#source: am candyman

[merrysithmas]

hello gothic anon here THANK YOU FOR THE LONG ANSWER!! you get it!!! gosh i actually have rambled about how vaderwan is gothic adjacent so often to my friend that they must have been sick to death 😂 btw i present you, some quotes that got me absolutely batsh*t insane bcs of how perfect they are in describing vaderwan:

Candyman to Helen: “It was always you, Helen. Be my victim. Be my victim.”

Koschei the Deathless to Marya: “Oh, I will be cruel to you, Marya Morevna. It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be. But you understand, don’t you? You are clever enough. I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable. But I am your servant. When you starve I will feed you; when you are sick I will tend you. I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased. For you alone I will be weak.”

Carmilla to Laura: “You will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me, and hating me through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.”

YESSS thank you for bringing Carmilla into this!! and of course Koschei.

In return, here is my gigantic list (a way too long post) of SOME of the Gothic Romance/Horror quotes that remind me of Obikin.

--

"Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright." - The Wolfman

"I believe a man lost in the mazes of his own mind may imagine that he's anything.” - The Wolfman

"Larry, to some people, life is very simple. They decide that this is good, that is bad. This is wrong, that's right. There's no right in wrong, no good in bad. No shadings and greys, all blacks and whites...Now others of us find that good, bad, right, wrong, are many-sided, complex things. We try to see every side but the more we see, the less sure we are. Now you asked me if I believe a man can become a wolf. If you mean "Can it take on physical traits of an animal?" No, it's fantastic. However, I do believe that most anything can happen to a man in his own mind." - The Wolfman

Lawrence Talbot : You should kill yourself.

Sir John Talbot : Oh, I cannot tell you how often I've considered that. But life is far too glorious, Lawrence, especially to the cursed and the damned, like myself. -The Wolfman (2010)

"All right, you fools. You've brought it on yourselves! Everything would have come right if you'd only left me alone. You've driven me near madness with your peering through the keyholes and gaping through the curtains, and now you'll suffer for it! You're crazy to know who I am, aren't you? All right! I'll show you!" - The Invisible Man

"Power, I said! Power to walk into the gold vaults of the nations, into the secrets of kings, into the Holy of Holies; power to make multitudes run squealing in terror at the touch of my little invisible finger. Even the moon's frightened of me, frightened to death! The whole world's frightened to death" - The Invisible Man

"An evil spirit possessed you. I pray God it is satisfied now, and you find peace. The evil eye has done its work; my life is over, spared for a lifetime of horrors in my sleep, waking each day to grief. Goodbye, Katrina." - Sleepy Hollow (film)

"My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being." -Wuthering Heights

"I have not broken your heart—you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.” - Wuthering Heights

"He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of peace; I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. I said his heaven would be only half alive; and he said mine would be drunk: I said I should fall asleep in his; and he said he could not breathe in mine.” - Wuthering Heights

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.” - Wuthering Heights

"If you ever looked at me once with what I know is in you, I would be your slave.” - Wuthering Heights

"Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it." - Frankenstein

"I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other." - Frankenstein (😭😭)

"There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand." - Frankenstein

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel..." - Frankenstein

"Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet, when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures." - Frankenstein (😭😭)

"It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another." - Frankenstein

"When falsehood can look so like the truth, who can assure themselves of certain happiness?" - Frankenstein

"The whole series of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force of reality" - Frankenstein

[thepastisaroadmap]

I posted 16,772 times in 2022

That's 2,579 more posts than 2021!

19 posts created (0%)

16,753 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@themadcapmathematician

@vergess

@renthony

@cipheramnesia

@azcrowleyfell

I tagged 8,740 of my posts in 2022

Only 48% of my posts had no tags

#not captioned - 3,178 posts

#sil captions things - 1,270 posts

#dracula daily - 1,207 posts

#i don't like horror and yet - 469 posts

#fanart - 353 posts

#spn - 290 posts

#sil attempts to describe art - 242 posts

#unreality - 235 posts

#nothing but stars - 233 posts

#locked tomb - 227 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#but the mindset that you have to feel horrific guilt over them or they are actually your thoughts actively prevented me from getting better

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

is seward chloroforming himself to sleep???

29 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

#4

See the full post

95 notes - Posted March 29, 2022

#3

i know we on tumblr like to get our media recommendations purely from memes and unhinged analysis, but i thought it was a shame that no one has linked the trailer for goncharov (1973) yet

(actual credit below cut)

The song is the brilliant Main Theme from Goncharov by @caramiaaddio. I heard the song for the first time, got inspired, and by two in the morning this was finished enough for me to sleep.

The footage is from a variety of sources, some of which I haven’t actually seen. I would love to see someone who a) actually knows about mafia movies and b) can recognize actors make another version of this.

Most of the footage is from the Godfather, Scarface, and Taxi Driver; there are also some clips from Bound, Heat, Reservoir Dogs, Snowpiercer (orange grove), Candyman (bloody sweater), and Pan’s Labyrinth (pocket watch). 

123 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

#2

[ID: two thick, identical books. The first is labelled “Dracula” and the second is labelled “Dracula if Jonathan had a gun.” End ID]

rip to our boy

608 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

one of my favorite things about malevolent is that john has a specific way of saying “arthur” that means “I am about to tell you we just found a corpse.”

675 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[yentribblogpostspace]

Final Project Ideas Love Wanga and The Girl With All The Gifts

This week, I plan to discuss the two works I will compare in my final essay. I plan to compare and contrast the film "Love Wanga" (1936) and "The Girl with All the Gifts" (2016) in terms of the role black woman in horror. In my final project idea proposal I had listed a different film, "Candyman", but after meeting with the peer review breakout room during class this week I was advised to look into "The Girl with All the Gifts". 

"The Girl with All the Gifts" allows me to explore a film with a young black girl and her role as a leader. This concept is similarly seen in "Love Wanga" in which Clelie is also a leader. There is a lot I can write about the character Melanie in terms of her being a young leader and how she behaves differently from her peers. Melanie being a leader of this group initially, is very important. However, in the end, Melanie continues her leadership role when she is forced to rebuild a fallen society. In "Love Wanga," the main character Clelie experiences a different leadership that I will also discuss in the upcoming paragraphs. Clelie holds power through a protection item she receives that allows her to practice voodoo. Although this practice ultimately turns on her, it is what makes her such a strong character. 

A few subtopics I have added throughout my planning process and peer review group feedback is the evolution of black women in horror through the lens of transforming “black people in horror” to real black horror. An example of the first stage of black horror is how Love Wanga initially continued the trope of  fear of black people. I would then contrast this with how the film “The Girl with All the Gifts” does not negatively portray Melanie in any way. Instead, the film recognizes her as a bright and revolutionary individual.

The second subtopic is the diversity in portrayal of the black women represented on film. The different types of portrayed characters are the monstrous feminine in "Love Wanga" and the leader in "The Girl with All the Gifts," as mentioned earlier. Although one worry I have is that this may be too repetitive to my point above, I plan to incorporate my secondary sources to distinguish the two subtopics. The secondary sources will strengthen my two points in a way that allows them to become individual topics still relevant to both films.

I am still in the process of developing my third subtopic, however I plan on working through this in the next few days. I am thinking of discussing the difference in treatment of women in these two films. More specifically, I want to contrast how Clelie was mistreated and discriminated against and relating this to the time of the movie release to how now Melanie is also mistreated but for a different reason.  

[oursunkencity]

Hello-Goodbye :)

Hi-Hello, and welcome back to Our Sunken City! 

The fall quarter is coming to an end here at UCLA, and this week, I got the pleasure of watching the films my classmates worked on. 

The first film we watched was titled “Tio,” and it was about a student’s dead Tio coming back to haunt him. I forget the filmmaker’s name, but I felt he did a great job with the camera angles as it made the viewer feel like they were a part of the movie. There was a scene that I found creepy, too. It was while the student in the film was walking through the parking lot, as the camera followed the student, inside one of the cars, there was his uncle with a redlight shining on his face that was so eerie! Overall, I thought it was a good movie, though I was kind of thrown off by the person trying to kill him, who was his uncle. But I guess that adds the mystery that has the audience pondering the same question. Like, was his uncle a bad man when he was alive? Did the student do something to deserve it? We’ll never know! But the filmmaker did mention that the idea of the film came out of nowhere one day. He explained how someone at his football game told him that his uncle said hi, and he was thrown off because how does this unknown person know his uncle? It could have been someone making it up for all he knows. 

The next film we watched was the film that Adriana and I made. We were inspired by the short film Wake we watched early in the quarter. Adriana was intrigued about black magic and conjuring elements. The new Candyman was another source of inspiration because it touched on gentrification. I lived in Chinatown for most of my adolescence and watched my little neighborhood slowly be gentrified. Only after I entered college did I realize what had happened to my neighborhood. In short, there was so much life and culture throughout the small streets, but then art galleries slowly replaced them all. It’s heartbreaking to know how many of my friends and their families were pushed out because of artists and art dealers seeking cheap rent. But enough about my film, I already wrote a four-page rationale about it. 

My favorite film out of the line-up was, hands down, Inhale Peace, Exhale Demon. There was a lot of thought and care that went into the film. I wish the filmmaker were present after the showing because I am curious to hear about their inspiration and thoughts about the film. For starters, the actors were awesome. I felt like it held my attention throughout the film, and that’s a lot coming from someone with ADHD. The lighting was thoughtfully placed in most of the night shots, so it really added to the film's vibe. While I understand that one of the dude’s gets cursed, I do not recall how exactly it happened because it could not have been the weed he smoked because his friends smoked it, too. 

With that said, I had a great first quarter, and I couldn’t have picked a cooler class to take. While I enjoyed the online class as it made it easier to attend, a part of me wished it was in person because it would have been nice to meet more of my classmates. In addition, some of the challenging conversations about race would have been great to experience in person. I will definitely tell tons of people to take this class! :) 

[godblooded]

while I desperately wish to write more , i just shat out an emotional wreckage for @graysistance and i have to repair my sleep ‘ schedule ‘ so i can adjust to when i start working 3 - 7. it ‘ s remote , but I absolutely have to be one of those people who wakes up at like the crack - ass of dawn to feel good. 

[noirandchocolate]

Went looking for an Aqua song that was somehow missing from my collection* and stumbled upon nightcore versions of all their most popular songs, all with unsourced pictures of anime girls as the clip art, and I’m listening to them and having a stroke and a heart attack at the same time. 

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Cozy Sweaters

Jackson Neill x Reader

Sequel to Cold Hands, requested by @detectivebarba​ & written for @storiesofsvu​’s Fall Bingo! 

Warnings: Angst. Angst. Angst. Fluff? 

Summary: Oh my god they were roommates.

3,350 words

September 8th

The living room of your apartment—what used to be your apartment—was abuzz with heated voices.

“We’re sorry, but you said you were moving out!”

“So you just gave away my room?! I’m allowed to change my mind!”

Your roommates glanced between each other, awkwardness thick in the air.

“Ed is moving here all the way from England on the promise that he would have a room. He already bought his plane ticket. We’d really be screwing him over.”

“But… where am I supposed to go?”

Jenny sighed and shook her head. “Listen, if this wasn’t so last-minute, I’d understand, but you were supposed to move in with your boyfriend next week. We already made plans to fill your spot…” She really was sorry, in other words, but you were stuck.

“Can’t you still move in with him?” Todd added, and Jenny shot daggers from her eyes.

“He cheated on me!”

“Yeah, but you said he didn’t want to break up, right? Just work things out.”

“I am not,” you hissed through gritted teeth, “ever taking him back after what he did.”

September 13th

Every one-bedroom apartment listing in the greater NYC area was out of your price range. You tapped your friend group, colleagues, and acquaintances for roommates and came back empty. You went on Craig’s List and met with a few strangers seeking roommates. The ones who weren’t terrifying never called you back.

Meanwhile, Jackson Neill had been blowing up your phone.

Well, not blowing up—the first night he got drunk and filled your inbox begging you to come back, sobbing and slurring into your voicemail, spamming indecipherable text messages. The next morning, a single text read: “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate, and it won’t happen again.”

And it didn’t.

But he sent another message a few days later telling you he’d found some more of your stuff, if you’d like it back. That you were always welcome to talk if you wanted to. He wanted to be there for you. You didn’t message him back.

September 14th

It was a cold, rainy day on campus, so you risked taking a shortcut to the dining hall. You turned the corner of an old brick building, and there he was, walking out of the Department of Religious Studies, jacket collar pulled up over his neck because the forgetful fool could never remember his umbrella.

He froze at the same time you did.

All you could hear was your pulse drumming inside your skull like rain. You knew you’d run into him eventually, but you hadn’t decided how to react, and your body wasn’t offering any suggestions.

He gave you a pitiful smile and lifted his hand. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

One leaden foot shuffled in front of the other, and you kept walking. He nodded with a wan smile and sad eyes and didn’t chase you.

The outdoor seating was closed because of the weather, so the dining hall was crowded and buzzing. You snatched a small two-seat table just as another student left, brushing a stale French fry off it onto the floor. Sinking down to enjoy your cheap sandwich, you glanced around the crowd.

A middle-aged man with a soggy jacket and salt-and-pepper hair, who had no right to be so breathtakingly handsome, was searching desperately for a seat while precariously balancing a tray of soup and coffee.

He felt your gaze on him, and you were fixed with a beam of frozen green eyes.

You waved him over.

“I wasn’t following you, I swear.”

“I don’t know, eating lunch? At lunchtime? That can’t be a coincidence.”

The corner of his lip wanted to smile, but he didn’t seem entirely sure you were joking.

“Just sit down and eat,” you sighed. “There’s nowhere else.”

He sat.

Silence crackled between you like the sky before a thunderstorm as you ate your lunches.

“So,” Jackson started cautiously, “how have you been?”

You gave a dry snort. “Oh, just fucking peachy. I’m going to be homeless in two days, thanks to you.”

“What?!”

Jackson listened with a deepening frown as you told him about your roommate plight. Then he offered you a room at his house.

“Go to hell. I’m not going to move in with you like nothing ever happened!”

“No, it wouldn’t be like that. I have a spare bedroom. It’s a big house, and I could use help with the bills. Please—it’s the least I can do. Just until you get back on your feet.”

September 17th

It wasn’t like you had much choice.

You moved into Jackson’s house as originally planned, albeit under different circumstances. Instead of sharing his bed, he cleared out the spare room he’d been using, in theory, as a “gym,” and in practice as a storage closet. There was plenty of space, and with how late he always worked at the university, you’d barely see him anyway.

This might just work out.

September 20th

This was never going to work.

Your heart broke all over again every morning you walked downstairs and saw Jackson in the kitchen making pancakes, because every time, you had to fight the urge to come up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist like you used to do.

God, you wanted him back. If only you could erase the image of him with her from your mind.

October 7th

Jackson begged you to take him back.

One thing after another had gone wrong after he publicly confronted the Meyerist Movement. The cult pressured the publisher to pull his book. The university put him on leave while they investigated his alleged relationship with a student. You wandered into the living room that night and found him curled up on the couch, and his resolve broke.

There were tears in his eyes as he tried to pull you into a hug, and when you jerked away, they cascaded down his cheeks. He kept saying he was sorry over and over.

“Please. I need you. Everything is falling apart—if I could at least have you to hold onto… just one thing that wasn’t broken. Please, just tell me how to make it up to you. Haven’t I done enough? If I could take it all back, I would. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me? Please let me hold you?”

This was hard for you, too. Part of you wanted to give in, tell him it was all OK, let him kiss you, and see him smile. The worst part of all of this was that you still loved him, but you could never trust him again. He put on such a sweet, innocent act—he was a wonderful boyfriend—but now you knew he was a manipulative liar.

You should never have moved in.

“There’s no undoing the past. We both need to move forward, not back. I’m going to start looking for other places to live.”

October 8th

Morning brought a more sober Jackson knocking at your door. Dark circles hung under his eyes, but he hadn’t been crying recently.

“Please don’t feel like you have to leave. I can get my shit together. I’m calling a therapist today.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Yeah.” He stared at his feet, shifting on the hardwood floor.

“Jackson… I’ll only hurt you if I stay. This is too hard on you.” For us. “Besides, I can’t freeload here forever.”

“You do pay rent, you know.”

“I know, but—”

“I only have the kids every other weekend, and it’s a big house. It gets lonely. You’re doing me a favor being here.”

November 10th

In the last month, Jackson convinced you there was no hurry to move out.

He was a great roommate. He cooked, cleaned, respected your boundaries. He was a truly decent man, if an unfaithful lover, but since you were just friends now, it didn’t matter who he fucked. The biggest concern was that he wanted you back, and living together was a constant source of emotional pain. But on that front, he finally seemed to be moving on.

Whenever the topic came up, he assured you that you were welcome to stay as long as you wanted.

“It’s just so hard to find a decent place in my price range.”

“I mean it,” Jackson reiterated, adding emphasis. “If you want to stay, I enjoy having a roommate.”

You searched for hidden motives in his voice, his expression. Was this part of a long game to get you back? But his tone was friendly and open. Knowing how quickly he jumped from his ex-wife to you to Sarah, there was no way he didn’t already have his eye on someone new. At this point, you were just roommates.

“You mean permanently? Isn’t living with an ex a recipe for disaster?”

He chuckled. “The last few years with my wife were much worse than this, trust me. We were trying to stay together until the kids went to college, but emotionally, we were already divorced. It was awful… sharing a room. Constant fighting.” His eyes took a dull, faraway look as he remembered.

Worry lines creased your brow. “Are you sure you want to put yourself through that again?”

He grinned, snapping out of it, and patted you on the head like you were one of his kids. “You are nothing like her. We’re friends.”

You liked the sound of that. Friends.

November 14th

The sound of screams greeted you as you opened the front door and hung your keys on their hook next to your jacket. Jackson was watching a scary movie marathon in the living room, apropos of the foggy autumn weather.

“Candyman. Care to join?” He patted the cushion beside him.

You stayed up past midnight in your pajamas, sharing popcorn, laughing, and hiding your eyes from the gory parts. Jackson remained on the opposite side of the couch, careful not to touch you.

November 19th

You caught Jackson having lunch with an attractive student. It made your blood freeze, then boil when he walked with her back to his office.

Alone.

Fists clenched, you pressed your ear to the closed door, and heard… an essay on the role of religion in perpetuating homophobia. He was helping her edit a paper. Like professors do.

You followed them all the way from the dining hall just for talking.

When did you become a crazy ex? Why would you care if he was schtupping a hot student? You wanted him to move on—you were glad he didn’t tear up every time you walked into the kitchen anymore. But you knew then that you weren’t over him yet.

If you saw him out with someone new, it would sting like he was betraying you all over again. So you tried hard to be the one to move on first.

November 30th

A car honked outside.

“Oh, that’s my date,” you apologized to Jackson. “Gotta go.”

You got a little rush of schadenfreude from the kicked-puppy look that flashed across his face as you left him mid-conversation, sitting at the kitchen table across from your abandoned teacup. It felt like a big fuck-you, letting him know you’d be fucking someone else. A dare: let’s see if you really meant it when you said we could be friends.

But the look had barely contorted his features when he swallowed it down and smiled, “Be safe.”

He was probably going on plenty of dates himself and just didn’t tell you out of consideration for your feelings. He didn’t want you to feel used, betrayed, and immediately replaced. You were both moving on.

After a string of Tinder hookups, you felt like Jackson was out of your system, romantically speaking.

December 17th

A light dusting of snow floated down through the pale morning air. Jackson woke up on the left side of the bed, as he did every morning, and as he did every morning, turned to his right hoping to find you there. The blankets were cold.

He shivered.

You had a date last night and didn’t come home. He waited up, but never heard your car in the driveway, your keys in the door. Since you weren’t there to see his red eyes, he allowed himself to cry.

February 14th

A dull, rhythmic thumping carried through the walls. The creaking of a mattress. You cried out a name, voice cracking as you came for the second time.

It was the same guy again.

Casual hookups he could handle, but it had been the same guy for weeks now. Jackson told himself he deserved this. This was what he did to you, only while you were together. When you trusted him not to. He deserved to hear the one he loved being taken by another man.

As much as he wanted you to be his, you weren’t. He had no right to feel burning bile rising in his stomach at each of your moans and gasps. You were doing nothing wrong.

“You live here. Of course you can have dates over. No, it’s not awkward. We’re friends.”

A hot tear slid from his eye as he buried his head in a pillow.

This guy better take care of you.

May 1st

He didn’t have a roommate anymore. Not really. You spent all your time at Rodney’s apartment.

Soon you would move out, and he’ll have lost you forever.

He wanted to warn you not to move so fast, but what right did he have to judge? He let you move at the same pace with him. Let you trust him, fall in love with him, have a spare toothbrush on his sink within a few months. All the while, he figured a little action on the side wouldn’t hurt. Did he think he could chase two of you at once and get to keep the winner?

Idiot.

Sinner. That’s what his mami would say.

The few times you were home, he didn’t express his concerns about your boyfriend. He would only sound jealous, and it would push you away. If he wanted to be someone you would still answer the phone for when you moved out, he had to be a good friend, not a jealous ex.

Fuck. He hoped it worked out between you and Rodney. He really did. He hoped you were happy.

October 2nd

You came home for the first time in weeks crying. Heavy tears rolled down your face, legs shaking as you crawled up the stairs to your bedroom. Jackson was off the couch in an instant, spring up to follow you.

“Hey… Hey, what’s wrong?” He gingerly touched your shoulder, palm spreading out to make comforting circles when you didn’t shake him off. “Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, sniffing as you slumped down onto your bed. Jackson sat beside you, worry etched into his features. He was so cute. After all this time, he still cared about you. You thought about all the times he’d begged for you back, in the beginning, desperate to hold you again. Fuck, you just wanted to feel that wanted again.

“Rodney and I broke up,” you mumbled.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear th—”

You gripped the hair at the back of his head and tugged him roughly into a kiss. Every muscle in his neck and shoulders tensed. A surprised noise was muted between your crushing lips. You could have sworn, for a moment, he started kissing you back, but then his big hands clamped like two vices on your shoulders, and he pushed you away.

“What are you doing?” His eyes were wide.

“What does it look like?” you purred, fingers clawing at the buttons of his cardigan. “I want you to take me, Jackson.”

His hands stopped you from leaning close again. “No. Stop it.”

“Come on, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“We can’t… I won’t take advantage of you like that. You’re just upset, and—”

“Fuck you! So you’ll fuck anyone and not give a shit—you’ll fuck around on me and break my heart, but you won’t fuck me when I’m asking you to?! The one time I just need you to be there, and now you’re on your high fucking horse, pretending to be a good guy?! I bet you’d screw Sarah! Fuck you. Fuck you!”

Your shoulders shook as your tirade broke down more and more into sobs. Deep down, you knew he was right. You’d regret it in the morning. But you couldn’t he just… want you?

“Why? Why not? Am I that… am I that unlovable?”

“Because you crying.” Tears were shimmering in his eyes as he said it, softly wiping a tear from your cheek. “You’re crying.”

With a gasp, you threw yourself down on the bed and buried your face in a pillow. You screamed into it, your own breath hot and wet against your face. Jackson’s weight shifted the mattress beside you, and your hand shot out in panic, blindly groping toward the movement. You felt pathetic. Needy. But you didn’t want to be alone.

“Don’t go.”

The mattress sank back down under him. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t take advantage of you, but if you want me to stay, I’ll stay. As long as you want.”

That was all you wanted to hear in that moment, to know someone wouldn’t abandon you. His warm hand rubbed your back in slow circles as you wept, patiently listening as you told him everything in disjointed, broken pieces. How you were just being paranoid—invading Rodney’s privacy when he left his phone unlocked. You were paranoid because your last boyfriend cheated. Then you found the lewd messages, and it didn’t seem real. Plans to meet at a bar downtown. You didn’t believe it until he was toweling off, telling you something came up with his mom, and he’d be out for a while. And you followed him down to the bar and saw them together.

“He was an asshole,” Jackson said.

“Am I doomed? Cursed? Why does everyone cheat on me? Is it my fault?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Shut up! You did it, too,” you snapped. “I’m just not special enough to hold anyone’s attention. I’ll never be enough.”

“No,” he growled with a ferocity that startled you, “You’re wonderful, and anyone would be lucky to have you. That guy was an asshole, and so was I for taking you for granted. You did nothing to deserve this. One day you’ll find someone who appreciates you… who learns to treat you the way you deserve to be treated before they lose the best thing to ever happen to them.”

You shifted to press yourself closer to him. The tears didn’t stop, but a warmth spread through your chest. Jackson felt like a cozy sweater—warm and familiar. Easy to cry into. His arms were surprisingly solid and thick, but gentle when they closed around you.

He was a comfortable old sweater you could slip back on after leaving it in the closet for a year.

***

Hours passed by, and you had no more tears left. No energy left to move. Jackson was still beside you, keeping watch, as promised. You were curled up with your head in his lap, his fingers in your hair.

When he was sure you were asleep, he carefully extracted himself from under you, gradually shifting your head onto the pillow so you wouldn’t wake up. He breathed, heart aching as he looked down at your sleeping form. You deserved better than tear-stained cheeks. He knew he had no right to be so angry, but he couldn’t stand seeing you hurt again.

You wouldn’t have been if he had just…

He let his tears fall silently. This was about you, and he didn’t want to make you console him, but you were asleep now. He could let go.

He ran his fingers through your hair one last time. Then, with a furtive glance, he bent and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I never stopped.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl​​  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu​ / @welcometothemxdhouse​​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​ / @sassyada​ / @detectivebarba​

[emmalovesdilemmas]

5 movies, 4 songs, 3 essentials, 2 fave books, 1 quote

🎬

kiki’s delivery service - my go-to movie when i’m feeling sad, i’ve been watching this at least once a year since i was 5

candyman (the original one) - one of the things that i love is stories about stories and this movie makes me lose my mind. tony todd as candyman (that outfit and that voice...) can kill me any day he wants, and it would be such an honor

the descent - this scared the shit out of me, made me cry, and also made me fall in love with horror

billy elliot - another go-to comfort movie, this soundtrack slaps and i am a sucker for coming of age movies 

everything, everywhere, all at once - i just saw this a few days ago for the first time, but i already know its going to be one of my favorite movies for a long time. i cannot stop thinking about it, there’s just so much that is so good about this one and i’m never going to be over it 

🎧

aubergine by lady lamb - honestly any song from lady lamb’s early discography, this one just happens to be the one i’ve listened to most. i got to see her live and gave her a hug after the show and i am still chasing that high

wreath by perfume genius - this song is very Gender

be sweet by japanese breakfast - this whole album was all i listened to last summer 

water from the same source by rachel’s - an incredible instrumental song that builds slowly and fairly often gets me tearing up by the end of it 

❤️

huge fun dangly earrings 

dessert

friends

📖 (that thing that happens where someone asks you what your favorite book is and you’re like “i’ve never read a book in my life actually” is happening to me right now so i’m not sure if these are actually right. i’m just going to pick one book i loved growing up and one i loved recently)

deep wizardry by diane duane - (loved this whole series) i was obsessed with these books growing up and read this series so many times, but this one was my favorite out of all of them. hmmm maybe this is where my fascination with death began?

gideon the ninth by tamsyn muir - (again, loved this whole series) one of those books where i had to put it down and walk around my house for a few minutes at several points just to calm down, i also love re-reading things and this book has such great re-read value

🗣

“This is how they survive. You must know this. You're too smart not to know this. They paint the world full of shadows... and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons, their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn't true. We can prove that it isn't true. In the dark, there is discovery, there is possibility, there is freedom in the dark once someone has illuminated it. And who has been so close to doing it as we are right now?” -- Black Sails, XXXVIII

there are many quotes from black sails that make me lose my mind, this is just one of them

thanks for the tag @oknowkiss! i’ll no pressure tag @babooshkart and @softlystarstruck if y’all haven’t already done this and would like to! 

[f-identity]

I just finished watching Lovecraft Country (2020 series) and Candyman (2021), and I am filled with feels

horror to inspire more horror, and unlikely source of catharsis

[hubbachubbabubba]

ok so. thoughts on the new Candyman movie. My partner and I watched the 1992 movie and then the 2021 release a few days after. Putting under a read more cause it’s a little long.

The 1992 film is Very good, but I’m pretty sure that’s preaching to the choir. It is a very tragic, almost romantic story. It definitely achieves some capital R Romantic tones in a gothic presentation of Candyman’s and Helen’s relationship dynamic that I think is very relevant to the charm that the movie has.

My overall feelings for the new movie can be best summed with that I kept waiting for it to get good and then it never did. Which is disappointing! There are a lot of times in the movie where you can see the potential, but it’s hamstrung by this lack of subtlety and on-the-nose storytelling. The acting is also...just not good. Many performances are either stiff or overplayed, but there’s also only so much they could do with the dialogue either. The writing is generic at best or adopted from the prior film’s plot (not always a bad thing; the ties back to the 1992 film were often the better parts of the movie in establishing a continuity.) My biggest problem is probably with Candyman himself. Candyman in the 1992 film is this awe-inspiring presence, he steals every scene he’s in and commands the attention of Helen and the audience. He’s got swagger. Unfortunately his appearance in the sequel film is a massive step down from that, and severely lacks that same intense personality and charisma in lieu of making him a more generic antagonistic threat- and that’s honestly the biggest disappointment for me. He doesn’t have his own unique presence. 

I don’t think any of the racial themes are an issue, nor am I even remotely an authority for that. The source material is very invested in race conflict thematically and has an interesting analysis alongside some secondary feminist themes. Helen manages to toe the line just outside of the white savior trope without crossing into it. The second film follows a natural progression from this in the 21st century with gentrification. The only reasons that the sequel film struggles with it’s themes sometimes is due to the issues plaguing the movie as a whole.

[ultr4viol3tnim]

Happy Saturday! I wanted to share some new Barbie news with y'all that I am excited about!! First, some New Barbie Fashionistas are on the horizon!

Sources:

https://www.youloveit.com/dolls/2166-barbie-extra-dolls-2022.html

https://www.instagram.com/p/CTUshVsLcaT/?utm_medium=copy_link

https://www.instagram.com/p/CTGu5ddsqav/?utm_medium=copy_link

Next on the docket! Barbie has announced that they are going to do a gift set of 5 Barbie Extras! This gift set with include four Barbie Extras from Wave 1, #1, #3, #4, #5 and an all-new exclusive Barbie Extra Doll.

Although I love the idea of a new Barbie Extra, I personally think it's ludicrous to have to purchase a whole gift set of 5 dolls to get this new exclusive doll. And from what I've researched, the price point will be over $100. She looks really nice though. I know I'd have to make a decision but I'm gonna wait until more information and better pictures come to see if she's worth it. Information of when it's going to drop has yet to be announced.

Source:

https://www.youloveit.com/dolls/2189-barbie-extra-5-pack-doll-set-with-exclusive-barbie-extra-curvy-doll.html

More Barbie Extra News! They finally announced Barbie Extra #9 and #10 to finish off Wave 2!  Barbie Extra #9 is a little bit different from its prototype. You'll see the doll is now sporting a pastel blue coat instead of yellow. Also her hair is shorter and paired with a different pet. A lot of people on social media are not to happy with this change, as am I. I still think the coat is cool but the yellow was so much better in my opinion.

The Barbie Extra #9 doll is available now on Amazon at the price point of $24.99.

The Barbie Extra #10 looks fantastic!!!! From what I've seen on Instagram and other social media, Barbie Extra #10 is being well received and is becoming a fan favorite.

She's beginning to become my favorite Barbie Extra and I haven't even gotten her yet! The Barbie Extra #10 is now available at Amazon and Target at the price point of $24.99.

Source:

https://www.youloveit.com/dolls/2167-next-barbie-extra-dolls-to-be-released-in-fall-2021.html

And there's more!!! Yes! More Barbie Extra News!! Get this! A Barbie Extra Car!!!

It looks so dope! It's reported to come in November 2021. And if you pay attention to the box art you may see a new face on the box art.

Sources:

https://www.youloveit.com/dolls/2167-next-barbie-extra-dolls-to-be-released-in-fall-2021.html

https://www.instagram.com/p/CTWxScKD-zh/?utm_medium=copy_link

That's because Wave 3 is already underway!!!!!!! The first three new Barbie Extras of the next wave have been announced to drop January 2022 and they look awesome!!

Source:

https://www.youloveit.com/dolls/2166-barbie-extra-dolls-2022.html

I was literally gagging over the Barbie Extra news! Barbie is trying to take all my money!

Til next time ✌🏾

I'm going to the movies with my family to see Candyman and Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings! #DoubleFeature

[slashertalks]

I think the most enjoyable thing to me about film review is how fluid it is. Not only is the medium, by nature, ever-changing, but with personal experience comes a shift in opinion that can change perspectives so much it requires a completely new piece. Though this work is not coming out of so drastic a change, it is coming out of a desire to rectify something put forward in my previous SAW review. Similarly, it is a statement of something core to my beliefs with all my reviews: that “bad” films are not always truly bad. Often, they’re quite enjoyable.

Now, I should put forward my frame of reference for this, in the form of two facts. The first: my current hyperfixation is SAW. The second: the only two SAW films I’ve seen are the original, and SAW 3D. Do with this information what you will, but I think it’s important to acknowledge that what I’m writing comes from a place of intense personal passion, and simultaneously intense disinterest. See, when I say SAW, I mean specifically Doctor Lawrence Gordon and Adam Faulkner-Stanheight. To a lesser extent, I am also fixated on the production, but that’s relatively common for me. The technical, visual aspects of a film are often just as important to my enjoyment of it as anything else— I’m more inclined to enjoy a film with physical effects and mechanics, both of which SAW has plenty.

This piece is serving as both an expansion on my original short blurb on SAW, and an acknowledgement that SAW 3D is not, as I put it, the horror equivalent of “a daytime soap opera.” It is, quite simply, a fun movie.

Do I have any background in any of the characters beyond Dr. Gordon himself? Not in the slightest— I’m coming into this movie with no expectations for how Hoffman or Jill Tuck should behave. This is, perhaps, a flaw of my own attention span. I tend to jump about through franchises: for years, I’d only seen the first and third Friday the 13th movies. I still haven’t seen the second or sixth Nightmare on Elm Street. My viewing history is filled with maybe somedays, films I’m certain I’d enjoy, most often part of franchises I know I like, but I just don’t have the motivation to sit down and watch them. Saw 2-6 and Jigsaw are part of this category.

What does that make SAW 3D, then? Lacking background in characters beyond Lawrence, whose appearance is unfortunately limited, what do I get from what was supposed to be the close of the franchise?

Not much, quite honestly.

SAW 3D is not a film rich in much. Beyond a trap made of an entire building which feels a little too poetic for Hoffman to have made (judging, again, by my admittedly-limited knowledge of the character), and an enjoyably gruesome trap made for a group of neo-nazis (I SQUIRMED watching this one!!!! SQUIRMED!!!! I can’t remember the last time I had to look away from a movie!!!!!! Even on a second viewing, I had to close my eyes at this part! Can you tell how exciting that is?), SAW 3D feels rather slapped together. I’ve heard as well that the director had no desire to actually direct the film, which makes things difficult.

What does a film do when saddled with an unwilling director? Its best, of course, and SAW 3D is still a valiant enough effort. Is it a masterpiece? Not by any stretch of the word, but it’s fun. This here is why horror is one of my favorite genres! SAW is a masterpiece of modern horror, a reflection of the magic of A Texas Chain Saw Massacre! A rarity! A gem! I couldn’t be more enthusiastic about this film. SAW even surpasses Texas Chain Saw in one area: the actors, director, and staff had fun making this movie! I will always sing praise for Texas Chain Saw; it is the film I consider the penultimate horror movie, unsurpassable in its legacy. It captured a sort of magic in how gut-wrenchingly horrific it is with such minimal blood: it’s all psychological.

As previously said, I feel that SAW captures that same magic. The film has minimal gore, a byproduct of its limited budget, but is remembered as much more brutal than it actually is— it became the springboard for a franchise absolutely drenched in disgusting moments. SAW 3D’s neo-nazi trap is chief among them, for me (that back glue? good GOD man....). Yet, where the cast of Texas Chain Saw have many painful, sweaty, exhausting moments to remember (the actor who played Nubbins was a veteran and has stated that his time working on Texas Chain Saw was worse than his time as a soldier), the cast of the original SAW had a blast, proven by an audio commentary filled with James Wan, Leigh Whannell, and Cary Elwes all poking fun at each other (and a ridiculously goofy Marlon Brando impersonation from Mr. Elwes — I genuinely can’t recommend the commentary enough).

Even separated completely from my personal passion for the film, it’s an amazing feat for me to sit here and say to you all that a film has, in one instance, surpassed for me my pinnacle of horror. How often does that happen? 

Yet, I still haven’t completed my thoughts on SAW 3D. Circling back, I have to laugh. I’ve unintentionally mirrored my own Texas Chain Saw viewing pattern with my SAW viewings: for quite a long time, I’d only seen Texas Chain Saw and TCM: The Next Generation. If you’ve been here long enough, you’ve seen me mention TNG time and time again. To recap, for those of you who may be seeing my writing for the first time: it’s a genuinely HORRIBLE film. It is, however, a favorite of mine— enough so that I own it on DVD, now. TNG is a purposefully bad film, created with the intent of antagonizing the viewer and calling to attention our pattern of complacent viewership. In my original piece on TNG, I state that “my problem with modern horror is that it’s loud, the violence is gratuitous and charmless ... because supposedly that’s what a Modern Viewer [sic] wants. TCM4 takes these things, grinds your nose into them, and says ‘fuck you, you want this? here'” (source).  Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation defies the conventions of modern horror in a deeply obnoxious, yet thought-provoking way. SAW 3D... does not.

SAW 3D’s greatest problem is, perhaps, that it’s exactly what audiences demand. Though I must admit the 3D is tasteful, and I’m grateful for that, the fact remains that the movie lacks innovation. While it doesn’t necessarily need to innovate as the close of a franchise, I ultimately think it’s ridiculous to have tried to close the franchise at all. As much as I hate the trend of reboots and remakes in the modern market, particularly modern horror, I must acknowledge that studios will milk a popular franchise for all that it’s worth, and sometimes more (I’m looking at you, SyFy Pumpkinhead sequels).

SAW 3D is the victim of an unfortunate situation. An over-saturation of SAW films in the market meant waning popularity, coupled with a fanbase still dedicated enough to want a finale, and a director lacking interest in the project (we all get tired of things, no matter how passionate we may be in the beginning— I hardly blame anyone for being tired of the franchise after the way they churned those films out). This isn’t to imply any of the films are bad, especially since I haven’t seen them! There is, however, an undeniable pattern to horror films which has persisted since the 70s and 80s: horror franchises tank after 3-5 films. Some are lucky, some less so, but the range of 3-5 films seems to be the golden one for horror. For a movie franchise, seven films is comfortably beyond that, and SAW 3D is misleadingly the seventh film.

For as much as I’ll happily sit down and watch it, SAW 3D puts nothing forward and asks nothing in return. A franchise that started with such a dramatic bang went out with a fizzle (or would have, if not for Jigsaw and the upcoming Spiral). It’s enjoyable to see the reverse bear trap used. It’s enjoyable to see Lawrence again, and to watch Hoffman lay on the ground and get poked (quoth the reviewer: get his ass, Larry). It’s... fun, but it’s cheap fun. It’s fast food horror. I’m happy to have it once in a while, but the late 2000s to 2010s were oversaturated with similar films. I want more from a movie meant to close out something as dramatically influential as SAW, something so enrapturing! Something which I can confidently say exceeds Texas Chain Saw Massacre in one important area! Damn it, the SAW franchise deserved better than this!

Maybe it’ll get it, with the Spiral reboot coming out. Maybe it won’t, who knows? I’m interested to see how Spiral plays out, and I have surprisingly high hopes. Between that and the Candyman remake, there are a lot of  “re-” horror films I’m genuinely looking forward to. I haven’t felt this way about a horror re-anything since Evil Dead in 2013, and I’m feeling cautiously optimistic. We’ll see what the future holds — hopefully something that’ll be handled better than the original franchise was, though I don’t think Hollywood will ever learn to distinguish a dead horse from a live one. They’ll just keep beating and beating every horse in the stable. Perhaps I’m really a pessimist about all this, but again: personal experience. I’ll keep my cautious optimism up, and keep an eye out. I’m planning on watching Dying Breed and Cooties soon (two films with Leigh Whannell in them), so expect at least a short blurb on those two, and who knows? Maybe you’ll see something big about Spiral in the future. After all, if even a fizzle like SAW 3D can make me squirm even now, I think there’s a lot of hope to be had.

[indecisive-strike]

Sources

These are the specific sources I will take headcanons for! Please disregard this if you’re looking for commissions because when it comes to that I will take time to research and am thus more comfortable branching out. Any character and situation for any of the sources are okay, as well as crossovers.

Halloween (Original and New) Scream Friday the 13th Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1 + 2) Nightmare on Elm Street Saw House of 1000 Corpses (Not the sequels) Assassination Nation Stephen King Novels Marble Hornets Every Man Hybrid Candyman The Boy

I have a lot of other interests that just don’t fit the theme of this blog, so you are free to ask me about them, but please don’t send in a request until you’re sure I’ll do it.

[omniversalobservations]

Candyman Wants to Battle (2017)

While I am no stranger to drawing famous horror icons in the past, this is my first time ever drawing Tony Todd's famous Candyman. I had a lot of fun trying to get his mannerisms down, and to give him that noble quality he carries. For a pokemon no other was more appropriate than a Beedrill. However I went with the Beedrill EX due to me wanting to take a crack at the more complex design.

Source: DeviantArt

[beatriceinmessina]

Halloween Terrorfest, Day XII: ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’

(A note: I’m proud of this one.  Whilst writing I thought of it as a mix of the part of Dracula with Dracula and Lucy (except, you know, far more consensual in terms of biting and blood-drinking) and the wonderful 1992 film Candyman.)

(TRIGGER WARNING for blood-drinking.)

Among the gravestones he wandered, nearly frozen by the wind and made desperate by the voice entreating him.  Come to me, it called, low and warm, and I will make you my bridegroom and give you gold and silver and jewels to wear upon your flesh so that I may see you wink like the stars when the night is black.  I will give you a life a thousand times sweeter than the most wonderful you could ever hope to lead.

The eyes, the eyes, more perfect than the clearest glass, seemed to loom before him, wet with tears, begging a kindness.  John steadied himself on a gravestone and found he could hardly draw breath.  Thomas -- Thomas -- Thomas! the name echoed in his ears as if someone had cried it from far away.  He moved onwards, gasping down the chill air, moving in what he thought to be the direction of the first voice.  And there he stood, in the shadow of the enormous oak tree.  He raised a pale finger and beckoned; John’s heart pounded dreadfully as he drew nearer, until all he could hear was the rush of his own blood in his ears as the tree’s shadow consumed him.

On -- and on -- and yet, still onward!  The eyes had caught the moonlight and shone silver, two guiding lights further and further into the darkness.  The tree seemed to have disappeared, or grown, for the black was endless now.  At last a pair of white hands reached out and pulled him close to the body to which they belonged.  Coldness crept up the length of John’s neck.

‘You came.’  The mouth was at his ear.  ‘You will have me, then.’  There was no question in the words, though John hardly minded.  Never, he realised, had he wanted anything more than for the arms to wrap around him and bear him somewhere far away where he might live forever.  There was something terribly, delightfully freeing in this sort of thoughtless surrender.  

Thunder rumbled overhead, and a gust of wind nearly snatched the pen from his hand.  Graham looked up at the sky; the clouds were darkening, growing heavy with the promise of rain.  He scrawled a number on the bottom of the unfinished page and reshuffled his papers into proper order, capping his inkwell before dropping it in the pocket of his greatcoat.  In truth he should not have even been in the churchyard at all but rules be damned, how else was he to know John’s path as he made his way to the most beautiful of ends?

He’d been writing it nearly non-stop for nigh on two months now, caught up in a frenzy of imagination.  He remembered each and every one of his creations, every ghost and madwoman, and loved them as if they were his own children, but this was different.  Thomas was different.

It was his eyes Graham had thought of first.  The blue-green colour of sea-glass; wide and warm, eyes made to laugh and love.  Then the rest of him: dark hair, a smile sweet enough to break a heart, and a hunger ancient and deep, leading him to consume and consume until it was at last, for a while, satiated.  That was Graham’s final and greatest card to play, for who would ever imagine someone so beautiful, so innocent-appearing, so young and so kind, to be a creature who thrived from the most sensual acts on earth?  Yes, sensual -- the very idea of someone sinking their teeth into his flesh and drinking the very thing that kept him alive, and moreover, the idea of trusting someone enough to do it, sent a shudder down Graham’s spine every time he thought of it.  He had yet to arrive at a proper feeding in his novel, and often found himself wishing that he could experience it himself.  He preferred to know what his characters went through firsthand, and this was no exception.  It was folly to even think of it, however; were he to ask it of anyone they would no doubt think him mad, even if he offered money.  He would have to be content with imagining it and trying to write it out in the best terms he could conjure.

When he arrived home it was completely dark, so he lit a lamp and continued with his work.  He was in the middle of reading the pages he’d written in the churchyard for errors when he heard a tapping at his window.  He ignored the noise, thinking it to be the wind rattling the pane, or a bird that had flown into it.  But the tapping continued until it began to interrupt his concentration, and he went to see the source.

A figure stood on the ledge outside the window, tapping on the glass with their fingers.  As Graham approached he made out the features, and nearly tripped over his feet in his surprise.

The eyes.  The hair.  The face.  He knew that face.  He’d made that face, written of it until his fingernails broke and his fingers bled and he woke with ink in his hair.  Good God.  Was he dreaming?  If he was, oh, let it go on.  He unlocked the window-latch and stepped back to give his visitor room.  Thomas stepped down from the ledge, into the guttering lamp’s light, and Graham’s breath caught in his throat.  The portrait he’d painted in his mind’s eye was naught now that he beheld the man in the flesh.  He reached for him, and Thomas caught his hand.  Cold to the touch, nearly frozen.  At last Graham found the sense to speak.

‘How did you come?’ 

Thomas cocked his head to the side, eyes wide and unblinking.  ‘You called for me.  I was obliged to come.’

Perhaps another person would have pressed on with questions of ‘how’, demanding to know more of this strangeness.  Graham was far too fascinated to care.  ‘Is there something you want?’

‘I would help you to what you want, and I would help you to finish your story.’  He sat on the edge of the bed, making himself at home.  ‘Ask me what you will.’

‘What is it like?’ Graham asked, before he could help himself.  ‘To drink from another?’

‘It is not easy as you might think,’ Thomas said.  ‘There are those who do not surrender easily.  When they are willing, it is beyond what words can describe, but if I may try…’  His lips curled into a faint, wicked grin that surprised Graham.  He had never written of that smile, so full of mischievous delight it made him smile back.  ‘La petite mort.  That is what it is like, for me and for them.  I have asked them afterwards if I hurt them more than necessary, and they say that it does not matter.  One told me that pain never came, that she felt she had nothing to fear at all.  But that is only what they have told me, and it has been so long that I cannot remember my own turning.  I imagine you would like to know what it is for yourself.’

‘I do.’  The words fell from his lips without thinking.  ‘Oh, God.  I do.’

‘Then let me help.’  Thomas’s voice was no more than a whisper.  ‘And let me take you back with me.’

‘How could I come back with you?  I’ve not yet finished my first draft.’

‘You gave me such life that I learned to make my own,’ Thomas said.  ‘When we are together it will be enough to weave our own ending.  But to do that I must first take what keeps you here.  I have to take it all.  Do you understand?’

Graham nodded.  ‘Yes.’  Would it be death?  He did not know, and he did not care.  The desire to feel what Thomas had attempted to put into words had overcome him.  It had overcome him two months ago, he realised, when the eyes first took shape in his mind.  ‘Yes, I understand.  What must I do?’

‘You’ll want to lie down for this.  And take off your trousers.’  Graham obliged, removing the aforementioned clothing whilst the sound of his heart grew louder and louder in his ears.  Dear God, do not let this be a dream.  Let this be real.  Through what magic this had come to pass he did not care to know; at least, not for now.  Questions were for later.  Whatever he wished to write, he would write with Thomas by his side, wherever they chose to dwell.

He lay down and Thomas turned himself round, crawling in-between Graham’s legs.  He looked down, his gaze suddenly gentle, loving, and he lowered his head to give Graham a kiss before moving downwards.  Graham strained his eyes to follow him and, in the moment before Thomas began, saw the white flash of sharpened teeth above his thigh.  

At first, a flash of piercing, tearing pain.  Then -- good Christ.

Graham’s eyes rolled back into his head.  This he would never be able to put down on paper.  This was not meant to be described to anyone secondhand; to even think you could try was the height of hubris.  A guttural shriek tore from deep within him: he was shattering, flying apart into a thousand pieces, grasping for Thomas or something else to hold onto.  Sun and moon and stars danced from the edges of his vision; flashes of gold and silver and white blinding him, swirling together into a light which grew and grew and grew until it engulfed him completely, filling every single vein with a fire that burned intolerably hot before receding to lick and caress at his insides.  Wetness and salt on his lips; below, an endless sucking sound and starved, wanton gasps that sent violent shudders up and down his spine until he cried out again.  The fire dying, turned to ash and embers to be consumed with the rest, replaced with a creeping coldness.  His breath calming in his ears, and a sudden jolt as the eyes reared upwards to meet his.

 ‘You’re alright?’

‘I--’  Graham sat up, his head light.  ‘I think I am.’

Thomas laughed, a merry, darkly chiming sound.  ‘You’ll be good as new in a moment.  Will you be ready, then?’

‘Yes.’  If he had not been sure of it before, this had convinced him.  It had not been pleasure, it had not been ecstasy, but something perched high far above them, something so unparalleled it was beyond anyone’s comprehension.  He must have more of it, whether it would come from Thomas taking him again or from taking someone himself.  ‘Where will we go?’

‘The window-ledge is where I entered, and where we will leave.  You know what lies behind, since you created it.  It will be far more beautiful when you are there in truth.’  Thomas rose and sat at the table, watching as Graham redressed himself.  There was no sign of what had transpired upon either of them save for two small puncture marks in Graham’s right thigh.

When he had finished dressing, Thomas took his hands (the cold did not startle him now, when his hands were equally such) and drew him to the still-open window.  They climbed up onto the ledge and, still hand-in-hand, stepped off into the billowing winds.

[mayanur00]

Candyman Candyman: A reclamation

This week we looked at the film Candyman and compared the 1992 film with the new 2021 sequel. It was interesting to look at the evolution of black horror films and how the 2021 film reclaims the problematic tropes and plot lines that were demonstrated in the first film. To begin with the first Candyman was directed by a white man who did not have a deep understanding for how to portray the themes of racism that are brought up in the film, this means the 1992 film ends up falling into racist caricatures of black people. For example, In the first film, Candyman is presented as a black man obsessed with a white woman ‘Helen’ in an almost mirrored manner to the way in which King Kong was obsessed with Ann Darrow. This trope of black men chasing after a white woman is steeped in American white supremacy as it reinforces the messaging that black men are ‘monstrous’ and have an innate desire for white women. The 1992 film does highlight the history of American racism through the backstory of Candyman – explaining that the first Candyman was a victim to lynching in the 1800s by a white mob who were enraged by his interracial relationship with a white woman. However, it cannot be seen as horror film that exposes racism as it partakes in so many racist representations of black people on screen. This is also demonstrated in the representation of the people of Cabrini Green, who are merely props to the white woman’s plot line and do not act in a way which would authentically make sense, for example the boy who helps out Helen seems to have no one caring or looking after him. Also, the residency is shown to be grotty, and in the case of the bathroom, literally coved in faeces, thus signalling that the residents have no care or pride in maintaining their home. This depiction of black people is clearly racist within itself.

In the 2021 film, Nia DaCosta revamps the horrifying plot of Candyman’s past racial trauma and represents the issues facing the black community, such as police and white violence, that the first film touched on, but failed to grasp. Here I am going to focus on Candyman’s representation of generational trauma: Candyman, Candyman, Candyman…. I honestly don’t won’t to write his name five times. Why? Because the fear of Candyman’s character is not wrapped up in a baseless dread of the unknown, because he is rooted in generational trauma, in the abuse the black community faces and have faced for generations in America. In the 2021 film DaCosta really explores this and looks at the different interpretations of who he is. There is allot of imagery that resonates with the racial politics of today. Calls to ‘say his name’ and the different faces of every incarnation of Candyman haunting the screen hark back to the real horror in our own lives of seeing countless projections of black men’s faces on the news, taken by white violence. As DaCosta said in an interview “[These issues are] cyclical and every generation we have this violence, and it changes and it warps, and it shifts so it looks different. It’s all part of our history.” The last scene of the film in particular demonstrates this intergenerational trauma through Candyman. We see Brianna Carter, Anthony’s girlfriend, trapped in a police car and we know that she will not be listened too, that the police will not see her in the same way that they did arresting Helen in the first film, that they only want a narrative of Anthony’s violence. What makes this scene so significant is how Candyman is reclaimed as a protector of the black community. She says ‘Candyman’ five times, and her Anthony goes on to kill the police officers, protecting her. This reclamation is clear manifests itself in the fact Candyman is depicted as the protector of the black community, after all, as a victim of white violence it only makes sense for him to selectively choose to kill white people, the source of his suffering. However, we also see Candyman as Daniel Robitaille (the first Candyman) in this end seen as he turns to say, “tell everyone”, this reinforces that the fact that Candyman is a product of generational trauma, that he cannot be one face as he is a feeling as well as a being, he represents the horror and racism in the DNA of America. This reclamation is powerful and brings a foreboding dimension to Candyman by actually exploring the roots of his pain and truthfully exploring black horror.