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The Amityville Horror (1979)

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To truly, successfully eroticize the monstrous you must be brave enough to make the object in question actually ugly. At the heart of the fantasy is a person whose very form is so profoundly unacceptable that there is significant social stigma attendant upon finding them attractive - a person who feels deeply their own repulsiveness, who expects universal rejection for their appearance - and, crucially, another person who treats them as if they are beautiful.

For this to be effective, the monstrous character can't just be plain - they have to be wildly, fascinatingly unacceptable - prodigiously, fantastically, sublimely ugly. If you're anxious about the character not being hot you'll never pull it off because the entire fantasy is about not being afraid.

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~personal post ahead~

this month has been incredibly difficult for me. i made the decision to come off all my prescription medications rather abruptly and it has been very taxing, unpleasant and exhausting. im sad bc writing used to be an escape and it really hasnt felt that way this month, i've barely been able to do it at all.

i have felt distant and disconnected from everything throughout all of this and im just hoping that some sense of normalcy and stability returns soon. i want to continue working on my projects and sharing them. this has just been the absolute worst.

i know i dont owe an explaination to anyone, and thats no really what this is. i really just wanted to vent and share my frustrations because i've been feeling really defeated and isolated, and maybe this will be a step towards combating that.

i dont know. i appreciate everyone who reads what i write, and im hoping to become more active again. i miss being able to escape into writing and feeling just so driven and compelled to create on a regular basis. even if it's not like it was, i'm hoping a gradual return to this space is possible.

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Would you ever write for Chucky human form Charles lee ray?

not sure that i would tbh, i'd have to give it some thought

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"just write a little every day" ok but what if i write nothing for 3 weeks and then suddenly type like i’m being hunted by god

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Would you ever write for house of wax vincent Sinclair ?

i would write for him! feel free to send a request if you want something specific... however im coming off meds and absolutely miserable right now so it may be a minute

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How you meet Art (Fluff!)

As requested, here's a little fluffy drabble about how you meet Art!

It's Halloween night and you sit with your friend in a local pizza by the slice place. The two of you had gotten pretty tipsy at the party you just came from, and you're trying to sober up before you head home. All and all it was a good night, you're happy with your costume and you had fun at the party. You just wish something interesting had happened, it was Halloween after all.

Just as you're thinking this, a guy in a black and white clown costume carrying a trash bag trudges into the pizza shop. You have to admit his costume is pretty good. He's eerie looking, and your friend nudges you and shifts uncomfortably when he sits down across from you, though all the other tables are empty.

He's staring you down, and suddenly you're unsure how you feel about your wish being granted.

"Should we go?" your friend asks you anxiously. "That creep is like really starting at you. He's like making faces and shit."

You glance over your shoulder and see him smiling wide at you with his chin in his hands. When he notices you looking he immediately changes his expression to a dramatic frown. You let out a small laugh and wave at him. He excitedly returns the gesture.

"Oh my god, what did you do that for?" your friend chides you.

"What," you defend yourself, "it's Halloween. I'm sure he's harmless."

"Well, don't look now," she say's ducking her head, "he's coming over here."

The clown walks up to you carrying a plastic capsule he'd gotten from the quarter operated prize machine by the door. He approaches you rather shyly, opening the prize capsule to present you with a small plastic ring.

"For me?" you ask. He nods eagerly.

You find yourself blushing at his advance. He lights up and smiles wide when you hold out your hand to accept the ring. He places it on your hand with a flourish.

"Okay, we're done here," your friend interrupts. The clown guy looks like he wants to slide into the booth next to you, and she gets up, pulling you by the arm as she does. You bump into the clown as your friend jerks you up out of the booth.

"Sorry," you mouth to him. He keeps his eyes locked on you as you head to the door. Without your friend noticing, you look back and hold up a finger, telling him to wait.

You're not sure what's come over you, but you don't want this to be the last you see of the man in the clown suit. You walk your friend home and bid her a quick goodbye.

"Get home safe!" she calls after you as you head in the opposite direction. Back towards the pizza shop. You're anxious, wondering whether the clown will have waited for you.

You aren't even halfway back to the pizza place when you see a tall silhouette approaching you. It's the guy in the clown costume. He quickens his pace and waves to you, still hauling his trash bag. You wave back and give a small smile in return.

"I was hoping you'd wait for me," you say as he reaches you.

"I like your costume," you compliment, and he grins down at you. "You really don't say much, do you?"

The clown shakes his head slowly, and puts a finger to his lips, still smiling. You notice his teeth are pretty gnarly.

"Well, you can still be a gentleman and walk me home," you tell him. At this he perks up and enthusiastically claps his hands. "Great," you say, "let's go!" You start off towards your house and the clown guy follows.

As you're walking, you feel emboldened by the alcohol flowing through your veins. You reach out and interlace you fingers with the man in the clown suit's. You notice how much larger his hand is than yours.

He jumps at this, and looks down at your interlocked hands in earnest confusion. You can tell you've caught him off guard. Then he looks up and meets your eyes with a rather serious expression.

"What, you've never held hands with someone before?" you tease him. He rolls his eyes and acts bashful at your jab. Then he shrugs his shoulder and continues to walk happily hand and hand with you.

The two of you meander down the sidewalk in silence through the chilled October night, and you wish deeply that the walk to your house was longer.

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How you meet Jason (Fluff!)

Here's a requested drabble about meeting Jason!

You don't believe the stories about the killer at Camp Crystal Lake. At least, it's easier for you not to, given that this is your first summer as a counselor. You've always thought it was a cheap scare tactic to sit around a campfire and share stories about the hockey masked murder. Not to mention, an awful kind of rumor to start about some poor guy.

The late afternoon sun was still heating the muggy air, and cicadas screamed from every direction. You had just finished getting yourself settled in your bunk and decided to go for a walk near the lake. Reapplying big spray was a definite must.

Your fellow counselors were having dinner in the dining hall, but you wanted to take a moment to yourself. You'd never admit it, but part of you was also curious whether the stories were true. The thought of who you might find at the lake near sunset was oddly thrilling.

It grew darker as you approached the lake. You could hear toads and crickets singing from the tall grass. It was so peaceful out here, especially now that the last rays of light were leaving the sky. Fireflies were beginning to dance all around you.

You sat on the edge of the dock and dipped your foot in the tepid water. You take in the stillness and the sounds around you. The moon is full and large just peeking over the horizon. A rustling behind you breaks your concentration.

Your heart jumps in your chest, and you look in the direction of the noise. Again, a rustling comes from the underbrush. Feeling a little uneasy, needing to prove to yourself that it's nothing, you get up and walk towards the source of the sounds.

The bushes rustle again as you approach, and as you reach the source of the the commotion you see that it's a family of rabbits. The tension you'd been holding leaves your body, and you turn back towards the dock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you turn and walk right into someone's solid chest. You look up to find a gigantic man in a hockey mask.

"Oh my god, it's really you," you marvel aloud. He stands still as a statue, towering over you.

"The Camp Crystal Lake killer. Your name is Jason, right?"

Still no response from the man in the hockey mask.

"Wow, you really don't say much, do you?," you chuckle. "Do you get lonely out here?" you immediately follow up, " I bet you do."

You begin walking back towards the dock, and Jason follows you. You're unsure what his intentions are, but you're surprised to find that you don't feel afraid at all. He seems to be just as surprised by your lack of fear. You figure he probably doesn't get that often, and you suspect he's got to be pretty lonely out here by himself.

"I came out here to be alone," you say, sitting back down on the edge of the dock, "but you can join me." You motion for him to sit down next to you.

Jason stands there a moment, contemplating your offer. You realize he may still decide to kill you, but offering him some company is the best you can think to do. You're sure he gets tired of people running screaming from him.

He steps towards you, and you begin to feel some anxiety build in your chest. You're uncertain what he'll do. To your surprise and delight he sits down next to you on the dock.

"Thanks," you smile, and he slowly nods his head.

"This is my first summer here," you tell him. Of course, Jason doesn't answer you, but you get the feeling that he's listening to you with genuine interest. "I always heard about you, but I never knew if I should believe the stories." You meet his gaze.

"It's cool to meet you."

He crosses his arms and turns to face you. You suppose he's telling you the same. He's not making any moves like you're about to get the axe, so you figure you're in the clear.

You talk to Jason for quite awhile, thinking he probably just wants to hear some actual conversation from someone for once. He listens to you silently and intently. There's a subdued quality to him, an unexpected calmness and aloofness.

You tell him that you'll be back the next night if he wants to meet you here again. Sure enough, the following evening, you find Jason waiting for you at the dock. You talk some more and he actually begins to give nods of recognition in response to you. You count this as a major step in your rapport.

You decide to come back night after night to sit and talk to Jason. You tell him about your day and anything that's on your mind. He continues to show up, so you know he must enjoy your talks. You can imagine you'll get him to come out of his shell eventually.

By the end of the summer, you think, you'll have a long time friend to visit again next year.

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Art by Jack Razor

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