#three from hell

[clandestinewhore]

𝙱𝚊𝚋𝚢 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚢

(𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚜, 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟹)

[sp4rklequ33n]

rob and sheri moon zombie !!

[theghostinyourwalls]

The chokehold Otis Driftwood got on me 🛐

[357magnum]

Clap for the Wolfman, you're gonna dig him till the day you die

[purvurs]

debil rejecks

[bloodybobbysawyer]

When you feel silly.

[themeadow0307]

The Devil's Bargin

Warning 18+ Minors DNI Sexual and Violence Depictions

P.S. I don't own these charters besides the reader. No gender implied, but probably female.

The flickering started subtly, a barely perceptible shimmer at the edge of your vision. You’d dismissed it at first, attributing it to stress, too much coffee, not enough sleep. But then the flickering intensified, spreading like a stain across the fabric of reality. One moment, you were in your living room, surrounded by your meticulously curated collection of [Movie Name] memorabilia, the next… you weren't. The air crackled with an unnatural energy, the familiar sounds of your neighborhood replaced by an eerie silence. And then you saw him. Foxy Coltrane. Not the charismatic actor, but the man himself, radiating a palpable aura of menace. He was standing in the shadows, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "Well, well," he drawled, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "looks like I have a visitor."

He stepped out of the shadows, and you could see him clearly. He was even more terrifying in person than he was on screen. His eyes, dark and piercing, seemed to see right through you. You tried to speak, but your voice caught in your throat. He’s real. He’s actually real. And he’s… everything I imagined. He tilted his head, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "Don't be shy," he said, taking a step closer. "I know you've been watching me." Your heart hammered against your ribs. He knows. He knows I understand him. He knows I want him. "I… I don't know what you're talking about," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper. Internally, your mind was screaming, Run! Get out of here! But your feet seemed rooted to the spot. You couldn't tear your gaze away from him. He chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "Oh, I think you do," he said, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "You and I… we're not so different, are we?"

You stand in front of him, breathing heavily, heart a frantic drum against your ribs. Your mind is a swirling fog, consumed by him, and him alone. The unfamiliar surroundings blur into nothingness; it's just him, his captivating eyes drawing you in. Questions claw at the edges of your consciousness – Where am I? What happened? Is this real? – but they can't penetrate the haze of his presence. Driven by an irresistible impulse, you reach out, your hand trembling slightly with a mixture of excitement and a prickle of fear. Your fingers brush against his chest, feeling the warmth radiating through his shirt. The contact, so real, so tangible, sends a jolt of electricity through you.He chuckles lightly, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through you. Amusement flickers in his eyes, but beneath it, you see something else – a keen, predatory interest. He's studying you, every flicker of emotion across your face, every tremor in your hand. He's enjoying this, this dance of fear and fascination. He knows he has you captivated. "So," he says, his voice a low murmur that seems to caress your skin, "you're here." It's not a question. It's a statement, a declaration. He already knows the answer. He sees it in your eyes, in the way you're trembling, in the almost desperate way you're clinging to the fabric of his shirt.Your mind is a battleground. He's real. He's actually real. And I'm… I'm touching him. The rational part of you screams at you to pull away, to run, to escape. But another part, a darker, more primal part, is whispering, Stay. He wants you. You want him. You can't speak. You can only stare up at him, your breath catching in your throat.He raises a hand, his fingers tracing a delicate line along your jawline. His touch is light, almost feather-like, but it sends shivers down your spine. "You know why you're here, don't you?" he asks, his eyes locking with yours. He's not asking for information. He's demanding a confession. He wants you to admit it, to voice the dark desires that are swirling within you. He leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't be shy," he murmurs, his voice laced with a seductive purr. "Tell me what you want."The fog in your mind begins to clear, and with it comes a terrifying clarity. You do know why you're here. A shiver, not entirely from fear, runs down your spine. You glance around, finally taking in your surroundings. The room is small, claustrophobic, bathed in a dim, red light. A small, flickering TV sits atop a dusty dresser. Mirrors line the walls, reflecting your distorted image back at you, multiplying the unsettling atmosphere. It looks… like a sex dungeon. The thought sends a fresh wave of heat through you, a mixture of fear and something undeniably akin to excitement.And then you see him. Another man, leaning against the far wall, watching you with an unnervingly detached amusement. It's Otis. Foxy's brother. His presence adds another layer of unease to the already charged atmosphere. He's just there, observing, like a silent predator waiting for his turn.Real or not, the primal part of your brain screams danger. You're trapped. You're trapped in this strange, red room with two men who embody your darkest fantasies and your deepest fears. Your hand is still on Foxy's chest, a constant reminder of the physical connection between you. You haven't moved it. It's like a lifeline, even as you know it's probably a trap.

"Where am I?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly. You try to sound calm, collected, but the fear is creeping in, making your heart pound harder.Foxy's smile widens, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "That, my dear," he says, his voice dripping with playful menace, "is not important. What is important is why you're here." He steps closer, the warmth of his body radiating through you, and whispers, "You know why, don't you? All those nights spent watching me, dreaming of me... I felt it. I felt your… fascination." He emphasizes the word, drawing it out, making it sound both seductive and sinister. His gaze flickers to Otis, then back to you. "My brother and I… we appreciate a dedicated fan."“My brother and I… we appreciate a dedicated fan.” Foxy's words hang in the air, thick with double meaning. He steps closer, his hand now moving from your jaw to the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. The gesture is both intimate and possessive. Otis remains silent, his eyes fixed on you, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. His silence is more unsettling than any words could be.The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. This isn't a dream. This isn't some fantasy fulfillment. This is real. Or at least, it's real in this reality. And these men, these monsters you've obsessed over, they're not playing characters anymore. They're the characters. They’re worse. The warmth of Foxy's touch suddenly feels like a brand.

"You're special," Foxy whispers, his voice low and seductive. "We can tell. You understand us. You understand… the things we do." He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Don't you?"

You want to deny it. You want to scream, to run, to disappear. But the words catch in your throat. A part of you, a dark, twisted part, does understand. That's what terrifies you the most.

Otis pushes himself off the wall, his movements languid, almost lazy, but radiating a sense of barely contained violence. He walks towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Foxy's right," he drawls, his voice rough and gravelly. "You're… different." He stops a few feet away, his gaze raking over you, making you feel exposed, vulnerable. "We've been watching you," he continues, his smile widening. "We know what you want."

A wave of nausea washes over you. You know what they want. And you know, deep down, that it's the same thing you want. Or at least, a part of you wants. A dark, twisted part that you've tried to suppress for so long.

"This… this isn't real," you whisper, your voice trembling. You're trying to convince yourself as much as you're trying to convince them.

Foxy chuckles, a low, menacing sound. "Oh, it's real, sweetheart," he says. "More real than you can imagine." He tightens his grip on your neck, his fingers digging into your skin. "And you're not going anywhere."

Otis steps closer, his presence filling the room with a sense of suffocating dread. "We've got big plans for you," he says, his eyes glinting with malicious intent. "Big, fun plans."

The brothers exchange a look, a silent communication passing between them.

[sunslip]

[houseoflivingdeadgrrl]

Okay guys I need to talk about this. WHY did they change the entire aesthetic and vibe of House of 1000 Corpses when they made the devils rejects and three from hell. Please someone else tell me they liked house more. PLEASE. I need to know I’m not alone. That version of Baby and Otis and the entire firefly family is just so good. I need other people’s opinions like seriously comment or dm me because I’m going crazy

[ho1000c]

Firefly Family Playlists (no soundtrack)

a mix of character study and vibes, mostly time period and genre accurate.

curated by @otisbdriftwood and @captainspaulding

[cinematitlecards]

"House Of 1000 Corpses" (2003) Directed by Rob Zombie (Horror) . . "The Devil's Rejects" (2005) Directed by Rob Zombie (Crime/Horror/Western) . . "Three From Hell" (2019) Directed by Rob Zombie (Action/Horror)

[clandestinewhore]

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐’𝚜 𝙼𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚍-𝙼𝚎𝚗!

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

you wanna play knives?

kinktober day one - knife play

pairing: baby firefly x afab!reader

warnings: smut, DUBCON, knife play, blood, fingering, no pronouns used, reader wears a skirt, baby calls reader a bitch

a/n: starting off strong with this one. honestly, i am so down bad for baby it's embarrassing

also, this isn't proof-read and there isn't currently a word count, i will be adding the word count sometime tomorrow

"Wanna play a game?" Baby asked, twirling the point of a knife against the rope tied around your wrist.

You'd been left tied to a chair in her room for the last few hours, just...waiting. And now the blonde had finally returned, a sick smile on her face as she knelt between your legs.

"I'm gonna ask you some questions," she explained, grinning at you. "If you get them right, I'll let you go. If you get them wrong..."

She looked down at the knife above your wrist. "Well...you don't wanna know what happens if you get them wrong."

You simply stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

"Alright. Who is....my favourite movie star?"

"I don't know," you answered, unable to tear your eyes away from her mouth, from the way it seemed to pull into the brightest of smiles.

She was insane, but you couldn't deny that she was fucking beautiful. You supposed this being the last thing you saw would at least soften the blow that you were going to die here.

"Well?" She asked when you didn't offer her a proper answer. "Who's my favourite movie star? You want me to let you go, don't you?"

You should've said yes. You should've desperately nodded and pleaded with her to just let you go.

"I won't say anything, I swear," you should've been saying, tears streaming down your face as you spoke.

But you just sat there, staring at that damn smile.

"Alright, here's another game," she said then, pressing her lips into a line, before moving the point of the knife to your bare thigh. "You wanna play knives?"

Again, you should've frantically shook your head at her, pulled at the restraints and begged to be let go. But you just sat there...waiting.

Did you want this? Did you want to feel her touching you like this? Were you really that fucked in the head?

You watched as she trailed the knife up the inside of your thigh, the cool metal making you shiver.

"Damn, you are much quieter than all the other assholes I've had in here," Baby commented then, dragging the blade closer to your centre. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually like being here."

You didn't speak, you just remained completely still, watching.

"Is that it?" She grinned. "Did I get it right? I know I'm right."

Again, you didn't speak, but that didn't stop her from persisting.

"Alright, I have a game. I'm gonna stick my fingers in that pussy of yours, and I'm gonna fuck you. I wanna see how long you can stay quiet." She paused a moment, lifting the flimsy material of your skirt off your thighs, and slipping your panties down your legs. "If you make a sound, I cut you. Got it?"

You nodded.

She grinned, slowly tracing her fingers along the inside of your thigh, stopping when she reached your pussy.

"Remember, you gotta be quiet," she reminded you, before you felt her drag a finger through your folds.

You practically flinched from the contact, a fire already beginning to crackle in your stomach. Holy shit.

Seconds later, she was pushing a finger inside you, and you had to bite down on your tongue to keep a moan from slipping out.

"You like that?" She said, beginning to move her finger inside you. "Huh, bitch?"

You bit your lip, nodding, your eyes fluttering closed.

This was crazy. Absolutely fucking insane. And yet you were enjoying it thoroughly, revelling in the way her finger dragged along your walls, in the sound of her voice as she teased you, trying to get a sound out of you.

After a moment, she added a second finger, and you couldn't help thrusting your hips into her hand, desperate for more friction, your release building.

"Well, damn," she chuckled. "Look at you, all desperate for me."

Against your better judgement, you moaned in response.

"Did I just hear you make a sound?" Baby answered, giggling. "You did, didn't you?"

And within moments, you felt the blade pierce the skin on the inside of your thigh, hot blood spilling out of the fresh wound.

"You lose!" She boasted, grinning as she worked her fingers inside you faster. "Don't worry though, I'll still let you come."

You rocked your hips into her hand harder as she fucked you with her fingers and before long, you were reaching your release, a wave of pleasure coursing through your body as you came around her fingers.

And when you were done, she pulled her fingers out of you, sucking hard on them as she grinned. "Now, I want you to give me a kiss and say: 'thank you, Baby, I had a really good time."

You did as she said, leaning forward as best you could and pressing a forceful kiss to her lips. And then you smiled. "Thank you, Baby, I had a really good time."

And you weren't lying.

[Main Masterlist] [Kinktober Masterlist]

[dark-ethereal-visions]

Such a loving & kind family!

[un-holyhound]

Firefly Trilogy Oc Doodles

Her name is Bambi and Otis is her kind of boyfriend and they beat the hell outta each other affectionately and she eats people 🩷

[charleslee-valentine]

Firefly family name etymology:

It’s no secret their names are chosen from stories, a coverup of sorts, but the family does have real names as well, at least for the most part, with the exception of Otis. That’s because he chose his own name, giving it at least some significance still.

We’ll start with him, since he’s the oldest of the Firefly children. The name Otis means ‘leisure.’ He’s a man who doesn’t feel threatened by much. Even when shit starts to hit the fan in the second two films, he remains joking, cocky, and proud. Leisure is in his relaxed bones, even when he’s furious and scolding and violent. Even in the way he stands, with his shoulders sagged and his crotch forward, is a leisurely poster.

The second child is RJ. Full name Rufus Junior. More complicated because of its simplicity, the meaning of his name is ‘reddened.’ While there’s no personality connections there, it can possibly offer insight on his killings. Blood is red and the Firefly family home is deeply soaked in blood. It’s assumed they’ve been killing for the entirety of the children’s lives, though that’s somewhat unclear. However if Rufus got his hands ‘reddened’ when he was young (accounting for the secondary meaning of junior) then it does imply that the family allows their small children to kill as well. A minor detail, but considering the shared insight on the whole family, shows RJ being dedicated to them first and foremost.

Next is Baby. Of course this, along with Angel Baby, are her nicknames. Her true name is Vera Ellen. Together, the double name has the meanings ‘true’ and ‘brilliant.’ She was her parents pride and joy and was named ‘truly brilliant’ after the way she shined to them. However I see it as a signal that she isn’t just a pretty, happy face too. She's also as intelligent as others in the family, despite her mental health and delusions. Thus it serves as a warning not to underestimate her. She’s every bit as cunning as her brothers, in on all the plans, with twice the protection because she’s her Mama and Daddy’s little star.

As for the Firefly parents themselves, there’s Mama. Her real name is Gloria, which means ‘honor.’ Befitting of the common matriarch in the family, everything they do is to her liking. Even Otis comes down to supper and brings Wolf because he knows that would make her happy. After her death, they raise hell and fight to survive and honor her. They made a promise to her, and to the other family they lost, to not go down without a fight. All those bullets they took was to honor her. Her name represents the symbol she presents to the rest of her family.

Except Earl, who we don’t see her interact with. Because of what he did he’s been exiled from the Firefly family, but it’s worth noting that his name can mean ‘lion.’ It would seem the man had a bad temperament to do what he did, and likely without much warning. He pounced and struck and Tiny was hurt, so Earl was no longer part of the family. In that sense, it reflects his nature as a dangerous animal, a monster to them.

His replacement as consistent patriarch and father to Baby is Spaulding. While his nicknames include Captain Spaulding and Cutter, his government name is Johnny Lee Johns. Combining the meanings of Johnny ‘graced by god’ and Lee ‘poet,’ he’s symbolically been gifted his ability to wax poetic and monologue. Spaulding spends his very last moments of life ranting and monologuing in that disturbing and cruel way the Firefly family does. To us, it doesn’t seem like poetry, but his wisdom to the family is important. His poeticism isn’t his word choice, it’s the way he can use words to crush a victim’s spirit, or to scare and unsettle them right into the arms of his waiting family members down the road to be hunted.

The final member of the family, at least in order of introduction, is Foxy. He’s Otis’ half-brother, so he has his own surname that he doesn’t share with anybody else. His name obviously is not a Marx character like the rest of the family’s nicknames as well. Foxy is just the shorthand of his middle name, Foxworth, full name Winslow Foxworth Coltrane. Winslow means ‘grave’ or ‘burial.’ His rescue of his brother, and thus his entrance into the story, is necessary because of death. Cutter is dead, Mama is dead, RJ and Tiny are dead, and Otis and Baby likely aren’t long behind. Foxy is a figure of the family, who is only essential in the loss of life, so his name is significant in marking him with that death. Foxworth can mean ‘homestead’ which only adds to the tragic meaning there. His family is dead, his home gone and burnt to the ground, and he wasn’t there to see it or defend them too. The death of all those family members and the loss of his home is the reason for his determination to save his remaining two siblings, and be included in the family. Baby and Otis don’t consider him part of that fight, but he’s just as wounded by it. Coltrane is symbolic of ‘wild energy.’ The result of the above trauma for him is his manic attitude. Even as calm and flat affected as he can seem, he turns cruel and sadistic when push comes to shove. All of the Firefly family can fit into that trope, of completely unhinged assholes, but Foxy wears the specific name that says it’s a part of him. Showing that he is a memeber of the family regardless of his prison stint that had him separated from the rest.

Firefly, of course, is a name chosen from characters and likely not their legal name, but it’s the one they use. The little insect fireflies symbolize ‘hope.’ The family reminds each other to be hopeful, because they see themselves as untouchable. Nobody can stop them, it seems at least, and Baby has to be reminded of that when she’s in Mexico grieving her Mama and Daddy. The love they have and the hope they share exists despite their evil and destructive nature, showing that they are a family unit deep down. Afterall, the point of these three films was to show what happens when the killers have support and love and family behind them for once, and how less likely their victims are in such a case to survive.