#Bloody Christmas massacre

[kyreniacommentator]

60 Years of Cyprus Wrong Must Be Corrected

[goryhorroor]

horror sub-genres: slasher

[blumfrey]

Outfits based on horror films 🦴

[un-sweetenedicedtea]

"I can fix him"

"He's a mass murder"

"HE'S MY HUSBAND"

[teeth-haver]

My friend (@webboygirl) bought Ace Attorney keychains that look like those fucked up popsicles, so I made a joke that I should make them with my favorite guys (Herbert West and Norman Bates). But I was having fun and it got a bit out of hand...

Look in tags for characters you don't immediately recognize. This is my first time drawing most of the characters.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

You watch slasher movies? I haven't done so in years (much to my disappointment), got any recommendations, classics, popular, underrated, anything really?

I knew I hadn't watched them in a long time, but it wasn't till I had to try and write something based on classic slashers, that I realized how long its been since I consumed that kind of content.

My only plan so far is that I need to watch The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Alright, Pandora, it depends on your tastes, and what you look for in a "slasher" ❤️

As you may remember, I fucking love the OG the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and when I got pretty bad last month emotionally I watched it on repeat for two weeks straight. However, if you go in for a regular slasher film you will be disappointed. The first movie is incredible, focusing on amazing shots and atmosphere for nearly the entire first half. It's less of a slasher as we would come to know the genre, and more of an artistic film centered around the horrors of humanity. The series is a wonderful mess of multiple timelines and little continuity, but the sequels better fit the slasher archetype. The best sequel (imo) is the one directly after the first, and it's a black comedy slasher, focusing more on the kills.

Now, slashers ❤️

If you're a nerd and want to experience the slasher history, then before Halloween (which still holds up) there was Black Christmas, and before that the Town that Dreaded Sundown.

The Town that Dreaded Sundown is based off a true serial killer, and unlike TCM which is loosely inspired by Ed Gein, a lot of the kills (except the trombone scene) are based on actual murders, with his mask accurate to the only real world survivor's testimony of her assault. It's very slow pace, and with how desensitized we are as a society you might find it boring, but if you ever get a phonecall from Ghostface, then you have to know the Town that Dreaded Sundown. Fun fact, his mask also inspired Jason's mask from Friday the 13th part 2!

Black Christmas is awesome! I'd recommend it more than Sundown, because of pacing, characters, acting, and overall atmosphere. I love my second wave feminism horror (Stepford Wives (mwah)), and it did a lot better with it's feminist themes than the loose remake from 2019 that tried to be intentionally feminist (ignore the 2006 remake entirely, so bad, so lame, so gross). It did the first person perspective of the killer nearly four years before Halloween's iconic opening. It introduced the idea of the final girl, but she wouldn't become a sexually repressed younger woman until Halloween solidified the trope. It has some great kills that still hold up, and Billy is iconic. I really feel the only reason why he isn't more well known in non-horror spaces is because he doesn't have a mask or outfit that can be replicated and sold in Spirit.

After that we have our most well known slashers, and they're popular for good reason ❤️

A Nightmare on Elm St, Friday the 13th, and Halloween spawned sequels that spiraled off into varying degrees of madness, but still have fun moments.

After the success of Friday the 13th (and the realization of the franchise-ability of slashers) there were a lot of slashers that tried to capture the money magic of the first few success stories. Not all of them were great, but a few notable slashers imo are My Bloody Valentine and the Dentist.

Although Candyman is often lumped in with slashers, like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the first movie is more than a traditional slasher. I recommend the first one as a beautiful love story about the horrors of American racism. It's score is still incredible, the behind the scenes are so interesting, and Tony Todd is absolutely beautiful. Such an amazing actor. (Not so) Fun fact: Tony Todd said in the behind the scenes that there originally was a romantic scene where Helen proclaimed her love for Candyman, but they were forced to cut it, because "they were okay with a tall, black man covered in bees.. but, mm, when it came to a kiss, or something like that, it was a little bit too risque..." ( :/ )

(Please please please watch Candyman)

Then the best, or worst (depending on your views), thing happened to the genre; Scream.

One of the best slashers there is, it isn't the first self referential, meta horror (see Wes Craven's New Nightmare), but it did change the slasher genre for a very long time. It was a revival for the genre, since it was declining in popularity by the early 90s. However, post Scream horror was very meta. See Chucky's personality changing from the occasional funny quip, to Bride of Chucky levels of silly (still love him tho). Of the terrible horror trying to copy Scream, I'd recommend Urban Legend over I Know What You Did Last Summer. It was a shame, just how silly a lot of scary movies got back then, trying to be as smart and self aware as Scream was.

But my favorite (outside of Scream) meta horror slasher film is Behind the Mask: the Rise of Leslie Vernon ❤️ took meta to a whole new level, mockumentary style, a camera crew follows a wannabe slasher killer explaining how to be a slasher icon.

I've watched too many slashers to remember all of them right now, but if you want really meta black comedies, Tucker and Dale vs Evil isn't a slasher but a loving joke on the genre, and the Final Girls made me laugh and cry like a little bitch.

A lot of slashers since the late 90s have drifted closer to the black comedy sub genre. Killers that kill for the sake of killing are often B-rated blood fests, that can be great for mindless fun but not so great for box office gains, especially in our current horror renaissance. Slashers don't fit in to the current horror culture. Serial killers aren't scary for desensitized audiences, and the mindless gore expectations set by older slasher films have created a pretty specific genre setup and pay off (dumb people who only exist to die get brutally murdered). It either has to be B-rated mindless fun (Laid to Rest 1 and 2 had terrible camera work and directing, making even incredible actors like Lena Headey feel lackluster, but the practical effects are so impressive I'd recommend it just for the blood and guts (and bewbs)), or comedic (the Hatchet series has great cameos, genuine laughs, and more impressive practical effects, but with good cinematography and directing (still bewbs)). Slashers that don't lean in to how ridiculous the concept of slashers are and try to take themselves seriously often end up falling short, either creating boring killers with no personality or trying to force a plot into a generic slasher shaped hole.

This does include most remakes of slasher movies, as a lot of slashers were remade in the early 2000's with less interesting characters to be killed off by the slashers. The remake of Candyman was an exception, because even though it wasn't as good as the original, it did go back to it's non slasher roots, learning from the mistake that was the third Candyman.

TLDR:

Non slashers that are considered slashers because of the slasher sequels/iconic murderers:

the Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Candyman

Child's Play

Best Precursor to the genre:

Black Christmas

Popular Classics:

Halloween

Friday the 13th

a Nightmare on Elm St

Pre 90's Slashers that I recommend:

The Dentist

Sleepaway Camp (it's divided on whether it's problematic or interesting representation)

Alice, Sweet Alice

My Bloody Valentine

Post 90's meta commentary/black comedy:

Scream

Behind the Mask: the Rise of Leslie Vernon

Hatchet

The Final Girls

Tucker and Dale vs Evil

There are obviously a lot more, but these are a few off the top of my head ❤️

[rainbowthefox]

"Two of the biggest slasher franchises from the 1980s return in a no holds barred one shot battle royale! The Killer Santa from Silent Night, Deadly Night and the Bloody Miner from Valentine Bluffs Massacre are patients at the same insane asylum being studied as they recover from injuries that should have left them dead. But something sinister is at play in the halls of this institution, a serial slasher has put these two titans of terror on a collision course that will rock the holidays this season! James Kuhoric - the author of the multi award-winning horror mash up 'Freddy vs Jason vs Ash' returns to his horror roots with another crossover that will leave horror fans breathless. Don't miss the slasher event of the year!"

Release Date: 12-11-24

[krowblud]

THIS POST DOES NOT INCLUDE PR*SHIPPERS, MINORS SCREAM MTV, OR BATES MOTEL FANS. PLEASE DNI.

This reminds me I have a lot of mutuals and friends from Instagram here but I like to make friends plus I’m a hermit so if you like

- Don’t Starve Together

- Slashers

- Friday the 13Th

- Halloween

- Psycho (1960)

- Killer Klowns from Outer Space

- Terrifier

- Texas Chainsaw Massacre

- Scream

- Black Christmas

- Silent Night Deadly Night

- My bloody Valentine (1981)

- Five Nights at Freddy’s

- Five Nights at Candy’s

- Spider-Man

- Outlast 1/2

- The Last of Us

- Carmen Sandiego

- Silent Hill 2

- Elden Ring

- Dark Souls

Plssss pls let’s be besties

[chrisitsraining]

you guys make it clear which horror movie villains you wanna fuck or play cat and mouse with or hit over head with smth

but which horror movie villains do you wanna be hitting a 24 hour store at three in the morning for snacks or other similar bs with?

[idanceinthegraveyard]

Scream if you dare

Hello I'm Lover and this is my graveyard I use he/him prononus and keep in mind 17

I will write yandere and non yandere fanfics here, but keep in mind this will be a fandom blog You can read about my yandere ocs on @idanceuntilidie

what about requests?

[kyreniacommentator]

Tatar: We remember the atrocities and struggle of Turkish Cypriots

Tatar: We remember the atrocities and struggle of Turkish Cypriots

President Tatar: “It is important to remember the atrocities and the struggle of the Turkish Cypriots President Ersin Tatar made a statement regarding the people who are attending the silent vigil on 21 December 2022 in London, in commemoration of Turkish Cypriots who were martyred during the Bloody Christmas massacre in 1963. (more…)

[goryhorroor]

horror + slashers

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

EDIT: PART 2 HERE

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place. 

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts. 

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay. 

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle... 

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages. 

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue. 

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox. 

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots. 

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom. 

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger. 

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”  

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious. 

Why would you say that? 

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. 

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you. 

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile. 

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur? 

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you. 

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts. 

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly. 

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you. 

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.” 

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears? 

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat. 

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to… 

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels. 

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats. 

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use. 

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want. 

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man. 

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone. 

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out. 

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand. 

He wants you to guide him to his father. 

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years. 

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens. 

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you. 

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is. 

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh. 

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out. 

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely. 

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory. 

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand. 

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission. 

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm. 

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.” 

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick. 

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.” 

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

[justwinginglife]

Hello!! I absolutely love all your works and always look forward to them! I was wondering if you could write a story where Soshiro is tasked with overseeing y/n, who has been placed under his care as a punishment for reckless behavior in another division.

At first, y/n appears composed and polite when they meet, though sometimes a bit detached. However, on the battlefield, she reveals a completely different side—crazy obsessive over research, (just like Hange from Attack on Titan or Merlin from The Seven Deadly Sins.) She gets excited at any chance to learn something new, eagerly diving into every opportunity.

Y/n also has a sadistic side, often prolonging fights and tormenting her targets to satisfy her curiosity and ambition, showing little empathy towards the Kaiju she encounters. (And maybe kinda found hot out on the battlefield 😗 she can be gun or blade user, either one is fine!)

AHH thank you so much for the support!

Hoshina was shocked that you were here. 

He’d been told that you were reckless, rambunctious, crazy incarnate, a hellspawn, all manner of devious and disastrous. He’d been told he’d have his hands full with you, that any semblance of sanity he had would be ripped to shreds. He’d been told to expect the worst and then double it. 

So imagine his surprise when you showed up at his doorstep, smiling sweetly, so sweet he could almost taste the sugar dripping from your lips, looking prim and proper, salute at the ready, as you patiently awaited his orders. He looked at the transfer orders again, then back at you, then back at the orders. You couldn’t possibly be the devil they were describing. 

“Vice Captain, sir, is everything alright?” You spoke in a mild mannered tone and he could hardly believe his ears. 

He scratched his head. Then he held up the paper in his hands. “This is you, right?”

You nodded. “Yes sir, I’m your new transfer, pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you, Vice Captain, sir.” Respect practically oozed from your every word.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, mumbling to himself, “Is the Second Division seriously just full of liars and gossips or what?” Then he ushered you inside the base and began taking you for a tour. 

He watched you curiously as he walked alongside you, but you never gave any indication that you were as wild as the rumors said. Eventually he began to relax. 

If he was honest with himself, he actually enjoyed your company. You laughed at his jokes, regarded him with high esteem (not everyone did), and seemed like a genuinely good person. You even made a big deal out of requesting a duel with him, stroking his ego by making him think it was a great honor to be trained by him. He was astounded to think anyone disliked you.

He’d been told that your transfer to the Third Division was your punishment for insubordination and disorderly conduct, but he thought that the way you conducted yourself was just fine. Was more than fine. He thought you were the perfect picture of an exemplary soldier and an exemplary person. 

And when he began overseeing your training, he was impressed even further by the grace and the skill you possessed. The ease with which you fought made him eager to stand beside you on the battlefield, so he assigned you to the front lines on your very first mission with the Third Division. His eagerness was his downfall. 

He was sure you’d make quick work of the Yoju before joining his takedown of the Honju, but you toyed with every single one, taking great pleasure in their torment. You were like a kid on Christmas, if that kid was maniacal and clinically insane. He found it impossible to ever erase the image of you smiling sinisterly, your eyes ablaze with a devilish gleam, cackling hysterically, as you slaughtered the Kaiju, and then kept slaughtering them even after they’d gone to their graves. The other soldiers around you shrunk back, wincing, as you massacred the Kaiju corpses, reveling in the desecration of their bloodied remains, even going so far as to giddily collect samples for further research. You found this gory landscape a playground and you were more than happy to play. You took such pleasure from demolishing these demons, from splattering their organs on the pavement, from grinding their matter into grime, that it was almost orgasmic. 

Hoshina was more than embarrassed to realize that the sight of you slaying each monster with such hunger and tenacity, with such joy and thrill, turned him on. He had been instructed to enforce punishment upon you, but he found himself wondering what your punishment on him would feel like. Would he find himself in whatever heaven you were enjoying right now? He shivered at the titillating thoughts that had begun to gnaw at his brain. 

When you finally turned your sights to the Honju and absolutely ravaged it, wreaking nothing less than total havoc and mayhem on its unsuspecting form, Hoshina had to actively stop himself from licking his lips. Was it wrong if he promoted you so soon?

He found you decently pleasant upon first meeting you, but now he was finding you increasingly more enticing with every passing minute. He wondered what it would be like to be ravaged by you and for a moment he envied the Honju. 

Of course, the Vice Captain in him knew that eventually you could grow to become a problem, but right now the Vice Captain was off duty. Right now, he was just Soshiro Hoshina, he was just a simple man. And as a man, he was defenseless against his urges. He was finding himself to be more and more like you, more unabashed and reckless, as he suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to take you right here, among these corpses, amidst the raging battle. Somehow he felt that you wouldn’t care if you were laid bare in the middle of the city, officers and citizens alike gaping, as they watched his lust devour you whole. 

But the obscenities quickly evaporated from his mind the moment he saw you were hurt. It was just a cut on the arm, nothing to be too concerned about; you hadn’t even noticed it yourself, as you were still riding out the high. But Hoshina snapped to attention. He raced to your side with bandages and alcohol to clean the wound. You were honestly shocked when he started attending to an injury you weren’t aware of, but his genuine kindness grounded you, brought you back to the present moment. And presently, you were touched. No one had ever cared about you enough to tend to you like this, no one had ever looked past your derangement long enough to care.

When you’d been reassigned, you’d been prepared to defend yourself, been prepared to go out kicking and screaming, clawing and biting. You were prepared for people to cross to the opposite end of the hallway or even just turn around and go the other way when they saw you coming. You were prepared for whispers and rumors, for malice and misintent. You were resigned to the fact that no one could meet your gaze. 

But Hoshina was looking right at you. He stayed right by your side through your whole frenzy, and he never faltered, and he never fumbled. He kept pace, and even had the audacity to be entertained by your crazy. Was he crazy? 

You wanted to ask him but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. 

He finally broke the silence. “You know, I could always ask the cleanup crew to save some organs for you. For research purposes.”

Your eyes lit up but you were still wary, still unwilling to let yourself dream.

“And I could maybe see about getting you a lab somewhere.” He continued.

The more he talked, the more you wanted to kiss him. 

“I just need you to focus on taking down the Kaiju as quickly as you can so we don’t risk any more lives and then I can get you anything and everything you want afterwards, understood?”

You nodded eagerly. 

He smiled.

Your heart melted.

“You can talk, you know. I won’t hold anything against you.”

You bit your lip. “I know, Vice Captain, sir. Thank you, sir. I appreciate the offer. I’ll… I’ll do my best. For you. Sir.”

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “You know you can just call me Hoshina. You don’t have to be so formal all the time.”

“Of course, Vice Captain, sir. I will try my best to not be so formal, sir.”

He laughed again. “Work in progress, huh? I’m okay with that.”

You blushed. You weren’t sure how to process whatever mangled mess of emotions you were feeling right now and you felt pathetic that blushing was what you were resigned to at the present moment. 

Whenever you met with Death, your blades clashing with his scythe, you met him with no fear. You welcomed Death. You fed him souls, sent demons to his door, swords in hand. You weren’t afraid to die on the battlefield, Death was an old friend. But whatever monstrosity you were now feeling, that, you were afraid of. That was a whole different beast. 

As you gazed into Hoshina’s eyes, you felt the red alert go off in your mind. 

Danger.

Proceed with caution.

But you fell in love with him anyway, the way you did everything else- with reckless abandon. 

[animusrox]

LETTERBOXD

1.   The Batman 2.   Everything Everywhere All at Once 3.   Prey 4.   Triangle of Sadness 5.   Barbarian 6.  The Northman 7.   Bodies Bodies Bodies 8.   The Banshees of Inisherin 9.   Bones and All 10.   Avatar: The Way of Water

Grade A

11.   Turning Red 12.   The Menu 13.   Babylon 14.   Hit the Road 15.   Cow 16.   Watcher 17.   Funny Pages 18.   Mad God 19.   On the Count of Three 20.   Armageddon Time 21.   Terrifier 2 22.   Marcel the Shell with Shoes On 23.   Smile 24.   Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery 25.   Holy Spider 26.   Aftersun 27.   The Fabelmans 28.   Breaking 29.   Decision to Leave 30.   The Whale 31.   All Quiet on the Western Front 32.   Brian and Charles 33.   Piggy 34.   Saint Omer 35.   Thirteen Lives 36.   Men 37.   The Fallout 38.   Resurrection 39.   Causeway 40.  The Black Phone 41.   Official Competition 42.   Nope 43.  Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio 44.   Apollo 10½: A Space Age Childhood 45.   Till 46.   TÁR 47.   Happening 48.   A Love Song 49.   The Outfit 50.   The Innocents 51.   Jackass Forever 52.   BARDO, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths 53.   Montana Story 54.   Three Thousand Years of Longing 55.   You Won’t Be Alone 56.   The Sadness 57.   Halloween Ends 58.   Pearl 59.   X 60.   Vesper

Click "Keep Reading” For My Full List

Grade B

61.   This Place Rules 62.   Fresh 63.   Windfall 64.   Kimi 65.   No Exit 66.   Top Gun: Maverick 67.   “Sr.” 68.   Farha 69.   The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent 70.   Weird: The Al Yankovic Story 71.   Nitram 72.   Speak No Evil 73.   Run Sweetheart Run 74.   She Said 75.   White Noise 76.   Puss in Boots: The Last Wish 77.   V/H/S/99 78.   The Wonder 79.   Women Talking 80.   Hatching 81.   Soft & Quiet 82.   Scream 83.   To Leslie 84.   Hustle 85.   Chip ’n Dale: Rescue Rangers 86.   Dual 87.   God’s Country 88.   Emancipation 89.   Vengeance 90.   Fire of Love 91.   Bullet Train 92.   Incantation 93.   The Valet 94.   Hellraiser 95.   Christmas Bloody Christmas 96.   Significant Other 97.   Cha Cha Real Smooth 98.   Lucy and Desi 99.   Not Okay 100.   A Christmas Story Christmas 101.   Blonde 102.   Deadstream 103.   Sissy

Grade C

104.   The Bad Guys 105.   The Cursed 106.   Empire of Light 107.   A Man Called Otto 108.   Broker 109.   Black Panther: Wakanda Forever 110.   The Princess 111.   Beast 112.   After Yang 113.   RRR 114.   Fall 115.   Jackass 4.5 116.   Beavis and Butt-Head Do the Universe 117.   Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness 118.   Jennifer Lopez: Halftime 119.   Lightyear 120.   The Pale Blue Eye 121.   The Woman King 122.   Violent Night 123.   God’s Creatures 124.   Ambulance 125.   Elvis 126.   You Are Not My Mother 127.   Emily the Criminal 128.   Crimes of the Future 129.   The Apology 130.   The Lost City 131.   Wendell & Wild 132.   Trainwreck: Woodstock ’99 133.   The Found Footage Phenomenon 134.   See How They Run 135.   Spiderhead 136.   Studio 666 137.   Bros 138.   Spin Me Round 139.   We’re All Going to the World’s Fair 140.   Paws of Fury: The Legend of Hank 141.   Honor Society

Grade D

142.   Thor: Love and Thunder 143.   Summering 144.   Strange World 145.   Glorious 146.   The Gray Man 147.   Devotion 148.   Clerks III 149.   The Forgiven 150.   Enola Holmes 2 151.   Father Stu 152.   Jurassic World Dominion 153.   DC League of Super-Pets 154.   She Will 155.   The Bob’s Burgers Movie 156.   Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance with Somebody 157.   Hellbender 158.   Samaritan 159.   Day Shift 160.   Sonic the Hedgehog 2 161.   Prey for the Devil 162.   Troll 163.   Uncharted 164.  Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile 165.   Dashcam 166.   Firestarter 167.   Do Revenge 168.   Catwoman: Hunted 169.   The Munsters 170.   Amsterdam 171.   Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore

Grade F

172.   Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris 173.   The Bubble 174.   Dead for a Dollar 175.   Jerry & Marge Go Large 176.   Honk for Jesus. Save Your Soul. 177.   Infinite Storm 178.   Marry Me 179.   Don’t Worry Darling 180.   Spirited 181.   Disney's Pinocchio 182.   Alice 183.   Black Adam 184.   Orphan: First Kill 185.   The Adam Project 186.   The Invitation 187.   Texas Chainsaw Massacre 188.   Ticket to Paradise 189.   The 355 190.   Umma

Bottom 10

191.   Green Lantern: Beware My Power 192.   Deep Water 193.   Where the Crawdads Sing 194.   Blacklight 195.   Mack & Rita 196.   Memory 197.   Me Time 198.   Death on the Nile 199.   Morbius 200.   Moonfall

[trash-gobby]

Ultimate Masterlist

Here is where you will find all the stories I've written along with each fandom as a header. If there are any new or old stories they can be found here. The old inventory system I had is dead. This will be the home of all content I've written or created from now on.

Fandoms

Action/Adventure

🔫 James Bond 🔫

Happiness Is a Warm Gun 🔞

All The Time In The World - *NTTD SPOILERS* 

Dario X GN!Reader - Yandere Headcanons 🔞

Dario X SadisticFem!Reader Headcanons 🔞

Drama

🏏 Heather's 🏏

Jason Dean - Yandere Headcanons 

Veronica Sawyer - Yandere Headcanons 

Horror

👽 Alien Franchise 👽

Bishop Headcanons

Bishop Headcanons - His friendship with the Colonial Marines 

First Snow on Earth 

How They Would Play Sims 2 & 4

Lance Bishop Fluff Alphabet

Dallas & J.M. Lambert Dating Headcanons

Colonial Marines W/ Virgin Reader 🔞

Scott Gorman NSFW Alphabet 🔞

William Hudson NSFW Alphabet 🔞

🎭 Behind The Mask 🎭

Leslie Vernon X GN!S/O who’s Jealous of Taylor

🎄🩸 Black Christmas 🩸🎄

Billy Lenz X Short Gothic GN! S/O

Harry Warden & Billy Lenz X GN!Reader with Short Coiled Hair

Billy Lenz X GN!S/O - Who Hides Gifts Around The House For Him To Find!

Jess Bradford - Fluffy Dating Headcanons w/ Trans Masc!S/O

🚶The Boy 🚶

Brahms X AFAB!Reader who is overly protective of him P1

Brahms X AFAB!Reader who is overly protective of him P2

Dating Brahms Headcanons (Possessive Brahms)

Brahms X GN!Reader - Trying to Leave The House 🔞

🚀 Farscape 🚀

Moya Crew w/ Artistic S/O

🪱 The Faculty 🪱

Zeke Tyler Dating Headcanons

🚑 Flatliners 🚑

Nelson Wright X AFAB!Reader Meet at a House Party

Nelson X GN!Reader - Cuddling For The First Time

🐺 Ginger Snaps 🐺

Ginger X Fem!Reader SFW & NSFW Headcanons 🔞

Ginger Fitzgerald Headcanons 👋

🎃 Halloween 🎃

Michael with a physically & verbally affectionate s/o

Michael Myers GN!S/O with Separation Anxiety

🔥 Hellboy 🔥

Poly!Hellboy & Liz Sherman X GN!Reader Headcanons

A Long Hard Day

Nuada X Agent!Reader Headcanons

⛓️ Hellraiser ⛓️

Pinhead - Hellraiser: Headcanons

💄Jennifer's Body 💄

Jennifer Check X Male!Reader

🦇🩸Lost Boys 🩸🦇

∞ When You’re a Stranger ∞ - Chpt. 1, Chpt. 2

When did Max get Thorn???

David - General Headcanons

David - Fluff Alphabet

Dwayne - Headcanons

Dwayne - Fluff Alphabet

Laddie - Headcanons

Marko - Headcanons

Paul - Headcanons

Descending Angel - part one, part two

♊ Malignant ♊

Gabriel May X GN!S/O - Who Writes Him Gothic Love Poems

🥀⚰️ Mortuary ⚰️🥀

Flowers For a Grave - Paul Andrews X Fem!Reader

❣️My Bloody Valentine ❣️

Harry Warden & Billy Lenz X GN!Reader with Short Coiled Hair

Harry Warden W/ Pregnant S/O

🦇🕶️ Near Dark 🕶️🦇

Severen Van Sickle X Pinup!Reader

Severen Van Sickle NSFW Alphabet🔞

👹 Nightbreed 👹

Dr. Decker X POC Plus Size!Reader Headcanons 🔞

Decker X Plus Size POC!Reader - Darkness Is A Stitch Away

📸 🔪 Scream 🔪 📸

Billy Loomis X Fem!Reader - Comforting her after losing someone close to her

Poly!Ghostface Finding Out Their Girlfriend is Pregnant

🚲 Stranger Things 🚲

Wipe Out

Eddie Munson - Fluff Alphabet

🥩🪝 Texas Chainsaw Massacre 🪝🥩

Christmas dinner with the Sawyer's

🌌 The Thing 🌌

R.J. MacReady NSFW Alphabet 🔞

Assimilation - Palmer X GN!Reader

Palmer - Headcanons

Science Fiction

👽💅 Earth Girls Are Easy 💅👽

Mac - Fluffy Dating Headcanons

🦖 Jurassic Park 🦖

Dating Ian Malcolm Would Include

🌠 Star Wars: The Old Republic 🌠

Two Bounty Hunters Walk Into a Guild Meeting

Superhero

☔ Umbrella Academy ☔

Luther Hargreeves X Fem!Reader - NSFW & Dating Headcanons 🔞

Fantasy

✨ Legend ✨

Wicked Game 🔞

🌊 Legend of Korra 🌊

Korra Dating Kuvira's Sibling Headcanon's