#the demon song in insidious always calmed me down

[superalphabatman]

@batfamfucker​ Honestly, brain hits the clear history button for every quiz lol

1. Armageddon

2. Insidious

3. Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (Unlimited Edition)

4. Jurassic Park

5. The Dark Knight

6. Pacific Rim

7. Battle Los Angeles

@lionberryslush​ @themarauderess​ @theepiclovestoryofsamanddean​ @imrollingmyeyes​

List 7 comfort movies and tag 7 ppl.

Tagged by @sgnls ✌🏻

1. Mama mia 1

2. Mama mia 2

3. Frozen

4. Birds of prey

5. Lego batman

6. Rapunzel

7. Into the spider-verse

I tag @nerdy-gremlin @1captainjordan4 @racingwest @nearly-writes @theo-ography @ anyone else who want to do this

[hoodoo12]

Music To His Ears (2/4)

Part One

NSFW. Beetlejuice/f!reader. Sex, ghostly secretions, bad attempts at humor, the Netherworld is not pleasant, past embarrassments affecting the present.

Another night, another lay. 

You’d come on his fingers twice and his cock once, and even though you were on your back with Beetlejuice between your thighs, pushing them up and back so he could pile-drive his cock into you at an angle, your hand was once again over your mouth. Sometimes you couldn’t contain a gasp underneath it, but overall you kept quiet. When Beetlejuice was particularly forceful, it felt so good that you had to bite your lower lip, and that helped too.

Tonight he didn’t finish inside you. Just as his own ghostly moans ratcheted to a cry, he pulled out and with his hand squeezing his cock, he came in spurts over your belly and pubic hair. 

A tiny sound of disappointment escaped you.

Although he’d watched himself come on you, Beetlejuice cocked an eyebrow at your groan. 

“So you can make noise,” he announced, half-tired from the exertion and half-gleeful, like he’d caught you doing something illicit. 

In response you slapped his chest and threw one leg around him to move away and grab a tissue from the bedside table to wipe yourself off.

Beetlejuice lay down and accepted the extra tissue you handed him. 

“Sorry about the jizz,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “I know it’s cold.”

“It’s not cold at first, it gets cold quickly,” you corrected him. You had no idea why that would be; the properties of ectoplasmic ejaculate were odd. It didn’t just lose any residual heat exponentially fast, it was also faintly luminous and thicker than normal. It wasn’t the most pleasant substance to have sitting for long periods of time on your bare skin.  

You balled up the soiled tissue, plucked the one he’d used on himself out of his hands, and tossed them in the general direction of the table. Then you grabbed the rumpled sheet from where it’d been kicked at the end of the bed and pulled it up to your chest before relaxing.

Beetlejuice hiked himself up on an elbow to look at you, and reached over to push your sweaty hair off your forehead. Usually you were the one to initiate post-coital niceties, so you were surprised at the contact. 

“Let’s talk about it.”

Him wanting to talk surprised you too.

“Talk about what?”

He gave you a withering look. “You know what I mean, babe. Let’s talk about the fact that you try hard not to make any sound during sex.”

If you could have, you’d have denied it. You hoped he hadn’t noticed! You didn’t want to talk about it. It made you ashamed. Making noise made you ashamed, not making noise made you ashamed; it was a vicious cycle. You worked so very hard to keep quiet--

Beetlejuice continued, filling your new silence with questions to try and ferret out the truth, speculating, “Did you stop making noise for a reason? Did you get caught by your parental figures once? Are you secretly an exhibitionist who typically has sex in public places like crowded subways or in the audience of a Broadway musical? Do you sing as you come? You’ve got a good voice, I’ve heard you in the shower--”

“No, Beej, no! Nothing like that!” you interrupted. 

“What, then? Come on, babydoll, you can tell me! What is it?”

At his unrelenting insistence all the shame you felt was replaced by a flare of anger. 

“I just sound weird while I’m having sex, okay?” you barked at him.

His mouth shut with an audible snap and his playful expression melted to confusion. Your momentary burst of rage faded too, and you felt even more embarrassed admitting your shame out loud. Your face felt on fire. 

After closely examining you for a moment, Beetlejuice asked, “What the actual fuck?”

His seriousness, the question spoken like an eloquent, formal query, actually made you choke out a tiny laugh, which quickly dissolved into a sob that you swallowed. He let you have a moment, then asked again, 

“What do you mean, you sound weird during sex?”

Another sob scratched at the back of your throat and you shook your head, unwilling to open your mouth to let it out. 

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you quack like a duck? Do you cough like you need the Heimlich?” His eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god, was I right--do you sing? Do you burst into spontaneous song?! All of the sudden, would I hear OOOOOOaK! LAHOMA?!”

A weepy laugh burst from your throat. The horror in his face, you realized, was mock.

“No!” you said, slapping his chest again and swiping a hand over your eyes to wipe away the tear that had formed there. “Stop it! I don’t start singing.”

Beetlejuice nodded, but his eyes still narrowed in suspicion. “You have to tell me if you do. Because I only want to hear seventies rock or Irish folk, okay? Maybe other popular songs from musicals. No Disney songs or crap like that.”

“Shut up, Beej.”

To his credit, he actually dropped the topic. After a moment’s quiet, though, he said,

“Why do you think you sound weird during sex? Everyone sounds weird during sex!”

You closed your eyes and whispered, “I sound the worst.”

“Hey. Hey!” the ghost said. His fingers slipped to the side of your head and turned you so you were facing him, even if your eyes were closed. He ordered, “Look at me.”

Resigned, you did. 

“The Netherworld is filled with miserable ghosts. They’re always sobbing and wailing. Demons just scream randomly.”

That was supposed to make you feel better?

He closed his eyes as he continued. “And there’s this low frequency hum . . . I don’t know what the fuck that is, but it’s insidious and just, just always there. Like a vibration that just settles on the back of your teeth. The whole place is just this unrelenting, throbbing nightmare of sound.”

Beetlejuice opened his eyes again and stared intently into yours.

“Sounds during sex are not the same, baby,” he told you softly, earnestly, like he needed you to understand how important this information was. “Moans during sex are living sounds, and everything I hear in the Netherworld, all the moaning and crying and that infernal hum, is gloom and suffering. It’s all just dead.”

He paused and you watched a subtle expression cross his face, one that made his eyebrows furrow a little. The look in his eyes became a little vacant, introspective; he didn’t see you.

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. 

After a second, Beetlejuice gave himself a tiny shake and came back. He licked his lips and grinned. You imagine he’d have clapped his hands if one elbow wasn’t still supporting himself up.

“So! As long as you don’t sound like you’re suffering eternal torment, I’m sure the noises you make while we’re gettin’ it on are fine!” 

He’d given you a lot to think about. Discussions of what the Netherworld was like were never high on his list; dragging information out of him was nigh impossible. It was just moments like that, unexpected and with you not prepared, that he gave up some secrets about it. It left you both wanting and not wanting to know more about the place he resided. 

But that was neither here nor there at the moment. Beetlejuice had his reasons for not talking  about the Netherworld, and you had yours about keeping quiet during sex.

You told him so, expressly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Once more, his dark eyes narrowed. You tried to ignore him and his unspoken needling. When it became obvious you might be prepared to never speak again, Beetlejuice broke the silence once more. 

“Come on baby. I already told you it can’t be that bad. And even if it is, I don’t care--”

That same anger reared its head again, and you spit, “You will care! I sound horrible! I sound stupid and ridiculous and, and--and I’ve been told that, so I know it’s true, I hate it and I won’t make any sound! I just won’t!”

And like before, as quickly as it’d come, the rage burned itself out again, leaving you with tears in your eyes and a sore throat. 

Beetlejuice didn’t recoil at the venom in your voice. His fingers ran through your hair again, now dampened above your ears by the tears that slid from the outer corners of your eyes.

“Somebody told you that, baby?” he asked quietly. 

“Y-yes!” you choked out. “He told me I sounded weird and stupid, and-and-and I know it’s true!”

The ghost watched you as you struggled to regain some control by holding your breath and letting it out slowly. When you finally calmed yourself, he pulled you closer. His hand never left your head and he didn’t move off his elbow; you were simply at one spot on the mattress and then in the next, without any more physical contact. You ended up pressed into him, but it wasn’t horribly uncomfortable. 

“Baby, listen. Listen to me,” he said, and you thought that was a poor choice of words when this whole thing was about keeping quiet. “I want to hear you the sounds you make. I want to make you moan and gasp and cry out. I want to know what you sound like when you come. I want to know that I did that, that you couldn’t help it because I made you feel so good. 

“That guy was an asshole, baby. He was wrong.”

You pressed your lips together, but tried hard not to shake your head no.

He wouldn’t have taken it for an answer anyway.  “The sounds you’re gonna make for me? That’s the sound of life, babydoll, and it’ll be music to my ears.”

tbc . . .

[beyondtheciouds]

Vampires, Stale Scones, and Lucie Herondale

Part 2.

Lucie had successfully avoided Matthew’s painfully awkward question. 

Did Lucie love Jesse? 

The thought invaded her mind; curved into and controlled her emotions like a parasite. Lucie decided she had one choice and followed through. She promptly and conveniently pretended to fall asleep moments after he asked one of many questions she dreaded. Lucie could not trust herself to give him the answer he wanted, it seemed simple enough. She did not want to hurt Math, especially since they were chained to one another.

Plus, who knew what horrible, horrible plans Tatiana and Belial had for them!

Lucie felt guilty enough and thought reluctantly of the last words she had said to him. These words had escaped her hours before Grace threw her to the wolves. I love you too, Matthew Fairchild.

 Did she mean those three words? Lucie didn't know. All she was aware of was that she could not trust herself to be honest with him then, so how did she expect herself to be now? She did not want to inflict unnecessary pain on Math if it wasn't true.

Fatigue and hunger had staked their claim on her and for a little while, she slept. Now, she coughs as she struggles to free herself from her vivid dreams of decaying bodies. Her body arches as gurgling noises erupt from her belly and she clenches her teeth as she fights the pang of hunger. She has not eaten in three days.

Matthew's snores fill her ears, deep in the core of her dreams like the monsters under her bed. 

"Lucie. Luuucie. Wake up, Lu."

Her eyes snap beneath the sand-man crusted lids to someone calling her name. For a fleeting moment, Lucie thinks the voice is Will’s. She strains to listen, her neck stretching towards the sound. The imaginary sound of her father’s calming tone wills Lucie to listen. The voice sounds different although it is gentle and urgent; a fading whisper. 

Lucie is stiff, her arm feels numb and her wrist is throbbing beneath the cold metal. The cool touch of a hand rests on her shoulder and her eyes shoot open. Another cough escapes her scratchy throat as she searches the darkness, "Jesse?"

 Matthew's head is still resting in her lap; his wet cheek pressed against her thigh. Lucie’s free hand is woven and tangled in damp strands of gold and bronze. Matthew’s evergreen eyes are closed and he blissfully is sound asleep. During the night, Lucie awoke several times to find that he was twitching and shaking; sweating and moaning. He was cursing and occasionally mumbling incoherently.

 Lucie had been good to him and rubbed his head; his back and shoulders with her free hand. All was done in a bleak attempt to console him and shut him up. Lucie wonders how many days it had been since his last drink. She doesn’t know if it has been one or more. 

Now, glancing down at him she watches his chest rise and fall in a rhythmic motion. Her fingers glide out of his hair and down his forehead. She presses the back of her hand against his skin like her mother had taught her to do. Would she always have to take care of him like this?

Matthew would have a lot of growing up to do and so would Lucie. 

Lucie flips her hand over, her palm on his forehead as she considers a future with the Consul’s second son. She is having a hard time imagining herself as a wife to the wild libertine.  Could she settle for the lie? Is it a lie?

Matthew’s skin is dry and clammy. He looks like an angel when he sleeps and the image of him throws Lucie a curve; her heart flutters in her chest. Peaceful, Matthew had finally stopped sweating and his fever seems to have broken. Lucie is relieved and allows herself a small smile. 

A movement in the shadows catches her eye and gives her chills; goosebumps race along with her pale skin, almost like fingertips. Blue eyes shift over to the wall and her eyes spot her ghost in the shaft of moonlight; translucent but still very real. Jesse is leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and he does not look pleased. His usual smirk is gone, replaced with his lips pulled tight. "I'm here, Lu."

Lucie squints, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness surrounding her. "You know, don't you?" she askes, a tremble in her voice. She is cutting to the chase because this is one thing she is not going to wait on.

Jesse nods, solemn.”You looked beautiful that night Lucie,” he says slowly and pauses, getting lost in the glare of memory.

 “I did not mean for anything to happen with Matthew, Jesse. You must know that.” 

“Lulu,” his voice is a melody; the song of her heart.

Lucie's breath catches, "Jesse."

He is a winter night; stark black and white bathed in the sliver of silver moonlight. "Too beautiful. I had wished it was me with you in my arms."

Lucie blushes in the dark, but she is unsure of how to take the tone of his compliment. Her voice is rough, whispered in the dark as she throws her head back in shock at his admission. Her heart is under attack like a thunderclap in her chest. More than anything she wants to touch him; feel his pallid skin against hers. The shadow of doubt looms over the glimmer of hope; breaking her open like a rainstorm. "Jesse, I'm sorry."

Can we forgive and forget? Unspoken with all the lights out, the words fall between the ghost and the girl in the cell. The insidiousness of her doubt creeps up on the girl. She knows she will never hold him and it is far too much for such a young heart to bear.  

Lucie's mind is a whirl, even in a state of hunger and sorrow she finds a way to think of a storyline.  

 "Yes, I know, Lu. Although I am.. am...” Jesse pauses, thoughtful. He can’t put his feelings into words. “I don't blame you." His voice is still soft, teetering on the edge of the lust that was there moments ago, his eyes lingering on the boy sleeping in her lap. 

Jesse’s green eyes are glowing; neon green in the darkness as he takes in the length of Matthew’s body. "Matthew is a sick boy," Jesse pauses, considering the depth of Matthew’s inner demons. "maybe he is sicker than I was.” 

Lucie frowns, “Matthew wasn’t always like this...He was....” She trails off, remembering Math as a child. She does not have the words to describe the beautiful and damaged boy in her lap. 

Jesse’s anorexic shoulders seem to slump and Lucie knows if he could draw a breath, he would have sighed.  “I know he needs you to lean on to help get him through his problems. I get that because he is a childhood friend, you have a loyalty to those you love. Even though I understand, that does not mean I like seeing you with him."

Lucie shakes her head, brown, knotted strands untangling from her loose braid. A barrage of unexpected sobs erupts from her mouth and snot from her nose. "Cordelia is wrong," she says abruptly. "People can not fix people."

Jesse stares at her, confused. He pushes himself off the wall and takes a step forwards into the darkness that is slowly swallowing Lucie. "What do you mean?"

"I can't fix, Matthew. No one can.” A pause and her chest heaves. “I can't fix you, Jesse. Only black magic can." Lucie clears her throat, another set of sobs building. "Hell, I can't even get out of this mess I have made."

"Luce, that is not true." Panic rises in Jesse's voice and his eyes go wide at the thought of losing the only shard of light in his mirror of darkness. "Please, Luce. We will find a way... I will convince Mother to let you go, " Jesse uncrosses his arms, lowering them. He places the palms out as if he means to grab her. "we could be together... we could run away. "

Lucie breaks down, removing her hand from Matthew's head of hair. "I am useless, Jesse. Purely useless as a Shadowhunter." She pauses and looks up at him, her eyes shiny blue and bleak. "Surely I have disappointed you and you will tell Grace."

"No, Luce.." Jesse begins and trails off, rattled.

The entire reality of her situation had finally cracked Lucie's resolve. She turns her face away as Jesse takes a few tentative steps without saying another word. He has never seen Lucie so broken before, he doesn't know how to react or what else he can say.

Lucie sobs into her free arm, struggling to be quiet. Matthew's eyes, redrimmed and bloodshot, shoot open as if he hears her. He leans into her and breathes in deep, exhaling as his gaze focuses on Lucie's face. "Luce? What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Lucie straightens and ceases her childish crying session. She is stilled by the longing looks Jesse is giving her. She can’t let Matthew see her so overwhelmed. She needs to be strong as she hastily wipes her eyes on her sleeve. 

Lucie takes a deep breath and pretends to play with the metal chain attached to her handcuff. She looks away from where Jesse still stands, frozen. He is watching her sullenly as she exhales.

 "My wrist hurts," she says, glancing down at Matthew. "and it feels raw like the skin is rubbing off."

A lame excuse, but one he will believe.

Matthew smiles weakly, "Want an izrate? I still have my stele."

Lucie raises an eyebrow at him. "Belial let you keep it?"

Matthew shakes his head, smiling deviously in the dark. "Guess that vampire forgot I had it."

Lucie grins at him, "Smooth, Fairchild. Smooth." She waits for a beat for Jesse to vanish and when he doesn't, she nods her head at Matthew. "Alright, give me one."

Matthew sits up and digs in the pocket of his gear jacket. A second later he pulls out his stele, still intact. "Where should I draw the izrates?"

Jesse takes a few steps forward. For a moment Lucie thinks she sees curiosity flicker in his eyes as he watches Matthew lean over, the stele steady in one hand while the other gently brushes Lucie’s braid to the side like he has done this thousands of times to her. 

Lucie rolls the shoulder of her chained arm, trying to not wince as she glances over her shoulder. Matthew is smiling. "Anywhere on this arm Math," Lucie says, turning her gaze back to Jesse. 

Jesse kneels in front of Lucie, his eyes wide and curious. It dawns on Lucie this may be the first time he is watching a rune drawn up close. The thought stings and she gazes sadly at the burn in the shape of an eye on his right hand.

Two sets of different eyes stare at Lucie. Both shades of green watch her intensely as Matthew slips the arm of her dress down, over her arm. It drops soundlessly to the crook of her elbow. Lucie's corset is visible and Jesse stares in quiet admiration, wondering how many times Matthew has taken off her dress. Jesse is shy and bites his lower lip. Pale skin blushes as much as a ghost can. He does not move and to his own shock, he doesn't shy away. 

He is intrigued.

Matthew concentrates, his tongue peeking out of his lips. His hand is steady as he starts to draw the rune on the back of Lucie's arm. A moment later, Lucie feels the comforting burn on her skin. Her rune reminds her she is strong; she will escape this Hell. 

Matthew is precise and slow with the deliberate movement of his stele. Sudden heat floods Lucie's cheeks as he finishes and pulls his hand away. Lucie can feel his eyes still burning on her flesh. His gaze is intense like he is an artist and her body is the canvas. "Another, Luce?"

Lucie nods, closing her eyes. "Would an open rune work on my cuff, you think?" She asks, desperately needing the distraction.

Matthew sighs, licking his lips as his hand trembles. “We could certainly try.”

Jesse is still watching, his head tilted to the side like a curious dog. His sea-green eyes are luminous as he watches Matthew draw another izrate on Lucie’s bare shoulder.

***

Hours passed and the sun has risen; light illuminating the stone walls; attaching rays of gold to Lucie’s light brown hair.  Lucie was disappointed that the open rune did not work. They had each tried, drawing it from memory on the lock. Lucie’s hand still aches from the determined grip she had on Matthew’s stele, hardly aware that she was begging Raziel for a slice of luck out loud. 

Jesse had vanished from the cell once the sunlight trickled in, leaving her and Matthew in awkward but not unpleasant silence. 

Lucie knew Math was still expecting some kind of answer from her. Lucie had no answers and she wondered if it would be easier just to die.

Her blue eyes cast a sideways glance at Matthew. Her lips are set in a thin line, wondering if he had heard all of her exchange with Jesse last night. She decides after a moment not to pursue it by asking questions. 

She turns her gaze away from Math, her eyebrows furrow in concentration. She breaks the silence by thinking out loud. “Alright, so, James and Cordelia are presumed...missing...” Lucie clears her throat, trailing off. The idea of Jamie and Daisy in trouble makes her heart sink. She has to figure out a way out; a way to save herself and them. She hopes her parents and the families are also searching for the four of them. A bitterness curls her heartstrings as she scrunches her forehead, thinking out her plan. “ And you last saw them in the forest... five miles away?”

She wishes she hadn’t been fooled by Grace. 

She wishes she never snuck out that night. 

She wishes she had seen Jesse hiding behind that tree as Matthew ripped open her corset. 

Anxiety was making her ideas jumbled in a knot she could get loose. Memories of that night clouded in clusters of hot and cold across her skin as she catches Math’s eye once more.  

“ Yes, “ Matthew sighs, scooting closer to her, his hands on his knees. “Unfortunately, they are lost, looking for us, or Belial caught them and has them locked up somewhere.” 

Lucie frowns, pulling her gaze away. She stares at the rat chowing down on some scone crumbs. She does not want to think about her brother and her parabatai chained up or worse. Instead of dwelling, she keeps trying to remember Belial’s words to her the previous day when she demanded to speak with her brother. 

She thinks it would help, but she cannot remember. “He was acting sort of suspicious, but that might normal behavior for a Prince of Hell.”

Matthew kicks a scone away with the toe of his boot. His knees are drawn up and his head is lowered. His mossy eyes stare blankly at the stone floor and Lucie wonders if he is purposely avoiding her.  He shrugs his shoulders and she cannot help but stare at the roll of muscle under the tight fabric of his gear jacket. “Either way we have to come up with some kind of plan. What do you propose?”

Footsteps on the stairs disrupt Lucie before she has a chance to open her mouth in response.  Grace’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard.  Both Lucie and Matthew flinch as they glance up. 

“Hungry?” Grace calls, coming in to view carrying a plate of moldy scones and a pitcher of water. 

[dionysus-is-my-dude]

A horror movie enthusiast’s thoughts on Halloween (2018)...

***warning: possible spoilers ahead (Also this is gonna be long)***

I was introduced to the horror genre at a very young age. Around five or so, if I remember correctly. I remember that I was at my dad’s friend’s house, and someone had put on “Jeepers Creepers”, the original one. I remember being absolutely terrified by the monster/demon/thing. But also terribly fascinated by a movie that 1. wasn’t an animated princess movie, and 2. depicted such graphic violence and scary images. The next day, my cousin and I were playing with walkie talkies and she kept scaring me by singing the Jeepers Creepers song. It scared me because I thought that, by singing the song, the monster would show up and eat us.

As a child, I had access to the library in my school, and nearly every single time we were sent to pick a book, I picked an edition of “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark”. The images scared me. The stories scared me. But I couldn’t stop reading everything, delighting in it in some twisted way.

The next horror film I watched was when I was around ten or so? It was the American version of “The Ring”. And instead of scaring me to the point of crying, I was incredibly fascinated by how it made me feel. Afraid, but in a way that felt exhilarating and FUN. My mom let me watch “Alien” and “Aliens” with her, which, though not classified as horror films, gave me the same rush.

From that point on, I was hooked. We’d go to the movie rental store and I’d rent scary movies that were popular at the time. I’d always search for scary TV shows to watch, like ghost hunting shows and other scary things. I became obsessed with the paranormal, playing with Ouija boards and doing hours and hours of research.

After a terrifying REAL experience with ghosts in which I was actually scared for my life, I took a long break from watching scary films. But that sure didn’t keep me away from them once I’d calmed down. Every horror film that was coming out, I was going to see. Every horror film on Netflix, I was watching. Ghost Adventures on TV? You bet I was watching it. Literally ANYTHING Tim Burton related? Yep, I’m on it. I was reading scary stories. I was doing research on horror films themselves and why people like me like them. I had nightmares and sleep paralysis and be extremely paranoid. But I couldn’t stop.

I started to learn the tricks and ins-and-outs that made horror movies, in my opinion, good. I learned that I dislike excessive jumpscares, and I avoid movies that seem like that’s all they’ll be -like several modern-day horror films like the recent “Insidious” entries and such. I realized that, as a music enthusiast as well, the music was what set the tone for me. If I thought the music -or lack thereof done properly- was great at causing suspense, I was feeling more scared. I learned that tension was more fun than jumpscares. Modern movies I love include the first two “Insidious” movies, “The Conjuring” series, and “Mama”. What I love about those films is not only the great background music, but the story and the lack of useless jumpscares. The imagery and focus of the shots are incredibly fun to watch, seeing things move in the background without the characters noticing, all that fun stuff.

But, with all the scary movies that come out nowadays, I’ve sorta lost my love for them. Nothing has really given me a good, fun scare in a long time. (”Annabelle: Creation” doesn’t count; that movie was both jumpscare heavy and openly too terrifying for me.) When I heard they were doing yet another “Halloween” sequel, I was prepared to have some good fun with my favourite classic slasher film.

I watched the original “Halloween” around twelve or so. I thought it was a good, campy slasher. My mom saw it when she was really little and has been scared of it ever since. Every year around Halloween-time, I scare her by playing the music around her or sending her pics of Michael Meyers that I find in costume shops. To me, it wasn’t scary. I had a ball watching it, not getting the real scares from it, but just having a good time watching the utterly silent Michael Meyers walk around just killing horny teenagers. Classic. I remember watching a marathon of the movies and barely remembering them because they weren’t as good or as fun as the first one. I’d resigned myself to “Halloween” being just a classic favourite of mine, nothing more.

Tonight, I saw the 2018 sequel, which takes place forty years after the events of the original movie....and I’m just...in shock. I went into the theater thinking I’d just crack jokes with my dad and cheer Michael on.

I left the theater with my heart pounding, my legs shaking, and a huge smile on my face. I knew I’d come home and be paranoid walking from my car to the backdoor. I know I’ll probably be paranoid for several weeks and see Michael everywhere.

I sat through that movie either bouncing my legs in my normal ADHD way and making commentary with my dad, or curled up in silent, paralyzed anxiety. This movie, for all the hype it got, was, in my opinion, horror gold. Story-wise, it was fantastic, of course. A wonderful sequel to the original, with homages galore and many tracks from the original score which brought back a lot of memories.

But from someone who had nearly given up on modern-day horror movies, this one gave me hope. Each shot was scary, the jumpscares wonderfully played out with not a lot of fake-outs, the music -the MUSIC- played just  like in the original (which I thought at first would make this cheesy, but it was only scarier), and the tension tension tension was palpable. The entire movie was full of it. Every single scene with Michael in it was filled with silence and shaking heads from us in the audience, each of us helpless as he killed yet again.

I was unable to make jokes during this movie. I was too busy holding my breath and gasping in shock. I was too busy bouncing my leg, then pulling them both up and holding myself. The last twenty minutes or so, I was just...staring at the screen, my heart pounding. I had never felt so hushed in a theater while watching a horror film in my whole life. It felt like I was being held on a string with scissors dangerously close every time the music stopped. I was no longer playfully cheering Michael Meyers on, “Yasssss, honey, kill those stupid teens, yassss”. I was genuinely SCARED of him. I’d lived my whole life never once scared of Michael Meyers. I pranked my mom every single year with him. Even when her husband, who’s a big guy, ran around the house with the mask on, I was laughing more than anything. But I am now actually terrified of this deranged, masked killer. I understand how scared my mom was when she was little. I understand her fear after all these years. I actually ran from my car to my door, looking out into my pitch black backyard, actually afraid that I would see the dirty white of the mask before I inevitably was killed.

I can’t stop thinking about each scene where he killed someone. Each scene where he appeared out of nowhere, completely silent and merciless as he killed and killed and killed. The ending (SPOILER), I thought would satisfy me. After all these years, was Michael Meyers FINALLY dead? At long last, was the nightmare over? It...It’s hard to tell. We never actually saw his body being burned up. We just had to assume he died in the fire. I don’t know if that was deliberate to keep us guessing -which is genius-, but it was terrifying nonetheless.

Did I enjoy myself? Absolutely. It was a wonderful homage to my favourite classic slasher. It had all the classic Michael Meyers traits, like the eerie way he sits up when knocked down, the head tilt, his love of stabbing people and hanging them from things. Hearing the classic music was wonderful. The story was perfect and made sense. The twist -if you can call it that- was a little predictable but quickly resolved. The continuous shots, especially the ones in complete silence, were absolutely incredible to watch. As soon as the credits started, I felt like I’d just gone through a life-changing experience.

What is it about “Halloween” and Michael Meyers that brings a smile to my face? Is it the fact that he never once -not even once in over ten films that’ve been made- utters a single word? Barely even makes a sound unless he’s been, like, hurt or something. His superhuman strength, able to take on every single victim he goes through? His odd fascination with his kills -the head tilt as he looks at his victims? Why is the music so scary, even though it seems like cheesy 70s synth? I’m just...so confused and amazed that this franchise has been going off and on for over forty years and it’s THIS movie that actually scares me. Maybe because it takes place in modern day, instead of years and years ago?

Whatever the reason, I hope horror filmmakers take note. THIS is how you make a good, memorable scary movie. Don’t use jumpscares as a crutch. Jumpscares are the laziest way to scare people. If people wanted jumpscares, they could go to a haunted house. But this movie did horror so WELL. The tension was fantastic. The music was great. The shots were done beautifully. The actors were all incredible. I just love every bit of this movie and wish I could just rewatch it for the first time over and over and over. If more horror movies were done like this, I would pay more money to see them in theaters.

Ok, mega post over. I just loved the movie so so much and I wanted to share my too-big feelings before I attempt to go to sleep and make myself understand that Michael isn’t in my closet.

[aion-rsa]

Evil Season 2: What Is Sheryl Pumping into Her Veins?

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Evil interview contains spoilers.

Evil knows how to get the blood pumping. From mundane angst to cosmic dread, Paramount+’s psychological and paranormal mystery series finds the vein which controls the pulse. The main team of investigators are warned they will face their most frightening subject in their latest probe. Though it is said with a chuckle, the fear is universal. If it’s not death, it’s taxes. But “I Is for IRS” doesn’t merely mine the collective subconscious for a familiar terror, it turns the horrors of abuse upside down for an insidious take on the empowerment of darker dabblings.

While Ben (Aasif Mandvi), David (Mike Colter), and Kristen (Katja Herbers) all have shadowy sidelines, Sheryl (Christine Lahti) appears to be the most enthusiastic. She is willing to give all for the cause. This took an alarming turn during “O Is for Ovaphobia,” when Sheryl was forcibly drained after being drugged in a bar. But the twists didn’t end there. The distinctly unhealthy looking light brown fluid which is being pumped into Sheryl to replace the blood loss is an elixir of life. The opening sequence makes it look like quite the addictive drug.

Christine Lahti is an award-winning veteran who is as comfortable on stage or screen, big or small. Evil is her second role with Michelle King and Robert King, along with The Good Fight and The Good Wife. Lahti spoke with Den of Geek about the importance of keeping up the battles, righteous and profane, and what’s in that chemical cocktail she makes look so addictive.

Den of Geek: How are the rackets on the West Side?

Christine Lahti: They’re very rackety. Yeah. I love that line. That was so funny in that scene.

How much do you know about what’s happening to Sheryl and how much does she know about what’s happening to Sheryl?

I think, on the night of the last episode, where she got the roofie put in her drink, and was given the blood transfusion and this brown elixir, I think she blacked out all that. I don’t think she has a memory of that, but I think she feels fantastic now. This brown elixir they gave her was, it was explained to me by the Kings, like going to a spa. It’s vitamin B and C and youth serums and whatever, but she feels very empowered and great.

Sheryl is on a mission now. I think after Leland broke up with her, that was the last straw. There will be no more abusive men in her life. There will be no more “demons,” bad men. I don’t serve actual demons. I think she’s on a journey of empowerment. It’s not going to always be pretty, but I think she’s fueled by rage and revenge, and I think she’s using Leland. He thinks he’s using her. I think she’s got a bigger mission in mind.

Is it my imagination or do the denominations you feed to Eddie keep getting bigger?

I actually didn’t notice that, but I would not be surprised if that was true, because Eddie is a real positive force for Sheryl. I had to look at it that way. She is exploring her dark side, but to me, her dark side also involves, as I said, empowerment, and Eddie gives her calm and gives her a sense of confidence and entitlement, and things that she hasn’t really felt in her life. So, she meditates to Eddie. She talks to Eddie. It’s all positive.

Was stealing the dress part of a ritual?

No. I don’t think there’s any kind of evil ritual going on. I think she is exploring, again, her dark side, and maybe satanic kind of stuff. But she was doing this for empowerment, and she has been dealing with a psychopath who is Leland. I don’t think she believes that there’s a devil there. She doesn’t believe in the devil or God for that matter. I think she believes that this man is an abusive, dangerous psychopath, and she’s going to somehow, by hook or by crook, gain power over him.

The stealing of the dress was, I think, an act of rebellion about having to be a good girl, or obeying the rules. I don’t think it’s any kind of demonic possession. It’s not something she does a lot. I think it was a bad thing she did.

You bathe Leland in blood in “I Is for IRS.” What is he getting out of that? He’s human, isn’t he?

He is human. Yeah. I begrudgingly help Leland out. Again, I’m using him, I think, for something much greater, and some eventual power over him. You’d have to ask Michael Emerson or the Kings what she thinks he’s getting from this blood. From Sheryl’s point of view, she says it makes him feel better. It’s like the transfusions that I’m getting, the brown stuff. It is something that makes him feel better, like going to a spa.

Did you study any magic for the role?

No, not magic, but I did read up on satanic worship. Do people really believe that blood transfusions, if you get a blood transfusion, say from a psychopath, are you going to take on psychopathic qualities? And there are schools of thought that believe that you could take on some personality traits of people whose blood you have in you. So, it’s possible that I have some influence from that evening. But again, to me, I think of it all as positive right now. We’ll see, I don’t know what’s going to happen to this character, but I think that she’s on a journey that is very much about empowerment, and she’s going for it.

Do you have any idea what occult tradition Sheryl is practicing?

Occult. No, I don’t. I think, again, there’s a satanic cult thing that she is exploring and intrigued by, but I don’t think she’s following anything strictly. But I do think she’s very intrigued by that world, and whether it’s to ultimately have control over it or have some kind of revenge over Leland, I don’t know. I think she’s smarter than people think she is.

Why were you singing the song from Flight of the Conchords? What were you doing all night?

Well, it’s interesting because that next morning when we’re singing that song, I’m dressed in a completely different, non-Sheryl, pastel tennis outfit, singing this song. So, it was kind of a wild night, but I think I feel great. I feel rejuvenated. I don’t have a memory, as I said, of the horror of the previous night. I don’t know where the hell we got that song, but it probably had something to do with Tim Matheson’s character.

You worked with Robert and Michelle King on The Good Wife and The Good Fight. What is different about a King set? What’s different about what they bring to TV?

Just the writing. The writers room that they have, the writers that they’ve hired, they’re all just so smart and funny. They know their genre, but it crops genres. It’s a mix of such wonderful comedy or drama. It’s topical. The key to their office is so topical and political, which I love. And on set there’s a real sense of freedom. And I think we all feel as actors that we can try stuff, and improvise. They’re very confident that way. They’re very open to actors’ ideas and improv and behavior twists in the characters, which is great.

New York has plenty of spooky exteriors. Do you think the city will become more of a character as this show moves on?

I hope so. I’m not part of that planning, but I can’t imagine that the Kings wouldn’t take advantage of, as you said, many, many spooky exteriors that are all over New York.

Why won’t RSM give up Kristen’s unfertilized eggs? You’re the mother, does Sheryl have the evil gene? Is that why they’re holding onto her last egg?

I don’t believe in evil. I don’t think Sheryl has anything evil. I think Sheryl is exploring her dark side and there might be some psychological problems with Sheryl. It’s not about evil or the devil. I think that there is some truth to the blood transfusions. I don’t know about truth, but there’s some belief that when you have, let’s say you get, you need, blood and you happen to get it from a psychopath, that maybe you’re going to have some psychopathic problems, right? Or if you get blood from a really kind Buddhist monk, that maybe that’s going to influence you somehow. So, there might be some truth in that. But I don’t think that there’s anything about the devil to me.

What do you think you’re doing for Leland and Tim Matheson’s character? At one point, you’re driving holes in their heads.

Okay. I do not think I am Leland’s handmaiden. I think I am helping Leland out, but this is, to me, a bigger picture. It’s a grand scheme of how I’m manipulating Leland. I’m helping him out to get power, to get empowerment. And I don’t think I killed the guy with the drill. I think he probably has a really bad headache, but I drained some brain fluid. Big deal. I don’t think I killed him. I kept saying, I said to the Kings, “I’m not killing this guy, right? I’m not a murderer.” “No, no, no, no, no, no. You’re just taking some. Borrowing some brain fluid for Leland.”

Aren’t you afraid it may escalate to that?

To killing? Yeah. I am afraid of that. I don’t know where they’re taking Sheryl. I don’t think it’s going to get to that, but we’ll see. And again, and I said also to the Kings, I want to be sure that no matter how dark it gets, which I love exploring, and I’ll do anything, but she can’t hurt her grandchildren or her daughter. And they reassured me that Sheryl loves her family, who would do anything for them. And, in fact, would go to the greatest lengths to protect them.

What path is Sheryl bringing Kristen’s daughters? You showed them Eddie. You’re giving them little pieces here and there. What do you want for these kids?

I want them to be empowered. I want them to stand up for themselves. Sheryl’s proud of her daughter for hitting that guy in the grocery store. It’s misguided advice, but I think from Sheryl’s point of view, it’s  “Stop taking shit from men, girls, and daughters. I took shit from men my whole life. I’ve put up with abuse and put up with being controlled and repressed.” Actually, physically and sexually abused is my backstory for Sheryl. So now she’s done. She’s had enough and she’s going to get revenge. She’s going to get power by hook or by crook. I don’t think it’s necessarily virtuous, but I think that there’s a real righteous rage that Sheryl has that’s fueling all of this.

You’re also very permissive with your daughter when she comes in. Where do you stand on the husband with that, if she’s stepping out?

I don’t think Sheryl likes this husband at all, and I think she’s thinking he’s just a dead weight on the family. And why isn’t Kristen just dumping the guy and carrying on with her life? He’s been such a burden on the whole family, and a non-father to these kids. I think that she’s giving her daughter advice that she feels is positive. Like, “Here’s how to hide it. I had to do it with your father. I didn’t have a good relationship with your father.”

I think Sheryl’s husband was abusive. And I think that I stepped out on him and this is how I covered my tracks, and here’s how you can cover your tracks. Of course, you’re going to step out on this guy, your husband. He’s never around. He’s a bad guy. From Sheryl’s point of view, I think it’s good advice.

What was the most fun sequence to film? And did you wish you could have been in the wine barrels a couple of weeks ago?

Oh, that wine barrel sequence was hilarious. It was like Lucille Ball getting drunk at a winery. It was so cheeky. Katja was so delicious in that episode. For me, it’s all been fun. Navigating the relationship with Leland is really fascinating. It’s so complex because she wants to pretend that she’s helping him, I think, and that she’s “under his influence” but she knows better. She has a bigger purpose, as I said. So that’s all very delicate and, I think, full of subtext and rage and revenge, but pretending otherwise, right? It’s complicated. I love that.

When you’re preparing to do horror, what horror do you watch?

I don’t watch any horror. I don’t like the genre, generally. But why I love this show is its infusion of humor and intelligence and topical subjects. It’s such a mixed genre piece. But the horror stuff, honestly, I just close my eyes when that stuff comes on because I get too scared. I can’t watch it at night. The monsters freak me out. And actually, I’ve done some horrific stuff, but I don’t have a lot of monsters in my scenes so far, the monsters that Kristen dreams about George, and now Aasif [Mandvi] dreams about. Those monsters have not entered my world yet.

Right. But it’s all psychological horror.

To me it is. Yes, imagined psychological horror, that we are dealing with evil that emerges out of psychotics’ brains, mentally deranged and psychosis, so psychologically based, explained psychosis. Not the devil.

Does Sheryl like what her daughter’s doing, looking for the truth? Or does she feel, because it’s for the Catholic Church, that it’s not ever going to find the truth?

I think that she likes that her daughter is the truth-seeker in a world that’s so filled with deceit and corruption and lies, which is the Catholic Church. And she likes that she’s going to be a ghostbuster in a way. But she is impatient with her because she wants her to stand up for herself more. And again, I think she applauded hitting the guy who cut in line, because her daughter’s been so passive. She used to put up with a lot of shit from men. She’s impatient with her daughter, like, “Come on. Dump this husband. Stand up for yourself. Be more empowered,” just like she’s on her own empowerment path.

We’ve gotten comedy episodes, a silent episode. Is there a musical episode coming up, a period episode?

Oh, I would love that. That would be a dream. Yeah, that would be great. I don’t know, honestly, I haven’t seen anything for next season, but I’m very excited about it, because I think Sheryl’s path, her journey, is just getting more and more interesting and fun to play.

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Evil airs Sundays on Paramount+.

The post Evil Season 2: What Is Sheryl Pumping into Her Veins? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[notprincehamlet]

the bookworm tag

I was tagged by @ladyhamiltons ♥♥♥

I’m tagging: @borispavlikvsky @la-violet-sent-mari @asapphicmess @sherlocks-east-wind @sarahlancashire (not sure if you all like to read or would like to do this, so feel free to ignore!)

1. Do you remember how you developed a love for reading?

I dunno, I feel like it didn’t even have to develop. I’ve been into reading ever since I finally grasped the concept of it, really.

2. Where do you usually read?

At the moment, my favourite spot for reading (and napping) is my parents’ bedroom for reasons unknown. But I’m also okay with reading while lying on my own bed lol

3. Do you prefer to read one book at a time or several at once?

I would prefer to read one book at a time but I’m too impatient for that, so it’s like a million books at once.

4. What is/are your favourite book(s)?

I’ll list some off the top of my head: Mourning Becomes Electra by Eugene O’Neill, The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket, Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie, A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams...

5. Do you have a least favourite book?

Oh man. I don’t really have a book that I absolutely hated, but there is a couple that I didn’t like, like Angels and Demons by Dan Brown. To be fair though, I started reading it while knowing I don’t even like Dan Brown (ha!). I just wanted to watch the movie and used the opportunity to read the book first. But at least I got to imagine Ayelet Zurer in shorts while reading it, so... not a complete waste of time.

6. What is your favourite genre?

Crime fiction, thrillers, classic, anything really? I’m not even sure which genre is my favourite anymore, but it used to be crime fiction.

7. Is there a genre you won’t read?

Nope, I doubt there is one at this point

8. What is the longest book you ever read?

Uhh, it’s been a while since I’ve read a really long book... I would say It by Stephen King was at least one of the longer ones - idk how long it is in English, but the Russian edition is quite a brick. Oh, and speaking of bricks, Les Miserables by Victor Hugo definitely counts as the longest book or one of them.

9. What book are you currently reading?

The Martian by Andy Weir, End of Watch by Stephen King, Paradise Lost by John Milton, and doing a reread of The Austere Academy by Lemony Snicket.

10. What was the last book you finished?

Finders Keepers by Stephen King

11. What was the last book you bought? 

I may have ordered five books... accidentally... knowing that I have to save money for the Pia trips which are supposed to happen later this year... oopsies. Anyway, I ordered The Beatrice Letters and The Unauthorized Autobiography by Lemony Snicket because the Netflix show rekindled my love for ASoUE ♥ And the other three books are fragments of Sappho translated by Anne Carson, A Self-Portrait in Letters by Anne Sexton and four plays by Noёl Coward (in one book).

12. Do you have a favourite book quote?

I definitely have a lot of favourites but I can’t really pick one right now (as usual, I forgot every single one of them as soon as I read the question lol). I’ll go with the first verse of T.S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock because a). I love it, and b). it calms me down when I’m anxious.

Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question ... Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” Let us go and make our visit.

13. Do you prefer library books or buying books?

Libraries are wonderful, but I personally prefer buying books. I like having them all to myself and reading them whenever I want.

14. Where do you buy your books?

In Russian chain bookshops, mostly, but if I’m abroad I usually take some time to visit English bookshops (preferably the ones selling used books because I love a bargain)

15. How many books do you buy a month?

I don’t really keep score on that. Sometimes it’s zero, sometimes it’s 33456 if there’s a sale or if I want to cheer myself up

16. How many books do you own?

I haven’t the slightest idea.

17. How do you feel about second hand books?

THEY ARE AMAZING, LOVE THEM

18. Do you prefer E-books or physical books?

Physical books, but I’m totally okay with e-books most of the time

19. Do you prefer paperback or hardback?

Paperback. I hardly ever buy hardbacks for myself because they are overpriced and heavy, albeit nice to look at. Not that I’m a huge fan of paperbacks (definitely not lmao) but they just seem more practical.

20. Do you prefer to read trilogies/series or standalones?

Depends on wether I like the book, I suppose. Some books are better as a part of a series, some are better as standalones. I may get bored and not continue reading a series if I disliked one of the books, but sometimes I wish a standalone got a sequel or something. I really have no preference here. It depends.

21. What is the weirdest thing you’ve used as a bookmark?

I don’t think I’ve ever used anything weird as a bookmark? I usually use old price tags and stuff like that but if I don’t have one of those, I have plenty of random paper scraps on my table or a spare notebook in my bag. Also, if the book is mine, I may just dog-ear it and carry on with my life.

22. What is more important to you: characters or plot?

Godddddd. Well, to me, either of them can save the book. I like it when the book has a character I love or relate to, in this case I can let the bad plot slide. The same happens the other way around, so I feel like they are equally important for me.

23. Do you ever judge a book by its cover?

I hardly ever buy books that are completely unknown to me, but I still do judge books by their covers sometimes. Especially if the cover is a still from a film adaptation.

24. What’s the most beautiful book you own?

I initially struggled with this question because most book covers in Russia are ugly as fuck, but probably The Rendezvous and Other Stories by Daphne du Maurier! It’s really pretty. 

25. What is your favorite book to movie/tv adaptation?

I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed an adaptation as much as I have enjoyed Netflix’s A Series of Unfortunate Events so I’m gonna go with that :)

26. What is the best beverage to drink while reading a book?

Any kind of tea ♥ not vanilla flavoured though, that one’s gross

27. Are you looking forward to any book release? If so, which one? 

Hmm, I’m not really informed about upcoming book releases, so I’m not looking forward to any book in particular. But I’m gonna buy whatever Stephen King writes next as soon as it hits Russian bookstores.

28. Recommend me a book :3

The Color Purple by Alice Walker, We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson, everything I mentioned in the ‘favourite books’ question :)