. Which only solidified your denial in Jack’s death. How out of place you seemed, staring down at the chiseled oak with a glare like you were expecting him to pop out and scare you like he did at a Halloween party years prior. Something even more ghastly was that you didn’t even think there was a body in there.

Weeks later you still hadn’t accepted that he died. You still consoled his mother and spoke with her often, you weren’t a complete lamb. David had yet to call, he was probably suffering a lot more than you were with your apathy or he was still comatose.

Once again the wind started to blow on through again and it finally caused you to shiver and begrudgingly trod to the window. As you neared, you heard the undeniable whisper of the leaves as they rustled and gently tapped the sides of the house. The outside was hardly visible, illuminated by the full moon and it left a cascading deep blue over the rest of the world.

You stared outside for a moment longer, letting the cool air curl around you and leave gooseflesh with every kiss upon your skin. The moonlight seems to bless you every moment you sit in its presence, the soft light bears white brightness among the clouds and entrances you in a way it never has before.

“Long time no see” a voice rings out from behind you.

Now you understand why.

As you turn around, there stands Jack Goodman in (what's left of) the flesh and before you can even think of it, you’re loudly exclaiming “Jesus Christ!” Before scurrying to your bed and balling up the covers as you try to shun away whatever you’re seeing by covering your eyes. “No, Jack, remember? God have you gone completely off your rocker since you’ve last seen me?”

You don’t dare remove the covers from your eyes, and you don’t have to. The springs of your mattress ache with weight and a gentle hand pulls it back. The fright sets a warm fire deep in your stomach.

Nonetheless, there he is, Jack Goodman. One of your best friends, completely mauled and looking at you with a smile as the grotesque chunks of flesh that's covered in a deep cherry red glisten under the light. In a macabre way, it makes your mouth water.

Jack looks at you for a moment before waving his hand in front of your face and snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. “You there? Oh god, you’re in shock; David’s gonna kill me again” he snickers at his own awful joke.

As you come back to earth, Jack gives you the rundown of what’s happened so far. While he speaks, you focus on what he’s wearing. The green puffer jacket that had been doused in your scent the night before because Jack “forgot you used it as a pillow case”; that statement is another one David did not buy and consistently gave him shit for the chick repellent as they rode on the back of a shepherd's truck.

“How I ended up back here, I’m not sure, not that I’m complaining about being in these sheets again” he flirts as he smiles at you, deep and round eyes looking directly into yours with something raw behind it all the pleasantry. You and Jack had slept together, he was as sweet as a friend with benefits could be.

“I think I’m going crazy” you say aloud and he titters before propping his leg up on your bed and resting his head on it sideways; leaving the bloody, mangled, and mutilated part of his skin open and hot against the air.

Jack catches your gaze and seems unable to resist the comment that comes from his mouth. “No fucking way” he laughs. You back yourself up against the headboard and pull your comforter with you, holding it defensively to your mouth and you give a startled look that quickly turns to anger. “What?” You snap out, a lot higher pitched than you wanted to, that made you sound more like someone caught with a porno mag and less like you were genuinely confused.

The look he gives you is a recognizable one, but it feels so alien at the same time. He starts to gently crawl towards you on all fours, in a way he knows you like to see. Feigning that innocence to how you feel just to hear you say it out loud because he mocks you even in death.

“Now, you wouldn’t be feeling a little turned on about how battered I am now would you, sweetness?” He asks, as irreproachable as possible while the pet name sticks to you despite how mockingly he says it. When you’re left gawking, he only gets closer to your face. “Because” pause. He drags one hand up across your covered leg. “If this was the face you wanted all along, I would’ve requested open casket”

Jack gets scarily close. So much so you can now make out minute details. His hair is slicked stiff with blood and sweat, black tufts of hair poke out messily. He smells of grass and mud, but only faintly; what stands out the most is the pheromones reeking off of him that would typically reek, but currently have you biting the inner skin of your bottom lip as the fingers of his left hand dance curiously across your knee.

His fingers have blood crusted under the nails and you sit there entranced by the carnal beauty of it all. Jack smiles to himself and takes it as an opportunity to trace your lips with his calloused fingers. Typically, he’d be a blushing mess and if he were still completely alive he’d never be so bold with someone.

Only difference this time is that he wasn’t alive, not fully; and that it was you. The amount of times he’d been almost caught with you on him has surpassed his count, and sure as hell yours. However the word almost really means David and when it comes to David, he’s got an amateur sleuth mindset and can unfortunately piece two and two together.

Unthinking, you open your mouth and feel as Jack pushes his index and middle finger over your tongue. Your tongue swirls around the pads of his fingers, feeling every ridge, scar and delta. A gummy clot of blood that was caught in the corner of his cuticle touches your tongue and you suck even harder.

Jack’s eyes become lidded, he looks at a random spot in your direction for a few moments, feeling the work of your mouth against his hands once again and in such a grisly manner makes his stomach burn.

Softly he pulls his fingers away from your mouth. He rests his hands on either side of you and puts his mouth close to your ear. “How about you shut the light off and we try that thing you’ll deny wanting to do” he whispers before he bites and tugs on the lobe of your ear before pulling away.

You push the blanket off of you, the plush of your thighs visible to Jack as you walk towards the light switch.

When the darkness floods the room, you’re left in wait for Jack, just as you were in life. When nothing happens for a few seconds you think you’ve gone crazy and you’re too afraid to turn around and see that he’s really not there.

The beautiful blue hue of the moon sets over your shoulders and the cool air brushes against your neck. The hairs prick up as the cool feeling leaves ghosts of kisses against your skin.

“Still here” Jack says quietly against the shell of your ear. You turn around to face him and he flicks the light on again, temporarily blinding you. “ M’ sorry” he says as his kisses become full and wet mouthed against your neck “changed my mind, jus’ wanted to see you walk away”

He buries himself there and you feel him smile before his teeth graze against you. The blood gushing from his wounds starts to slick your neck. This doesn’t stop him, he kisses and nips harshly on your veins and feels the pulse thrumming beneath it.

It’s like he can’t control himself. There’s something so deeply carnal and vulnerable about how he is now; as many times you’ve put yourself on him, nothing can compare to the sweetness of his blood covered lips against yours.

His teeth are digging deeply into your neck, a small pain blossoming from his teeth nipping at your skin. Your eyes shut and a breathy exhale leaves your lips. Jack smiles, like he always has, into your skin and comes up to give you a kiss. The sweet and metallic taste of his lips on yours leaves you utterly intoxicated like the first taste of absinthe.

If you had to compare it though, he’s much sweeter. And warmer. So much warmer.

Jack’s mouth has suddenly gone away from the short and innocent kisses and have transformed into heavily pressed attacks scattered across anywhere collar up. His skin is comfortingly thermic and at this point you have no choice but to fall back into the dizzying heat as Jack touches you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and it may very well be.

His hands are ever moving and constant. There’s a searing palm resting between your neck and ear. The free hand wanders continuously over your waist to the back of your thigh. Your hands move without your own permission and begin to unzip the green puffer jacket that’s half shredded and half covered in blood.

You hope that if he decides to leave, you can keep the jacket. Even just a piece to remember him by. It was a group purchase around the holidays one year, when David gifted you both an identical jacket similar to his red one. Yours was an absolute eyesore, but the mundane routine of wearing it all the time made the shade entirely your own.

You gently push Jack away from you and get to look in his eyes. You get to see the humanity tucked behind them as his clouded lust quickly turns into the sheepish look of a boy scolded by a schoolmarm. Even though you’re still entranced by just seeing him again after having to say goodbye before Europe and a second time to a piece of wood. Part of you wants to remain this illusioned forever, so that you can hold onto him even if he decided long ago to let go of you; because at this point all you have is a hideous puffer jacket and dinner receipts of a meal you paid for stuffed in your otherwise empty wallet. Suddenly the doe eyes and boyish smile disappear. A misstep.

“Guess kissing a corpse wasn’t on your bucket list, huh?” He chides with an awkward laugh but you know Jack better than that, and he’s being vulnerable. Pressed against the door of your room, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck; careful to leave the wound be, and as he looks at you; you knock your foreheads together and you press a small kiss to his lips and bump noses. “Could’ve gone for that one actor you like so much” you say, another kiss. “I’ll put in a good word for you” kiss.

Jack pushes his mouth closer to you without much thought, and it leads to some of the blood on his neck smearing on your arm. Suddenly the blaze in Jack’s eyes comes back and you grin.

Jack sticks his hand in the wound like it’s as normal as scratching an itch and a small amount of the blood comes onto his fingertip. He cups your face with the same hand, mindful of his bloody thumb. Your eyes dart between the pad of his thumb, that Jack pushes ever closer to your mouth; only waiting for permission to push it through.

There would be no coming back from it and you both know it. Jack has nothing to lose, while you’re teetering on the line between sanity and lunacy. The comparison of Eve and the apple comes to mind; any other lustful sin could be forgiven, but to feast upon the flesh and to consume the marrow of a ghost? Should this be a test from whatever divine figure that hates you enough to manifest your dead fuck buddy, you were bound for damnation surely. Your lips part.

Your mouth sours with saliva before you can truly taste. Then it hits you. The succulent, metallic taste sinks onto your tastebuds and you hope that Jack’s blood remains there until the end of your days. The splotch of scarlet forever stained on your tongue like ink upon papyrus so that any lover you may take after Jack knows they can’t compare because they won’t come this close.

You flick the light out, for good this time, and guide Jack to your bed. He waits patiently as you crawl in first. He waits by the edge with bated breath and glances at the full moon for but a moment. You poke your leg out over the bed and poke him with your foot and he pounces at you. The shirt that was tucked underneath his puffer coat has minimal damage compared to the rest of him. You sit up and drag it off of him and he instead goes for ripping the fabric off like it’s burning him.

You’re doing the same to your own and Jack is immediately kissing on every inch of your skin, there's a desperation that is unlike anything you’ve ever known. After you’ve both wriggled out of every piece of clothing and left slobbering wet kisses across chests and lips you start to get to the most sinful and carnivorous part of the night.

Jack’s pumping himself and whimpering all sorts of filth at you as you kiss around the lines where skin meets meat. “Please, honey, I want you to, I do, c’mon” Just one bite. He needs it, he needs to know he’s good. “You can’t hurt me” he whispers, strained.

Your teeth graze the saccharine flesh before you sink into the hot and dewey meat. Jack’s warmed up intensely, the heat rolling off of him in the moonlight in thick clouds of white. Jack shudders and you begin to let go immediately “Fuck, no, keep going” he says, lowering his neck on you more as his fingers begin to grace around you.

When you fully sink in again, there’s a burst of an unfamiliar flavor that hits you so hard you hope it doesn’t immediately get you hooked and desperate like morphine. You pull and tear and suck upon him but it doesn’t change anything. The difference between the living and the undead is that while you’re aching and getting the relief of Jack’s feast upon your body, wether it be by biting or pumping into your core, Jack is unchanging until time wants him to. You’re glad you were blessed enough to have him presented as you remembered, just a bit more banged up. Deliciously so.

You’re happy you can be close to him again, like this. Nothing else in the world but the two of you. For however long he’s tied to this plane, you want to take advantage of it all and you will greedily keep him here until he’s forced to go. So you bite, you bite and rip and chew like it’s the last way you’ll ever love anyone ever again. You wrap your hands into his hair and dig your nails into his scalp and all he does is smile at you and whisper your name he keeps his pace thrusting inside of you. When you pull away to meet his eyes, the glint of the night rests in his irises.

You imagine you must look like something positively cryptid. His blood smothered across your mouth, a toothy smile in his direction like a fox in a henhouse. He doesn’t say anything, he merely places a kiss on your mouth and breathes heavily across your lips. “ M’ close, honey” he says, as thoughtful as ever, and that’s how you know this has to be real; previous thoughts be damned, werewolves, ghosts, lawyers? All real.

You know this Jack Goodman is yours because even after being mauled to death and abandoned, after having to tell his best friend that he has to die, and after finding himself in your bed again and being accepted with open arms, he still tells you when he’s about to cum.

“I’ll take it as a bereavement gift” you say and he simply rolls his eyes and says “you talk too much” you tug at his pulled apart skin again before falling back into the sheets. Biting your lip and wrapping your legs around his core, you hold Jack’s head as he buries it in your neck and presses his forehead in the nape of your shoulder to watch himself go in and out for a few strokes before he pulls back and kisses you hard. You don’t open your mouth quick enough and your teeth collide painfully for a second and Jack giggles an apology against your lips as he continues his thrusts.

He pushes you back into the pillows with his weight and he moans into your shoulder. The perfect cadence of sound in your ears and after he stills for a moment you can feel the pulse of his cock inside you as he cums.

Ever the overachiever, he pulls out quickly and places his bloodied mouth in between your legs. The blood of his neck laceration rubs slick and loud against your thigh coating every pore and marking.

He puts his mouth on your clit, just like you taught him. He twirls his tongue around and even tries murmuring out something to dirty talk you, but he gets so pussy drunk it’s nearly impossible to hear what he’s saying.

He takes care not to get a mouthful of his own cum, his fingers going at a pace that you can hear even buried in the pillows.

Once again your hands find his hair and you push him deeper into your clit and Jack, always the good boy, obliges and tongue fucks you even harder.

Your legs lock around his head as you cum and he lets out a hum as you do. Your hips snap forward and he rides it out. Once you’ve come down a bit, he presses a few kisses to your thighs before going up to join you.

“Hope birth control covers that”

“Be more surprised if it did, I think”

Jack snickers and lays next to you, fingers trailing up your figure with blankets gathered unevenly around the waist down.

He’s still a human furnace and you eagerly curl up next to him. “Will you be gone tomorrow?” You ask. You expect a melancholy response. “Might go tell David to kill himself, but I’ll be back. Can’t guarantee I’ll be this pretty though” he says.

You just kiss him and close your eyes.

[americas1suiteheart]

speaking of Atlas, maybe you should do an Atlas x Reader possibly?🤭

Why of course I can! I'm doing headcannons for him instead though if that's alright! (Totally didn't push this off for a day and then immediately write it after, oops! Sorry Anon!)

Dating Atlas Would Include...

Atlas (Bioshock) x GN Reader

Notes; I'm going to completely forget the fact that Atlas is in fact Fontaine, hope you enjoy!

Warnings; Violence, smoking, drinking, all that Bioshock fanfic jazz

He's a very caring person, you saw how he helped Jack in the game and how much he talked about saving his "wife" and "child," so you'd assume he'd be the same way towards you.

Not the biggest on PDA, he might hold your hand in public though.

In your own privacy he tries to be as affectionate as possible towards you being you two might not get to be around eachother often.

He definitely loves to hold you in his arms as if your the only thing in the universe, it helps calm him and forget about all the wrong with Andrew Ryan and Rapture.

I'd like to think that the only reason he's not as affectionate in public is because he wants to hold up this tough guy kinda figure so no one thinks he's weak.

He really does love you though. He'd probably do as much as he can for you it's insane. Possibly even as far as, murder? He's just very protective of you, even if you werent stuck in the chaos of Rapture he would still be just as territorial and protective of you.

He's such a great listener. Though he's used to everyone else listening to him as he talks about how to put an end to Ryan, he'll put everything aside to listen to your worries and whats troubling you.

Being It's the early 60s I'd assume he would call you love, sweetheart, darling, and maybe even doll a lot.

He's definitely mentioned marrying you a couple times, yet he's scared of actually moving forward and committing to it because of where you two are stuck.

Not thinking about having kids as he doesn't want them to be born into Rapture and have with all the bad, would wait until you two can get out of there for good.

This man just absolutely adores receiving kisses. Something as small as you giving him a gentle peck on the cheek or even a small kiss on his hands just makes him melt.

He loves giving you kisses as well! He would be one of those guys to kiss you on the hand very often but loves kissing your forehead and your lips. His lips would probably taste of alcohol and cigarettes though.

Probably sings to you when you can't sleep. Id imagine he'd love singing The Ink Spots, Bing Crosby, and Frank Sinatra, its just kinda what I'd assume would be in his vocal range.

Oh boy don't even get me started with his accent. His accent would probably be ever so slightly prominent when he would sing for you. You and I know very well it's one of the things you fell in love with Atlas for.

Loves words of affirmation. He loves when you tell him how good he's doing and to try and not to worry, he'd instantly calm down and maybe even cry?

He definitely has a bad smoking problem there's no denying that, but being It's the 60s and smoking was a fairly common habit, you don't get on about him for it at all.

You and him have definitely gotten in a couple of nasty arguments, most of which were because of the state of Rapture and how little time he would spend with you. Some of which had eventually led to either one of you leaving for the night to have a couple of drinks. But regardless, you two always talk it out and forgive eachother for your own nasty behaviors.

Even through your fights, Atlas is very loyal to you and wouldn't stoop as low as to see the girls in Eve's Garden. As I said he cares very deeply for you and only you, your the only person he fancies at that moment and won't hurt you that way when he's still very much in a relationship with you.

Eventually in the end though, it definitely wouldn't end up working out. Eventually you'll get tired of all that is happening with Atlas and how often he's gone doing work that you'll either leave and avoid him best you can, or you'll tell him yourself. You two definitely aren't good for eachother with Atlas having so much influence over Rapture and you trying to have as much of a quiet life as you can get in Rapture after the downfall, and also with the fights and arguments to never end as long as your together.

---------------------------------------

Little bit of angst at the end if you could consider it that, but I'm a sucker for a bad/unhappy ending. Anyways, I hope it's up to your expectations of my writing and I deeply apologize it wasn't an actual fanfiction but I'd figure headcannons are just as fun to read. Bye for now!

[abellinthecupboard]

The Lost World

Think what it was like, he said. Peggy Lee and Goodman all the time. Carl Ravazza making me crazy with “Vieni Su” from a ballroom in New Jersey every night, the radio filling my dark room in Pittsburgh with naked-shouldered women in black gowns. Helen Forest and Helen O'Connell, and later the young Sarah Vaughan out of Chicago from midnight until two. Think of being fifteen in the middle of leafy June when Sinatra and Ray Eberle both had number-one records of “Fools Rush In.” Somebody singing “Tenderly” and somebody doing “This Love of Mine.” Helplessly adolescent while the sound of romance was constantly everywhere. All day long out of windows along the street. Sinatra with “Close to You.” And all the bands. Artie Shaw with “Green Eyes” and whoever was always playing “Begin the Beguine.” Who can blame me for my heart? What choice did I have? Harry James with “Sleepy Lagoon.” Imagine, on a summer night, “Sleepy Lagoon”!

— Jack Gilbert, Refusing Heaven (2005)

[plantingtreesandthoughts]

Stephen Graves: Cross-Country Truck Driving

A reflection of the New York Times article on truck driver shortages

Upon graduating college, I’ve had the plan of taking a month to do a cross-country roadtrip with my sister, and making our way out west on Route 66. The ideals of “van-life” have become increasingly popular on the internet, and nobody knows it better than truck drivers. To be in a new city every hour, and new state almost every day would be a curious life. 

The article “The Real Reason America Doesn’t Have Enough Truck Drivers,” by Peter S. Goodman follows truck driver, Stephen Graves, on the lonely and stressful job of driving for a living. It’s not an easy job, and not every employee is going to receive the same benefits. Some of the jobs suck, and it’s tolling in many ways which makes it a hard sell. Hearing about Graves’s experiences on the road was touching. You could imagine how lonely it gets, but can also sense the peace in having so much time to yourself– there’s something almost tranquil about it.

Reading this article reminded me of the song “Drivin’ My Life Away,” by Eddie Rabbitt. Specifically the lyrics:

Hey, waitress, pour me another cup of coffee,

Pop it down, jack me up, shoot me out, flyin' down the highway,

Lookin' for the mornin'

It reminds me of how Graves makes a point to learn the names of those pouring his coffee, and to notice the people he’s passing by. Even though the article was about truck driver shortages and the struggle of this job, what I got from it was what I already knew I love about road trips; the intersection of different lives that may never cross again.

[renegadefearstreet1966]

Thirty One

Fear Street part 3: 1666

credit to gif owner.

Elizabeth returned to The Meeting House with Sarah, so they could listen in on the conversations being held about the monstrosity. The two females stood on a previously chopped tree stub, looking through the window. She saw her grieving mother sitting beside Abigail's father, sobbing as she watched in front of her. She told herself things were going to be okay.

Jakob Berman took the stand. "Hear ye! Hear ye! Good people of Union, listen! There is a dark and evil force at work here. If we are ever to end this misery, then we must root out the guilty."

"Jakob, please!" Solomon interrupted, earning everyone's attention. "Goodman Berman! The man responsible is dead! Pastor Miller-"

"The pastor," Jakob cut him off, pointing to himself. "Our pastor was a man of God, and this was not him! He was possessed by darkness. My child, my dear Constance, and many others are dead."

Harriet glanced over at Sarah. She watched too before looking at the blonde then looking back through the window. "Our futures... many of our entire bloodlines have been stolen from us. Someone must pay!"

Mad Thomas rose and stood in front of everyone. "I saw some little lambs of our town laughing, dallying on the full moon last!"

The crowd shouted for someone to explain, commotion getting louder and louder. Elizabeth saw her friend and former lover Isaac rising, making his way toward the stand, knowing this can't be good. Isaac walked onto the stand to explain. "There were some of us in the woods, but there was no... we drank Apple Jack. We danced. We are young! That is not a crime!"

The adults shouted at him and he sat back down in his seat. Thomas once took the stand. "Look upon your children!" he ordered. "For they will bear the Devil's mark!"

"Witchcraft!" Elijah Goode hollered. "Witchcraft!" He took the podium. "Yes, witchcraft. But just as my brother, Solomon, heroically expelled the darkness among us by killing our afflicted pastor, we too will punish and surmount this evil!"

"Yes, we will!" the crowd screamed. Most of the shouting was inaudible to their ears as they stood.

Elizabeth lost her footing but managed to balance herself once again, pressing her hands against the glass to steady her feet.

"As survivors," Elijah continued. "Our faces always will remain toward the sun."

"Hear, hear!"

"I traced it on my patrol!" a man announced, taking the stand. "This scourge centers on Union proper! I searched the woods. It does not extend beyond the settlement. It's here! It's in Union! We are being punished, and I have a list of names." He slammed his hand down on the podium. Half the crowd began shouting once more.

"Enough!" Solomon shouted, standing up. "Enough! Listen to yourselves! Speculation! Chasing shadows! Imagined curses! I ask. . . do you have proof? No. Or you?" He looked at Mad Thomas. "Or any of ya?"

Before Elizabeth could relax from Solomon's words, Caleb stood up. She tensed, wondering what kind of lies he would come up with now.

"I have proof!" he exclaimed. "It was some nights back when the full moon had risen just beside the sun. As I lay sleeping, she came to me. She witched me and led me to the woods. She was naked... and riding a red mule. And the red mule became a horned man. And she made me watch as she lay with the Devil."

"Who?" Mad Thomas demanded.

"As both of them lay with the devil," Caleb finished.

"Both of them?" Elijah repeated.

Caleb turned his head, looking right at the older man. "Elizabeth Winstead and Sarah Fier!"

[docrotten]

XTRO (1982) – Episode 266 – Decades of Horror 1980s

“Stay in the car. …  Stay In The Car! … GET BACK IN THE CAR!!” No one ever follows directions in horror movies. Join your faithful Grue Crew – Crystal Cleveland, Chad Hunt, Bill Mulligan, and Jeff Mohr – as they check out more of Lucio Fulci’s innovative deaths in Xtro (1982).

Decades of Horror 1980s Episode 266 – Xtro (1982)

Join the Crew on the Gruesome Magazine YouTube channel! Subscribe today! Click the alert to get notified of new content! https://youtube.com/gruesomemagazine

Gruesome Magazine is partnering with the WICKED HORROR TV CHANNEL (https://wickedhorrortv.com/) which now includes video episodes of Decades of Horror 1980s and is available on Roku, AppleTV, Amazon FireTV, AndroidTV, and its online website across all OTT platforms, as well as mobile, tablet, and desktop.

An alien creature impregnates a woman who gives birth to a man who was abducted by aliens three years ago. The man reconnects with his wife and son for a sinister purpose.

Directed by: Harry Bromley Davenport

Writing Credits: Iain Cassie, Robert Smith; (story by) Harry Bromley Davenport, Michel Parry; Jo Ann Kaplan (additional dialogue “Americanized”)

Produced by: 

Robert Shaye (executive producer)

Mark Forstater (producer)

James Crawford (associate producer) (as James M. Crawford)

Music by: Harry Bromley Davenport

Cinematography by: John Metcalfe

Special Effects by:

Tom Harris (mechanical effects / special effects supervisor)

Francis Coates (Creature Effects)

Selected Cast:

Philip Sayer as Sam Phillips

Bernice Stegers as Rachel Phillips

Danny Brainin as Joe Daniels

Maryam d’Abo as Analise Mercier

Simon Nash as Tony Phillips

Peter Mandell as Clown

David Cardy as Michael

Anna Wing as Mrs. Goodman

Robert Fyfe as Doctor

Katherine Best as Jane

Robert Pereno as Ben

Sean Crawford as Commando (credited as Tok)

Tim Dry as Monster (credited as Tik)

Susie Silvey as Woman in Cottage

Arthur Whybrow as Mr. Knight

Anna Mottram as eacher

Robert Austin as Van Driver

Vanya Seager as Paula Phillips

Xtro (1982) is one of those movies. Either you love it… or you say, “WTF?” Or maybe both! Luckily, the 80s Grue-Crew are joined by guest host Dirk Rogers, an Xtro fan, to help sort out the mess and to point out why he likes it so much. It took a while for the crew to get the finer points, so you’ll have to check out the episode to see if any of Dirk’s teachings sink in. 

The film depicts an alien impregnating human women with a “plunger” appendage and giving an eleven-year-old boy the power to bring anything he can imagine into reality. How could one expect anything but a five-ring circus?

At the time of this writing, Xtro is available on physical media as an all-region import Blu-ray formatted disc from Second Sight Films. 

Every two weeks, Gruesome Magazine’s Decades of Horror 1980s podcast will cover another horror film from the 1980s. The next episode’s film, chosen by Bill, will be Death Ship (1980)! Co-written by Jack Hill (Spider Baby or, The Maddest Story Ever Told; 1967) and starring George Kennedy, Richard Crenna, Nick Mancuso, Sally Ann Howes, Kate Reid, and Victoria Burgoyne. Yo, baby!

Please let them know how they’re doing! They want to hear from you – the coolest, grooviest fans – so leave them a message or comment on the Gruesome Magazine Youtube channel, on the Gruesome Magazine website, or email the Decades of Horror 1980s podcast hosts at feedback@gruesomemagazine.com.

Check out this episode!

[atty-goldstein]

I actually think Brennan would be great as General McNamara. Why shouldn't he play a heroic eagle man? Also for fun and additional bird allegations, he could play Ducker as well. And doesn't the Gilear voice just remind you of Snape too? After Murph's performance as Cody, I think he'd pull off Richie Lipschitz very well too. Could also see him as Krayonder or Howard Goodman.

Actually, Emily and Murph as Holloduke would be so cute. Zac as Grunt. The vibes work. Or. as a twist, Ted Spankoffski, wouldn't be that far off from Norman Takamori. After how Siobhan played Jaysohn? she could def pull off Craphole Dikrats Lou as Tittymitty. I think he's got the voice for "Pays to be an Animal" and would act out the scene with Cornwallis flawlessly Ally as Junior. Especially with the iconic sunglasses and "YEAH I'M SMOKING POT." (And while not starkid, Ally would be perfect for Esther from Solve-it Squad) Izzy might be a great Zazzalil actually. Her singing voice would sound great for "What If" and "Into the Night." And she'd kill Zazzalil's laziness presidential speech. Mouthface too. Oh and if Brennan plays Tom, having Izzy as Becky might be interesting Aabria as Molag or Detective Shapiro. Could also imagine that Erika would love to play any of the Lords in Black. Though I could see Erika fitting in SAF more as maybe Cynthia or Barb Mike Trapp as Jack Bauer or Joey's Heart. (and I know they're not D20 regulars, but Grant would slay as Henry Hidgens and Achmed, and Rashawn as Belle in VHSCC, and maybe considering Sam Reich as Mr. Davidson a lil bit)

How I Would Cast Dimension 20 Regulars in Starkid Shows: A list for like 5 people, probably 0 of whom will find this

Brian Murphy: Paul

Emily Axford: Zazzalil (or Emma because Murph and Emily as Paul and Emma would be everything)

Siobhan Thompson: Linda Monroe, Jemilla, or Mega-Girl. I can’t decide.

Lou Wilson: Pincer

Zac Oyama: Superman

Ally Beardsley: Lex or Sweet Tooth (frankly any of Angela or Jeff’s roles. Ally matches that energy perfectly. Also nonbinary Lex would be excellent.)

Brennan Lee Mulligan: Ja’far (I also think he would be fascinating as Tom if Ja’far feels weird)

Aabria Iyengar: The Wagon Mother

Would love to hear other people’s thoughts if you’re a fan of both!!

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Jack Goodman

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(Most of these can probably go for both normal jack and ghost jack but the hcs center around him being amongst the undead. I wouldn’t mind writing some hcs specifically for human Jack though)

- You first met Jack in highschool. Initially, you were friends with David who was in a few of your classes, but soon enough David introduced you to Jack and the three of you became a trio.

- Jack fell for you the moment he saw you, or at least couldn’t help but find you incredibly attractive. You probably thought he was just nervous when you first met with the way he was stumbling over his words and acting so awkward. Gosh, David had a field day with him after you left.

- To Jack, you’re completely out of his league and there is no chance that you would be interested in him. But he has to try. Too bad his “trying” isn’t nearly as obvious as he would like it to be.

- The two of you gradually spend more time together, going from only hanging out once in a while; and only with David, to hanging out for hours on your own. Every time you’re together he tries to psychically project his feelings into your mind.

- Its nearly a year later that he actually tries to put the moves on you but at that point you’re such good friends that you don't even notice what he’s trying to do. Every proposition of a date is just him asking to hang out. Every romantic compliment or pickup line results in you laughing and telling him to stop messing around. He doesn’t know how much more of it he can take.

- When the three of you graduated highschool, you’d decided that you’d take a year off and vacation in Italy. The boys wanted to go backpacking so they agreed to meet you there. Of course, they never really did, did they?

- You were beside yourself when you heard about what happened. Here you were, in the middle of a foreign country supposed to be having the time of your life and instead, you find out that one of your best friends is killed by an animal and that the other is recovering in a London hospital. Jack was dead, it was like the idea wouldn’t register in your mind. Jack was dead and you’d never see him again.

“Y/n came to my funeral. Gosh, she really looked torn up,” Jack smiled at David almost sheepishly. “Do you think now would be a bad time to tell her how I feel?”

- It was a few days after his funeral that you first saw him again. You though that you were going crazy, that your grief had gotten the better of you and you were having a serious lapse in your sanity. But it all seemed far too real, too detailed to be a hallucination.

- After hearing about what happened, you’d cancelled the rest of your trip and went back home. You’d holed yourself up in your room for a week before you finally forced yourself to go outside, though it was only to attend Jacks funeral.

- You were curled up on your bed, still dressed in your funeral attire and feeling utterly miserable as you fumbled with a book you’d borrowed from the boy for your plane ride to Italy. The room was quiet, save for you sniffling, ...up until a sudden voice rang out.

“You never did get the chance to give me that back.”

- Your eyes widened as you clumsily sat up and turned around. There he was, standing in the doorway to your bedroom; torn and bloodied but there. You watched as he walked inside the room, smiling at you as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. Feeling the mattress sink under his weight was what fully convinced you that you weren’t just going mad.

- Your mouth went completely dry as you looked at him. You couldn’t think of anything to say even as you tried your hardest. All you could manage to get out was a “how” and a clumsy sounding “what”.

“How ya doin y/n/n? Wonderful service wasn’t it. I was glad to see you there. I think my parents were too, they always liked you,” he said sweetly though the words held a bitter air. “You know, I was thinking about sticking around here a bit. You said I was always welcome and, well, being around the dead all the time is really starting to bum me out. I much prefer your company.

- You inched closer to him, placing a tentative hand on his cleaner shoulder before moving it to touch his undamaged cheek. His skin was cold but you could touch it as though he were really there. Letting out a sob, you lunged forward, smushing you’re lips against his cheek and pressing your forehead to the side of his head.

“Well don't get all mushy on me now.” 

- True to his word, he did stay, albeit in intervals. Every now and again, he’d disappear for a while but he always came back and was seemingly content and relieved to be around you.

- Its not very long after he comes back into your life that he finally confesses his feelings. He figures that, hey, he’s dead, what else has he got to lose? So one night, just as you’re drifting off to sleep, he enters your room and kneels beside your bed, delicately shaking you awake.

“Y/n/n? I know its late but I’ve been sitting up and thinking. Thinking about my life, all the things that happened, everything I should have done. I realized that I didn’t do much at all. I mean; I should have met more people, went out more, slept around more.” he chuckled softly though it sounded more like a scoff than anything else. 

“But you see, I can live with all of that, or, well... nevermind! The point is, that there was one thing that I should have done that I never did, something that I can’t just let go of. …I should have kissed you Y/n. I should have kissed you and never stopped. I was an idiot, I was an idiot because I never told you how I felt when I had the chance. Well now I’m a lousy mess of ghostly meat but I’m going to finally tell you.” He paused, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his nerves. Even in death, he was a coward. 

“Y/n. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you and never once has that love gone away; …not even in death. I know this isn’t very orthodox and that I’m not a very nice looking corpse either. …And maybe this whole thing is insane and I never should have said anything at all!” He spoke as though he finally realized how bizarre the situation was, an nervous edge in his voice. He paused and collected himself before speaking again. “…but I did say it, so now we’re just gonna have to move on from here.” 

- None of his dreams could have ever prepared him for the sheer shock and joy that he felt when you told him that you liked him too. 

“So you’re saying we could have been together all of this time?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face. With a tired smile, you beckoned him into your bed and laid back once again to go to sleep, this time with him by your side. 

-  You had your first date in your house, cuddled up on your couch and watching movies. It was just like any other day yet different at the same time. It felt right. 

- The two of you shared your first kiss that same day when you were saying goodnight to each other. You were going to go to bed and he wanted to stay up a bit longer so he walked you to your bedroom. You both paused at the door before he leant down and kissed you gently, saying goodnight with a smile as you retreated into the room. 

- And so, the dead joined the living... in her small studio apartment. 

- Jack is sort of an indoor boyfriend so to speak. He’s a ghost; and a mangled one at that, so you can’t exactly be seen with him out in public. 

- He’s a bit clingy. He’s pretty much always alone when you’re not around so he hates when you have to leave him.

- I hope you don't mind gore because his isn’t going away anytime soon. 

- Please let him kiss you. Please. He is literally begging you to makeout with him.

“I know the face is a bit messy but my lips are still perfectly intact.”

- Humor is sort of a defense mechanism for him. Whenever he’s nervous or doesn’t know what to say; or how to say what he wants to say, he’ll just keep cracking jokes and trying to make you laugh in an effort to ease the tension.

- Getting surprise visits. He’ll most definitely scare you with the way he just pops up wherever you are, though its hard to stay mad at him when he says that he missed you. 

- Sudden butt pinches and grabs. He puts his hands behind his back whenever you turn to look at him, glancing away and whistling before looking at you with a little devilish smile. 

- Jaw kisses. He loves them and he loves giving them though he uses his for evil. 

- Cuddling? He loves it though it may be a bit difficult with his …injuries. You'll usually lay side by side and hold hands while you sleep or you’ll clutch his hand  to your chest and snuggle into that. 

- You can’t exactly go on dates so you’ll have to find things to do at home, unless you want to go somewhere very secluded. 

- Picnics in the woods. 

- Late night walks. You’re pretty much only able to go out with him when it’s dark, otherwise you’ll have to pretend he’s not there which certainly puts a damper on things. 

- Curling up on the couch together with some hot chocolate and a corny sitcom. 

- Giving him some goddamn toast. There's not much to eat in the spirit world and god does he miss your cooking. Would you mind making him something?

- Talking to a corpse is boring. To him, you’re a much better conversationalist, even if you think you're a bad one. 

- He has a bad habit of speaking when he shouldn't or saying the wrong thing. Nowadays, there’s not too many instances where that's a problem though it’s certainly earned him a few glares from you. 

- Lovingly calling him meatloaf and chopped liver. He …tolerates it; only because you look at him so sweetly when you do so. 

- Is he legally obligated to say your name; at least, twice during every conversation of yours? At this point, you’re honestly pretty sure he is. He doesn’t use nicknames though he doesn’t have anything against them, he just prefers saying your real name. 

- He has kind eyes, doesn’t he? It seems like whenever you turn to him, he’s always gazing down at you with this sincere look of absolute adoration. It makes your heart skip a beat every time. 

- Jack is a bit naive when it comes to girls or, rather, girls he’s in love with. He always believes what you say and falls for your devilish little tricks. 

- David definitely teased him relentlessly for his crush on you and was betting on the two of you getting together. The circumstances aren’t the best but at least it happened, right? 

- He’s a fan of old literature and makes references to it whenever he can. If he finds out you haven't read his favorite novel, he will literally sit you down and force you to.  

- Teasing compliments. They aren’t the most romantic but hey, they still make you smile. 

 “Baby there is nothing mediocre about your body.”

- He likes sitting in your bathroom while you take a shower so that the two of you can talk. He also likes doing it so he can watch you shower but you like to focus on his interest in what you have to say, it’s much sweeter. 

-  He’s a horny boy, even in death. Are ghost boners a thing? Well he’s certainly gonna find out. 

- Being welcomed home by a smooth jazz record and him patiently awaiting your arrival with a somewhat suggestive grin.

- Every time you say something all lovey dovey to him, he swears his heart nearly starts beating again. He never knows what to say back, he usually just turns red and laughs all shyly.  

- He makes a big deal out of your birthdays, he doesn’t let you just forget about them or treat them like any other day. You’re alive! You’re another whole year older! …Fuck! …You’re aging and you’re going to keep aging.... He’ll try not to think about that part. 

- Getting to hear little bits of gossip. No one can see him so he’s certainly witnessed some interesting things, interesting things he likes to tell you about. 

- Nosy ghosty. He snoops around your stuff constantly. He’s practically memorized your entire house down to a T. 

- Having to accept that there’s a lot of supernatural things in the world. Werewolves, ghosts, and who knows what else; they’re all real and your life has just been completely normal up until now. 

- Getting to have all of your questions about death answered though some of the more painful things, he’ll keep a secret just because he doesn’t want to make you upset. 

- I feel as though his looks can depend on his mood and also the type of spiritual day it is. You know how some days are considered more spiritual than others? Well on those days, he’s normal, looking very chipper and with a lot of energy. On bad days, he’s practically a skeleton with a few flaps of dried up skin. 

- He usually hides away during his bad days, not wanting you to see him like that and be scared away. You reassure him that you’ll love him no matter what but a part of you is sort of thankful. You don’t know if you want to see him all horribly decomposed. 

- He does get jealous. I mean, he’s a ghost, you're human. Plus, he was a loser in life, why wouldn’t you pick the attractive living guy whose hitting on you over him. 

- He uses humor to pretend like he isn't bothered by the guys actions but will call him an asshole or something otherwise insulting later when you're alone together. Like out of nowhere, he’ll make some offhanded comment about the guy and you’ll realize he’s still mad about it. You just agree with him and give him a kiss. 

- A part of him; a selfish, disgusting part of him wishes that you were dead. That something would happen to you, something quick and painless but something. On one hand, he wants you to live the life that he couldn't. But he also can’t help but want you with him, encased in eternity as beautiful as always and just how he remembers you. 

- He used to be more of a coward but now that he’s dead, he really has nothing to fear, does he? The only thing he’s worried about is your wellbeing. 

- You’re very good at changing his mind and convincing him to do things. He defends himself by saying its because he likes you so much and that you should consider yourself lucky that he does. 

- He’s not stupid, maybe a bit cowardly at times but not stupid, if something doesn't feel right he’s getting the hell out of there and making sure he takes you right along with him. As much as he’d love an equally undead girlfriend, he knows you aren’t ready to go and shouldn’t be going. 

- He’s quite protective of you. He hates even thinking about you being hurt in any way. He literally can’t even hear about it in hypothetical situations. 

- He cant stand seeing you cry. He never knows what to say or do. He always yearns to comfort you but god, how does he do that? He’ll usually just rub your back and let you cry into his shoulder, trying his best to crack some carefully selected jokes in an attempt to make you feel better. 

- He can be annoyingly persistent when he wants something. He wont let up so unless you’ve got real thick skin and the patience of a saint. You’ll wind up doing what he asks just to get him off your case. If you don’t do it for him, he’ll wind up doing it for himself anyways so don’t sweat it too much.

- There's constant short lived bickering between the two of you. It’s just how he is. He’s a smartass, especially when something bothering him and highly argumentative when something doesn’t sit right with him. You don’t have all that many real fights though. 

- He apologizes when he’s in the wrong or when he feels that he could have handled things better, shyly and jokingly pleading with you to not try and exorcise him while pressing little kisses across your face. 

- He doesn't say he loves you very often. He deems it a very serious thing to say and saying it makes him nervous so he keeps it reserved for special moments. 

- Well, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon so I hope you’re ready for a long relationship.