#the dogs are tourists and horrors

[canisonicscrewyou]

I'm sick and downtrodden and exhausted and these dogs are fuckin gettinjg me but let it be known that this morning I was still cuteee

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Monster x Reader [Werewolf]

In Romanian mythology, Pricolici is an evil spirit believed to be born after the death of wicked humans, able to transform into certain animals such as ferocious dogs and wolves. The etymology is unknown, although it's suspected to be of Dacian origin, thus going as far back in time as the 1st century BC. An ancient creature has set its predatory eyes on you.

Winner of the Folklore Monster Poll celebrating Romanian history!

TW: obsessive behavior, violence, death

[Horror Masterlist] [More Headcanons]

He can tell it's a dream. Nonetheless, it always feels unbearably real. He can smell the incense, hear the hurried trample of feet underneath him. He wants to open his mouth and demand they stop. No words ever come out, the throat is dry and flattened by heavy despair. It's a dream, after all. The priests march on, and the spears are lifted. For a moment, he's blinded by their powerful, sharp glisten. As he gazes at the sacred circle, it occurs to him just how uncomfortable the shackles are. He becomes somewhat distracted by this irritating friction, so much he doesn't register the instructions given by the mysterious men. 

Centuries later, he would stumble upon an old history book by Herodotus that detailed his misfortune:

"The Getae are the bravest of the Thracians and the most just. They believe they are immortal, forever living, in the following sense: they think they do not die and that the one who dies joins Zalmoxis, a divine being. Every four years, they send a messenger to Zalmoxis, who is chosen by chance. They ask him to tell Zalmoxis what they want on that occasion. The mission is performed in the following way: men standing there for that purpose hold three spears; other people take the one who is sent to Zalmoxis by his hands and feet and fling him in the air on the spears. If he dies pierced, they think that the divinity is going to help them; if he does not die, it is he who is accused and they declare that he is a bad person. And, after he has been charged, they send another one. The messenger is told the requests while he is still alive."

The foreign hands tighten around his limbs and he takes a deep breath in, ready for the plunge. Truth be told, he's not too anxious. The first time was terrifying, but one becomes accustomed to death if it repeats itself, night after night as the years pass and millennia settle over it, like a thick blanket of ash and bone and dust. He doesn't remember the pain anymore, only the bitterness. The wrath. He had no business playing God's messenger. He hadn't wished to be choking on his own blood, rippling violently at the corners of his mouth as his eyes dart over the excited masses. There are claps and cheers, and hope, and peace. Just not for him. 

No matter, if they long so dearly after eternity, he'll become their very proof. A tangible undead, a creature of eternity. Let them gaze at their ardent desire as it claws their bowels out for the birds to feed on. Let them sing praise before their God as their soft throats detangle under his fangs. Before he knows it, the corpses lay mangled at his feet and he notices his horrid reflection swaying in the puddles of fresh blood. 

He has become a beast. 

And just like that, the nightmare ends. It always ends here. He pats the sweat off his forehead with the monotonous vigor of habit. It's already noon and the narrow street flocks with curious tourists and natives on their stroll. Every now and then he will venture into the city, just to get a glimpse of the world. He twists the knob and opens a window, enjoying the breeze that cools his skin. His tired eyes wander around with no purpose. 

That's when he sees you. Your wide, carefree smile as you converse with your friend. You're drawing circles along the edge of your coffee cup, propped over the table, entranced by your discussion. Your gentle laugh rings unexpectedly loud against his ears. He finds himself frozen in place, unable to contract a single muscle. 

"Oh, this trail is supposed to have some really nice sights." Your friend is shuffling through unfolded maps, spread out onto the small café table. "We should leave pretty early though, otherwise it'll get dark before the return."

You groan at the idea. Your friend responds with a chuckle. 

"Remember, our tour guide joked about werewolves roaming the outskirts. Do you want to be eaten?" She inquires with a cheeky grin. 

"You know I have a thing for monsters." You answer with a wink. 

The jokes carry on until the bill arrives, and you eventually stand up and merrily make your way down the street. For a brief moment you feel a cold shiver running down your spine, so you peek back inquisitively. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Ah. By the time his focus returns, the sun is setting, reflecting its crimson rays over the old cobblestone. You've been gone for a while, so he must've been staring into the nothingness for good hours. He clears his throat, mildly embarrassed by his absent-mindedness. He isn't hungry, so he has trouble explaining his sudden captivation with a random human.

Even more bizarre is the consequence of the accidental encounter. The following nights are devoid of the usual torment. Has he ever had a peaceful slumber before? He can't recall. And yet here he is, vacantly eyeing the ceiling without the labored breath or cold shivers, faintly reminiscing about your amused expression. He frowns slightly at the realization that his recollection seems to contain less details compared to yesterday. Your face is smudged by the intense light of the noon, titled at an angle that allows no shadows to discern the features. What will he do when it's entirely gone? A faceless memory, anchored in the depths of his heart as a reminder of what could've been. Is there some universal law that dictates only misery remains unforgotten, or is he just exceptionally unlucky? Infuriating. 

The overwhelming sensation creeps upon him again. A primordial vengefulness that hasn't yet released him from its cold, bony fingers. For once, can't he be granted fairness? His jaw clenches and he marches out of the room. 

Tonight shall be a feast.

The lights are still on in the little tavern inn, and through the small windows he can make out the lively movement of the people inside. He glances at the waning moon one final time. The world may change, and the years may pass, but one thing has never left him throughout the centuries. Always bearing the same pallid, melancholic countenance, his taciturn companion rises, indifferent to the Universe. 

His back arches outwards, the bones tear and twist, the joints dislocate and the skin is giving way to coarse, thick fur. His eyes now carry an amber glow as they rest on the modest building. Without further hesitation, he pounces on the door and it folds like cardboard under his inhuman strength. The room goes quiet and all heads turn to him. He recognizes that look. A fleeting second of fear and curiosity, before true panic settles in. But they rarely have the time to scream. Just as the vocal chords contract and vibrate, their chests are trashed and limbs are tattered. Splattered visceral remains and blood coat the ground under his feral attack.

You squeeze your eyes closed and force your hands over your mouth to ensure your stillness to the massacre. You were just returning from the bathroom when you heard the wails and the wet sounds of mutilated flesh. You'd ducked behind the wall and hid under an end table. What the hell is that creature? You initially thought a wild wolf had somehow made its way into the tavern, but no animal can be this large. There is a backdoor, but on the other side of this hall. You'd have to sprint across the archway that leads into the main room. Then again, if it's this busy ripping the others apart...

No need to ponder your options much. Silence falls behind you, which means the creature must have finished its horrid sport early. His snout picks up a particular scent and he tenses up, expectantly. Could it be? 

The wooden parquet tiles creak under the weight of foreign footsteps; a human approaching you. You look up from under the table. Has someone dealt with the beast? Although you immediately regret revealing yourself. You freeze in your spot, hands propped on the ground, like prey awaiting execution. 

The man is unnaturally tall, having to crouch under the ceiling, with wild black hair and rough features. His chiseled face is painted red, and his clothing is torn apart and soaked in blood. His large hands end in sharp claws, and amid his ruffled locks you can distinguish animal ears. 

There you are.

Well, quite the irony to meet you here of all times and places. From this distance, you look even prettier. He bends over slightly to examine the details that have faded since the first encounter. A surreal experience, really. Seeing you kneel right in front of him and not as a figment of his imagination. He extends his fingers over your face and presses his nails in, leaving a vague trail of swollen, red skin. What a frail being you are.

"Your friend is alive, by the way." His deep, dissonant voice pierces the silence.

"O-oh." You gasp. You were so anxious you barely understood the meaning of his words.

"You may check on her if you so desire, however..." 

He considers it. Normally, even after allowing his anger to seep into cadavers and ruins, all he's left with is disgust and emptiness. Yet your presence seems to fill him with unfamiliar comfort. If one is drowning, is it truly selfish to hold onto the first thing that keeps them afloat? The only people who'd condemn such beggar are the ones that have never been underwater. They don't know what it's like to have your lungs tighten and collapse under the heavy pressure, waving your arms towards a surface that's never reached. 

"...You'll be coming with me afterwards."

You can only stare.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you." He attempts to simulate a smile. "I suppose I'm not too convincing like this", he jokes as he gestures towards his body, "But you have my word I'll never harm you."

"Why, though?" You manage to stutter, frowning in confusion. 

He's taken aback by your inquiry. Perhaps his statement is indeed more threatening than anything else. On the other hand, he hasn't conversed with humans in...longer than he can remember. What might pose as convincing in this case? Drawing out a rose and confessing his undying love among the bodies he murdered feels rather ridiculous. Suddenly, a passage he's once read comes to mind. At the time, it depressed him greatly. Now it feels like the only fitting reasoning.

"Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?"

"Isn't that from Stoker's Dracula? How is it-" 

You pause and search his eyes. Golden trenches of loneliness and gloom. Your heart is heavy and your mouth curls into a grimace the longer you stare into these pools swirling with agony. 

"I understand." Is all you can mutter as you stand up. 

Have you had a choice to begin with? Not even the frothing waves of a storming ocean can come between a dying man and his only raft. 

[bloggerspam]

THIS MASTERPOST WILL NO LONGER BE UPDATED

Please go to my new sideblog, @ficcerspam for an updated list, and for new things from here on out!

Danny Phantom Masterlist

I realized I've accidentally become a Danny Phantom fic writer and I don't know what to do with this information...other than make a masterlist, i guess.

I add on parts via reblog, so I will put the lastest date when i update the link in MM.DD.YY format! (*) denotes completion, for now. Extras (ie. ** or ***) denotes bonus updates I hadn't planned on!

============================================

Magician!Danny AU - 9.27.23*

Danny learns sleight of hand and goes through Hijinks and Shenanigans. There are some DC offshoots where Zatanna is involved, with some inevitable angst from another user.

In the Interest of Medical Attention Addition - 10.02.23*

DCxDP - Red Hood goes missing. Danny, an eldritch horror tourist, just wants to be helpful. These two things are, unfortunately, related.

De-Aged Danny Angst Addition - 10.06.23*

DCxDP - Danny, having been capture and experimented on, gets de-aged with memory loss and some...physical complications. One of the Bats finds him. Dad!Dick Grayson implied.

Booo-merang Trouble Addition - 10.10.23

DCxDP - Jason gives off an ecto-signature, and tries to find a runaway/hiding/injured Danny in Gotham.

Baby Danny vs. The Joker Additions - 10.16.23*

DCxDP - De-aged Danny in a bat onesie wreaking havoc on the Joker for Funsies, and sort of getting adopted by Jason. There are a plethora of other reblogs that aren't included in the link, but this is where I've mentally stopped the AU at (personally). Highly recommend going through them for the fanart!

Candy Crush AU Additions - 10.31.23*

DCxDP - Additions written for @long-live-astronerd-ghost-king's Candy Crush AU. Dead on Main. LOTS of other reblogs that aren't included in the link, but this is where I've mentally stopped the AU at (personally).

Luck Rush AU Additions - 12.02.23*

DCxDP - Additions written for @virgamsysxvolumes's Lucky Rush AU. Please go read it, it's so good!!! I've also designed some stuff for this AU, but Vivi has released some official art for the AU in the masterlist too!

Phantom Siblings and the Batfam - 12.05.23*

DCxDP - Prompt fill: Danny and Ellie are de aged. Dan and Jazz are co-parenting as the older siblings. Completely unrelated, half the batfam are flirting independently at Jazz/Dan, and the other half are dealing with the chaos gremlins.

Super Strength Shenanigans - 12.10.23* [AO3]

DCxDP - When Danny gets an internship in Gotham, concerned for his and his identity's safety they figure out he has super strength he can't control for human-standard fights. Shenanigans ensue.

Horror Movie Child!Danny AU - 12.18.23* [AO3]

DCxDP - Danny is adopted into the batfam having a coming of age movie, whilst the Batfam are going through Summer Horror Special.

Puppy!Danny AU - 12.28.23* [AO3]

DCxDP - Danny is Ace the Bathound AU! With Bonus Dan as Titus, Dani as Haley/Bitewing, and Jazz as Sparky and Dog. There have been multiple tags for this, so please be warned you WILL cry at part 3. Now with meme post. Any additional non-story posts will be under "phantom pups" tag!

Villain!Jazz AU - 04.07.23* [AO3]

**Disclaimer, NOT Jazz centered and heavily DP leaning** After lots of thought this AU will be exclusively updated on AO3 from now on! Please subscribe to it on AO3 instead of following it here :)

He’s fine… right..? - 02.05.24** [AO3]

Two-shot psychological horror based off some fanart of Danny crying melty tears.

Casseroles and Confrontations Additions- 03.10.24

DCxDP - Batman sends a few of the Batfam to Amity Park to investigate the ghost sightings. When they get there, however, Jason refuses to step into the town due to some instinctual feeling he has. Check "#casseroles and confrontations" tag for non-story lore!

NOW WITH AMAZING FANART by @animal-123-crazy

MORE CUTE FANART by @jamiethebee

Kon-El and the Phantoms - 02.07.24

YJxDP - Young Justice, specifically Kon-El, meets their newest member, Phantom's clone. Who just so happens to be a big fan.

Mama Canary AU - 06.19.24 [AO3]

JLxDP - Suddenly de-aged Danny meet Black Canary and accidentally ghost-wails at her...except all it does is push her back a couple feet, and make her think he's the cutest lil' canary in the world. Eventual Dead On Main.

Preschool Teacher Danny AU - 02.18.24* [AO3}

JLxDP - Clark comes across a meta-teacher with a class of seemingly meta toddlers. He asks if there's any room for Jon. Not sure if I will continue on Tumblr or continue on AO3, or both. Will update when I decide--this will probably be mostly ongoing as Naynay gives me more stories of her gremlins!

Sunshine and Stardust - 02.16.24 [AO3]

YJxDP - Danny is a clone of Superman AU, but he's a failure, a test dummy. Amidst the days of pain and experimentation, he hears another clone is being made.

Teen Titans and the Lost Boy Addition - 05.17.24

TTxDP - "After being on the run for a long time, Danny somehow stumbles his way into the middle of a fight. This leads to him joining the Teen Titans (much to his confusion)."

Thoughts about Death - 03.27.24*

"Do you ever think about how sacred life must be for Danny?" Oneshot.

Grunkle John AU - 06.24.24* [AO3]

JLxDP - Batman finds out that John Constantine is basically Danny Phantom(high level threat, ghost king)'s weird uncle. I tell you the story of how that came to be.

Not so Little Merperson - 05.02.24*

YJ/JLxDP - Superboy gets Prince Eric'd by Space Whale Danny, and all Kon wants to do is find the smoking hot not-so-little-merperson that saved him. If he has to pester Aquaman for it, so be it. Oneshot.

Estranged Brothers Dick and Danny Addition - 05.06.24*

DCxDP - Mr. Haley summons Danny to act in the circus, not expecting the Grayson's to take such a shine to him. The Grayson's die and Dick is adopted by Bruce, but Danny has to stay... Oneshot.

Baby's First Kidnapping - 06.09.24*

DCxDP - Jazz gets kidnapped by cultists who want to summon the Ghost King. The Bats are confused af when Jazz laughs in the cultists' faces. Oneshot

Phic Phight 2024 Phics:

Forgotten Fire: A little bit on who Ember McLain was, when she was alive. Complete.

Open Secrets: Everyone knows AU. (except, Danny doesn't know they know). Complete.

In Front of My Cereal? Crackfic for the prompt: Danny shuddered. The old man yaoi energy at that table was insufferable. Complete.

[kurosaaki]

what is happening in Valencia (Spain)?

More than 200 people have died and 2000 people are missing since the catastrophe that happened in Valencia, Spain, a couple days ago.

Valencia is one of the most popular and beautiful regions in Spain, often visited by lots of international — and national — tourists to have a great time in the summer.

Meteorologists said a year’s worth of rain had fallen in just eight hours in parts of Valencia — specially, in small towns — this Tuesday. In Spain, this phenomenon is called “Dana”, which is basically a “cold drop”, which causes saturated air to rise rapidly, leading to heavy rain, thunderstorms and tornadoes to happen.

For reference to americans: hurricane milton caused 27 dead, these massive storms in valencia caused more than 90 deaths in a region that is much, much smaller... the weather services warned about the danger, and political authorities still did nothing to send people home from their jobs. the civil alarms reached our phones at 8pm, when many were already trapped in cars, basements, malls, factories. the loss, especially human loss, is incalculable (from: @/woundposting on tumblr)

People who worked overnight for big companies were not even able to go back to their homes and ensure their safety — some of them, lots of them, even lost their lives in that same night. It has been three days now and there are still more reports of disappearances and deaths, and the government is NOT acting like they should. This is a tragedy, which could have been avoided if they only did one thing right, and no one is taking responsability — not the government, not the big companies who didn’t let their workers go home, no one.

It is always the working class people who help the working class people.

Since this is a situation that has took the whole country by surprise and horror, I will put more info under the cut if you want to know more, and if you want to donate to some gofundme’s.

Horta Sud is a county in Valencia that has been the most affected by the floodings. People are leaving their houses because they're scared of the infrastructure getting damaged and even walking by foot to Valencia capital to get food.

Letur (Albacete) is a town that has been destroyed by the floods. You can help rebuild it by donating to this gofundme that's directly coordinated with the town hall.

Hambre Cero is a Spanish food bank non-profit that was founded after the earthquakes in Indonesia. They're currently active in Palestine and Lebanon but they'll also be giving food to those who need it in Spain.

El Refugio de María a dog shelter in Sueca (Valencia), is completely flooded, leaving the dogs visibly distressed and without a proper place to sleep. You can donate to their PayPal: maria.g.may@gmail.com

Protectora San Antón is a shelter for cats and dogs in Jerez de la Frontera. It's flooded and the animals don't have a comfortable place to sleep in. If you live in Spain you can bizum them @ 635011715. If not, PayPal protectorasananton@hotmail.com

Help Sara and her family rebuild their home in Valencia:

there are many more links in twitter. the ones i have put here in this are from a thread posted by @ diangneylo. you can find the link to the thread here, with many more links: https://x.com/diangneylo/status/1851960706536534104?s=46&t=xf1Z6STThFP3w_mF4ugamA

[spnscripthunt-inactive]

Here's over 500 horror film screenplays so you can learn about our shared cultural heritage.

Update 09/29/2024:

The Phantom of the Opera (1925)

Vampyr (1932)

Dracula's Daughter (1936)

Repulsion (1965)

Straw Dogs (1971)

Frenzy (1972)

The Fury (1978)

Magic (1978)

Tourist Trap (1979)

Zombie Flesh Eaters [Zombi 2] (1979)

Ghost Story (1980)

Humanoids from the Deep (1990)

Phobia (1980)

The Watcher in the Woods (1980)

Dead & Buried (1981)

The Beast Within (1982)

10 to Midnight (1983)

Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983)

Razorback (1984)

The Stuff (1985)

Maximum Overdrive (1986)

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986)

Blood Diner (1987)

Brain Damage (1988)

Dead Heat (1988)

Thinner (1996)

Deep Blue Sea (1999)

[gif source]

[milfjagger]

horror recs 2024

categories are a little broad but take from it what you will. personal favs are in bold and a * next to the name means this movie genuinely scared me

serial killers/stalkers/home invasion the black phone (2021) the invisible man (2020) hannibal (series; 2013-2015) maniac (2012) american psycho (2000) the silence of the lambs (1991) opera (1987) tourist trap (1979) halloween (1978) deep red (1975) black christmas (1974) the texas chain saw massacre (1974) peeping tom (1960)

ghosts/hauntings talk to me (2022) the haunting of hill house (series; 2018) i am the pretty thing that lives in the house (2016) under the shadow (2016) crimson peak (2015) mama (2013) the orphanage (2007) lake mungo (2008)* dark water (2005) the ring (2002) the others (2001) the devil's backbone (2001) ring (1998)* candyman (1992) poltergeist (1982) the haunting (1963) the innocents (1961)

vampires interview with the vampire (series; 2022- ) midnight mass (series; 2021) let the right one in (2008) bram stoker's dracula (1992) near dark (1987) the lost boys (1987) fright night (1985) dracula (1958) nosferatu (1922)

werewolves dog soldiers (2002) ginger snaps (2000) & ginger snaps 2 (2004) the howling (1981) an american werewolf in london (1981)

demons/witches longlegs (2024)* smile (2022)* incantation (2022)* hereditary (2018)* suspiria (2018) veronica (2017)* terrified (2017)* pyewacket (2017)* the autopsy of jane doe (2016) the exorcist (series; 2016-2018) the blackcoat's daughter (2015) the witch (2015)* evil dead (2013) the exorcism of emily rose (2005) the blair witch project (1999) the craft (1996) hellraiser (1987) suspiria (1977) the exorcist (1973) the devil rides out (1968) rosemary's baby (1968) black sunday (1960)

survival horror yellowjackets (series; 2021 - ) the terror (series; 2017) rogue (2007) the descent (2005)* open water (2003)

sci-fi horror crimes of the future (2022) annihilation (2018)* the fly (1986) the thing (1982) alien (1979) & aliens (1986)

monster movies willow creek (2013)* troll hunter (2010) the host (2006) pumpkinhead (1988)

folk horror the ritual (2017)* wake wood (2009)* the hallow (2015) pet sematary (1989) the wicker man (1973) the blood on satan's claw (1971) night of the demon (1957)

fantasy/fairytale horror gretel and hansel (2020) red riding hood (2011) the juniper tree (1990) the company of wolves (1984) psychological horror (that doesn't fit better into another category) candyman (2021) the lighthouse (2019) us (2019) get out (2017) gerald's game (2017) a cure for wellness (2016) the invitation (2015) it follows (2014)* excision (2012) may (2002) frailty (2001) dead ringers (1988) gothic (1986) carrie (1976) cat people (1942)

indie/experimental (mileage may vary) enys men (2022) skinamarink (2022) bones and all (2022) men (2022) the house (2022) relic (2020)* saint maud (2019) mandy (2018) the wind (2018) raw (2016)

balls to the wall crazy/fun as hell evil dead rise (2023) fall of the house of usher (series; 2023) late night with the devil (2023) saw movies (2004-2023) the menu (2022) nope (2022) malignant (2021) escape room (2019) & escape room: tournament of champions (2021) run (2020) the chilling adventures of sabrina (series; 2018-2020) 31 (2016) the boy (2016) american mary (2012) repo! the genetic opera (2007) trick 'r' treat (2007) sweeney todd (2007) dead silence (2007) house of wax (2005) house of 1000 corpses (2003) final destination (2000) ravenous (1999) lair of the white worm (1988) brain damage (1988) the texas chainsaw massacre 2 (1986) re-animator (1985) & bride of re-animator (1990) evil dead movies (1981-1992) phantom of the paradise (1974)

[boiledbirdy]

BRAD FUCKIN WAYNEEE

headcannons i have abt this sweet himbo fratboy

This man is the largest in the family, like 6’6 and built like a non-green hulk. He can easily pick up and fireman carry Bruce and Jason

Is the guy in a frat party to sit with girls and hear about them bitch about periods and now carries a little pack with him everywhere that has a few tampons, pads, hand-warmers (for on the go heating pads), and Tylenol and Advil

Where does he keep this stuff and the random assortment of weird things he has, you ask? He wears a fanny-pack

read it and weep y’all he wears fanny-packs, usually the cool way over his shoulder, but mostly around his waist since he carries a backpack almost 25/8

He drives a beater truck (just an old car whose been through like three accidents and is still going strong) specifically a 1991 dodge D250 truck with a scratched up white paint job where there are dents, scratches, and a few patches of off white paint on dents that was sorta DIY-ed

his keys 🔑 have a weird ass mesh of keychains on it like: Ally flag keychain and a flag keychain for every single label a person has come out to him with, also a keychain from every museum, tourist spot he’s ever been, also a beer and bottle opener he’s a frat boy duhhh, he has a little bracelet that is made of sparkles and purple beads that steph gave to him but it was too small so he put it on his keys, a collage logo keychain, a keychain from his local gym and one with rugby on it etc

the keychains and keys are never ending

HE PLAYS RUGBY, argue with the wall.

getting a bachelors and masters in sports medicine

he makes sure to give Duke, Damian, Cass, Steph, and Tim copies of his keys first (the rest of the fam too they just get priority)

A) because they are the kids, and he wants them to know that he has an open bed any time

B) cause he’s the sibling to not get mad if they are intoxicated in any form and will cover for them

This next one is so important to me

He takes Tim to his first midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, same with Damian

He pretty much eats at the Wayne mansion every night but sleeps at his apartment

Shows Damian some good rock’n roll ex Red Hot Chili Peppers, Sublime, Ramones, The Clash, Oingo Boingo, Ghost, Blonde, Foo-Fighters (i can make a playlist if wanted)

Just will sit and have a beer with Jason and sit in silence or talk about weird things that happened today

Steph and him have study sessions together

He will watch any ballet practice Cass wants him to see and he never misses a competition or performance

he sends Tim stupid skateboard tricks and fails videos (tiktok or insta reels) daily and then once a month they take Brad’s truck to a park and Brad sits on a ramp and cheers Tim on like its the Super Bowl

Watches Dick’s dog when he’s away from home and they both watch Barbie movies together

He gardens at Alfred’s request, yes he sucks but this man cannot not say no to the tidbits of Alfred’s life story he learns

Can kick back like 4 kegs of beer with no fucking consequences, he has a liver of steel thanks to Brucie Wayne

He’a the high guy in the bathtub at frat-parties and will give shitty or good life advice its 50/50 honestly

Does stupid white people fraternity things that would kill a normal person but he just is quirkily busting it down and Death just cannot vibe with him

makes (and i cannot stress this enough) the best and i mean best, (Alfred and Ma Kent can’t win in this one) brownies. Whether they are edibles or not they are the best.

has done the Tide-Pod challenge and survived

He is the Frat God of Gotham

Him and Duke are like the best duo

They blast Rock and Rap so that all five cars in every direction can hear it

Duke has the habit of putting weird ass bumper stickers on Brad’s desk and bed frame (at his apartment, they Do Not fuck with Alfred) Brad smiles fondly every time he finds a new one

Brad = Mark, ya know the tiktok sound

Him and Harper simp over women 🙏 together

In his fanny-pack, truck, and various rooms he has stim toys/do-hickeys bins or sections

bc he has Nerodivergent siblings and he was just trying

he asked kinda rude blunt questions, he didn’t know anything and he kinda (really) sucks at subtlety and reading a room but he was just trying to understand

He will take Damian to amusement parks and zoos pretty much bi-weekly

The girls can put on a horrible outfit and makeup and he will think he looks fabulous and no one will ever tell him that he’s sporting fashion and makeup crimes

has a small hidden bookcase of Wings of Fire, Warrior cats, Land of Stories, etc.. cause Damian is embarrassed to admit he actually likes reading them

Watches the trashiest brain rotting tv shows like Dance moms or keeping up with the Kardashians

Goes to any march or parade his siblings or friends are going to so: A) he can be that decked out ally tank of a man passing out water bottles and granola bars B) so if the police are back on their BS he can protecc atacc and throw that tear gas bacc

*Sniff 🤧* I have something I need all of you to know, I say this with a heavy heart *holding back tears 😥* Brad is a former highlighter kid— *single tear falls*

This fucking himbo stud-muffin has slept with, kissed, crushed on, and went on dates with men, but still doesn’t realize that he’s Bisexual

his favorite flavor ice cream is pistachio and carmel

KNOWS NOTHING and i mean nothing about zodiac signs

Has been caught in the middle of Gotham Rouge and does not understand what the fuck is happening

He either Teddy Bear fratboy golden retriever energies them to friendship or friendly acquaintance or annoys them to the high hells of mosquito bites on your butt

^I can expand if wanted

His phone you ask?

Screen cracked like rice crispys

apps more disorganized than the random shit drawer in someone’s house

he has a model 6S and will not upgrade or replace it to save his life.

he has an otterbox case and we all know it, no more denial

Okay thats my time yall see ya

[disturbingstar]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐝𝐞

Shoutout to @aereaseastar for giving me the idea to post a kind of horror movie breakdown so others can know what the film is about without watching it

Plot summary

A mad scientist kidnaps and mutilates a trio of tourists in order to reassemble them into a human centipede, created by stitching their mouths to each others' rectums.

Banned

• In the UK, the film has been refused classification a by the BBC. The ban was eventually lifted, but only after several cuts were made.

• In Germany, as much as 17 minutes had to be cut, but even then, this wasn't enough to placate the authorities, ultimately banning the film outright.

• In Australia, the film initially passed uncut but ultimately had to be edited, albeit not to the extent of the UK cut, to pass.

• This film remains banned/has been banned in New Zealand, China and Iceland

Trivia

• Tom Six drew inspiration from his time as a director for Big Brother, where he observed the strange things people would do when they were alone and thought they weren't being watched.

• Akihiro Kitamura improvised his dialogue in the scene where Heiter explains his procedure

• The heating wasn't working in the scene where Lindsay falls into the pool, so Ashley C Williams's shivering was real

• Tom Six (the films director, writer & producer) kept the actual method of how the centipede would be formed secret from nearly everyone as long as possible

• The main villain is a surgeon, because Tom Six has a personal fear of hospitals and doctors

• Dieter Laser contributed many ideas about Heiter's character, the most notable of which was him swimming naked in front of his victims; he felt that since Heiter viewed the 'centipede' as his pet, he wouldn't be ashamed to be naked around them

• Tom Six claims that he got the idea for the film from discussions with a friend on how to punish child molesters

Breakdown

Lindsay and Jenny are two American tourists in Germany who attempt to drive to a local nightclub when their car breaks down in the nearby woods. After refusing a ride from a dangerous-looking truck driver, they walk through the woods looking for them when it begins to rain. They stumble upon a rural country house owned by a crazed surgeon named Dr. Heiter. Dr. Heiter pretends that he is calling for them when he serves the two young women drugged water, which upon drinking it they pass out. The women awake in a makeshift medical ward in the basement and witness Heiter informing a kidnapped truck driver that he is “not a match” and then killing him.

When the women wake up a second time, Heiter has secured a new male captive, Japanese tourist Katsuro. The doctor explains to his three captives that he is a world-renowned expert at separating conjoined twins but dreams of making new creatures that share a single digestive system. He describes in detail how he will surgically connect his three victims mouth-to-anus. After Lindsay fails in an attempt to escape, Heiter performs the surgery on his victims, placing Lindsay in the middle, Katsuro at the front, and Jenny at the rear. Before beginning the operation, Heiter explains to Lindsay that he had experimented with creating a 'three dog', also joined mouth-to-anus, which died shortly after surgery. Heiter tells Lindsay that the middle dog of his creation experienced the most pain, and as a punishment for her escape attempt she will become the middle part of his human centipede.

Once the operation is complete, the doctor tries to train his centipede as a pet and watches with great delight as Lindsay is forced to swallow Katsuro's excrement. However, Heiter eventually becomes irritated after being kept awake day and night by the constant screaming of his victims, and he soon realises that Jenny is dying from blood poisoning caused by the surgery.

A few days later, two local detectives, Kranz and Voller, arrive at the doctor's house to investigate the disappearance of tourists. Heiter decides to add them to his centipede as replacements for Jenny. Heiter fails in an attempt to drug the detectives, and they leave the house to obtain a search warrant.

The victims attempt to escape from the ward, crawling up the stairs, and Katsuro attacks Heiter, stabbing him in his left leg with a scalpel. Their attempt to escape ultimately fails. Katsuro confesses to the doctor, in Japanese, that he deserves his fate because he had treated his family poorly. He then fatally cuts his own throat with a shard of broken glass. Just then, the detectives return to the house and conduct separate searches, as Heiter hides in the basement near his swimming pool. Kranz finds the makeshift ward and then hears a gunshot. He discovers Heiter's victims before finding Voller dead in the swimming pool after being shot. Heiter comes out of hiding and shoots Kranz in the stomach, and Kranz responds by shooting Heiter in the head. Kranz then falls in the pool, dead.

Back in the house, Jenny and Lindsay hold hands as Jenny dies from her blood poisoning. Despite being aware that their captor is dead, Lindsay is left alone in the house, trapped between her two deceased fellow captives.

I haven't personally watched this film, so apologies if I made any errors

[dickinfectionbez]

For the lovely @formulapookie who suggested the idea of more crow!bez

Bez was a gift giver first and a collector second.

He had pockets full of trinkets, his arms full of bracelets. Many would come to him, looking for a specific item. One that he would have hidden. Hairties, pins, makeup wipes and even the odd paracetamol. There was rarely something that sent him spiralling. He had given everyone something and kept something for them on him.

But he didn't have anything for Marc.

Jewellery was something Vale gave him, clothing shared between them all. Alex would send trinkets from home and Pecco would share items from sponsors. But he didn't have anything from Bez.

Nothing that signified that Marc was now part of Bez's pack. That he was as important as anyone else in the academy. Bez had overheard Marc lamenting to Vale how he felt hostility from Bez. That Bez was courteous but not warm and that he would never be anything more than Vale's boyfriend in Bez's eyes. Valentino consoled Marc, telling him that Bez was just coming to terms with all the change and he would soon be friendly. But Bez was happy for Marc to be here, he just didn't now how to show it. There was no manual for accepting your boss/pseudo-father figures boyfriend into your small knit circle of people. Especially when you had spent your youth idolising the man and your career trying to beat him.

So Bez slipped out his apartment at the crack of dawn, his target being a gift shop in the tourist area. Maybe he could find something that screamed 'Marc'. It had to be unique, something that only he could give Marc. Not a piece of tourist trash or a massive marketed luxury product. He stopped in a coffee shop first, walking the streets with an ice latte in his hands. As Bez tried to put his card back into his wallet, a stray dog waltzed up to him. He petted the dogs head, holding his coffee in one hand and his wallet in the other. Suddenly the dog jumped up, biting his wallet and running off with it. Bez chased the dog, grabbing his wallet as the plastic lid of his coffee popped off, covering the front of his white shirt and the dog in his drink.

The dog ran, whimpering as he held what was left of his coffee. He tossed the cup, using the flimsy tissues that came with his order to wipe himself down. Bez looked around, realising he was far away from where he was supposed to be. He checked the time on his phone, groaning as he found out that the shops he wanted to visit would close before he reaches them. Bez began to walk the wide street, glancing at every shop hoping to find anything. Bez stared into the window of a green painted shop, eyes widening with disbelief.

There, in the window of an antique's shop sat a lighter, smaller than a zippo and slightly tarnished. But it was perfect. On the lighter was an engraving, a tiny ant with the initials 'MM'. The Universe had led him away from the gift shops just so he could find this. It was a gift that met all the criteria.

Bez walked to the door, pushing it to no avail. He pushed again, the door still closed. Bez sat on the steps of the shop, waiting for whoever was working to unlock the door and start the day. There was a knock as an old man with a cane climbed the steps to the shop, using his cane to nudge Bez out the way so he could pull the door open. The old man walked up to the jewlery counter as Bez slipped into the shop, heading straight to the old woman sitting behind the counter knitting. She looked up at him, waiting for what he needed. "The lighter in the window, is it for sale?" The old woman put her knitting down and stood up, knees cracking as she picked up a key.

The old man glanced at the pair, curious to see what Bez was buying. The woman put the lighter in Bez's hands, "it's €250, one of a kind." Bez nodded as the old man stood beside him, plucking the lighter out his hands. Bez watched in horror as the old man slipped the lighter into his pocket and watched to the counter to pay. The woman looked at him and winked. Her wink didn't settle his heart. Bez took his card out, holding it against his palm as he watched the old man place the lighter on the counter. The woman pretended to pick it up, instead swiping it off the counter and at Bez's feet.

The old man looked at Bez expecting him to pick it up and hand it over. Instead Bez picked the lighter up and held it above his head, handing his card to the woman. The old man spluttered in anger, he spat out curses while jumping trying to get the lighter. Bez tapped his pin into the card reader as the old man lifted his cane up, striking the brass tip hard against Bez's wrist. Annoyed Bez hadn't dropped the lighter, he smacked him again. Bez took his card and put it in his pocket, walking out the antique shop, hand still above his head.

As soon as he was out of the shop he slipped the lighter into his pocket, holding his sore wrist. He headed straight to the Ranch, the lighter burning a hole of excitement in his clothes. Marc opened the door, his shirt inside out and face flushed. He had a look of annoyance flash through his eyes before he saw Bez's wrist. Marc ushered him inside, heading into the kitchen as Vale emerged into the living room, his tattoo covered with a bruising splodge. Vale looked at Bez with a strange look, just smiling as they all sat down on the sofa.

Marc placed the bag of ice on Bez's wrist, setting a pillow underneath. With his free hand, Bez pulled the lighter out his pocket and held out his closed fist. Marc looked at him confused as he held his hand outstretched, the lighter falling into his palm. Bez held his breath as Marc rubbed the lighter between his hands, an unreadable expression on his face. Then a tear slipped down Marc's face, and another one. Two more followed before Marc looked up, laughing as he wiped his face. "Vale bought this for me. I sold this lighter years ago." Bez froze, "I was so angry with Vale, angry with the media. I regrette selling it." He gave the lighter to Valentino as he hugged Bez. "How did you find this?" Vale asked after they all had settled. Bez laughed, recounting the day, vividly acting out the dog stealing his card and the near fistfight he had with the old man who tired to take the lighter.

[frankendykes-monster]

Countdown to Halloween 2024 ranked

54. The Willies (1990)

53. Hell High (1987)

52. Face of The Screaming Werewolf (1964)

51. Terrifier (2016)

50. The Last Halloween (1991)

49. Cathy's Curse (1977)

48. The Last Shark (1981)

47. Godzilla × Kong: The New Empire (2024)

46. Creepozoids (1987)

45. The Horror of Frankenstein (1970)

44. Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks (1974)

43. Man Beast (1956)

42. Tourist Trap (1979)

41. Daughter of Dr. Jekyll (1957)

40. Fiend (1980)

39. Vampyros Lesbos (1971)

38. Devil Girl From Mars (1954)

37. Halloween Hall o' Fame (1977)

36. Nightmare (1981)

35. The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra (2001)

34. Peeping Tom (1960)

33. Violent Shit (1989)

32. Invaders From Mars (1986)

31. Eggshells (1969)

30. Night of The Ghouls (1959)

29. Scream, Blacula, Scream (1973)

28. The Strange World of Planet X (1958)

27. The Colossus of New York (1958)

26. The Scooby-Doo Project (1999)

25. Night of The Living Doo (2001)

24. Scooby-Doo! and The Reluctant Werewolf (1988)

23. The Great Bear Scare (1983)

22. The Wasp Woman (1995)

21. The Cyclops (1957)

20. Frankenstein and The Monster from Hell (1974)

19. The Tingler (1959)

18. The Boogey Man (1980)

17. The Dragon Lives Again (1977)

16. Quatermass and The Pit (1967)

15. The Brain That Wouldn't Die (1962)

14. Mad Love (1935)

13. The Alien Factor (1978)

12. The Walking Dead (1935)

11. Dr. Caligari (1989)

10. The Deadly Spawn (1983)

9. Invaders From Mars (1953)

8. Alucarda (1977)

7. Uzumaki (2024)

6. Sole Survivor (1984)

5. Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979)

4. Shock Waves (1977)

3. Frankenhooker (1990)

2. Invasion of The Body Snatchers (1978)

1. Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla (1974)

What a productive year. October lasts all of 30 seconds which is why I have to start watching these in July if I want to make any decent headway (31 films is not enough). I desperately tried to make this a year of "have not seens" after last year's top spots being flooded with films I already loved; we mostly did it, mostly. Another top heavy year with relatively few abysmal entries, let's get started.

The Willies is the grand shitshow for this year. It feels like it's an evolutionary precursor to something like Goosebumps or Are You Afraid of The Dark?, but it mostly plays to gross out rather than scares. I don't normally care for anthology horror films to begin so to start off a film with brief segments like a woman eating a deep fried rat or a little white dog being microwave exploded and then doing extended stories on monsters hiding in the school bathroom does not do it for me. The most minimal points possible for some decent lighting and special effects but they are not enough by any means to make this worth watching. Stay away.

Onto the 1980's horror: Hell High is what happens when a film crew asks "what if we put a woman into a situation and didn't stop". I want to call it misogynistic torture porn, but I don't want to devalue that phrase for when I use it for a film later on here, but suffice to say a woman is tortured. Emotionally. For very little reason. Universal was right to block The Last Shark from US theatrical distribution. Not because it's a very blatant Jaws ripoff and they wanted to protect their copyright, but because it's abysmal and nobody should have to pay money to see this. I think the stock footage of sharks juxtaposed with the unmoving props between shots is funny, and some of the soundtrack elevates the experience, like the high shrill drones when the shark attacks a helicopter. Creepozoids is an odd one because 1987 was a bit late for a Mad Max/Escape from New York/Alien knockoff but also too early for some Full Moon tier/softcore porn adjacent 1990's production, so it loses out on both fronts. Fiend I'm struggling to even recall, I feel like Don Dohler had one movie in him (see: his plethora of alien invasion films) and him trying to branch out did him no favors. Nightmare is one I want to enjoy because it's beautifully shot but I feel like I've seen one too many slasher adjacent films at this point that include plot points like the killer having a troubled relationship with his mother or him moonlighting as a regular guy (still better than Pieces mind you). Same with Violent Shit. I feel like my tastes are pretty attuned to films that are just gore effects showcases but this one doesn't have any zany concepts to justify or compliment it, so it just falls flat.

The Boogey Man belongs to that tirade of Halloween knockoffs that flooded theaters up till about 1984 or so, but it puts in some extra effort like having a ghost be the main antagonist and a symbolic interest in mirrors, which is much more than could be asked of films like Terror Train which came out the same year. Dr. Caligari is the obligatory "this is what Tim Burton thinks he's doing" film of this year; its sets and its performances are perfectly otherworldly to a humorous degree. It's something of a quasi-sequel to the 1920 film but its relationship with logic is attuned to such a frequency that it's not a hindrance. Very hard to objectively quantify, you're either in the target audience or you aren't, so of all films here take its tier placement the least seriously. The Deadly Spawn is such a gloriously gross film. The house it's shot in isn't supposed to be disgusting on purpose, it's just one of those century's old buildings where I feel like I'd revulse if I had to touch any surface, and that's before fleshy alien monsters break in and start shredding people to bits. Sole Survivor is one of those magical "missing link" horror films, we've finally found what comes between Carnival of Souls and Final Destination. The actual scares in this film are incredibly minimal as it prioritizes atmosphere that balances between comfort and unease, something incredibly rare for films of virtually any genre. Don't go in expecting ghosts and you'll be pleasantly surprised.

Taking a brief-ish detour to the 1960's, Face of The Screaming Werewolf is one of those films I'm more angry at than anything because it's one of those films that's just the combined stray footage of multiple previous films. Rare for these to be produced in the western market (most of the examples I think of are from (south)east Asia) but it's infuriating nonetheless to see something only to discover it's a worse version of multiple better things you could be seeing. Peeping Tom is our "most overrated" entry winner, I don't know why so many people applaud this one, I feel like barely anything of substance happens to such a degree that any ounce of suspense you could draw from this just disappears, and what a shame with the concept at play here that feels as if it would take another decade for everyone else to catch up. Eggshells is the directorial debut of Tobe Hooper and while cohesive narrative is virtually nonexistent here, the amount of experimental editing keeps this going throughout the entire runtime, you can definitely see where The Texas Chainsaw Massacre came from down the line. I feel like I'm somewhat disappointed with Quatermass and The Pit (not sure what "The Pit" refers to now that I think of it) mostly becasue the first two Quatermass films are among the best 1950's science fiction films. All three are theatrical remakes of television mini-series and that's most felt here with how so much of the film takes place in the single location of an unearthed Martian ship in the heart of London. I do love that we have a science fiction film positing that humans are partly the genetic ancestors of aliens prior to people taking that seriously with books like Chariot of The Gods. The Brain That Wouldn't Die is magical, sometimes those oft hated 1950's/1960's science fiction films have something to give back to the rest of us. Here it's a man so obsessed with his own work that he sees his wife's death as an opportunity to try and kill other women so that he can use their bodies as grounds to bring her back. Which sounds like something else I watched...

...said film being Frankenhooker, which has largely the same plot but now functions as a dark comedy. God. I hate so much that the capitalist enclosure on the production and distribution of film prevented us from getting so much more from Frank Henenlotter. The man is one of the best to ever direct horror, and anyone who thinks this film or any of his other work are "bad movies" just flat out do not know what they're talking about. I think compared to Basket Case and Brain Damage however, Frankenhooker is the one that "keeps giving". You think you've seen everything the film has to offer and then something like a hotel room full of women combusts as they succumb to the effects of exploding crack or Elizabeth (the titular character) has her head punched back and starts spewing smoke and electricity everywhere. Film is a magical medium of art.

Terrifier is what I held onto "misogynistic torture porn" for. No narrative, no character work, just opportunities to show Art the Clown dismember and murder women in revolting ways. It's one of those films that vindicates everyone that doesn't like this genre and makes me wonder what I'm doing sitting side by side with people that like this shit. I think Art cutting off a woman's breasts and scalp and attaching them to his nude body to disguise himself as another prior female victim of his is when my mouth went agape and audibly asked what the fuck am I watching, cannot stress enough how much it takes to get that reaction out of me. There's an upfront showcase that Terrifier knows that it's trash and revels in it, I mean there's an early scene where we see Art has spelled out his name in his own shit, and I'm not sure how to interpret that other than I feel like I might be landing in a Duchamp's Urinal trap. For reasons that allude even me I am still eyeing the prospect of watching both sequels.

I think my overall reaction to Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire is one of "whatever". A passably bad film is a definite improvement from the abomination that was Godzilla vs. Kong but it's admittedly easy to rise up when you start from the bottom. Adam Wingard more or less sucked all the joy I could muster out of the Monsterverse, I truly do not care anymore. If anything can be gleaned from this film it's that this is a film made to reconfirm people's existing biases of "I hate the boring human scenes, I'm only watching this for the monsters." Kong is the best actor in this film because the special effects team have to have him actually emote in response to a given situation, which is more than could be asked of anyone actually on the set, apparently. It's a miracle that this came out in the shadow of Godzilla Minus One than on its own terms.

The glut of 1950's science fiction films are a perennial staple of the Halloween countdown but they don't have a huge showing this year. Man Beast is one I'm going to confuse with all the other yeti movies of the decade though having a main antagonist that's actually a human hybrid gets it some points for originality. Daughter of Dr. Jekyll infuriates me because women who become monsters in film never get to be "hideous" and "scary" like their male counterparts, I'm throwing tomatoes at this one. Devil Girl From Mars is mostly memorable for having a giant clunky robot a la Gort, but the actual titular antagonist doesn't "serve cunt" enough to warrant interest, she should have taken notes from The Astounding She-Monster. The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra is an honorable mention because it's a feature-length pastiche of the z-grade films of this era. I don't think it's particularly funny and I kind of wish they lampooned a "good" film of this type rather than make something that fits in line with the middling genre efforts. Night of The Ghouls is the last horror film directed by Ed Wood and I feel like I enjoy it slightly more than Plan 9 From Outer Space. It's far more competent in producing that lulling insomniac reaction than Wood's prior efforts but I still don't "get" the attention his work consistently gets. The Strange World of Planet X gets a special pass from me just because the finale has a bunch of giant bugs attacking stuff. Moving on.

The Colossus of New York is an oddball modern Frankenstein of sorts with a guy being transformed into a giant robot and struggling to maintain some attachment to his former life. It doesn't always work but once again giant clunky robots are giant clunky robots. I'm something of a Bert I. Gordon apologist so something like The Cyclops is going to hit harder for me than it does for most people. I just like people wandering around Bronson Cave and poor matte shots of giant animals moving in and out of frame, okay? The Tingler was the oddest revisit I've had in a while. I don't think I fully "get" William Castle's approach to film but what stuck out to me is how this one takes place in largely two locations and how Vincent Price's character is kind of the antagonist, experimenting on animals, himself, and other people (resulting in a murder) to get at the Tingler. Much like in House on Haunted Hill I'm not wholly sure how some of the spooky things in this film actually work and I don't think I'm meant to, adding to the bizarre nature of the entire series of affairs here.

Invaders From Mars...oh yes. One of the absolute best 1950's science fiction films is also the most lyrical and dreamlike. It reads at times like a Soviet parody of an American child's story would be like; a boy sees every institution designed to protect him as a child and as an American turn against him on account of some nefarious foreign invader, so his only course of action is to get the US military involved. It plays out so well because it's a POV piece from a young boy, which eases over any leaps in logic both in terms of form and content of this film. Which is more than can be said of the remake, part of the diminishing returns of Tobe Hooper's then contract with Cannon. The film largely follows the same plot structure but decenters the frame through which we see it unfold giving it a "the military is legit" vibe. It also is just a bit more mean-spirited in ways that are designed to taunt the audience versus the original film's more hardened edge to it. I think a great summation of the difference between the two is that the 1953 film had Martian bodyguards that are clearly guys in fuzzy green pajama suits, but they're more threatening than the ones in the 1986 film which are giant quadruped Stan Winston monsters. I digress. Had this come out 20 years later it would be classified as part of the wave of "why are they remaking everything?"

Speaking of remakes, briefly want to mention the 1995 Wasp Woman. It's The Wasp Woman for the 1990's, now with explosions and softcore sex scenes. I can't wholly defend the original 1959 film despite my affinity for it, so let's just say this one is of comparable quality.

The 1930's are a delightful treasure trove for horror but sadly we only have two up for offer. Mad Love makes me curious as to how other adaptations of The Hands of Orlac handle the material; I was convinced a guy got his head surgically reattached and with artificial hands to boot. Always good to see Colin Clive and Peter Lorre. The Walking Dead feels like a dry run for what Boris Karloff would do later that decade in the much better The Man They Could Not Hang, just with him as the victim here and not the mastermind. Truly some of his best work as an actor as he has to float through the world not being allowed to live or die, that shit sticks with you.

We watched a scant few Halloween specials proper, I always feel like I want to watch every Halloween special possible but sometimes the enthusiasm leaves me. The Last Halloween is trash, but that's on me for thinking something made for very small children would appeal to me as an adult. It crams far too much into its brief 22 minute runtime, so the only thing that manages to escape into the zone of interest is that the CGI aliens are actually very well done for a 1991 television production, had this been all about them (voiced by Hanna Barbara stalwarts such as Frank Welker and Don Messick, along with Paul Williams), this would have been far more tolerable. Halloween Hall o' Fame is the first of apparently several Disney television specials that repackaged their theatrical shorts inside a live-action framing device. It's quaint but this format would live and die by the quality of the shorts included; I'm not intimately familiar with Disney's back catalogue solely because they've barely released anything on home media but I absolutely adore the one where Pluto goes to Hell and is put in a kangaroo court with cats on the jury. I feel like the novelty of The Scooby-Doo Project and Night of The Living Doo have carried them along further than their actual quality have, stray artifacts from when Warner Bros was briefly testing to see if Scooby could be an adult property now, doomed to the same fate as Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law. The latter of these two specials made me come to terms with the fact that David Cross was "a big deal" at some point. The Great Bear Scare is the winner here. How could you not like an animated special where bears have to stand up and be brave against an oncoming horde of Halloween monsters? What makes this an oddity (sort of an obligation for me and Halloween specials) is that this is animated 100% without in-betweens, so every character in every scene cross-dissolves in real time between their keyframes. Depending on who you are it could be ridiculously distracting or make you step back and appreciate how hard animation is.

Clearing out our remaining animated showings, I felt like I would really get back into Scooby-Doo and The Reluctant Werewolf. In the mid-late 2000's when Cartoon Network was desperately trying to excise showing anything from their backlogs, this is one of those films that was on repeat constantly as midday viewings especially over summer. It's just so far removed from what Scooby-Doo "proper" is that it's an enigma, I go to bat to defend each of the "red shirt Shaggy" movies but this is brain melting at times, there is no mystery to solve, monsters are real, Fred/Daphne/Velma are completely absent, half the film is dedicated to a drag race, it goes on and on and on that I feel numb after a bit. Uzumaki...it's good. I feel like the fact that this was in production hell for five years following the first trailer release made me stop caring so all the shenanigans regarding the reaction to the animation dropping off (the production team got screwed over, how the fuck do studios not have the money for FOUR EPISODES, David Zlasv strikes again) brushed off of me. Regardless of that I think the actual pacing would have restricted this given how much sequential material from the manga now has to occur concurrently. It gets by solely because it's Uzumaki and as such it channels such a foreboding sense of dread and despair that is unreal. This more than anything is the true epitome of cosmic horror because there is no "source" or "identity" behind the threat that is warping reality around you, there is nothing to oppose and be defiant against, which was true of the manga and it remains true here. Bravo.

The 1970's prove to be another sporadic decade for horror. Cathy's Curse proves that no matter how good technical effects are, do not watch any Carrie knockoffs. Blah. Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks...you took a movie where a Frankenstein monster fights a caveman and made it boring, congratulations. In the interim between 2021's viewing of Curse of Frankenstein and now, I've made the effort to watch the entirety of the Hammer Frankenstein series. They make for a brilliant reinterpretation of the source material with Frankenstein effectively being antagonist: he kills consistently for his experiments, which often time warp and alter people's identities along with their bodies. The "holy triumvirate" of the series as referred to by me would be The Revenge of Frankenstein, Frankenstein Created Woman, and Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed, all for showcasing new stuff that can be done with the character and any prior influences such as the Universal films being absent. Then comes The Horror of Frankenstein, a soft remake of Curse of Frankenstein, with Terence Fischer and Peter Cushing both absent. It's a dry and tedious affair that just rehashes what Curse already did, just now with a black comedic angle and no real consequences for Frankenstein himself. It's easily the worst of the series and why I'm glad Hammer backtracked for Frankenstein and The Monster From Hell. This is probably the first instance in film history where a sequel has consciously ignored a preceding remake, and while it's not wholly original either, it's comfort food for fans of this series, and now employs a darker more claustrophobic setting in an ~insane asylum~. Not the best ending for the series, but Hammer, along with Toho and Ray Harryhausen's efforts with Columbia, sort of represented the "old" styles of horror that were pretty quickly being replaced as the decade went on. This film specifically came out the same year as the likes of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, it was a transitional period where what horror once was was cast away. Still not sure why the monster in this film looks like a Neanderthal man but that's just me.

Tourist Trap desperately tries to be one part Psycho and one part Texas Chainsaw, and it admittedly starts off with a nice hook of animatronic puppets being the main focus of the film, but it falls through the cracks and just becomes another random 1970's horror film. Vampyros Lesbos makes me realize that my infatuation with Zombi 3 last year did not mean I'm suddenly infatuated with Lucio Fulci's overall filmography, exceptions are not the rule. Come to think I don't think I've seen a single lesbian vampire film that I'm smitten with, how do you make this boring and not sexy at all, fuck you. Scream, Blacula, Scream is the obligatory Blacula cash-in sequel, nothing worthwhile to see here and none of the charm and significance of the first film is carried forward here, sigh. "DEDICATED TO THE MILLIONS THAT LOVE BRUCE LEE," The Dragon Lives Again is one of the plethora of films featuring Lee impersonators following his death, showing Lee in Hell as he has to find a way back to Earth while also fighting off The Godfather, Dracula, The Man with No Name, Emanuele, Zatoichi, and James Bond while allying himself with Popeye and Dr. Who. No I am not making any of this up, yes, this film was made with very little money so it sounds far more interesting than it actually ends up being, but it's a cute film, I can't be mad at a film made for me, nor can a movie showing Popeye eat spinach to fight mummies or Bruce Lee knocking out Dracula with his "third leg" be something you don't go out of your way to watch.

The Alien Factor is Don Dohler's first and best film. I love the fact that a dozen people made a small scale alien invasion/slasher film in their backyards with actually solid special effects for something that was probably made on the weekends. You can't hate this film, it's made from pure love for what was already decades old genre material. Had some of the script and acting been tightened up this could have become one of the more widely recognized independent films of the decade. Oh...Alucarda. I hate when they make a lesbian devil worshiper film between girls coming to terms with theirs sexual orientation and then they aren't the heroes of the story. We've come a long way since then.

Given that the Eggers film is still a few months out, I'd say Nosferatu the Vampyre is my preferred interpretation of the story (not my favorite Dracula adaptation overall mind you). Let me say that I think remaking Nosferatu is ridiculous solely because you're just doing Dracula, again, just with some stylistic details brought on from a specific prior Dracula. But this film goes all out. It's one of those times where I'm reminded of why slowly paced films with shots that last minutes at a time are so great. It relies very little on narrative (the extent/nature of Dracula's power of the geographic barriers between Wismar and Transylvania go unexplained) but you get so thoroughly sucked into the setting and the characters that you can't complain. This has undeniably the best portrayal of Mina in any Dracula film, she's effectively the protagonist by the second half and each of her encounters with Dracula are on her terms, he's effectively powerless against her even if she ensures they both die in the end. Also, rats. So many rats. Everywhere. The plague is in town.

Shock Waves is just great 1970's horror. Shoot on location, hold the camera in hand the entire time, do it cheap, have a dreamy distant narrator, and make it grisly. I do find the concept of Nazis engineering platoons of super soldiers and we only seeing just the one in this film is probably the scariest thing about it, it invites you to think about what else is happening out of sight. My favorite first watch of the year.

1978's Invasion of The Body Snatchers is also a phenomenal remake. This one is difficult for me to talk about because it just pushes all my buttons, I felt like I wanted to cry throughout the duration of this viewing, it is an incredibly mean film. Someone you know just one day turns on you, and then everyone else follows suit. You think you know your surroundings and your city but everything is flipped upside down and you can't even describe why. From the very start when you see the premature pods land on Earth it's made immediately clear that no one is making it out of here, it was too late as soon as it started.

But there can only be one #1, and this year it's Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla. Another instance of "nothing is going to beat this" as soon as I rewatched it. I feel like I'm alone in considering this one of the absolute best in the series, I feel like between the espionage and exploration and blood and laser fights that this is just one of the films that reminds you of why we make and why we watch movies, you get to have some semblance of every possible human emotion watching this. There's not much more you can ask for.

[superectojazzmage]

A thing I love about In A Violent Nature is that it does such a good job offering an answer as to why the slasher in slasher movies goes over the top killing all the campers even though usually only, like, one of them really has any reason to be targeted if that... and it pretty much amounts to said campers being REALLY fucking annoying.

Slasher movies all too often have this problem with the cast all being these obnoxious or downright despicable people that hog the screen with insipid relationship melodrama and just get on your nerves til the killer gets them. And so this movie takes that cliche to it's logical conclusion. It makes zero attempt to pretend that the victims are anything but the sort of people who in real life you would want to punch in the face the very instant they opened their mouths. Hell, they barely even come off like functional human beings.

When they aren't screaming in terror, every line from them is completely smarmy and smug, like they think they're the funniest person in the world but can't even get through a knock knock joke without saying some racist. Either that, or ear-splitting whining and bickering about irrelevant nonsense. Their personalities are all interchangeably that of an influencer who would steal your dog than shriek "it's just a prank, bro!" when caught. They treat the forest like a playground where they can do whatever they want. They aren't even nice to each other; they're ostensibly friends and yet seem to do nothing but talk to each other like shit and clearly only hang out because nobody else can stand them.

Like, you watch that scene around the campfire and each and every characters' dialogue seems designed to make them as utterly insufferable and unlikable as possible. From making lame jokes that drag on way too long or laughing about sex abuse and murder. To just constantly yammering over each other's words in a way that'd be infuriating in real life. And you see Johnny watching from the treeline and he's not emoting dramatically but you can just TELL the teens are like nails in his ears. They're filling him with rage. Or you get to the bit with the toy car and watch as Johnny seems to want to just chill out and have a nice day, only for the constant noise and whining from the teens to make him lose all ability to focus and storm off upset and disappointed as much as angry. The only one who seems even remotely, authentically human is Kris, who in true slasher fashion is the final girl by virtue of being the only person anyone can tolerate.

And somehow you understand. You maybe find yourself thinking, "if these people walked onto my property, I would stop at nothing to kill every single one of them just so I wouldn't have to listen to it anymore". It's movie magic of a sort. The whole movie is told from the perspective of the slasher, and as part of the process, it gives you an idea of what might push someone or something to act like that; blind anger boiling over from having your home and person disrespected by some of the worst kind of people imaginable. And through that understanding, coupled with a ton of other aspects of the movie, it sets you into Johnny's state of mind, in a manner almost like gonzo journalism.

You almost kind of forget the whole "crazed zombie killing people" thing and feel like you're watching something more mundane, fitting with the film's toying with moods and comparisons of slashers to wildlife. At many points it stops feeling like a horror movie and instead seems to become a quiet indie drama about a native of a rural area dealing with a bunch of disrespectful tourists... right up until Johnny starts killing again.

All because the characters he's hunting are just THAT irritating.

[olliewritesometimes]

An immortal companion.

The Suckening Fanfic :3!!

- Arthur & Void’s meeting

⚠️⚠️TW’s!!⚠️⚠️

- The Suckening SPOILERS!!

- blood

- mention of dead people

- deceased family

- biting

- british people……….😰😰

Britain. London to be specific. The city was quietly heading to sleep. Tourists back in their hostals for the night. Locals out wondering with their lover in arm. Walking a dog. Or going for a midnight run. Headed twards the homes in town. Arthur’s stomach screamed at him for food. Knowing he would need too feast eventually. A beautiful home on the other side of the bridge perks Arthur’s interests. He stops himself from heading inside. Instead going to the home we’re focusing on. A group of crows fly past Big Ben and down the bridge towards the country side. Large mansions scatter the fields. Deep thick forests as their privacy. And or for their secrets. A large country style home. Far off, away from the city. The furthest from London. Abandoned and wasted away by age. A home filled with happiness converted into chaos. Free from the pain the vampires gave to them, Vanya created that chaos. Arthur guided it. Opening the door to chaos. Falling in love with a murderer. Becoming the murderer. And soon enough ending his own killer.

The doors and windows all shattered the home spray painted ruined by the locals. A for sale sign in the grown out grass outside. A large sticker covering up most of the sign saying ‘Sold’.

Arthur walks twards the home. Down the abandoned street. Watching the other full homes erupt with happiness and joy. Dreading it. Dreading seeing the home his father had built. The family he had. And the home he destroyed. Saying goodbye to them would be the last thing he did tonight. The beatiful home crushed and crumbled as he walks by into the distant forest. The screams that echoed through that home loudly bang in his skull as he steps in the same path as he did once before. Following his old foot steps. Flashes of his hands covered in blood rather than ink. His clothes damp with his mothers blood. Her face looking horrified after being brutally mauled from her oldest son. Soon needing to head back to the home to drag the twins to their new home. Arthur’s eyes slowly watered up. Rememeber the twins. The horror of their faces. He wiped them away and pushes his glasses closer to his eyes. Pulling his jacket closer to himself. Hiding him in more shadow.

Eventually, getting to a empty slot of the forest. With small round rocks identifying the graves.

His brother, Mikey.

His sister, Emily.

His Mother, Danielle.

His Father, Micheal.

and one for himself. Arthur Bennett. The murderer.

He stands infront of the graves. Watching them. His young, rushed handwriting showing the initials. Some of the blood had dripped off his clothes marking the rocks. His permit handprint. Showing off what he had done.

Arthur takes his glasses off, slowly. His tears were retreating back into his eyes comes back. As he opened his mouth to begin talking. A rustle in the bushes startles him. He slowly raises his hands above his head. The bush continues to shake. Arthur annoyed replies to no one specifying. “I can hear you.” the rustling stops than hearing a “mreoww?” before seeing a fluffy creature jump out and begin rubbing on his ankle. His fancy black shoes covered in wet, damp mud. Seeing a black cat with glowing white eyes looking back up to him. The beast within grows.. bending down. Looking very calmly at the cat. Arthur sighs. “get away, cat.” he uses his mud covered shoe to push the cat. Making her fall over to her side. Still just staring at him. Rolling over to her stomach. “I don’t want to get you killed too.” he states. More angered than before. Pointing his finger towards the home. “Meowww!!” This time while she meows. Rubbing his eyes. “What a pain.” He utters to himself before watching her mouth open and shut. Her sharp teeth. Not like teeth matching his own. Regular cat teeth. He pulls back from the cat but continues to stare at her before breaking eye contact. Continuing to stare at grass that had grown over the dug up dirt from that night. Squatting down, resting his elbows on his knees. Further from the cat than before.

“Hello Mother..Emily..Mikey.. father.” He whispers saying ‘Father’ as if scared to talk to him. While looking at each individual grave. Pressing his hand on the blood stain. Minus his fathers. He respected his father. But.. cutting off his own thought he turned to his mother’s grave. “I will find her mother. I will fix this.” Placing his hand back onto the rock with his bloody hand below.

“mreow?” The cat stood up and began rubbing its head on Arthur’s knee. His eyes water again. His jacket still closed in on himself. The cat jumps on his leg. Using her claws to go up on his shoulders. Arthur screams “can’t you see I’m doing something!?” His voice shaky but tryin to keep his composure. Tears begin to fall despite that. The cat stops on his right shoulder. Sitting down and looking at him. The cats head bangs into Arthur’s ear. He can hear the cat is purring now. Practically vibrating with comfort. Arthur hasn’t felt this comfortable since he was young.

His mother’s warm embrace. His younger siblings soft and innocent hands holding his to cross the street to walk them to school. His father patting him on the shoulder.

This cat giving him the same comfort tears begin to fall. His body begins to shake. Being loved by a creature that doesn’t want to end him. A creature that comforts him. Unknowing of what he has done. The dirt beneath his feet begins to wet. His glasses falling off into the mud. Making a splat before coloring his striped pants brown. His hands go through his hair. Tears flowing out of his eyes. Just like what happened before. He bawled in the wet mud like a child. She rubs against him as he pets her more. His stomach growls louder the closer she gets to him. His hands move on their own. Grabbing the cat. Making her arms dangle. Her head tilts. And meows. Revealing her neck even more. The beast growls and grows. His mind screaming at him to feast. To finally fill the beasts needs. To free this cat from the world. Give her a reason to get far away from him.

“I need you, cat.” She begins to squirm and fight back. Revealing her teeth once more and biting his hand.

He bites her back. Digging his teeth into the cat. She stops wiggling. The comfort of the bite from both parties hypnotized them. Vampirizing the cat to cure both of their loneliness.

2 immortal companions. He released himself from the cats neck and stares at her. The cat looks loopy. Like she’s getting off of anesthesia. “Void.” He growls, his hands become more and more inky as the cat jumps off of him and sits in the mud. Still staring at him. He kneels down to apologize. But before he can speak the cat licks the bite from his hand before crawling on his neck once more. Arthur slowly stands up not to disturb her as she began purring once more. Accepting his new companion. He sighs and scratches her chin. “Apologies, cat.” His feet sinking into the mud more. Grabbing his glasses from the floor. Looking back to Void seeing she had fallen asleep in his shoulder. His mouth slowly moves upward before falling back down into his brooding glare. 

Placing his hands back into his pockets. He pulls his jacket’s collar upwards to hide Void within the shadows. He shakes his glasses to get the mud off. Before placing them on his nose. Turning his back to the graves. Placing his hand on a tree near the bush Void came out from. Glaring as he looks down at his father. “Goodnight, father.”

walking the same way, to go retrieve the twins.

⭐️sighhh I love my depressed vampires,,,,

⭐️I’m probably going to write more about him cause I love Arthur :3!!

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter II.

gif credit / @azertyrobaz

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Javier is slowly beginning to realize that monotony isn't as bad as he initially thought…

WORD COUNT: 9.4k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: Mutual pining, mentions of masturbation, they really wanna fuck each other, that good slowburn angst, lots of smoking, southern gothic vibes are strong with this one, if you love worldbuilding then this is the fic for you, mentions of a religion, mentions of sex workers, dbf!Javier Peña because I have no self control.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS:   The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Lexi, my beloved, who has been a BIG help in helping me figure out this crazy ass story. Love you bestie, I don't know where I'd be without you < 3 I am… so obsessed with these two and the little universe they live in… *muffled screaming* I hope everyone reading so far is having a good time because I know I am! I've got a lot in store for this pairing, and if you're a fan of the horror/thriller aspect of this plot there's a lot comin' your way ;) Anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback on this blog < 3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

It’s an extraordinarily warm day, which isn’t uncommon for the area, however it’s the type of warm that reminds her that summer is just around the corner. 

It’s Paloma’s favorite season. While the Seminary heat is unforgiving as all hell; she loves the way the sun feels against her skin, the thin layer of sweat that clings to her gives her the perfect glow and nothing beats cooling down by the creek. The town is also much more lively during the season, too, since tourists heading west often take a rest stop in in town.

It’s how she gathers most of her summer weekend crowd. People who do not expect this drive through town to be as charming as it is. While small, it has a community actively keeping it thriving. The businesses that line the streets of their downtown all owned by families who have been here for decades. A lot of love has been poured into their settlement, and while most of the time Paloma feels suffocated by the repetitiveness of her days, she’ll always have a soft spot in her heart for her hometown.

She’s become the performer that she is by staying here. Her shows at The Whiskey Fox have been the perfect training grounds for her to get a comfortable grasp on her stage presence, which aside from singing, is the most important thing about being a musician. An aspiration that she keeps to herself, mostly, just telling those who ask that she’s doing this ‘singing thing’ as a hobby. That her ‘real job’ would be going full time at the library.

That is her plan, the future she damns herself with. As quick-witted and rambunctious as Paloma can be; she’s still not valiant enough to take control of her own life.

Instead, she’s at the beck and call of her father’s.

It is much easier this way, she justifies it to herself like that all the time. If she goes out into the world, pursues her want to be a musician; there’s a chance that she fails and has to return home with her tail tucked between her legs like a shameful dog. At least staying here in Seminary provides her with a stability to keep her content for the rest of her life.

But would she really be content? Would she regret not trying and potentially not even failing?

Paloma bikes the familiar path from her house down into town, woven bag with her belongings in the basket that’s zip tied to the front of the bicycle she’s had since she was in high school. There’s a small grocery list and an even smaller to-do list accompanying her things; a brown paper bag with her father’s lunch also tossed in there.

When Darla, her 1970 Buick Electra, officially died on her; she hated having to bike everywhere. Her father was able to take her places whenever he could, but most of the time it was just Paloma and her bike against the world. 

The sheriff even made the suggestion of sending one of the deputies to escort her wherever she pleased, but she despised the idea of having an officer always following her around. So after a few awkward car rides to and from town; she decided it’d be more convenient for her to bike it until further notice. The only time she requests an escort is after a closing shift at the library or a show at the bar. 

The most peaceful part of the trek is riding over the abandoned railroad tracks near the old train station. Something about the scenery; being surrounded by the lush forest with nothing but her and her thoughts for miles and miles is very comforting to Paloma, so whenever she arrives at this little landmark of hers, she makes a point to stop and soak it all in. 

On days like this, where she doesn’t have much to do; she stays for a while.

Paloma approaches the familiar tracks, stopping entirely and propping her bicycle against a nearby tree. She pops a Linda Ronstadt CD into her portable player, the headphones slipping over her ears as she approaches the tracks. The sound of the gravel crunching beneath her boots is muffled out by the soft country tunes that begin to play. Paloma sits right on the track, a little unorthodox but she doesn’t care. Using her bag as a makeshift pillow, she lays flat and looks up at the sky until her eyes shut close; sighing wistfully as she slips away into another world entirely.

She has been struggling to finish any of her music lately, inspiration lackluster to the point where she’s had to revert to covering songs instead of performing original material at the bar. It is frustrating, to say the least, especially when she knows she is more than capable of writing a good song.

There just hasn’t been much happening that warrants a spark in her passion. No romantic love to pour her heart over, no life-altering event to process with instruments and lyrics. Nothing exciting.

She was in a rut…

That was until a few days ago.

Mind seemingly wanders over to the handsome man that had been in her family home.

Those dark brown, intense eyes that had her flustered any time they made eye contact, the strong cut of his jaw and how it flexed when he spoke, lips that looked so inviting underneath the mustache that she hates she’s so attracted to.

This is the first time any man has left such an impression on Paloma. She sighs softly, remembering how she was harping on her own father for bringing out the fancy scotch in order to impress Javier.

“Man must’ve left quite an impression for ya to be bustin’ out the crown jewel.”

Now she understands why. Aside from being nice to look at— she found herself completely engaged in any conversation he partook in. While he was not a man of many words, the few that he did have had her feeling like a freshman schoolgirl crushing on a senior athlete.

She is particularly interested in the fact that he had lived in Colombia for a better part of however many years; curiosity bubbling anytime he mentioned anything about his time there. She is envious that he has been able to experience a country filled with such culture and ecological beauty, even though she understands that the nature of his job probably didn’t entail to him sightseeing much. 

That’s another thing; he was very vague about what his role was down there. All Paloma knows is that he was a DEA agent, responsible for cornering one of the most notorious drug traffickers to exist in the modern world. One thing led to another and now he’s back in the United States as a Deputy Sheriff for a small town in the middle of fuck-knows-where Texas. 

It intrigued her to know his backstory and how that led him here. What all he’d done and witnessed, even if it wasn’t any of her business.

She finds it fascinating and it adds a layer of mystique to his persona.

Then her thoughts begin to turn into something more… naughty as she imagines the way his mouth wrapped around the colored end of the cigarette, his fingers flexing around the drinking glass before downing its contents in one swift movement, tongue peering out to lick at his lips. Fuck, her eyes flutter open and she squints slightly as the sun beams down on her. Her skin is warm, just how she likes it, buzzing with excitement at the image of the older man nuzzled in between her thighs, teasing her until she was at his mercy. 

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, fingers slowly trailing down her torso then drumming along the exposed skin of her lower stomach. The thought of moving her digits beneath the fabric of her panties crosses her mind for a split second before she remembers where she is. Not that she would be interrupted at this time of day but she has to have some shame, right? It’s already bad enough that she’s fantasizing about him, no need to fuel that fire by touching herself in plain daylight.

Paloma sits up, removing the headphones from over her ears and twisting her body to reach into her bag as she pulls out her notebook and pencil, a sudden stroke of inspiration striking her.

Javier lazily leans back against the leather chair he’s sat in, typical cigarette dangling from his lips as he scans the report in front of him, brows pulled in to a frown as he half ass reads it. He’s only been in Seminary for a week and it hadn’t taken him long to fall into routine. 

He gets up early to exercise, finding the time in his day to be able to do that again, eats what he considers a ‘healthy’ breakfast (it’s just toast and eggs… maybe some fruit if he’s really feeling it) then heads to the sheriff’s department. The day drags by until he’s at home again. He spends the evenings glued to his couch, takeout remnants on the table, nursing a beer and watching reruns until he goes to bed.

That is the part he dreads the most. The night time. Javi has always had trouble sleeping, but his time in Colombia only made the insomnia worse. He’ll stare at the ceiling, replaying all his fuck ups over and over until day breaks and soft sunlight seeps into his room. 

On the nights where he does manage to fall asleep, it’s restless and doesn’t last very long as he jerks awake from whichever nightmare decides to plague him that night. He has a few that revisit him often, involving Helena and how things ended with her. Others about Carillo and his untimely death.

It is quite a vicious cycle that he has not been able to break himself free from. It was much more easier to get ahold of it back in Colombia where he could go pay for a distraction at a brothel or bury himself in the demanding job.

Here, there isn’t a damn thing he can bury himself in.

Well, there’s one person he’d love to find a distraction in but fucking the sheriff’s daughter just to get some sleep is not the best move for him to make considering he’s trying to be a better person nowadays.

There is barely anything happening at the station. The few deputies employed are constantly out on patrol, which Javi had recently revamped by giving new routes for them to follow. A task he’d conjured out of pure boredom yet left Sheriff Leighton impressed by his proactiveness.

Furthermore, the department is left partially empty with just himself, Romeo and Lorraine holding down the fort. 

With no further updates in the ongoing homicide cases; there isn’t much to do. He isn't in the mood to go make small talk with the locals, and he’s already driven and familiarized himself with most of the roads within town limits, so he’s stuck in this building for the time being. 

The sheriff had reiterated many times not to expect the same hustling and bustling he experienced back in Bogotá or Medellín. A fact that he knew when coming in, but experiencing it is just so damn grueling.

Instead of going home and bullshitting there, Javier decides to be responsible and help Lorraine reorganize their filing system. It is outdated to all hell and messier than anything he and Murphy could have ever conjured up at the embassy, but in attempts to be a more… responsible person, he tells the front desk clerk to not worry about a thing and that he’d handle it all himself.

He might have gone in over his head, but they’re just files. The tedious task something he is very familiar with. Javi had done his fair share of mindless tasks during his DEA days.

He’s at his desk, an unused one he plucked from the center of the room and moved over into a corner that gave him just a pinch of privacy. Romeo apologized about the lack of space for a private office, but Javi didn’t mind it. Being in an office is stifling; and he enjoys, for the most part, being out in the open. 

Also, Lorraine is great company. Very unfortunate that she shares the name with his ex-fiancée.

Javier sets the sheet of paper he’s reread a dozen times down, ashing his cigarette and scratching at his nose with his thumb when he hears the sound of the front door opening. 

His eyes lazily trail over to the entrance and an immediate smirk tugs at his lips, crease between his brows disappearing.

Paloma Leighton.

Oh, how he’s been thinking about her since that night he had dinner over at their house. How wrong it is of him to be pining after a woman like her.

It is not that difficult to capture Javier’s attention, he is very self aware in that regard. As long as you were interested; you were pretty much on his radar.

Javier loves women. He loves the way they look, the way they smell. Their soft moans and pants in response to his coaxing, how their nails feel digging into the soft skin of his shoulders as they come down from an intense orgasm. 

Can anyone blame him for being so attracted to them all the time? Women are a godsend.

He watches her carefully as she saunters over to his desk that’s on the opposite side to where her father’s office is. 

“Now, Miss Leighton— to what do I owe this pleasure?” He asks, taking another drag of his cigarette as he keeps his position leaned back in his chair.

With an air of curiosity, he casts a lingering gaze over her figure, his lips moistening involuntarily as he drinks her in.

She’s wearing cutoff jean shorts that hug her in all the right places and a halter top with an exposed back. She isn’t wearing a bra so her stiff nipples are prominent against the fabric. The sight gets him stirring below his belt, and he has to keep smoking in order to keep his antsy hands off of her. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” She throws the typical line at him with a smirk.

“I forgot my camera at home. Mind comin’ back to mine, cariño? I’ll make sure to take the prettiest pictures.” He ashes the cigarette, flirtatious as ever despite telling himself he was not going to go down this route.

But there’s nothing wrong with a little flirting, right? Especially not when she’s playing into it.

“Clever, charming and cocky. I’m startin’ to sense a pattern here, cowboy.”

“And what would that pattern be?” 

“M’still figurin’ that out, unfortunately.” There’s a brief pause, “Those things’ll kill you.” Paloma changes the subject, nodding her head towards his nicotine stick.

“I’m going to die eventually.” Javier rebuttals and she just hums, honey colored eyes watching as he takes another long drag.

Javi is thankful that Lorraine had left early today. He's certain that this little conversation of there's would have played out differently had there been a third person in the room.

Maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all and he would have been stuck thinking about her like a perverted fool.

“S’that why you’re here? To criticize me smoking?” His toned biceps flex as he brings his hands behind his neck, fingers interlocking and cigarette hanging from in between his lips.

“No, just stopped by to drop off daddy’s lunch before I ran some errands. That man wouldn’t eat if it weren’t for me.” Now it’s her turn to do the ogling, her gaze traveling from the cigarette to his arms, eyes sparkling down at him.

“Sheriff isn’t in right now.” He informs her but something tells him she already knew this. Her brows raise at the news and she shrugs. 

“‘Course he ain’t. Probably already went down to Carl’s for lunch. I keep tellin’ him his arteries are gonna get all clogged up if all he eats is greasy burgers and beer.” Javier can sense a hint of irritation in her voice.

“So just let him. He’s a grown man, M’sure he doesn’t need nor want his daughter looking out for him every second of the day.” He interjects, watching her carefully as she rolls her eyes. 

Her hair is in two neat braids, bangs framing her beautiful face leaving the entirety of her back exposed to him. A few droplets of sweat slowly roll down her spine and he imagines himself licking them right up; preferably while he has her bent over his desk. 

“Well if I don’t do it then who will? He’d barely last a week on his own.” Despite being irritated, Javier catches how she genuinely seems to care for her father so with that, he decides to not meddle in their family business and instead moves on swiftly.

“You know him better than I do.” He leaves it at that, finishing his cigarette, “Heard you got a show comin’ up” And when he says ‘heard’ what he really means is listening to everyone else rave about the sheriff's daughter's incredible talent and how he simply must attend one of her performances.

That sparkle in her eye glistens brighter at the mention of her show and she nods, “Yup,” pops the ‘p’, fiddling with the pens he’s stuffed into his faded DEA mug, her body turned slightly to face him. “Every Friday and Saturday. Will we be blessed by your presence, Mr. Peña or are you going to hide out in your trailer home all weekend?” Hearing his last name coming from her has his jaw ticking ever so slightly and he watches her eyes take notice of it.

Paloma likes it.

“Dunno. Gotta check my schedule, querida. Things tend to get crazy ‘round here. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Well… if you do decide to find some time in that busy schedule of yours; the show starts at six both nights.” And who was he to deny her? Especially as she bats her eyelashes at him, an unspoken way of letting him know she wants to see him there.

The front door bell dings, announcing the arrival of someone new, interrupting the comfortable pause of silence they were sharing. 

That someone new is the sheriff, and Paloma immediately rises from her spot on the edge of his desk, making her way to her father. Javier straightens up, picking up the previously discarded sheet and feigning interest in it; but Romeo doesn’t seem to notice a thing. He looks deep in thought.

“There ya are. I brought you lunch.” Paloma calls after him but he’s already in his office. She lets out a sigh, looking over her shoulder at Javier whom she catches getting an even better view of her ass.

“See you around, Mr. Peña. Maybe you should start carrying around that camera of yours. Y’know… to get all them pretty pictures.” She makes a point to sway her hips as she walks away and he runs his tongue over his front teeth slowly.

This girl is going to get him into trouble.

At least he won’t be so fucking bored anymore.

Paloma leaves the building twenty minutes after getting her father to agree to eat the lunch she brought and not go down the street to the local diner. He seemed pretty distant so she didn’t press him like she usually would, instead giving him a peck on the cheek before leaving his office.

Her gaze wandered over to the opposite corner, hoping to find Javier sitting in his seat already watching her but he was nowhere to be found.

She felt a slight pang of disappointment in her gut at his absence but she pushed it down, a budding smile on her lips at the thought of seeing him at her show. 

She doesn't even care that the man is older than her, she’s down bad for him. 

Paloma swings her leg over her bicycle, kicking the kickstand inwards and riding down the street towards the farmer’s market until she’s stopped by a familiar voice calling her name.

“Paloma!” It’s Sloane, who’s jogging to catch up with her. 

Sloane McCarthy is the only best friend that Paloma has ever had. Like, ever.

Growing up, she was a very shy child and only had the typical schoolyard friends, but not any that she would willingly swap secrets with or any of that other stuff girls usually do within their social circles.

After her mother’s death, Paloma became more of an introvert. She didn't maintain a friendship outside of school, instead all her focus and energy was put into her artistry. To her, instruments were her best friends. They would always be there to listen, to help her navigate through her grief alongside coming into her own without a mother to guide her through the trials and tribulations of girlhood. 

As lonely as it sounds, it was probably for the best that she chose her musical hobbies to be what got her through the hard times. It allowed her to navigate the creation process at her own pace, figure out her strengths and work on her weaknesses.

She is grateful, however, for the guidance she received from Tammy, Kristy and Lola: the sisters that owned The Whiskey Fox.

They helped fill the void left barren by her mother, Abilene, and were the ones who convinced her to start performing at their bar when she was only fourteen.

Paloma met Sloane a few months ago at the library. She had come in with two other guys whom she can barely remember now, asking her about Seminary’s selection on books about the occult. There are hardly any, she had replied, since this town is too obstinate to allow many books on those matters on their library shelves.

Ever since that afternoon, they hit it off and began to hang out together more regularly. Paloma had even hooked her new friend up with a job as a bartender.

She stops, steadying herself as the girl hugs her from the side then rounds the bike to stand in front of her.

“Hey Slo, whatcha up to today?” Paloma asks, eyeing the book in her friend’s possession before meeting her gaze.

Sloane possesses a striking beauty. Waves of rich brown hair cascade down to her collarbone, framing her face like a halo. Her button nose, perfectly proportioned, adds a charming innocence to her features.

But it’s the freckles that truly distinguish Sloane’s features, far more pronounced than Paloma's. They form constellations upon her round face, like tiny stars scattered across a canvas of porcelain skin. And above them, her signature touch: baby blue eyeshadow delicately applied across both eyelids, enhancing the color of her brown eyes.

Paloma found herself being envious of Slo and comparing her beauty to that of her best friend’s; especially when she was the main one being approached whenever they went out.

Not that Paloma cared about male attention, however, she still felt that pang of rejection deep in her belly each time Slo was being hit on while she was left making small talk with the bartender or waitress, depending on where they were.

It wasn’t because she wasn’t attractive, anyone could tell you that Paloma is one of the most beautiful women in town; but more so because of who her father is. Sometimes, men don’t approach her in fear of being shot at by the sheriff. It can be very frustrating, but it does help keep the creeps away.

“Well… ”  She drags out, “I went to the library to look for ya, but Olsen said you didn’t work today so I’ve just kinda been roamin’ town… hopin’ to run into ya before poppin’ up to your place unannounced. What are you so smiley for?” Her bubbly and chirpy southern accent reminds Paloma of the bright smile she’s still sporting.

“Just havin’ a good day, s’all. Why are you lookin’ for me?” She questions, deciding not to tell Sloane about her infatuation with newly appointed Deputy Sheriff Javier Peña just yet, gaze once more flickering down to the thick book in her grasp.

“‘Cause, babygirl, I got the answers to all those existential questions you think up in that pretty little head of yours,” she shows off the printed work, “Right here. Got a sec?” with the look Sloane gives her, Paloma knows she can’t say no.

So they situate themselves on a nearby bench, her bicycle propped up against the backside of it. Sloane turns to her, their knees knocking against each other as she begins to explain.

“Ya know my friend August? He wrote that poem I showed you a few weeks ago… the one that had your face as red as a ripe tomato.” She pokes fun at her, pinching her thigh which Paloma swats away playfully.

“It was more explicit than anticipated, but yes I know who you’re talkin’ about. Didn’t he come in with you that one day? In the library?” She just barely remembers him, since he hadn’t said much; just browsed the shelves with the other guy as Slo did all the talking.

“Sure did! Well, he’s written a few books, none of them published…. they’re more so for record keepin’. However, I told him you were… a fan of his work—”

“Fan is a bit of a stretch, don’t ya think?” She snorts, stare flickering over to Slo. 

“— So he asked me to share this with you. It’s his prized possession.” She continues, eyes twinkling as she slides the book over to Paloma.

Paragons of the Sacrificed

By Augustus Rutherford Dixon

“Augustus? What a name.” Is the first thing Paloma notices, thumbing through the book and scanning some of its contents. “This reads like a manifesto, I’m not sure I’m all that interested.” She tells her, closing the item shut and attempting to give it back.

Sloane blocks her from doing so, shaking her head. “No ma’am, you’re gonna read through it. I promise you’ll enjoy it. I know how you like to get lost in your books and music… this is right up your alley.”

She seems almost desperate as she makes her case, so Paloma reluctantly keeps the book in her lap.

“Right up my alley. What exactly does that mean?”

“You know… the adventurous fantasy stuff. He’s really into religion and history but not in a weird, bible thumpin’ way how the people ‘round here tend to be. Eye openin’ stuff… real, tangible things that make you want to pack up all your shit and get the hell outta dodge.”

Slo doesn’t have to say much after that, it’s as if she knew exactly what words to say to get Paloma to be more open minded about reading the book. She chews on the inside of her cheek, eyes falling to her lap and she sighs, giving in.

“Sure, why the hell not. If it’s crappy, though, and you waste my time I swear I’m gonna get it back in blood.” She teases, nudging Sloane with her elbow. 

“Oh please, I wouldn’t be bringin’ this to ya if I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

Sloane was right. This book is right up her alley.

After getting over the initial wariness of the man’s introduction, she is fully immersed in the historical events he writes about as well as the practices of an unorthodox religion that’s been on the rise, according to him, since the birth of Christianity.

Her relationship with religion in general is pretty unadorned. Paloma is a practicing Catholic, just like the majority in Seminary, and she attends mass every Sunday with her father.

It’s enervating, in a way, but she knows just how much it means to Romeo for her to accompany him every week so she does it just to pacify him. Now whether she’s as devoted as she makes herself out to be is a completely different story.

She’s not. Paloma believes in a greater being; but not in the same manner that organized religion does.

It would quite literally break her father’s heart if he heard her say that out loud.

August is a talented writer, his words transporting her entirely while also making his message concise and informative. Paloma’s been tucked away in her room, obsessively reading the book for about three hours when the landline in her room suddenly rings and it makes her jolt out of surprise.

The clock on her nightstand indicates that it’s nine p.m. and she blinks away the sudden tiredness at the realization. Inserting her bookmark on the page she’s currently reading, she closes the book and reaches over to pick up the receiver and wedges it between her ear and shoulder.

“Paloma speakin’.”

“Hola, hermosa.” Javier’s voice cuts right through her and she’s instantly smitten, the book she was so engrossed in not even a minute ago now forgotten.

“You sweet talk every girl you meet with Spanish endearments?” She can't help but ask, feeling the flutter of the butterflies in her stomach at how he flirts. Between his sultry southern accent and alluring dash of Spanish; Paloma can’t decide which one she likes to hear more.

She hears him shuffling on his end of the phone, “Why? You don’t like it, cariño?”

The Spanish. She definitely prefers the Spanish.

“I do. It’s different.” She twirls the telephone cord around her index finger,  “You call just to shower me in pet names?”

He chuckles, the deepness of it having her bite down on her lower lip.

“No, I was hoping I could speak to your father.” This makes her frown slightly, but also what other reason would he have to call their house at this time of night?

Call for her? Talk her through an orgasm through the phone, telling her to imagine his fingers instead of hers and whispering those goddamn pet names until she’s panting; wailing out for him? Or even better: offer to come by to get her out of the dry spell she’s been under before her father made it back home?

Both so appealing. Both so ridiculously out of this world.

She realizes she’s been quiet longer than intended, so she snaps out of her sudden wet daydream, speaking up.

“He’s out with some friends from the bar. Don’t anticipate him comin’ back home till way later so you’re just goin’ to have to catch him at his office tomorrow, Mr. Peña.”  She had taken notice of the way he was so bothered by her calling him by his last name earlier that she does it again, just to fuck with him.

“You make me feel so old callin’ me that.” He scoffs and her smile doesn’t budge.

“Well aren’t you?” She fuels the teasing, wondering how far she could push it before the fire she’s been harboring burns her.

“You really want to play this game, corazón?”  

“Maybe…”

There’s a swift pause, all that’s heard is both of their breaths on either side of the line. Paloma braces herself for whatever racy event decides unfold but he breaks the silence first.

“Just be a sweetheart and tell your dad I called. Have a good night, nena.” He doesn't even give her the opportunity to give a closing remark, the dial tone ringing in her ears before she pulls the phone away and sets it back into place.

She hadn't realized how tightly her thighs had been clenched throughout that whole exchange. It’s embarrassing how her body reacts to him. Whether it just be his voice or his presence itself. 

Paloma groans, standing from her bed and deciding to shower to calm herself down, August’s book being placed on her nightstand next to the landline.

Javier walks in to the crowded bar much later than he intended to, stuck at the station with some chatty citizen who called to complain about her neighbors dog.

This is the life he lives now. Went from tracking down dangerous sicarios to listening to elderly women bitch about pets.

He hears the rumbling music spilling out into the street upon arrival. The decently sized bar is filled with so many patrons, that it took him a second to recognize it. Honest to God. 

Javier has definitely underestimated Seminary. It becomes clearer the longer he's here. While he does find himself complaining about the monotony most of the time, he’s slowly but surely easing into it.

He finally makes it to the bar and orders himself his drink. Dark eyes scan the crowd until they land on the stage where the first person he notices is Paloma; dressed to the nines with a bright smile. A smile he mimics as he watches her strum her guitar, the three other woman sing along with instruments of their own adhered to their bodies.

She isn’t currently singing, just adding in to the instrumental of a song that he doesn’t recognize. After paying for his drink, he maneuvers the crowd until he finds Romeo sitting front and center, swaying along to the music with nothing but adoration in his eyes for his daughter. 

When he sees Javier approaching, his entire face lights up.

“Javi, my man! You made it.” The two share a friendly handshake as Javier sits down in the empty seat besides him, digging in his leather jacket for a smoke. 

“Woulda been here earlier but had a Margaret Lipton call complainin’ about how her neighbors dog won’t stay on its side of the fence.” He grumbles, lighting the cigarette and taking a lengthy drag as the song finishes.

“Sounds just like her. Expect a lot more’a those. Poor woman is just lonely; her husband of fifty years died not too long ago. Ever since then she’s been callin’ nonstop over petty shit. She’ll complain if a fly buzzes by, I tell ya.” Romeo adds on, taking a sip from his drink and this gets a brief chuckle from Javier, making a mental note to limit his calls with one Margaret Lipton.

The next song begins, a very lively country tune that immediately shifts the atmosphere of the already buzzing bar. People begin to flood the dancefloor in front of the stage, but it doesn’t obstruct his view from the person that he’s here to see. He watches as she strums her instrument before approaching the microphone.

♫

Her voice is so rich and smooth, ears perk up at the angelic singing and he takes a swig of his whiskey, eyes not leaving her for a second.

She shoots a wink towards their table, and while Javier knows it’s directed to the man besides him, he can’t help but be selfish enough to think that’s it’s meant for him. 

That her attention is all for him.

The music picks up, he can feel it embedding itself in his bones and he’s so entranced by watching her perform that he just barely notices when Romeo leans over to talk to him.

“Swear I’ve never been more proud of her.” Javi peels his gaze away from her before the man notices how he’s basically eye fucking his daughter.

“Does she usually write her own songs?” He can't help but ask, her voice ringing out passionately as the song continues.

“Majority of ‘em. Always got her nose stuffed in one’a her journals. When she’s not writin’, she’s at the piano or on the porch with her guitar. Melts my heart every time I see it.” 

Javier doesn’t say much in response, intrigued to hear how her voice sounds when it’s just her singing.

Paloma reproaches the microphone after the long instrumental that had the crowd dancing along to the upbeat country track concludes.

“My daddy warned me about men like you He said, "Baby girl, he's playing you! He's playing you!”

She sings with a vigor he was not expecting, making eye contact with him and he catches the way her red-stained lips pull into a smirk.

Just like that, she has captivated him all over again. 

Under the stage lights, Paloma radiates with an otherworldly glow. Clad entirely in black, she stands out against the band’s more colorful attire. A leather miniskirt, paired with sleek black stockings, hugs her form, the oversized silver buckle of her belt gleaming beneath the spotlight pointed at the stage.

Her leather jacket, mirroring the skirt, features intricate silver detailing that catches and reflects the light with every movement. Beneath it, she wears nothing but a black bra, veiled by a sheer mesh top that adds a layer of sexiness to her ensemble.

Atop her head sits a black cowgirl hat and it wouldn’t be Texas if she wasn't wearing her cowgirl boots, tying everything together.

They drag the last lyric out with the rattle of the drum’s percussion before the song officially ends and bar erupts into a boisterous applause. The women take turns hugging and congratulating each other, though his focus is solely on Paloma. He doesn’t even acknowledge when Romeo gets up to get them all another round of drinks.

“Well, folks, I reckon y’all just witnessed a taste of the good ol’ honky-tonk spirit tonight. Ain’t nothin’ like harmonizin’ with the talented Lone Star Sisters. Let’s raise a toast to good music, good company, and good times at The Whiskey Fox — where the spirits are high and the music’s just right!” The bar laughs and this gets a bemused chuckle out of Javier, who stubs out the cigarette he’d been puffing on throughout the performance.

After a few more formalities and some announcements, she disappears for a brief moment before he spots her again, this time heading in his direction.

She’s stopped a few times along the way by some patrons who simply cannot get over her and her performance.

All Javier does is admire and be amused at how they treat her like she’s a celebrity. Even watches as she signs a slip of paper and crouches down to give it to a little girl. The interaction has his heart racing so he downs the drink in front of him to slow it down.

The adrenaline that Paloma feels after a show is indescribable. It’s like she transforms when she’s up there, giving it her all and making sure that the crowd is being entertained to the fullest extent. It’s why she absolutely loves it when she sees everyone dancing, she's even spotted a few people singing along to some of the original songs she performs regularly.

It’s an even better feeling when she gets off stage and is being praised left and right; it makes her feel like the art she puts out is important as it’s being appreciated by everyone and not just those in her immediate circle. What really melts her heart, though, is when she sees the gleam in the eyes of the younger girls who come see her play. As if they’re looking up to her, seeing their own aspirations performing out on the stage. Knowing that she’s somewhat of a role model to them is all she needs to stay content in her passion for creating music.

After finally getting through the crowd of… admirers (she doesn’t like calling them fans; it feels odd), Paloma reaches the table her father always sits in but is pleasantly surprised to see just Javier there.

“You came.” She doesn't even try to hide the large smile on her face, heart still beating wildly in her chest due to the high energy performance.

“Found a small window of opportunity in my very busy schedule to be able to make it. You’re lucky, hermosa.” He teases and she laughs with a shake of her head, shaking off the leather jacket on her shoulders and removing the hat that sits on her head.

It is entirely too hot for her to sport it for the rest of the evening, so she drapes the jacket over the back of the chair and lets her hat hang over the corner of it.

“You’re a damn good singer.”

The compliment has those butterflies stirring in her stomach again. Paloma won’t admit that she made sure to be on her game tonight in anticipation of his attendance. She doesn’t want to come off as desperate, despite how flirtatious their interactions have been since they met.

“You sayin’ that ‘cause you mean it or are you just tryin’ to become my groupie?” She cocks her head to the side slightly, sliding into the seat across from him and crossing her legs. She bites her lip as she watches his eyes divert down to her thighs; the top of her stockings showing and a soft slither of her skin teasing him to reach out and touch.

“I genuinely mean it, but being your groupie doesn’t sound half bad.” Paloma giggles, scrunching her nose and he smiles at her.

Why does she feel like she’s drunk off him? What the hell does he lace his attention with?

Romeo returns right on time, setting down three glasses on the small, round table.

“Alright, a bourbon for me, whiskey for Javier and a root beer with muddled cherries for my beautiful daughter.” She reaches for her drink, ignoring the look Javier gives her and she takes a lengthy sip from the straw; the carbonation feeling so refreshing as it travels down her throat.

“No post-performance drink?” He asks her, fingers once more fishing out his cigarettes and lighter.

“I only drink on occasion. Try not to do it when I sing unless I need to loosen up the good ‘ol pipes.” Two fingers tap against her throat to emphasize her point, his dark eyes trailing the area and she knows his soft lips would feel divine against her warm skin.

The trio fall into small talk for all but five minutes when Javier’s pager buzzes in his jacket pocket. He excuses himself from the table and he saunters away to the pay phone outside of the bar. Paloma’s gaze follows him all the way out, sound of her father talking muffled as he overtakes her thoughts.

Javier digs into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a few coins to insert into the public telephone then punching in the familiar number of his former partner. The line rings three times before Murphy picks up.

“We got him.”

The words knock the wind out of him and he stabilizes himself by sticking his hand out to lean against the payphone stand.

“Alive or dead?”

“Trujillo shot the fucker right between the eyes.”

He presses the phone against his forehead at the news, eyes closing as he allows it to fully sink in. He knows he should be relieved… that the weight on his shoulders should dissipate now that Pablo Escobar is dead.

Not in custody or cornered. No, dead.

Yet he isn’t relieved. Not as much as he would have wanted to be. It’s a bittersweet feeling, really. They can rejoice now that they got one dirty narc over and done with but if Javier has learned anything in the past years— it’s that this war on drugs is far from over. The rest of the Medellín cartel has yet to fall and Cali just reached its peak. 

You know what they say: cut off one head and two more take its place.

But that’s no longer his problem. He had been reassigned, sent somewhere where he could chill the fuck out and start making amends for his fuckups in Colombia. His only focus now, as long as he’s concerned, is dealing with what happens in Seminary and Seminary only.

He and Steve finish their conversation, reminiscing on all the crazy ass shit they had to do and endure in order to get to this point. Steve ends the call by telling him that he should have been here to see it all the way through and that, in a strange turn of events, he was proud of everything they accomplished together despite the bullshit that ensued.

Javier doesn’t say much, as per usual, but he doesn’t have to. Steve knows he’s appreciative. 

Fingers itch to pluck out another cigarette but he goes against the urge, instead collecting himself before reentering the bar.

Paloma was left alone shortly after Javier left to take his phone call, her father pulled away by his buddies while she finished up the rest of her drink.

When Javier does return, she immediately notices the change in his demeanor but doesn’t know how to ask him what’s wrong without coming off as bothersome.

“Everythin’ good?” Is what she decides on, leaning in to rest her chin on the palm of her hand as her elbow sits on the perpetually sticky top of their table.

“Everything’s alright, muñeca.” He takes his seat again, still being flirtatious but there’s an edge to it. He grabs his drink and swishes its contents around the glass before downing it all in one swift shot.

Paloma doesn’t say anything else, and she doesn’t get the chance to when her father returns to them.

“I gotta go handle some shit that’s poppin’ off with the Sullivan’s. Go get your things, baby, we’re leavin’.” This pulls a groan from the back of her throat.

“I do not want to tag along while you deal with whatever the fuck they got goin’ on. Not after last time.” Very rarely does she tag along with her father when he’s on the job; and last time they had been called to the Sullivan farm— she didn’t expect to be there for almost three hours trying to help calm down Mrs. Sullivan, who was threatening to shoot her husband with their shotgun.

The conversation seems to intrigue Javier, eyes darting between the both of them as he begins to smoke again.

“Well, you’re gonna have to hitch a different ride, then.”

“That’s no problem, Mr. Peña will take me.” They both look over to Javi as she’s just volunteered him to drive her home.

“Paloma—”

“It’s fine, Romeo. Go handle it, I’ll make sure she makes it home safely.” His thumb drags against his bottom lip as he stares right back at her and his intense gaze has her shifting in her seat, the familiar feeling of arousal shooting heat up core.

It doesn’t take much convincing to send the sheriff on his merry way, her body tingling at the idea of being alone with Javier in his truck as he takes her home.

“You gonna make sure m’fine? That I make it home safe and sound?” Paloma asks with a bat of her eyelashes, leaning close enough to where their knees brush up against each other beneath the table.

He follows her lead, leaning forward and taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from her face. “S’what I’m here to do, princesa. Make sure beautiful girls like you stay safe.”

There’s still some bite to his words but it’s hot the way he flirts with her. She catches the scent of his musky cologne mixed with the liquor and cigarettes he's consumed and it’s intoxicating.

“I thought I told you these things’ll kill you.” She plucks the nicotine stick from between his middle and index fingers, putting the thing out against the ashtray.

“And I thought I told you I’m gonna die eventually.”

“Try not to make it anytime soon.”

“Why? Would you miss me, cariño?” His brows raise inquisitively as he asks her, brown eyes twinkling beneath the dim lighting. 

Paloma shrugs, sliding out of her seat. “Probably not. I’ve just met you.” She replies nonchalantly, despite her head spinning from how badly she wants him. She grabs ahold of her jacket and hat, “I’m going to go pack up my things. Meet me in the back alleyway in ten.”

After getting her stuff into the back of his truck and watching her say goodbye to everyone, Paloma is sat in the passenger seat as Javier drives along the familiar road towards her house.

It’s quiet at first, the radio playing some song softly to fill the void from the absence of conversation.

“So… you got a girlfriend?” Her question catches him off guard and he actually laughs in her face. “Or boyfriend— I don’t judge.” She raises her hands defensively.

“Why, you tryin’ to apply for the spot?” Javier briefly takes his eyes off the road to look over at her, biting his tongue once he sees how she’s staring at him.

Her back is against the door, the soft hue of the radio's blue light casting a shadow across her face as she draws one knee up to her chest. She looks irresistible. Javier contemplates pulling over just to grab her by the neck and press his lips against hers.

She just rolls her eyes playfully, fidgeting with the ends of her skirt.

“Not really, just curious.” He can hear the sincerity coating her words and while he usually wouldn’t divulge in his personal life, let alone his romantic relationships, he decides to answer her truthfully.

“No girlfriend. M’not really the settle down type of guy.”

“Ah, so he’s got commitment issues…” She trails off, messing with him.

“Somethin’ like that.” He isn't offended by her assumption, since it is the truth.

“So no girlfriend back home? Or in Colombia?” 

“Why the sudden interest, princesa?”

“Just tryin’ to get to know you, cowboy.” There she goes with that nickname again and he just shakes his head softly.

“The honest truth...? No girlfriends anywhere. Lots of hookups in Colombia, though. The women there are very beautiful.”

She’s silent, which has him looking over at her again yet this time she isn’t staring back, instead looking ahead at the road in front of them.

“So you’re a slut.”

He laughs again, much more lively this time, “Most people would agree with you, yeah. But I had my reasons for sleepin’ around.”

“Aside from pleasure, what were the reasons?” Her brows raise, her arms crossing against her chest, pushing her breasts together beneath the mesh material and the sight is like something straight out of a Playboy magazine.

“Most of ‘em were informants. Prostitutes who had vital information on the criminals we were after.” 

“So in return for intel, they got to spend a night with you?”

“That was part of it.”

She hums and he flips the question on her before she starts asking about other aspects of his life in Colombia.

“What about you? Got a boyfriend— or girlfriend. I don’t judge.” He repeats her own playful words back to her, making a turn then flipping on the brights as the street lights have decreased to none; leaving them traveling down the dark back roads.

“No, not at the moment. I’ve only ever had one real boyfriend.” Paloma leans her head back against the window, eyes still trained on the emptiness of the night. “And that ended terribly so I didn’t bother trying again after that.”

Curious to know this terrible ending she speaks of, Javier proceeds to stay on topic. “Must’ve been real bad if it got you to give up entirely.”

“Yeah. His name was George. We dated in high school... can you keep a secret?” She suddenly asks, ripping her gaze from the windshield over to him. He can see her from his peripheral.

“For you, nena, of course.”

“We were supposed to get married and run off the night before graduation. Had planned the whole thing out, even bribed an officiant to wed us in the middle of the night down by the cemetery. It didn’t take him much convincin’; told us he had a soft spot for young love.” Javier doesn’t say anything in response, instead letting his silence speak for itself and allowing her to continue on with her story.

“The big night came. I was so nervous I coulda puked. Me and the officiant waited for what felt like an eternity until eventually he apologized to me and left. I cried there all night, a stupid and naive part of me hoping George would eventually show… he didn’t.” She sighs heavily and Javier wants to reach his hand out to rub comforting circles with his thumb against her thigh but he doesn’t, instead driving down the driveway.

“Found out the next day that he had left for the army. Which was so heartbreaking since that’s why he wanted to leave Seminary. He didn’t want to enlist like his brother and father had. Guess somethin’ changed his mind… haven’t heard from him since. I never told anyone about it, and the officiant passed away shortly after so…” She trails off and Javier genuinely feels for her.

However, he can relate to an extent. Not to her but to her ex. His relationship with Lorraine back in Laredo a haunting reminder of the type of man he was slowly turning into. Instead of leaving for the army, though, he’d left her at the altar to run off to Colombia.

“That’s… tough, querida.” He's never been the best at comforting and it doesn’t seem like she minds his scarce sympathy.

“It is what it is. I got over him eventually.” They roll to a stop once they’re at the house, he puts the truck in park and cuts the engine; letting a comfortable silence fall over them.

“Thank you—”

“Do you need—”

They both speak at the same time, interrupting the other and they share a laugh about it. “Ladies first.” He beckons her to continue, shifting his body slightly to face her.

“Thank you for bringin’ me home. I know I didn’t give you much of a choice.” The soft click of her seatbelt being undone brings a sense of reluctance over him, knowing that her departure is imminent and he's already dreading the moment she’s gone.

“Anytime, hermosa.” Javi's dark eyes soften, “Do you need help getting your things inside?” Paloma nods and he’s quick to hop out of the truck, rounding it to open the door for her before she even gets the chance to reach over for the handle.

“What a gentleman.” She purrs, her hand brushing against his shoulder as she walks past him to help unload her equipment.

The desire to push her up against his truck and passionately kiss her, have his hands explore every inch of her body is tempting as all hell but he shows some self restraint.

They get everything into the living room and she walks him over to the front door.

“I appreciate your help, Mr. Peña.” Paloma leans against the doorframe with a teasing simper. They’re close enough to where he can see all the small imperfections that litter her skin. His eyes taking in how beautiful she looks up close, their bodies slowly gravitating towards each other.

“You ever gonna stop callin’ me that?” He asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hands landing on either sides of his hips.

The girl shrugs, blinking slowly. “Not ‘til you’re not bothered by it.” They exchange a lustful stare until he decides it’s time for him to leave before things escalate and he crosses a boundary he’s helplessly trying not to overstep.

“I’ll see you around, Miss Leighton.”  Very reminiscent to their last goodbye on this porch, her smirk softens into a smile.

“Goodnight, Javier.” One, two seconds pass before she’s leaning in to place a gentle kiss against his cheek, the feeling has his heart racing and she pulls back slowly before taking a few steps back and closing the door. 

Javier is left in a stunned silence, the small act of affection impacting him more than he would like to admit.

[sleepingdeath-light]

last updated ; 11/10/24

listed below is all of the content that I have published on this account for various slasher / horror characters with characters organised alphabetically by first name.

crossed out links are pending posts / drafts

albert shaw / the grabber

smut hcs — impact play [here]

asa emory / the collector

smut hcs — consensual non-consent [here]

baby firefly

smut hcs — deepthroating her amab s/o [here]

billy lenz / the moaner

smut hcs — s/o who likes biting him [here]

smut hcs — female bimbo s/o [here]

one shot — ‘the difficulties of a (not so) long distance relationship’ (nsfw)

billy loomis / ghost face

hcs — arguing with his s/o [here]

hcs — clingy s/o [here]

one shot — ‘puppy dog eyes’ (nsfw)

bo sinclair

smut hcs — female bimbo s/o [here]

smut hcs — collaring his s/o [here]

smut hcs — breath play [here]

smut hcs — segmented alphabet [c/f/k]

brahms heelshire

platonic hcs — nanny who actually follows the rules [here]

smut hcs — female bimbo s/o [here]

smut hcs — giving anal for the first time [here]

bubba sawyer / leatherface

hcs — being comforted by his s/o [here]

hcs — insecure s/o [here]

smut hcs — praise kink [here]

carrie white

smut hcs — female bimbo s/o [here]

choptop sawyer

yandere hcs — musician s/o [here]

smut hcs — praise kink [here]

jason voorhees

smut hcs — praise kink [here]

jennifer check

smut hcs — female bimbo s/o [here]

smut hcs — shower sex with her s/o [here]

jesse cromeans / chromeskull

smut hcs — knife play [here]

lester sinclair

alphabet — smut

smut hcs — collaring his s/o [here]

michael myers

hcs — plus sized college student s/o who is being bullied [here]

smut hcs — female bimbo s/o [here]

one shot — ‘letting off steam’ (nsfw)

one shot — ‘myer’s girl’ (nsfw)

nubbins sawyer

smut hcs — praise kink [here]

otis driftwood

hcs — autistic male s/o [here]

smut hcs — general [here]

one shot — ‘tourist trap’ (nsfw)

vincent sinclair

hcs — his s/o gets injured by a victim [here]

smut hcs — collaring his s/o [here]

smut hcs — female bimbo s/o [here]

thomas hewitt / leatherface

hcs — insecure s/o [here]

smut hcs — praise kink [here]

smut hcs — female bimbo s/o [here]

tiffany valentine

hcs — she’s finally moved on from chucky [here]

smut hcs — breath play [here]

[asburyparkrp]

OCTOBER NEWSLETTER

Tourist season has finally come to an end! Beachgoers no longer have to pay admission or show a season badge to access the beach, and evenings on the Asbury boardwalk come with that crisp, cool air that feels really nice, not to mention the sweet smell of apple cider donuts. Shifting gears from summer solidly into fall, you start to see pumpkin decorations on porches and leaves turning yellow and bright orange. Exciting!

ooc note: Here are all of the activities your character can do around town this month! Feel free to incorporate them into starters, social media posts (don't forget to tag #asburymedia), and anything else you come up with!

ZOMBIE WALK ON THE BOARDWALK

That's right, the Zombie Walk is back! What is a Zombie Walk? It is an organized public gathering of people who dress up like zombies and then make their way around city streets in an orderly fashion for fun.

The Asbury Park Zombie Walk is consistently one of the Garden State’s largest Halloween-season gatherings. Everyone is invited to join in for a day of thrills, chills and laughter throughout the community. Zombies of all ages participate in this family-friendly event. Best of all, the Zombie Walk is completely FREE!

WONDER BAR

Howl-O-Ween Bash: Dress your pet in costume for a chance to win prizes at this dog-friendly event featuring live music and doggie treats for the best costume winner!

Monster Mash: Enjoy local bands performing Halloween-themed sets, with a costume contest for attendees.

CONFECTIONS OF A ROCKSTAR

Fall Treats Workshop: Join a fun baking class where participants create fall and spooky themed desserts.

ASBURY LANES

Halloween Bowling Night: Enjoy glow-in-the-dark bowling with Halloween music and costume prizes.

HORIZON BAR AND GRILL

Pumpkin Carving Contest: Guests will carve pumpkins on-site, with prizes for the best designs. $5 to enter, with $100, $50, and $30 prizes going to the top three pumpkins.

SILVERBALL RETRO ARCADE

Retro Halloween Costume Party: Dress up as your favorite arcade character for a night of FREE arcade games.

BLACK LOTUS TATTOO

Halloween Flash Sale: A selection of spooky tattoo designs available at a discount all month long.

GROOVY GRAVEYARD

Vinyl Swap & Spooky Story Night: Bring your vinyl records to trade and enjoy spooky tales.

SUNSET DINER

Fall Breakfast Specials: Special breakfast menu items, including pumpkin pancakes.

PARANORMAL BOOKS/THE PARANORMAL MUSEUM

Ghost Hunting Workshop: Learn about paranormal investigation techniques, followed by a night tour.

Paranormal Investigation Night: A guided investigation exploring the museum’s haunted artifacts.

JOHN ABBOTT ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

Fall Festival: A family-friendly event with games, food trucks, and a pumpkin patch.

Community Pumpkin Patch: Pumpkin picking, games, and a costume parade for kids.

SANDOVAL DOLLAR

Dollar Drink Night: Affordable drinks with a Halloween theme.

Spooky Trivia Night: A Halloween-themed trivia night with fun prizes.

ECLIPSE

Halloween Masquerade Ball: A spooky fabulous night of dancing with a costumed theme. $20 entry.

SHOWROOM CINEMA

Horror Film Festival: Screenings of classic horror films every weekend.

Cult Classic Series: Screenings of cult classic horror films with themed snacks.

VOODOO DOUGHNUT

Witching Hour Doughnut Tasting: Sample special Halloween-themed doughnuts.

MOVIES AT THE BARONET ROOFTOP (THE ASBURY HOTEL) OCTOBER 4/5/6 — Carrie (1976) OCTOBER 11/12/13 — Scream (1996) OCTOBER 18/19/20 — The Witch (2015) OCTOBER 25/26/27 — Halloween (1978) OCTOBER 31 — The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)

BIRTHDAYS 🎉 OCTOBER 9 — Hollis Jones

[thebroccolination]

Working in an indie bookshop has been a dream. Granted, it's only my first month, but man. :')

By nature of the shop, every shift is different. Tourists, regulars. Some are chatty, some are quiet. New books are always arriving. Events, book club. Seeing what people want to order, getting requests for recommendations.

The customers have all been absolutely lovely and deeply patient with me whenever I have an "I'm new, sorry, one second," moment.

And like, today, a girl came in for a book she had on reserve. I started to ring her up and she said, "Oh, sorry, I paid already," and I had a frozen moment because I realized I had no idea how to check on that in the software. So I made a judgment call based on Vibes and said, "You're good, then!" and handed her the book. She said, "Are you sure?" and showed me her bank app opening on her phone, but I smiled and waved her off. After she left, I rang up another customer, waved goodbye, glanced at the other customers browsing, and then she reappeared and told me, "I'm sorry, it'll stay with me all day if I don't–" and she showed me the transaction on her banking app. We both smiled, and as she headed off again (making sure to close the old door correctly behind her), I watched her go and thought, That's a lovely human being, and I hope she loves her book. (Percy Jackson.)

A pregnant woman came in looking for gifts for the children of a friend she was on her way to see, and she was so bubbly and excited about her own baby, she left me smiling for a good ten minutes after she left.

A man bought four books and his card didn't go through, but I was so busy chatting and laughing I almost missed it. I had to re-scan his books and redo the whole transaction, and he was so understanding and patient, we exchanged two more stories after his receipt came through, and both of us were laughing by the end.

A family of four came in, and one of the girls asked for a horror comic. I couldn't find one, so her father helped her pick something else. After they left, I ordered two middle-grade horror comic books so they'll be there for her next time.

Like, I actually rest on my days off now because I'm not dreading going back. I can't overstate how wild that feels. I have the next two days off, but I'm genuinely looking forward to being back there! When I worked Monday-Friday in an office, I did not have that experience. I got into the bedtime procrastination thing of staying up until 2am on my phone because after the commute to the office, work, and the commute home, I had so little time to myself. I was drained and anxious.

I don't take anything home now. No stress, no reports, no projects. I come home, I get head-bunts from my fuzzy roommates, and I unwind.

Small Talk About Books and Sometimes Also People's Small Dogs: The Job really has been a dream. Today I talked to thirty-six people about books, and in between customers, I read "Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop" by Hwang Bo-reum while snacking on rice krispie squares I made and listening to a soft piano Ghibli playlist I put on.

The only downside is the pay, but c'est la retail work.

In conclusion, indie bookshops are very yay, and I'm incredibly grateful to have a job in one. <3