#midnight mass thank you for the inspiration

[bobbole]

This was inspired by the splendid fanart and equally splendid concept by @angelsonoah

After 10 months of getting kidnapped by the infamous cult leader; Roderick Burgess, Father Morpheus Endless returned back home looking way older than his actual age. He was 25 years old when he got taken.

He had to wait a whole week to see him. In vain he had begged, pleaded, threatened Lucienne: she wouldn't open the door even if Cori started kicking it

- It's too early, he hasn't recovered yet -

- He must rest, he's still too exhausted -

- Better take it easy, he can't see anyone -

"especially you" was venomously implied.

And every time, Cori hissed a curse between his teeth and went back to work, taking the long way round so as to better dissipate his anger.

Anger at that son-of-a-bitch Roderick Burgess and his cult of damned fanatics, who had dared to kidnap and keep Father Morpheus imprisoned for a good ten months!

Anger against the God in whom Father Morpheus believed, that old bastard who had allowed all this to happen!

Anger against himself, because he too, in the middle of the night, of those nights when the heat becomes unbearable and turns on senses and thoughts, he too had fantasized about kidnapping that English priest who looked like a raven, who had come to the deep south armed only with his faith and a red rosary. That handsome and mysterious preacher, with whom Cori had had endless discussions: every Sunday it had become a habit to attend Father Morpheus' mass, follow his sermons (always well attended, especially by the young ladies of good family from the nearby town) and then staying to talk to him to dismantle, piece by piece, his arguments.

- Yours is a perverse ideology - and Cori didn't know whether he meant Anarchy or the images that came to his mind every time he looked at Morpheus's face, painted in chiaroscuro by the setting sun.

He didn't give a damn about the body of Christ, but Morpheus' flesh, he would have gladly taken a bite out of that.

It was Burgess who had got in the way, him and his fucking cult: when he had heard the news of the kidnapping, Cori had joined the search like a madman. His party fellows had mocked him - what the fuck are you looking for that priest! one less asshole! - and to more than one Cori had had to smash his face in because no one should ever have touched Morpheus. Only he should have done it!

His insistence had finally paid off, because after endless days in the antechamber he was finally able to see him.

Morpheus was waiting for him in the church, standing, his back to the altar. - You will find him changed - Lucienne had told him, but Cori had no idea he was facing such a bewilderment. His beautiful black hair was streaked with white, long wrinkles furrowed his forehead and near his eyes. His hands, his long, delicate, artist's fingers, were gaunt and skinny, hid inside the sleeves of the tunic.

He was there to see a man, because for Cori no saints existed, but what he had in front of him was a figure similar to the portraits of the martyrs he had despised so many times.

Morpheus held out his hands and Cori took them between his own, saying nothing, almost ashamed that he was still dirty from his work clothes.

- You're the first person I've seen since Lucienne. The only one I really wanted to see - His voice sounded strange, almost unnatural, in the absolute silence of the empty church. Cori brought the priest hands to his lips and kissed them reverently, without taking his eyes off Morpheus, from the brazen image of his suffering.

He had never seen anything more beautiful than that wounded but unbowed creature, standing upright like an alabaster statue.

- I knew you were alive -

- And how could you? -

- Because it wasn't him…- but he didn't have the audacity to finish the sentence.

He was not the one who should have taken you away.

He felt Morpheus' hands clasp his own and was struck by their strength. Those were not the hands of a priest or an artist. Those hands knew how to hurt.

- Did you kill him? -

- I found freedom through a path I had sworn to myself I would never tread again -

The revelation should have surprised him, but Cori thought that perhaps in his heart he had known all along.

- Has anyone escaped? -

- Someone has. And now they hides in the night -

- These woods are like books for those born in them -

- It's a book I would like to read together -

Cori kissed those hands again. In the shape of the bones, in the bluish veins, he had found something to worship. They were not white, those holy hands, and perhaps never had been, but they seem to him more pure and immaculate than any water. Than any flower.

[freelancearsonist]

Won't You Suffer for the Angels to Fly?

➔ Joel Miller x fem!Reader - 2k

➔ Joel finds religion in the last place he expected to--a preacher's daughter.

➔ Rated MA for pure blasphemy. a lot of religious imagery and defiling of holy places--please read at your own risk. unprotected p in v sex, creampie, squirting, fingering (f receiving), corruption kink, HEFTY age gap (r is early 20s [unspecified], joel is 56), reader uses feminine pronouns and has female anatomy [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ this is for my mid to plus!sized readers :) you're beautiful and valid and i love you. this was written in basically one sitting after i binged mike flanagan's midnight mass in one night. thank you to my lovelies @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @shakespeareanwannabe for talking me through this <3 title is from "heaven only knows" by bob moses

The Bible teaches–at least according to what Joel was able to gleam from the Easter service–that everything happens for a reason. That every pelting raindrop in its descent from the sky, even before it lands heavy and dark in his hair or soaks the lush green landscape of Jackson, has a purpose.

He’s struggled a lot with purpose ever since hearing that existential crisis-inspiring sermon that Tommy had dragged him to. 

In the preacher’s defense, it went over well with everyone else. So many people are lost nowadays, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to have space for them. They need that hope, that reassurance that they’re here for a reason. That they’ve survived hell on earth not out of luck, but out of purpose. He pulled out the big gun that everyone needed to hear on one of the two days a year that everyone in Jackson has their ears open to him. It was tactful, and Joel has to acknowledge that. Your father is clever, if not cunning.

It’s a trait that you’ve learned directly from him, whether purposeful or not. But you sat right in the front row and nodded along to every word, accepting without thought or conflict that purpose is in every action, every reaction, every change of tide and every gust of wind.

And if everything has a purpose, your purpose must be to torture him.

You never have anything but a smile on your face for Joel. Joel, a man older than your own father, a man whose hands have broken every commandment that you hold so dear. A man that should know better than to let you get under his skin and infect his dreams.

He wonders what it would be like to hold someone so perfectly untainted in hands that have killed and destroyed and sinned. Hands that are strong, hands that are experienced, hands that are greedy. He’s certain he could teach you all about greed. He could make you beg, plead, sob for more and more and more until the only thought remaining in your pretty little head is how much you want to take from him. Until you become a glutton at the altar of his generosity.

And oh, how generous he could be once he had you begging. Minding your manners and asking nicely for what you need, of course, but he would never deny you anything you asked of him.

“Can I help you with that, Mr. Miller?” He hadn’t even noticed he was struggling–and he wouldn’t be, really, if he wasn’t so distracted. Putting new legs on a pew isn’t the issue after all; it’s the fact that you’re sitting there on the stairs that lead up to the altar and absentmindedly swinging your legs as if you’re taunting him. As if you understand that his resolve is slipping with every passing second he’s alone in this room with you. 

“Joel.”

“Hmm?” You shift your posture to lean closer, and that skirt that’s already way too short to be worn by the pastor’s daughter, in a house of God of all places, rides just a little further up your deliciously full thighs. 

How is he expected to work, to keep his mind on the job, when all he wants is to know what those thighs might feel like wrapped around his head?

He clears his throat and adjusts “You can call me Joel, sweetheart.”

He sees it, then. It’s so subtle, but it’s not imagined. You squirm at the pet name, at the raspy drawl of his voice, and it changes everything for him.

He sees in his mind the sweet girl, barely out of her teens, who sits in the front pew with a Bible in her lap. He sees the girl who sings so sweetly to the tune of every hymn. He sees the girl who’s so shy that she blushes every time she catches his gaze.

And then he sees everything underneath the act. He sees the girl who’s bold enough to wear a bright red dress to the Easter service. He sees the girl who makes eye contact with him across the dining hall every night to watch the way he reacts to her lips wrapped so tantalizingly smoothly around her spoon. He sees the girl who knew he would be alone in the chapel today–the girl who wore an easily accessible skirt just for the occasion.

You bookmark the page you’re on and set down the book you were reading, eyes fixated on him all the while. “Is there something I can help with, Joel?”

There certainly is, and it’s not the pew he’s supposed to be repairing.

He remembers, vaguely, hearing something about how God spares guilt from sinners when sin is necessary. It must be necessary to teach you a lesson, then–as you stride over and kneel beside him, your eyes heavy with anticipation and lashes fluttering, he doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“Hasn’t your daddy taught you not to dress like this?” He takes the hem of your skirt idly in his hand, rubs the silky fabric between his thumb and forefinger. He’s not touching you, not really, but his hand is so achingly close. An inch or two, and he’d feel your warmth–those plush thighs that God created to rule over Joel Miller’s mind, body, and soul; ‘til death does he finally know peace, amen.

You shake your head and even manage to seem smug as you say, “No. He just teaches everyone else to resist temptation.”

“I’ve never been much good at that,” he murmurs.

He thinks that you know that. He thinks that you’re his crucible, his most important moral trial–that maybe, if he can turn you away now, he’s a good man.

Joel Miller is not a good man. His kiss is crushing. It’s hellfire, it’s brimstone, it’s everything you’ve been taught to fear your entire life. You melt into it so prettily, accepting your damnation with parted lips and eager eyes. A wanton moan gets caught in your throat when his hand slips further up your skirt. 

No panties–in a place of worship, no less. He should bend you over his knee for this transgression, make sure you understand how filthy you are. But there’s hardly time for that now, not when he’s even more desperate than you are. And you are desperate–dripping down his fingers into the palm of his hand as your teeth leave perfect little indents in the plush skin of your bottom lip.

His free hand grips your chin firmly, guiding your eyes to his. He wants to see your depravity, the flickering embers of lust in your eyes as you come on his fingers and cry out for salvation from the all-consuming pleasure.

“Oh my God–”

His hand tightens around your jaw just the slightest bit in warning. “No, baby. You moan my name when I’m touchin’ you.”

And you do–thighs trembling, eyes watering, you cry out his name like a prayer as your cunt pulses and squeezes around his willing fingers.

There’s an unpracticed tremble to your hand as you reach to work open his belt, and it makes his cock throb under the confining material of his jeans.

You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours, so desperate for it that you’re nearly in tears when he pulls your fingers away from the buttons on his shirt. He’s not foolish–no one steps foot into this place during the week, but he knows better than to tempt God’s sense of humor. This has to be quick and contained, and you know it too; you picked your little skirt for exactly that reason.

He catches a glimpse of your glistening need as you settle over his thighs, and once again he battles to resist temptation. He whispers in your ear as you settle your chest against his and grind that fluttering, sensitive cunt along his length–promises himself more than you, really, that he’ll bury his face in your folds and drink from you next time. Next time–the promise makes you clench impossibly hard around nothing.

His eyes have never been quite as heavy as they are when you start to sink that dripping heat down his cock. Head tipped back, throat exposed, completely at your mercy. He has to force himself to look up at you–to worship the goddess enshrined on his altar, all his for the taking.

You bite into your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood as your hips settle against his, completely overwhelmed by the burning stretch of his size. He’s a challenge, certainly, but one that you are determined to overcome. 

“Easy, baby girl,” he grumbles as you start to rock against him before you’re truly accommodated. His hands rest heavy on your hips–not anchoring, but encouraging. As wrong–as depraved–as this may be, he wants you to enjoy it without pain. “That’s right, nice and slow.”

It doesn’t stay that way, though; the desperation mounts to a boiling point until you’re bouncing fervently in his lap. It’s delicious, the way the thick head of him drags against something deep and sensitive within you. He guides you when your thighs start to burn, grip tightening enough to leave forbidden bruises in the soft flesh of your hips. His mouth presses to yours, breathing the oxygen straight from your lungs as he presses his hips up. There’s nothing you can do but take it, pliant in his hold, head rolling back to accommodate the wet drag of his mouth and the tickling scratch of his beard against your throat.

He feels it before you do–a subtle flutter as your cunt tries sucking him in even deeper. And maybe, if he was a good man, he’d lean away from it and have mercy on you. But he’s not a good man–he’s a greedy, wanton, desperate man. He angles his hips and thrusts as hard as he can, shoving you into your release with force.

You overflow with it; gushing over him like a flood, staining his hastily pushed down jeans and the floorboards beneath.

He pushes you onto your back like you’re weightless, adrenaline coursing as he starts to slam into you. It’s not polite or sweet or loving–he fucks into you and empties himself like an animal. He growls deep in his throat as his cock pulses within you, instructing you to “take it, baby girl” as if you’d consider anything less. 

You don’t know where your release ends and his begins. All you know is his weight on top of you, his mouth on your jaw, the collective breathless pants that fill the room as you both come down together.

You’re not sure how long it is before he pulls out of your warmth with an actual whine, breath heavy against your neck where his face is so comfortably nestled.

And you start to laugh, because you wish you’d worn panties after all–you don’t know how you’re going to get home with the mess of cum that’s dripping down the curve of your ass.

He even chuckles with you, until he tears his eyes away from your blissed face and sees the cross hanging heavy on the far wall.

“Th-that…” he gulps. “That can’t happen again.”

“It can,” you assure him, and he supposes you’re right.

You keep your head down and your eyes to yourself on Sunday, even as you spot the barely-noticeable stain on the hardwood floor next to the newly-repaired pew on the right side of the aisle. It’s so faint that no one would notice it unless they were looking for it, but it’s glaringly obvious to you. You should be ashamed; you should be begging for forgiveness. But then you meet Joel’s watchful eyes, and the shame washes away. How can you feel guilty over an act of worship?

THE END

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[venus-haze]

Bad Ritual (Vincent Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: Some pageant queens sit on parade floats. Being crowned Miss Ambrose requires you to get your hands a little dirty.  [This is an AU]

Note: Woman reader, but no other descriptors are used. Heavily inspired by The Wicker Man and Midnight Mass, as well as my own spin on St. Ambrose, who, among other things, is the patron saint of wax melters. Since this is a cult AU, please check the warnings before reading. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Emotional and spiritual manipulation, morally gray reader, religious sex negativity/sex shaming, elements of Catholicism, human sacrifice. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The stage lights threatened to melt your carefully applied makeup off. You held a wide smile for so long your cheeks ached. Your eyes nervously flitted about the crowd of Ambrose’s residents, just barely able to fill three-quarters of the movie theater for the event. When your gaze fell on Vincent in the front row, he gave you a small nod of encouragement that manifested butterflies in your already twisted stomach. Could you help being hopelessly in love with your best friend?

“After much deliberation by myself and the other judges,” Trudy began in her soft drawl, harsh on the edges from her decades-long smoking habit, “we agree without a doubt, the winner of the third Miss Ambrose contest is—“

The microphone screeched when Trudy spoke your name, and the dam broke, bringing about uncontrollable tears of joy and relief. The sound of cheers and applause filled the theater, almost dictating the rhythm of your heartbeat. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done if you lost. In the weeks prior to the competition, you craved victory so badly that it filled the marrow of your bones.

With tears blurring your vision, you made your way over to Trudy. She smiled, placing the ornate wax tiara on your head and satin sash reading ‘Miss Ambrose’ in glittering crimson lettering over your shoulder. She wrapped her arms around you in an unexpected hug.

“Congratulations,” she whispered. “You deserve it.”

Hardly able to utter your thanks, you attempted to compose yourself while she addressed the crowd again.

“I believe we can all agree that this young woman here exemplifies the qualities this community holds dear,” she said, her gaze shifting to you with pride evident in her features, leaving you overwhelmed at the praise of your community’s leader. “If you’d like to share a few words, honey, now’s your chance.”

You nodded, trembling as you stood in front of the microphone. “First, I wanna thank the judges, Ms. Trudy, Father Julian, and Ms. Louann for giving me such a great honor. I also wanna thank my parents for believing in me as much as they believe in this town. Most of all, I wanna say that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than Ambrose, and I just—“ the tears began to flow again, and you managed to get a hold of yourself long enough to add, “I’m so grateful to St. Ambrose for everything he’s done for us. I don’t feel worthy to represent him on his feast day, but I’ll do my best. Thank you.”

Taking a step back from the microphone, you smiled as Louann handed you a bouquet of flowers. Louann was the previous Miss Ambrose and as such had the privilege of serving on the judge’s panel to decide who her successor would be. You were sure she would’ve preferred her own daughter, but she wasn’t interested in competing, an oddly reclusive girl around your age you’d long since given up befriending. Since there were so few people in Ambrose, the pool of young women eligible for the coveted crown was small, and therefore the competition could only be held once every seven or so years. Besides the feast day of your town’s namesake patron saint, the Miss Ambrose competition was one of the most highly anticipated events around.

Being Miss Ambrose was a commitment, but one you’d taken on with pride. Besides helping lead the usual procession through town, you’d serve as an ambassador to the hundreds of tourists who flooded your small town to view the spectacle. Most importantly, you’d finally be allowed to attend the celebratory mass held the night of the Feast of St. Ambrose. You weren’t sure what exactly the criteria for attendance was, but being Miss Ambrose surely meant you were worthy enough to finally go.

You were too young to remember Ambrose being on the verge of ruin when the sugar mill shut down, but your parents never failed to remind you how Trudy convinced them and the other families that comprised your close-knit community to stay. Her unorthodox ideas of shifting the town’s economy to reflect that of its patron saint was risky, but it worked, and Ambrose had carved out a niche for itself in beekeeping, wax-melting, and the artistry associated with it. As such, she was the person everyone deferred to for just about everything. Her word uncontested law. And why not? You all had it pretty good in Ambrose compared to the horrors you’d heard of going on outside the town’s limits.

The festival’s celebrations brought in abundant tourists who would patronize your small town’s shops and businesses en masse. While you understood the importance of the tourism during the festival, you found the raucous way they acted almost disrespectful to St. Ambrose and the reverence he deserved for providing so much for you.

At the very least, photography wasn’t allowed in the church. It was there that the town’s offering to St. Ambrose was displayed, a wax figure, always carefully detailed to look almost indistinguishable from a real person. Tourists could marvel at the statue, but not document it. You didn’t care for them and how they seemed to regard you all as sideshow freaks for being so insular. It especially bothered you that Vincent had to wear his mask whenever they were around. You’d hear them whisper about it, speculating why he wore it. They had no idea it was because of them.

Otherwise, he presented his bare face to your community who regarded it with normalcy. When your family would join the Sinclairs in the pew at mass, you’d occasionally end up sitting next to Vincent. You’d feel his hands, strong and soft from his work, holding the one next to you a little tighter than you normally would during the Our Father. For the sign of peace, in which you’d exchange blessings between clasped hands and chaste kisses on the cheek, he presented the unscarred half of his face to you. Still, you silently wondered what the other half would feel like against your lips.

It felt like you blinked, and you were surrounded by the people you’d grown up with, all looking at you with an unfamiliar yet welcome respect. You basked in the attention like a sunbathing snake, each compliment and affirmation filling your chest with a warm pride.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” your mother said, giving you a hug with tears in her eyes.

Your father agreed, giving you a pat on the back. “You earned it! We’re so proud of you.”

“Y’all did a great job with this one,” Trudy said.

Your family was one of the dozen or so original families that stayed in Ambrose at Trudy’s urging. She never forgot your family’s loyalty and trust in her, and it wasn’t uncommon for you to sit with them at mass or be invited to their house for a meal or a holiday. You reveled in any extra time you got to spend with Vincent, although being in the presence of your town’s savior always left you in awe.

“C’mon, a lot of that’s thanks to you, Trudy, mentoring the kids and teaching catechism on top of everything else you do,” your mother said.

While Father Julian was the parish’s pastor, most spiritual matters went to Trudy, and her decision was final. She taught catechism and set the standards for receiving sacraments. It caused friction with the larger diocese, and not long after you made your first communion, St. Ambrose’s parish split from the Vatican. Trudy had explained they lost their way, and that Ambrose was the only place practicing real Catholicism. That was why new families moved in, looking for the truth. You felt lucky to live in such a place.

“I’ve got big plans for you, girl,” Trudy said. “‘Specially with the festival coming up.”

You nodded. “Of course, Ms. Trudy. Whatever you need.”

She walked away, and you noticed Vincent subtly motioning toward the service exit behind the stage. 

“Ready to head home?” your mother asked.

“I’ll catch up. There are a few people I want to talk to first,” you said.

Your father nodded. “Alright, well, don’t stay out too late.”

Once they had left, you didn’t see Vincent in the theater anymore, and managed to slip outside undetected a few minutes later, fending off your horde of admirers. There was only one person whose attention you really wanted, anyway.

He stood outside, waiting for you in the shadows of the building. Your heels clicked against the asphalt as you walked over to him.

“Congrats, Miss Ambrose,” Vincent signed. He smiled, reaching up to adjust the tiara atop your head.

“I don’t look ridiculous, do I?”

He shook his head. Your face heated up when his hands made gentle contact with your skin. He traced your gestures with the pads of his thumbs, brushing your forehead, down to your cheeks, and finally to your lips. Vincent cradled your face in his hands for a moment longer before kissing you.

Without hesitation, you kissed him back, taking in the texture of his lips, the warmth of his body. His hands fell to your hips, pulling you closer. Steadying yourself on his bicep, you silently marveled at his strength, gasping into the kiss and allowing his tongue access to your mouth. 

Despite having heard homilies at mass and ramblings from Trudy about the sin of fornication outside of marriage, you didn’t know what exactly they were talking about until the summer after you started high school. Bo had taken pleasure in explaining the dirty details, offering to give you a demonstration. You rejected him in disgust at how lewd he made the act sound, and until then, in Vincent’s arms, you didn’t understand how anyone could fall into that trap. 

You whined softly when he pulled away from the kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he signed.

“Why did you wait?”

He nodded toward the door. His mother. For how similar he and Trudy were, they always seemed to butt heads. Still, he was the son she spoke most highly of. Vincent, the focused, dutiful son who’d inherited his mother’s artistic ability and connection to the spiritual core of the town. Her feelings on Bo changed with the weather, though it seemed he was poised to become the public face of Ambrose. A good fit, he could talk his way in or out of almost anything. Lester kept a lower profile, but he was always around to help whenever someone needed a hand. If you were being honest with yourself, you thought he was the best fit to take over Trudy’s leadership duties in Ambrose, but she always had a clear preference for the twins. 

With Vincent being Trudy’s favorite, she’d be incredibly selective about who his potential partner would be. All relationships in town had to be cleared by her. She’d shut people’s requests down for petty reasons. Now that you were Miss Ambrose, there was no reasonable way she could object to you being with Vincent.

“Maybe after the festival, we can ask her,” you whispered hopefully.

He nodded, though he practically jumped away from you when the door outside swung open, clanging against the brick wall behind it. 

Bo stood in the doorway, a knowing grin on his face, partially obscured by the shadows. “Lookit you. Bagged Miss Ambrose herself. Never thought you had it in ya, Vinny.”

“What?” Vincent signed.

“Mama’s lookin’ for y’all. I can tell her you’re busy.”

Vincent rolled his eye at Bo, “We’ll be right there.”

When the door slammed shut, Vincent kissed you again, more quickly this time, and the two of you set off to find Trudy. 

Still backstage, socializing of course, her time was a precious resource nearly everyone in town was vying for. The Miss Ambrose contest was as good of a time as any for people to catch a few minutes with her, bring up concerns or ask for advice while she was available. Her eyes lit up when she saw you and Vincent together. 

“Just the people I wanted to see,” she said, as if she hadn’t sent Bo searching for you. “Vincent’s gonna be making the offering for the festival this year, some other things too to help his old mama out. Can’t do as much as I used to. You’ll help around too, won’t you?”

“I’d love to. Anything you need, just tell me.” 

“You got a good head on your shoulders. Wouldn’t’ve dreamed of crownin’ those other two. Daphne had some nerve even competing after that stupid stunt she pulled last year,” Trudy spat.

The previous year, Daphne had publicly challenged Trudy on a new directive regarding new families that moved into town and their church attendance. It was an innocent enough remark, but the principle of the thing got to Trudy. She was spiteful and vindictive, one to hold a mean grudge, but you supposed those traits were necessary to be a leader like she was. 

“Then that Christine’s a hussy. Tried to make my Bo stumble.”

You had a sinking feeling it was the other way around, and Bo had sold his mama some backwards story after his advances were spurned. You once heard someone say he could flirt the panties off of a nun. Not entirely untrue, but he was too impatient and entitled to accept anything other than complete compliance with his sexual desires. 

“I’m sure you’re not surprised Louann’s daughter didn’t bother. Might’ve given you a run for your money,” she said, looking almost unimpressed by you for a split second.

“Well, I guess we’ll never know,” you said. “I can’t tell you enough how much this means to me.”

“You deserved it, honey. Gonna be a lot of work for you the next few weeks, but I think you can handle it.”

She shooed you away, telling you to go home before it got too dark. You almost laughed. In your small community, everyone knew each other. You were just as safe walking around at 2pm as 2am. Nothing bad ever happened in Ambrose. At least, not like the horrors of the outside world you’d gleaned from the few times you bothered to watch the nightly news. All it did was confirm how lucky you were to live in a place like Ambrose, where you wanted for nothing and had few worries, didn’t have to fear what could be lurking in the dark.

“I’ll walk her home,” Vincent volunteered.

Trudy nodded. “Good. You give my parents my best, now.”

“Of course, have a good night,” you said.

When you were a safe distance from the movie theater, far from wandering eyes, Vincent took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the top of it. The walk to your house would be short, but you wished for miles more to spend walking alongside him. Alone. He stole half a dozen more kisses from you while the two of you dragged out the walk to your front porch. If not a kiss, then his hands would be on you–the small of your back to guide you along or intertwined with yours as his thumb brushed soft circles on the top of your hand.

“I’m not going to see much of you for a while, am I?” you asked softly as your house finally came into view.

He shook his head. From what you understood, the offering was the most important part of the Feast of St. Ambrose. He’d already gotten lost in his work, whether additions to the wax museum or personal projects, but something so crucial would be sure to consume him until the day arrived.

A sad smile spread across your lips, though you understood. 

The next few days, you didn’t see much of Trudy or Vincent, instead helping around town with the various preparations for the Feast of St. Ambrose. You decorated the statue in the middle of town, an elaborate wax effigy of the patron saint, created by Trudy herself. As you covered it with carefully crafted floral wreaths and vines, people already began leaving small offerings at the base of the statue.

Just before the festival, you found time to visit Vincent, basking in the warmth of his studio, practically a furnace. Opera music grew louder as you approached. You’d spent time with him down there before, able to find your way from any of the subterranean entrances throughout town. 

Either the music was too loud, or he was too entranced in his work to notice you enter. His broad back was turned to you as he leaned over a work table in deep focus. A woman. Nude, bound to the table yet seemingly unable to move otherwise. Still you heard them through her gag. Her moans. Vincent’s hands were all over her body, caressing her curves with care, fingers tracing her features. A blinding envy flashed through you. 

“Vincent,” you snapped.

He turned around, shock that quickly twisted to rage. “What are you doing here?” he signed. “Get out!”

“No! Who is she?”

“It’s not what you think—“

“I’m Miss Ambrose!” you shouted. “Me! What does she have that I—“

“She’s the offering,” he signed.

You froze, your gaze shifting to the bound woman once more. “That’s not–you’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?”

“You’re going to kill her?”

He nodded. Her muffled screams grew louder. “The offering is killed and then encased in wax for St. Ambrose.”

No wonder photos weren’t allowed in the church during the festival. He eyed you cautiously, expecting you to run away screaming.

“Can I watch you do it?”

He hesitated. 

“Please, Vincent?” you asked softly. 

“I just don’t want you to think of me any differently.”

“For doing what’s right? For making sure we’re provided for? We’re not messed up. The rest of the world is.”

With a newfound confidence, he grabbed the knife on the tray next to the bound woman, and you watched in awe as he lifted his arm above her chest and swiftly plunged it perfectly through her heart. Before he could pull the knife from her still warm flesh, you placed your hand over his and dug the blade in a little deeper. 

[flanaganfilm]

Hey Mike, can you talk about your work on Revival? What was it like reading the book, writing the script, making it all work? I know people thought it was going to be like Midnight Mass, but King is tackling religion far differently & I would have loved to see your adaptation of that. Furthermore, why did you decide to leave the project? I read somewhere it had to do with the film rights, but I’m sure there’s more to that story & id love to hear your side of it.

Also, Life of Chuck…. 1.85:1 or Scope? C’mon, Mike! Spill the beans!

Thanks!

I was very excited about Revival. King had given me the rights after I finished the script for Doctor Sleep, and we took it around town as a pitch. Warner Bros. picked up the project and commissioned the script.

I wrote a script I love, and turned it in to Warner Bros. It couldn't be more different than Midnight Mass; that was always a very weird and unfair comparison. The only thing they have in common is that each story features a priest; any comparisons wouldn't have survived opening weekend, that was never really a thing.

Revival is one of King's scariest and most effective books, and I was madly in love with the movie. I stayed very true to the book, and the story spanned over decades. It was a character-forward epic about mortality, and the futility of hope, dealing with themes of lost love, addiction, and hubris. In fact, it has way more in common with Frankenstein than Midnight Mass, and I was stoked to make it. It wasn't cheap, though - the set pieces were big, the VFX budget was intimidating, and it fit into a type of budget that isn't typically made these days.

For those reasons, ultimately, after Doctor Sleep's disappointing performance at the box office, Warner Bros. didn't want to pursue the movie. They had really liked the Frankenstein comparisons, but that only comes into play at the very end of the story. Their pitch was to start the story there, and jettison most of the actual novel in favor of a new, heavily Frankenstein inspired narrative. It was a bridge too far, and changed the source material too radically.

Warner Bros. faith in the project had been seriously damaged by the box office performance of Doctor Sleep, and the character-forward epic I was pitching was just too risky given the hefty price tag. Ultimately, I wasn't willing to change the story as drastically as they wanted to, and it just didn't make sense to make it for that budget - so they opted not to make the film, and that was that. I didn't leave the project at all - the studio just didn't want to move forward with it. Revival is not the most obvious project. It is more expensive than a lot of comparable horror titles, and we didn't want to do it as a streaming movie - we bet the farm on a theatrical feature, and the cards didn't fall in our favor this time. My window of availability as a director rapidly closed. I was heading fast into Midnight Club and Fall of the House of Usher for Netflix, so without a viable attachment from me for at least a few years, the project couldn't move forward at all, and the rights reverted back to Stephen King. We discussed whether we wanted to try to keep it alive, but we were already deep into talks about The Dark Tower, whose rights were about to become available after years of being tied up. Steve doesn't like to give the same person multiple rights as a general rule, because he doesn't want his projects to stall out in development, which makes good sense. Given the choice, we absolutely wanted to focus on The Dark Tower. We let Revival go, and last I heard, some other people were developing it as a TV project. I absolutely love the script I wrote, and I'm disappointed that Warner Bros. didn't want to make it, but it's their studio and their prerogative. I can't say I blame their reasoning. In fact, I completely see their point. I could have dug in and fought harder to keep it, but that might mean I wouldn't have gotten the rights to The Dark Tower.

And I hate to say it, but Revival would have taken a similar narrative approach to Doctor Sleep, and - well - audiences just didn't show up for that movie. It's entirely likely that the same would have happened here - this was another long, character-centric story that wasn't entirely a mainstream horror tale, and it was expensive. And this didn't have The Shining connection to lean on. I am so sorry to say this, but I don't have a lot of faith that audiences would have supported us if we'd bet the farm on a theatrical release of Revival as I wanted to make it. So honestly, I think it all worked out for the best. You win some and you lose some in this business. Who knows, maybe it'll come back some day - I also lost the rights to Gerald's Game back in 2014 when we couldn't find a partner who wanted to make the movie. They eventually came around again, and the timing worked out. The same could happen here - maybe we get another chance, or may we revisit it down the line as a limited series. Stranger things have happened. Ka is a wheel. Or, maybe this new television production of Revival will get off the ground, and if it does I wish them nothing but the best with it. It's a phenomenal story, and I'll be first in line to see it.

[kalorphic]

So, Novaturient is based on Spy…do you know any other IFs that are based on existing shows/movies/books etc? I’m quite new to IFs so any recs would be a great help! Thank you!

IFS INSPIRED BY/BASED ON EXISTING MEDIA:

There’s probably loads that I’m missing lol, but here are the ones that I know of. Unfortunately, a lot of them don’t have demos and/or haven’t updated in a long time (some a really long time), but I put them all in just in case you want to follow and hope for a miraculous reappearance lol.

Once & Future by @kaiwrites-if

Merlin | No Demo

Midnight Delights by @midnightdelights-if

The Morganville Vampires | No Demo

The Kiss of Midnight by @if-kissofmidnight

Predator Franchise | No Demo

Scandal by @nightingale-interactive

Scandal | Demo | MC genderlocked to Female

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: An Affair of the Heart by @doriana-gray-games

Sherlock Holmes | Demo

Valhalla by @palette-jack

Farscape | Demo

Supernova: Renegade by @jupitergames-if

Mass Effect/Star Trek | Demo

Unmourned by @unmourned

Frankenstein | No Demo

Façade by @altair-interactive-fiction

Jekyll and Hyde | No Demo

Swan Song by @swansong-if

Swan Lake | Demo

Return to Never, Never Land by @never-never-land

Peter Pan | Demo

Hidden World by @hidden-world-if

How To Train Your Dragon | No Demo

A Life Supreme by @lifesupreme-if

Cyberpunk 2077 | Demo

Beyond the Waves by @allthatwrites

Little Mermaid | No Demo

Orenda by @orenda-if

Howl’s Moving Castle | No Demo

Rabbit Hole by @if-rabbithole

Alice in Wonderland | No Demo

Knights of the Eternal by @if-eternalknights

Transformers | No Demo

Sempre by @sempre-if

Castle | No Demo

Elsinore: After Hamlet by @lapinlunaire-games

Hamlet | Completed [Itch.io]

Calamity Control by @calamitycontrol-if

Mass Effect meets The Dragon Prince | Demo

The Spark of Hope by @thesparkofhope

Star Wars | No Demo

The Hymn of Winter by @thehymnofwinter

Game of Thrones | No Demo

Dusk Till Dawn by @dusktilldawn-if

Dracula | No Demo

A Court of Serpents by @acourtofserpents

Folk of the Air Series | Demo

A Dangerous Game by @adangerousgame-if

Killing Eve | No Demo

The One Who Cried Wolf by @bluewritesif

Teen Wolf/Chilling Adventures of Sabrina/Vampire Diaries/Twilight | No Demo

Blood of a Saint by @bloodofasaint-if

Grishaverse | No Demo

Song of Valhalla: Spear of Heaven by @songofvalhalla-if

Percy Jackson & The Olympians | No Demo

Welcome to the Family by @wttf-if

The Addams Family/Kuroshitsuji | No Demo

Mata Aetara IF by @mata-aetara-if

Naruto | No Demo

Maboroshi by @maboroshi-if

Naruto | No Demo

Tales From Roseborough by @roseborough-if

Stardew Valley/Harvest Moon | No Demo

Emberwood by @emberwood-if

X-Men meets Ms. Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children | Demo

Decaying Picture by @decayingpicture

Dorian Gray | No Demo

Slayer by @slayer-if

Buffy the Vampire Slayer | No Demo | MC genderlocked to Female

The Sixth Guardian by @the-sixth-guardian

Rise of the Guardians | No Demo

My Fair Maiden by @my-fair-maiden

Resident Evil: Village | No Demo | MC genderlocked to Female

Prodigal by @prodigal-if

Prodigal Son | No Demo

Hollowmoon Valley by @hollowmoonvalley

Stardew Valley | Demo (being rewritten)

Her Crimson Clutches by @thathexwolf

Vampire: The Masquerade | No Demo

The Unquiet Grave by @ombresart

Wuthering Heights | Demo

The Inseparables by @theinseparables-if

The Three Musketeers | No Demo

Hana no Uta by @hana-no-uta-if

Gintama | No Demo

Dahlia Hills by @dahliahills-if

Gossip Girl/One Tree Hill | No Demo

Apartment 502 by @apt502-if

New Girl/FRIENDS | No Demo

Embers of Hope by @embersofhope-if

Hunger Games | No Demo

The Whisper in the Mist by ME (@ellawrites-if)

Pacific Rim | No Demo

[thelonelyshore-if]

Do you have recs for similar horror/spooky vibes as your IF? I just played Scarlett Hollow after reading of one of your posts, and obviously your IF is incredible, so I'm hungry for anything else you'd recommend. Books, movies, short stories, anything.

Ooooh I'm very excited and intimidated by this ask haha. Every time I'm asked for things I like I forget every piece of media I've ever consumed.

First off, thank you for the compliment; you're super sweet. And I hope you enjoyed Scarlet Hollow! It's one of my favorite games of all time <3

I'm gonna throw my recs under a cut because. Well. It Got Long.

For these recommendations, I'm going with a mix of similar vibes (small town/atmospheric/mystery) and also just stories that are really influential to me!!

Video Games: Oxenfree (amazing atmosphere, really fun mystery, strong character relationships), Control (stunning visuals, really cool creatures/lore, the way it plays with reality is just......), Slay the Princess (very much so a different type of horror, but by the same studio that made Scarlet Hollow and has incredible vibes). Honorable mentions to Silent Hill & Alan Wake; both are series I haven't personally played that I know have very similar vibes to my game!!

Other IFs: The Fog Knows Your Name (can't recommend this one enough, amazing vibes and a great mystery, genuinely one of my favorite IFs), The Passenger (eldritch horror, fun to play someone that isn't entirely human), and as for WIPs, Such Happy Campers (I'm so hooked on the mystery and the characters, plus great atmosphere).

TV Shows: Midnight Mass (small town horror, incredible plot and visuals, a HUGE inspiration for TLS) and also Haunting of Hill House (genuinely breathtaking, an amazing cast, a great mystery & sense of creeping dread), Over the Garden Wall (the atmosphere and emotional core of the story are incredible), The Twilight Zone (instrumental for my development as a horror fan, especially surrealist horror), Gravity Falls (more light-hearted than everything else, but still small town horror). Honorable mention for Twin Peaks, which I haven't seen (yet) but also to my knowledge has very similar vibes!

Movies: The Thing (isolated horror, incredible atmosphere, fantastic body horror), Coraline (unreality, things being not quite right), and It Follows (not actually my favorite movie lol, but I love the sense of being out of time it conjures). Most of my favorite horror movies aren't actually all that similar to my own project, but the first two Scream movies, Alien, and Nope are some of my favorites <3

Books: I've forgotten every single book I've ever read, but I'm a life-long Stephen King fan. The Mist, Under the Dome, and Salem's Lot all inspired Lonely Shore one way or another. Also a big fan of Misery, Needful Things, 11/22/63, and The Stand. My all-time favorite short story is The Lottery by Shirley Jackson, which also includes a town where something is very wrong.

Other: Originally TLS was a Monster of the Week campaign I ran; which is one of my favorite ttrpgs. So if you're into tabletop and/or horror, I highly recommend checking it out!!

[freakystrashdump]

I saw this by @wackulart and it has refused to leave my mind and give me peace ever since.

99% done on the new tablet, just some finishing touches and color added on with my old one. And once again, big thank you to Monsignor Pruitt from Midnight Mass for being a great source of reference and inspiration for this <3

And a bonus:

big tiddy goth gf will be the death of him

[connorsnothereeither]

oh those fic asks look so fun!

Brink 7, 14, 16, 24?

(I like hearing people talk about the things they make :D)

Ooooooh these are very fun questions thank you Arlo <3

7. Casting ideas are tricky and I can’t go through a ton cause Brink has so many characters, but I will say I think it’s funny to imagine Michael Sheen and David Tennant as Brink!Mopper lmao-

Outside of casting I think a miniseries probably suits Brink better given the various sub plots. My brain stylistically jumps to Mike Flannigan’s work. Haunting of Hill House and Midnight Mass specifically are big inspirations for Brink and Blood so I think that sort of style would be really fun.

14. There’s a couple images that are really vivid in my mind tbh. THE image I think is probably the visual of the corruption mould, rotting people away from the inside almost, but that’s probably followed by the image of Brink!Jamie clawing at the door of the basement, since that’s just one that’s really ingrained in my brain.

16. For some reason I tend to have difficulty writing Brink!Sherbert scenes? I’m not sure why, they just never quite capture the vibe I envision/I never know what to write for them. DREADING however, there is a very intense scene in the next two upcoming Brink chapters that I both dread writing (because of how much it hurts me) and dread posting (because of how I think people will react) 🧍

24. Hmmmmmm okay a random fact is that the cryptid “The Beast of Gévaudan” is not only canon to the universe of Brink, but it will become important in one of the ongoing plot lines later in the series lol. It’s not important that people know about that cryptid, but plot wise that cryptid will become semi-important ajfsjsgsksg

[serpentarius]

Omg your Armand/Daniel fic is so incredible!! Love it! I loved Armand especially in this piece, but D as well too <3 I really liked how the home is 'half-complete', that was one of my favorite parts. And the ending too was so great!!

Only realizing now that I forgot to answer this - thank you so much, Anon!! I'm so glad you liked it. 💗

I love that you picked up on the home being half-complete. Now that Armand is there to stay, it's on its way to becoming complete; both literally and figuratively!

(For anyone curious which fic this is, it's he makes the sun rise on the evil and the good, a fic where Armand and Daniel watch Midnight Mass—inspired by @lukelemon-art's amazing Armandaniel art 😍)

[copiarion]

Love your blog!! Is the midnight mass fandom still alive? I really wanna write a fic but I feel so late to the party. Love your writing too by the way. It has inspired me 💚

Aww thank you so much!

The fandom is small but we are always ready to talk and read about Father Paul so you really should write something! 💜

[dilfdyke]

Do you have any Daniel/Armand fic recs? I love the way you talk about them

LMAO thank you! tbh i dont read too much fic other than what my mutuals put on my dash but my favorites from those:

the spiral is unspooling: giant multichap fic that just finished yesterday and i cant recommend enough. flashes back and forth between devils minion in dubai and during the 70s, also my fav fic as far as alice and daniels daughters go

he makes the sun rise on the evil and the good: shorter fic about armand and daniel watching midnight mass post daniels turning, inspired by this fanart

no choir: this ones another fluff one of them watching tv (dead alive this time) but its one of my favorites and makes me smile so much. also theres a lot of good armand fics by the same author if you're also after that

care and keeping: given that the most recent thing i posted about daniel/armand was the sex calendar thing this is probably the most fitting lol. daniel goes to louis for sex advice vis a vis armand and All That and they fuck about it

[empressofthesunwriter]

One Punch Girl! 03

Inspired by One Punch Man!

In a world full of Quirks, you were born quirkless.

However, this doesn’t stop you from defeating villains left and right with just One Punch, all while you just want to eat junk food and watch anime.

What a drag.

Chapter 3: Let’s get sporty, what a drag!

You sat relaxing at a table, chewing your favourite gum, while your classmates prepared for the Sports Festival.

Yes, the day was finally here.

What a drag!

You didn't want to participate at all.

Too much trouble.

Yes, you know, thanks you asked the girls in your class, how the Sports Festival was important for the future, but it's not like you wanted to be a Pro.

You were only in the U.A. as Principal Nezu's guard dog, why should you give you all to win?

All of your classmates wanted to be Pro-Heroes one day, any one of them deserved the first place.

Well, besides Mineta.

The little perv could fall over dead for all you cared.

You made a bubble and let it pop.

Sadly Principal Nezu order you to give your best at the Sports Festival.

He wanted to show your power to scare the villains like this.

So you had to win.

Troublesome!

For a short moment, it got interesting as sexy Shoto declared war on cute Izuku, but then Tenya came in and told you it was time to enter the arena.

Bored out of your mind you followed your classmates.

After you were joined by the other classes, the referee of the Sports Festival was revealed.

It was Midnight.

At least a sexy woman to look at!

All talked about what she was wearing if she was R-rated, and if it was okay to be a teacher.

"Quiet, everyone!", shouted Midnight, whipping her whip. "Representing the students is Bakugo Katsuki."

Okay, this would be surely interesting.

Calm Katsuki walked up the stage and declared how he would take first place.

The other classes called for his head, while your class screamed at him for dragging them with him in this hate.

You just quietly snorted.

Katsuki was fun.

You couldn't wait to see the look on his face when you won.

Of course, you would win this whole thing.

It wasn't even a question and you didn't think this because you were arrogant.

You were just on a whole other level than your classmates.

"Now, let's get started right away.", took Midnight, the microphone. "The first game is what you'd call a qualifier! Every year, many drink their tears here! Now, here is the fateful first game! This year, it's this! An obstacle course race. All 11 classes will participate in this race. The course will be the outer circumference of this stadium--about four kilometres! Our school's selling point is freedom! As long as you stay on the course, it doesn't matter what you do! Now, take your place, everyone!"

So you all walked up to the big red arena door with the three green lights.

Slowly one light after the other got out.

Till the last one and Midnight screamed start.

All ran into the tight tunnel, which caused a mass blockade.

For you, it was not a problem you just jumped over all, which earned you shocked gasps and landed safely outside.

Then you started to race, only a cloud people could see.

Fast you reached a group of big-ass robots and just punched one.

It was destroyed in a glorious rain of metal parts and you ran along.

Wow, still no one behind you.

All were so lame.

Or better you were so fast.

Soon you reached an area with holes, platforms and robes that connected them.

An elegant high jump and you were at the other side.

Still, no one of your classmates or schoolmates was in sight.

It was like you were taking a (dangerous) stroll alone.

Whatever.

Finally, you reached the final obstacle.

A minefield.

For you it was nothing.

You just run over it, even if mines explode under you, but you didn't lose your balance.

Finally, you enter the stadium under the loud cheers of the people.

"I-Incredibal! [First Name] [Last Name] from class 1A finished the obstacle course in two minutes! This has to be a new record!", shouted Present Mic in disbelief.

You just took a tissue out, blew your nose and sat down on the grass.

It would take a while till the others arrived.

So you made yourself comfy and fell asleep.

"Aizawa...are all your students that weird or did they take this up from you?!"

/*/

After what seemed like hours the other winners arrived.

You felt bad when you saw cute Izuku, who made second, looking so devasted.

He had wanted to win.

Maybe you should console him later, somehow.

"The first game of the first-year stage is finally over.", declared Midnight on her stage. "Now, take a look at the results!"

The top four were You, Izuku, Shoto and Katsuki, in this lineup.

The first 42 people who enter the stadium would now participate in the second round.

"The real competition begins next! The press cavalry be all over it! Give it your all! Now then, here is the second game.", said Midnight, while the monitor behind her did his thing. "I already know what it is, but what could it be? What could it be? Cavalry battle! Let me explain. The participants can form teams of two to four people as they wish. It's basically the same as a regular cavalry battle, but the one thing that's different is based on the results of the last game, each person has been assigned a point value."

The point system was simply from the last place 5 till to the first which was Ten million!

All eyes zeroed in on you because if you managed to get your points it didn't matter if you were in last place in the first game, you could win!

A normal person would freak out seeing all these demonic looks their way.

However, you were not normal.

You just stared back with unsettling blank eyes.

You swore some pissed their pants, while others took a step back from you.

Yeah, that's what you thought.

Meanwhile, Midnight explained the rules for this part of the Sports Festival.

In the cavalry battle, each team wears headbands with the total points of its members.

The goal is to grab other teams' headbands within fifteen minutes.

Stolen headbands must be worn from the neck up.

Even if a headband is stolen or a team falls, they are not out.

During the game, using Quirks is allowed, but intentionally trying to make others fall is not allowed and will result in immediate removal with a red card.

Midnight ended her explanation with: "Now, you have fifteen minutes to build your teams. Start!"

And so they did.

You suddenly found yourself all alone.

Yeah, of course, no one wanted to be in the team with the target, your headband, and with the scary girl.

You huffed and looked around.

Oh, what do your eyes see?

If this is not the Indigo-haired boy with the nice ass!

From what you could see, he talked to random people and suddenly they were on his peck and call.

Oh...was this his Quirk?!

A plan formed in your mind and you walked grinning up to him.

"Hello, darling, what a nice Quirk do you have."

You swore he jumped 10 meters into the air before he pointed an angry finger at you.

"You!"

"Me!"

"You are the weird girl from the cafeteria!"

"And you are the weird guy who tried to brainwash me in the cafeteria, right?"

A let out an inelegant curse word.

Tzz, tzz.

"Listen...what's your name anyway?"

"Hitoshi Shinso."

You gave him your name and continued.

"You surely don't want people already know about your powerful Quirk, so I will say nothing if you let me in your team."

"Do I even have a choice?"

"Not really."

So you found yourself as one of the horses, while Shinso was the rider.

Of course, after the cavalry battle started, a lot of teams raced up to you.

You just punched the air and all were dragged back to the other side of the arena.

It goes like this for a little while, till the cavalry battle is over.

To no one's surprise, your team made first place, followed by Shoto, Katsuki and Izuku.

Finally came what you had logged in for.

Lunch-Break!

You eat to your heart's content, filling your bellies with tasty food.

The first half of the Sports Festival was done and you won first place in both games.

If Principal Nezu was not happy, he could kiss your ass.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

I Just Want To Say...

THANK YOU to the fellow writers, creators, authors, and artists that are listed below! You guys have inspired me on so many levels! Your work, art, and fanfics always bring a smile to my face, I love reading them so much. I hope you guys keep creating more amazing works and continue to inspire and make others smile too! I'm rooting for all! And I can't wait to see what you all do next! - Chloe <3

I implore those who see this post, to check out these fabulous creators, give them love!

@maxineswritingcenter - Works; Supernatural, Teen Wolf, The Vampire Diaries, The Witcher, X-Files, Marvel, TrueBlood, and ClusterFluff

@minaturefics - Works; Lord Of The Rings

@cauliflowertree - Works; Harry Potter, Lord Of The Rings, The Hobbit, Little Women, Twilight, Dead Poets Society, Gilmore Girls, Bridgerton, Criminal Minds, Vampire Diaries, and Teen Wolf

@x-files-imagines - Works; X-Files

@space-helen - Works; Marvel, Star Trek, SCI, Twilight, X-Files, Harry Potter, and Midnight Mass

@okay-j-hannah - Works; The Last Of Us, Narcos, The Mandalorian, Broadchurch, Doctor Who, Downton Abbey, Dune, Games Of Thrones, Good Omens, Grey's Anatomy, Harry Potter, Marauders Era, Marvel, Pirates Of The Caribbean, Sherlock Holmes (BBC), Stranger Things, The Hobbit, and The Lord Of The Rings

@justauthoring - Works; Naruto, Haikyuu, Attack On Titan, Jujutsu Kaisen, My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Death Note, Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Revengers, Blue Lock, Chainsaw Man, Stranger Things, The Quarry, Cobra Kai, and more!

@french-vanilla-in-the-clouds - Works; Sherlock (BBC), Supernatural, Marvel, and X-Files

@hellcomestohawkins - Works; Stranger Things, Arctic Monkeys, White Lines, X-Files

@theawfuledges - Works; Daybreakers, The Magnificent Seven, Breath Of The Wild, Digimon, Moon Knight, Demon Slayer, Silent Hill, The Quarry, CCS, TMNT, Inuyasha, Yu Yu Hakusho, Pokemon, Resident Evil, Godzilla, Deadpool 2, Bright (2017), The Evil Within, Hellboy, The Hobbit, IT (2017), and more!

@ficsnroses - Works; John Wick, Better Call Saul, Keanu Reeves, and Johnny Silverhand (CP 2077)

@immawriteyouthings - Works; The Hobbit, and more!

@author-morgan - Works; Game Of Thrones, Vikings, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, and more!

@masterofmunson - Works; Stranger Things, Moon Knight, The Amazing Spider-Man, Harry Styles, Marvel, and Criminal Minds

@aniqua - Works; Marvel, The Sandman, Shadow And Bone, Spider-Man, Stranger Things, and The Punisher

@whirlybirbs - Works; Star Wars, Marvel, Red Dead, Kingsman, Transformers, Peaky Blinders, Pirates Of The Caribbean, and more!

@luna-xial - Works; The Hobbit

@lilxberry - Works; Marvel, DC, Harry Potter, Euphoria, Lord Of The Rings, The Hobbit, Riverdale, The Walking Dead, The Karate Kid, Cobra Kai, and 13 Reasons Why

@guardianofrivendell - Works; The Hobbit

@strawwritesfic - Works; Harry Potter, Marvel, Big Bang Theory, Doctor Who, The Hunger Games, James Bond, Kingdom Hearts, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, The Amazing Spider-Man, Star Trek, Star Wars, and more!

@delicatenightfury - Works, Marvel, DC, Supernatural, Lord Of The Rings, The Hobbit, Vampire Diaries, Hunger Games, Narnia, Maze Runner, and more!

@reddie-fancomic-by-slashpalooza - Works; Loose Ends (The best freaking fan-comic I've ever read <;3)

@micheleamidalajedi - Works; Mass Effect, Final Fantasy, Resident Evil, Criminal Minds, Harry Potter, Marvel, CSI, Gears Of War, DC, Yellowstone, Star Wars, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, X-Men, and more!

@imagine--if - Works; DC

@witchthatwrites - Works; Uncharted, DC, Teen Wolf, Stranger Things, and more!

@buckymcbuttfacebarnes - Works; Marvel and more!

@inej-twilight-ghafa - Works; Marvel, Harry Potter, Stranger Things, Star Wars, Grishaverse, Top Gun, The Last Of Us, Pirates Of The Caribbean, and more!

@a-reader-and-a-writer - Works; Top Gun, DC, Marvel, Star Wars, Joel Kinnaman, Lewis Pullman, and more!

@bisexual-thoughtss - Works; Criminal Minds, Law And Order, Spider-Man, Scream, Ghostbusters, Harry Potter, Friends, Star Trek, and more!

@warrenwrites - Works; Stranger Things, The Amazing Spider-Man, Marvel, The Sandman, and Criminal Minds

@helloheyhihowdyheya - Works; Spider-Man, Stranger Things, and Top Gun

@waitimcomingtoo - Works; Tom Holland, Spider-Man, The Devil All The Time, Brad Simpson, Stranger Things, Marvel, and Sebastian Stan (I am so impressed with all their work)

@tiffdawg - Works; The Mandalorian, Narcos, Triple Frontier, Kingsman, and more!

@queridopascal - Works; Narcos, Triple Frontier, Kingsman, The Mandalorian, The Equalizer, We Can Be Heroes, House Comes With A Bird, The Bubble, and more!

@oonajaeadira - Works; The Bubble, The Mandalorian, Prospect, Triple Frontier, Kingsman, Unbearable Weight Of Massive Talent, Narcos, The Last Of Us, Bloodsucking Bastards, House Comes With A Bird, Game Of Thrones, and more!

@fuckyeahdindjarin - Works; The Mandalorian, Narcos, Kingsman, Triple Frontier, The Bubble, and more!

@huffle-pissed - Works; Marvel, Pedro Pascal, Star Wars, Stranger Things, Supernatural, Harry Potter, and Dragon Age Inquisition

@brandyllyn - Works; Bloodsucking Bastards, Den Of Thieves, Ex Machina, The Great Wall, Hannibal, Horizon, Kingsman, Law And Order SVU, The Letter Room, Narcos, Mayans, Prospect, Star Wars, Suburbicon, and more!

@sgt-morgan - Works; The Mandalorian, Marvel, Hozier, Keanu Reeves, and more!

@tegerton - Taron Egerton, Eggsy Unwin, and Eddie The Eagle

@make-me-imagine - Works; Briderton, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Criminal Minds, Doctor Who, The Mandalorian, The Originals, Merlin (BBC), Star Trek, Supernatural, Sherlock (BBC), Teen Wolf, Marvel, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, Harry Potter, and more!

@iamnotoriginalphil - Works; Once Upon A Time, Ineffable Husbands, Merlin, and more!

@forever-rogue - Works; Stranger Things, Spider-Man, Star Wars, Pedro Pascal, The Mandalorian, The Last Of Us, Marvel, and more!

@companionjones - Works; DC, Criminal Minds, Doctor Who, Hamilton, High School Musical, Les Miserables, Marvel, Once Upon A Time, Star Trek, Star Wars, Twilight, Teen Wolf, Stranger Things, Starkid, Sherlock (BBC), Shameless (US), Victorious, and more!

@dainty-fingertips - Works; Marvel and Spider-Man

@zafirosreverie - Works; Encanto, Jurassic Park, Jurassic World, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, MCu, Rise Of The Guardians, and more!

@jonathan--majors - Works; Better Call Saul, Bullet Train, DC, Marvel, Stranger Things, Top Gun, and more!

@ardentmuse - Works; Harry Potter, Kingsman, Marvel, Game Of Thrones, and more

@classic80sand90smovieloves2 - Works; Pretty In Pink, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Ferris Buellers Day Off, Heathers, Back To The Future, Say Anything, Can't Buy Me Love, Some Kind Of Wonderful, Dead Poets Society, School Ties, Grease, and more!

@livinglifelowkeyloki - Works; Marvel

[unwellpodcast]

From the ask meme you posted, would love to know

3. your fav dialogue

and

17. inspirations you had during the creating process

I'm trying to get back into reading (an embarrassing thing to type) and would especially love to know if you had recommendations of horror literature similar to unwell!

FIRST OFF: there is nothing embarrassing about getting back into reading. Activities, even ones we love, come and go through our lives. That's a value-neutral thing~

Gonna give you a few things that inspired Unwell- many of them books you should check out!

Media that inspired/informed/shaped/Reminds us of Unwell

Books/Comics: House of Leaves Wisconsin Death Trip The Gone Away World Sandman Locke and Key Digger

Music: The Mountain Goats (Also, John's books are definitely playing in some similar spaces to Unwell) The New Pornographers Rilo Kiley Defiance, OH Gillian Welch Leonard Cohen Warren Zevon

TV: Gravity Falls Twin Peaks The Haunting of Hill House (Flannagan) Midnight Mass

(also, if others want to send us asks- post link here)

I'm going to hide the answer to #3 below a cut, to avoid spoilers (this is from the end of Season 1)

These are two bits of S1/Ep11 by Jess Buha- I think they really emphasize her incredible range, and also set a really great bar for how weird we could make the show. It also illustrates a way I LOVE to have writers work with me as a sound designer (though I didn't design this episode)- giving me what the audience should FEEL, and evoking something big- rather than telling me exactly what sounds I should use.

=====

LILY: Thanks (to WES) You might be overheated. The sun's setting--it'll get cooler. Here, drink this.

WES: Okay.

WES DRINKS. HE SPITS IT OUT WITH A SOUND LIKE A HISSING CAT AND A TOASTER IN THE BATHTUB.

LILY: Wes, it's okay.

WES KEEPS MAKING THE HORRIBLE NOISE. IT BUILDS IN INTENSITY, SOUNDING LIKE A COMBINATION OF FEEDBACK AND A RABBIT SCREAMING. SOMETHING VIOLENT AND VAGUELY OTHER-WORLDLY.

What that alcohol?

MARISOL: No, just water.

THE SOUNDS OF THE FAIR FALTER. THE WARBLERS SKIP NOTES. FAIRGOERS STOP LAUGHING, AND BEGIN TO MUTTER. SOUR SOUND AS THE BANJEAURINE IS KICKED TO THE SIDE. DIRT RUSTLES AS WES STARTS TO SEIZURE.

RUDY: I don't know. I've never / heard anything--[about it.]

====

And then at the end of the episode, we have this beautiful moment:

====

ABBIE: What did she smell like, when you were a little kid?

SILENCE. LIVING ROOM SOUNDS. HOUSE SOUNDS.

LILY: Like cigarettes.

Like smoke. Like a campfire. Like the ocean. Big and salty--she sweated a lot--I don't know--she was always moving. Always planting a thing or pulling up a thing or painting a thing or hauling a thing. She used to take me on hikes through the forest at night, and she'd turn the flashlight off, and we'd stand there in the darkness, and she'd hold my hand, and we'd listen to the-- you know--the whatevers. The crickets. The owls. Night sounds. It was just us, then. Unlike every other millisecond of the day. I felt jealous cause I guess I wanted her only project to be me, but she was like the ocean, and she had all this other stuff going on. I was always so small in her world--like this small, tiny piece. I just didn't ever want to be forgotten.

ABBIE: I won't forget you.

RUDY: You have a certain je ne sais quoi that sticks in the mind.

And I can't forget good people. Celery liquor?

LILY: Thanks. Lemme grab a glass.

RUDY: Just drink it from the bottle.

LILY: Okay.

LILY TAKES A SWIG.

Whew! Spicy.

ABBIE: Celery-cool.

LILY: Hey, did you win that thing?

ABBIE: Yeah.

LILY: Awesome! Awesome.

END.

====

[flanaganfilm]

Hey Mike!

First of all, I'm a big fan of your work. Your movies and TV Shows are really, really inspiring for horror writers and filmmakers!

Secondly, I have a question about some technical stuff: How did you guys do the effect of the eyes glowing in the dark, like you did in Midnight Mass? I'm trying to do it for a short film I want to direct, and the results so far have not been good. Could you give some detail on how to do it? Thank you!

That was all VFX and it took some time to get right. Early versions were too bright and looked like the eyes glowed, whereas we wanted them to look more like they were reflecting light. It took at least a half dozen iterations before it looked good. My best advice is that it takes very little for the effect to work - we kept dimming the lights, and them limiting when we could see the effect so that they glinted when the eyes moved, or settled on a soft glow.

[oldmen-enjoyer]

JOHN "???" WARD

THE GARDENER, THE HOST, THE TWO-FACE.

[FROM NOW-ON, THIS WILL TAG AS FAITH TEXAN AU FOR SORTING PURPOSES]

The reference picture is post-amy incident.

John Ward is current host to the Sickler (unseeable/jagged-jazz, ect) for more than 10 years. After the recent incident of (literal) botched exorcist with Amy Matins and Father Allred, John choose to banished the entity influenced on his decisions. Unfortunately they share more than a mind to be completely seperate.

Jokingly called John psyWard (not in-lore)

This John is late 30s (37~39)

John Ward is same-person name but due to the hosting, is now used as seperate. Ward is described as Sickler part.

Shaped like a hen.

Physically really fits even after falling off his daily routine (can bend Gary in half if given reasons)

Have extreme passion for cooking and extremely niche on how it should go. This is shared and encouraged trait by Sickler. Gardening go along this line.

Morally is, fucked up grey (to put it lightly)

Divorced Molly ages ago before meeting Gary and Amy incident

Used to date a Normal Human Being years ago before their relationship turn into bitter rivalry and seething hatred.

If injured, required blood to replaced the missing space (vampiric: manually)

And reason why guy's so pale.

Trans but cis passing so hard that he forgot that (thanks to wonder of literal body modifications offered by Sickler.)

"Who's Thomas."

189 cm tall

Sound AND inspired from Paul Hill from Midnight Mass (the autism in his eyes is strong.)

[SHIRTLESS REF]

Fortunately, still a cat person (figurative)

[FREE_SPACE_HERE.JPG]

GARY "???" MILLER

[THIS IS A SHARED HEADCANNONS, IF YOU WANT MORE INFORMATION PLEASE ASK @aless-was-here BECAUSE THAT'S GARY.]

Nicknamed Tarot-boy both affectionately and insultingly by other demons

Is equipvelent of "Popular Girl" in hell. Got quite a portion of people in court to kiss his shoes when he's away.

Trans and evil (keep top surgery scars even through reincarnation for the jig of it)

Gary Miller, not much is known in past life aside from being certain Duke of hell summoned to be reborn as baby boy, adopted by Miriam. And, by rumours, Father Gray. (Is debunked to be false, GRAY IS NOT YOUR FATHER.)

Abortion slays, Landlord evil

Have little brother named "Mike Miller" (Raum), not reincarnated together.

Is a dooting big brother.

Voice of smooth jazz singer with hint of rasp as a treat.

Charismaniac slug, oozing with charms and grins like bastard

Cat person (literal)

According to Aless, use old spice and not axe spray. According to my other friend, pats cow blood on the pits and call it a day.

197 cm tall

Body of athlete who haven't been working out for years

53 years old shroom slug

Trauma-bombed and pranked by Sickler

John's movable finely aged blood wine (where all biting come from)

Allergic to church and have to drink a herbal mixture to repressed the sickness (made out of Mandrake)

[CULTIST SIMULATOR + Conjured form]

[BEHOLD, AN ANGEL]

[TRUE-TRUE FORM OF GARY, IS FLOWERS]

[BACKGROUND CHARACTERS THAT MENTIONED: FATHER GRAY, FATHER JONAS, "???" KORNE, "???" KARLSON]

[>Father Gray: extremely dead, had very complicated and unwanted (neg) relationship with Miriam before being discarded as a dead husk. Currently is still a husk but is moved unwillingly. The spirit is long dead. There's no single trace of humanity behind those eyes.]

[>Father/Big Brother Jonas: (???) Story unfold soon but, is very much insane and devoted to Sickler. Have father/son relationship with Gray]

[Korne: a tool, a husk.]

[Karlson: mouth piece for Song.S, will be talked in future later. For now, is assistance to Jonas's plans.]