#watching: the exorcist iii

[exdeputysonso]

Brad Dourif as The Gemini Killer | The Exorcist III (1990)

[hexfloog]

So suffer your fate, oh, come here and give me a hug Nobody loves you like I love you, oh, my dear But you should've known that this was gonna end in tears

---

Yeah I went and finished it 👉👈 Silly as it sounds, it was bothering me so, so much to only have two stickers designed and not three when the third WIP was just sitting there PLS FORGIVE

Third design in the Evil Conan sticker series!! If we cross paths at COAF 2024 you might get to take one home :3 ...assuming I have them... :33 ...I finished this pretty late... :333 It is very unlikely I will get them in time GAH what was the point of me rushing this (sobbing)

Since three is a nice number for a set of things, this and the previous two stickers will be going up for sale on my shop as a bundle soon, so stay tuned!

(Previous sticker here)

[spider-season]

It's a problem I'm working on, Father...all...this...bleeding.

now watching: The Exorcist III (1990) Directed by William Peter Blatty Cinematography by Gerry Fisher

[abs0luteb4stard]

W A T C H III N G

I'm going through as many Exorcist movies as I can stand. Trying to see what I haven't seen before. Something to do.

—————————————————————

I don't see how William Friedkin criticized 'Exorcist Believer' in a moral sense in its production shortly before his death when this movie by Blatty himself posited that Damien Karras somehow survived his climactic fall down the stairs in the original film to become possessed by a serial killer and "the master" or "legion".

This movie's plot is beyond reasonable reality, even in demonic possession beliefs. The devil may have reach, but even Satan would be bound by certain cosmic laws.

Friedkin was an ass to do that.

That said, this is not as terrible a movie as I expected, but it's more like a slasher film than an Exorcism.

[mygreatadventurehasbegun]

Wanted to share a really great reaction channel I found a few months ago.

She actually is not a fan of horror movies, as she thinks they're too scary...and yet she started a YouTube channel.

Believe me when I say that this is one of the best reaction channels I've ever watched. You can tell that she is 100% invested in what she is watching...there's no BS or acting for the camera. And she goes in completely blind, so she usually doesn't know any more than what the poster shows.

And she is hilarious.

One of her rules is that she can't look away...which results in some very interesting "shadow boxing".

And even though she doesn't really like horror movies, she has actually walked away liking several of the movies she's watched.

I'd recommend starting somewhere in the middle of her videos...only because her first few videos are very scream-heavy, as she gets used to the genre. But it's interesting to see how she has gotten braver over the past year.

But here's the thing...while she started her channel with a lot of classics...The Exorcist, Halloween, The Shining, etc...she really needs to branch out with some older flicks! The oldest movie she's reacted to is Psycho.

She does read all her comments (that's where she gets her recommendations), so if any of my classic horror fans try her channel and like it, let's get her to watch some more movies made before 1970!

@nitrateglow I've left a few comments trying to get her to watch Wait Until Dark, but nothing yet, lol.

But I mean it when I said she's one of the best reaction channels I've seen...she reacted to Blair Witch Project outside in the woods and reacted to Jaws on the water! Really taking it to a new level!

Check it out, horror fans!

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Evenin'," Wilhelm smiled warmly, June and Randall echoing these greetings, with the youngest Pace pressing a loving kiss to his bride's cheek as he helped his mother clean and put away the dishes. There was no denying it, they were all very tired. It hadn't exactly been a restful night for anyone under the roof-too much on their minds, to say the least.

And although they didn't say so aloud, they knew Emily's night (day?) hadn't exactly been restful either-perhaps the least restful out of all of them. It brought with it a heavy sense of guilt for the three Pace's, hating to think they were putting so much pressure on the young woman, pressure to make an impossible decision. Their lives literally hung in the balance, and it was all on her shoulders.

"How're you feeling?" Randall asked gently, as he moved to pull out a chair for her to sit at the table and drink her blood-it seemed clear to him that she was just as tired as he was, and a part of him wanted to ask if she might like to sleep in his room this evening, but he withheld that question, for now, instead choosing to make her comfortable, while his parents, having finished cleaning up, tried to ignore their nagging guilt in favor of more pleasant conversation.

"You're staying cool up in your room, aren't you, Emily?" June asked, as she poured herself a glass of water, hoping a little hydration might wake her up a little. "I know the upstairs can get a little warm, so if you need us to put a little fan up there, we certainly can!" Perhaps vampires didn't get warm easily, but she still felt she should check in-it was both the mother and the nurse in her.

[rroaddkill]

Would you believe I haven't seen the exorcist 3 ever until tonight

[revrads]

I finished watching The Exorcist 3, it’s been a few hours and I still can’t get over the fact Damien literally growls

[crocodilenotes]

finally reading the exorcist. i was like “oh i need a fun little book to read on my weekend while it’s raining” so i got it today but now that i’m 90 pages in im like oh. this is going to ruin my life actually isn’t it

[joespinell]

i love george c. scott’s about-to-cry face it’s like

#=_=‘) if you get my meaning

[theblob1958]

almost done with this pointless critical review assignment that i've been working on for 3 days

[coulsonlives]

If anyone wants to see my all-time favourite horror scene, this is it! It's only one minute long, and it doesn't have any gore. It's as close to perfection as possible for me :)

MAKE SURE SOUND IS ON:

[we-re-always-alright]

when you’re watching a movie (intoxicated) and see a church at a weird angle (cinematography) and immediately think “ooh. aliens” then the shot changes and you go “ohh. church.” all in the same breath

[eurosleazarchive]

adding the exorcist vibes here (the devil is scarier when you know it's real and the existence of god isn't definite if it exists at all-- are we really meant to exist just to suffer? is it a teaching moment? evil is everywhere and are we really supposed to accept it?).

[fridge-04]

Watched the Exorcist III today and found a new favourite horror movie main character

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part two - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

Trigger Warnings: violence against women ; fat-shaming

Part one here

She’s sore and exhausted by the time her shift ends, and all she really wants to do is snuggle up on the couch and re-watch The Exorcist III to do fair comparisons between here and the actual movie, but when she walks into the break room, Benny is sitting at the table with an empty, stained Pyrex container and smashed can of Pepsi.

“Hey,” he says, looking at her expectantly with what she interprets as perhaps a smile.

She nods at him, hoping they might have gotten off on the wrong foot. Hell, maybe they can be friends. “Hey, just heading out.”

“So soon? Wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

She grabs her bag from her locker, almost fumbles and drops it, and clutches her house keys between her knuckles (as if the thin blunt metal could even penetrate this guy’s beefy skin). Turning around to face him, her heart lurches to her stomach when she sees he’s standing up, blocking the doorway with a massive frame. No, it was definitely going to be the wrong foot after all.

“I really have to get going,” she tells him. Her voice is scared and quiet.

“Settle down, honey,” he says, “just wanted to ask you if you’d like to go camping next weekend? Me and some guys from work and you. How does that sound?”

It sounds fucking awful. It sounds like she needs to get out of here. Now. “I can’t, I have plans, maybe next time-“

“Don’t gimme that bullshit.” He takes a few steps toward her and she contemplates bolting for the door. “I know you don’t have plans. Who do you have them with? Your fridge?”

Her body recoils like he punched her in the gut.

He chuckles, and she can smell the onions he must’ve eaten for lunch. “Didn’t mean it like that.”

But he did. He absolutely did. And it shouldn’t make her feel like it does. This man is not nice, and his words should theoretically hold little value.

Her back hits the wall before she notices he is crowding in on her personal space, rabbit heart lurching when he gets close enough that his stomach almost touches her chest. Fear slashes through her like a cold blade.

“C’mon,” he urges, “live a little. We’re gonna have lots of booze, some weed if you like, you can get some attention.” His grin turns disgusting, just like his breath. The sudden, acidic urge to vomit clenches her stomach.

“I cant, sorry.” She tries to step around him but he clutches her shoulder and presses her back against the wall. Clumsily, she attempts to reach out and grab his arm but he catches her wrist and pins her other hand by her head.

Her body reacts instinctually and wildly to the entrapment. She flails out with her right leg to kick something—hopefully a vital body part.

Her thrashing doesn’t go over well with Benny. He lets go of her shoulder, grabs her by the side of her head, palm full of her hair, and slams her face against the grimy wall hard enough to make her vision turn static for a few moments.

Pain diffuses from behind her temple into the rest of her face. A pathetic noise of distress hisses from her mouth and nose.

“You don’t need to be so fucking rude,” Benny spits. “I’m offering you a good time and you’re being bitchy about it and trying to hurt me?”

She yelps like a dog when he grinds her face harder against the wall.

“Now, you gonna come camping?”

“Yes, yes.”

Thankfully, as soon as she frantically agrees, he drops her and backs off. “Great. I’ll hold you to it.” There’s a sinister promise in his tone, and she curses herself for not just agreeing right off the bat and saving herself some of the foretold agony.

She watches him pack up his food while standing still and shocked against the cold wall. It’s when he walks out that the tears begin to soak her cheeks, because she’s not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry again. She slides to the floor, sobs and pants and chokes on thick emotion that she can’t control.

She can’t form a thought right now, can’t move. Has a full blown panic attack on the dirty stone, but she can’t stop it…All she can do is curl up into a ball and hyperventilate and sob like a baby.

At home, before her shower, she looks in the mirror and cringes at the dark bruises spreading from her hairline to her cheekbone. They are swollen and tender, making her wince when she scrubs her face, desperate to rid herself of the lingering feel of Benny’s touch.

She needs this job. It was hard enough finding another one that would take her after so many had failed before it. But, also, she doesn’t want the backlash of reporting Benny. He’s worked there a lot longer than her and she feels like management will be favorable to him because of it.

It will be worse if she calls the cops. They will take her report and then confront Benny, which would place an even bigger target on her back until the investigation clears. And she can’t just quit. Rent is due this week and her bank account has been barren for a while now.

She doesn’t know what to do, so she cries some more. In the shower, in the kitchen making ramen, on the couch where she falls to sleep, vowing while nodding off, in some desperate attempt to feel less helpless, to look for functioning security cameras in the break room, because she knows that actual evidence is hard to dispute.

If she’s being honest with herself, she’s terrified to see Benny again that night when she goes into work. She’s had a lot of curses in her life, but one blessing is the learned knowledge that men prone to violence will always utilize it again. Still, to be cornered by him and hurt is enough of a thought to chase her brain out of rationality. He already knows he can get away with whatever he wants and it’s too late to make a report now…If she was ever even planning to. A good 15 hours has passed since the incident and no cop or supervisor will take her seriously with the time gap, at least not without camera footage. Going into the break room and looking for cameras, however, means the possibility of running into Benny alone again.

She looks, for a long time, at her face in the rusted, cracked locker room mirror, at the ugly discoloration on her skin. She smooths her hands over her fleshy body, the paunch of her stomach, the jiggle of her arms and thighs, and wishes, for surprisingly not the first time, she were bigger*. No, maybe not bigger. Taller. Stronger. You’re already big enough,* her brain reminds. And that’s when she has to step away, because the negative thoughts will just avalanche and she can’t cry at work again.

She stays out in the open for the majority of her shift, exists where other people are and keeps her head down to avoid eye contact. She eats her employee provided turkey sandwich at the nurses desk. It works for the most part; she doesn’t see the burly guard and no one talks to her about the giant bruise on her face. She does, however, see some of his companions from last night, and she vaguely wonders which ones he’s…she’s…going camping with. The feeling of disgust, not at them but at herself for agreeing to the outing, bites at her heels.

And then John—his inquiry catches her off guard. She wonders if he’s genuinely concerned or if there is some motive behind his questioning because she’s not used to having someone be worried about her or even really asking her about herself. It’s the price of living in a big city with no family or friends around. Everyone is very good at ignoring everyone else, unless they have sinister intent. It makes her want to start bawling all over again.

But.

It also…feels strangely nice, this illusion that someone might care about her well-being, even if he’s a prisoner and her patient and she can’t think about him being anything other than that for professionalisms sake.

She really does need this job, but she’s not sure how to handle any of this. Unwanted attention from the prisoners is one thing here and there. Most of these men are lonely and haven’t seen any women in years besides the sparse ones that work with them, so she knew taking the job that they would possibly cat-call and say stupid shit just to get a rise out of her.

Between quietly burning with shame and staring intently at walls and floors instead of eyes, she has been pretty efficiently avoiding negative remarks, but feels hopeless thinking about circumventing someone she works with, someone who’s not in cuffs and not under control of the state. How the fuck is that supposed to work?

She guesses Benny is not here, does some counting on her fingers regarding time, figures that John’s guards change out roughly every six hours. Most of them sleep during the time that they are supposed to be watching him.

He can’t be that dangerous.

Healthcare liability and rules are a funny thing; you come to learn that most are for show, and policy-making CEO’s don’t even walk onto the field, but dictate what happens in it.

On top of all that, she doesn’t want to be afraid of John—mainly because she’s becoming afraid of everyone else here and her tolerance for feeling like a helpless woman is reaching its peak. That tolerance was never very high to begin with, though; when you live all your life as a larger girl, you get used to being strong and taking lead and defending your smaller friends and being tough. If you’re in a situation where you don’t feel that way, it’s quite uncomfortable.

So she’s not as scared of him tonight while she is changing his dressing, giving him water, and making sure he’s medicated. It’s kind of disgusting how these inmates are treated by the doctors and even some of her coworkers. She understands completely having problem patients that are rude and awful, but none of hers have been like that, especially not John. However, they all seem to severely lack hydration and pain control when she takes them on her assignment board.

“You can ask for pain pills every four hours,” she tells John while her hands work on his wound. It looks better already, edges beginning to turn plump pink and shiny. He bleeds a lot, soaks gauze pads and then the top of his pants, but he heals fast.

“Thank you, I didn’t realize.” There is barely any pain in his tone while she works on him, because her touch is soft—feather light when she’s not shaking with fear.

When she laughs, it makes him curious about what’s funny.

“You can also ask for water every now and again,” she reminds, once again baffling him with her concern. She almost sounds like she’s chiding him.

His mouth twitches into a tiny half-grin. “Thank you, nurse.”

It kind of sounds like he’s mocking her, so she stops the motion of her hands and looks up at him, matching his little smile with one of her own. “You’re welcome, patient.”

“Sorry,” he says, “I don’t know your name?”

She backtracks, not wanting him to think she’s upset about something so petty as him not knowing her name. How could he? She’s not allowed to wear her badge in the rooms because of liability, and the prisoners rarely know the names of their nurses. “No, that’s totally fine,” she rectifies, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t know my name.”

He is still grinning at her, like he’s won something. “What is it?”

“What?” She asks him.

“Your name?”

It just slips from her mouth, that sensitive piece of information. She is surprised at how comfortable she feels telling him.

He hums in approval, but still itches to ask about her bruise again. It’s lightening slowly, fading back into her hairline. He knows he will get angry, though, when she lies to him or brushes him off about it, and he has no desire to lay chained to a bed seething with nowhere to go and nothing to hit. He’s learned quickly that boredom, despite being terrible, is better than rage, especially when the rage has to stay inside, eating and burrowing deeper.

She feels awkward in this silence, like something is not being said, and she tries to let it go, but eventually has to say something to fill the tension. “This is healing up already.”

“Thanks are to you for that.” He loves to watch her blanch under the deserved flattery.

“Are you feeling any better?” She asks, changing the subject.

“Much,” he says honestly. “Again, my thanks for that.”

He’s not very good at this light conversation; he’d rather, if they are talking, delve into questions about her life. However, that would undoubtedly inspire her deer heart to sprint away and never come back, so he tries for minimal talk because it’s the only thing he can do while chained to this bed. He’s not used to speaking this much. It’s been months since he’s held an actual discussion and he’s never been a good conversationalist, but if it’s the only tool he can utilize to interact with her then that’s what he’ll use.

“Do you ever ask them to let you change positions?” She asks. “Getting bed sores sucks.”

There she is with the recommendations and concerns again. He tilts his head at her, and certainly does not look adorable while doing so.

“Yeah, you know, bed sores, they develop on your back or butt and burrow until they hit bone?”

“What?” He asks.

She laughs, and John loves the sound. “A hole in your ass..?”

He huffs playfully. “I know what they are. Why does it matter?” It’s a sincere question, one that he hopes doesn’t make her shrink back.

She looks from his bloody stomach to his eyes, blinks. “You are my patient,” she tells him, “I am taking care of you.”

How did this wicked world, instead of eating her alive as it should have, spit her out directly into his path? Maybe it knew that he would have more taste for her?

His face softens into a playful smile. “I can turn on my own.” To prove this, he pivots on one hip to face her with his body. She jumps back a little, but laughs at him.

He motions to her cheek, the bruise that muddles her pretty skin, skin that he knows will be softer than silk. “And who takes care of you?”

“I do.” There is defiance in her innocent eyes, now, the set of her jaw.

He is not smiling at her anymore, not when she means to oppose him. If he listens to her advice, now she will listen to his. “It doesn’t look like you’re doing a very good job.” The tone of his voice matches how low it cuts her, the addition to her name at the end of that sentence driving the knife hilt-deep into her flimsy sense of self defense.

She can’t help it. Defiance crumbles and reveals sadness. She looks back down at his wound with water tickling her eyelashes.

He wants to tell her to look back at him, wants to see her vulnerable and raw and admitting defeat. Admitting that he is right. That she needs someone to look after her. At her word he will gladly break from these shackles and follow his nurse out into the cruel world.

She doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t utter the chant to release him from his bonds. A few tears roll down her face and drop onto his bed as she finishes the dressing. His frustration turns to empathy in milliseconds, because he didn’t mean to make her cry, but is an absolute imbecile for not anticipating it.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her quickly, desperately, then reaches for her hand.

“It’s okay,” she responds, looking down at where they connect, at where her pudgy fingers are dwarfed by his stocky, warm hold. “Do you need anything else?”

He feels his heart rip into two pieces. “No.”

She gives his pinky a little squeeze, proving his theory that she is made of satin and cashmere, then leaves him alone to clean this sickly sweet gore in his chest all by himself.