#horrorcomedy

[aegonsdrunkenpoetry]

+ to End the Wreck GIF-Set posts, this shot is just SO pleasing for the eyes:

WRECK

Peter Claffey | Cormac Kelly

S2 E6

[comradekas]

Killer Klowns from Outer Space (1988) isn’t “so bad it’s good.” It’s just good—brilliantly, joyfully, inventively good.

Directed by the Chiodo Brothers—yes, those Chiodo Brothers—this cult classic isn’t camp. It’s a fully realized, satirical sci-fi horror that treats its absurd premise with total sincerity. Evil extraterrestrials who look like circus clowns descend on a small town, harvesting humans with cotton candy cocoons, balloon-animal stranglers, and popcorn guns. And it all works—because the film believes in itself.

This is pod people with punchlines, Invasion of the Body Snatchers by way of a haunted funhouse. The practical effects are masterful—rubbery, expressive, and gloriously tactile. The klowns have personality: some sadistic, some bureaucratic, all terrifying. The soundtrack? Iconic. The worldbuilding? Cohesive, clever, and dripping with 1980s Reagan-era dread.

Too often dismissed as ironic fun, Killer Klowns is actually a minor masterpiece of genre filmmaking—a film that plays its premise to the hilt, all “circus” bases touched.

4/5 stars. Not a guilty pleasure. A necessary one.

—

Hi! I’m new here and writing 31 Days of Horror—a daily review series all October long. If you like smart, spoiler-free horror criticism that celebrates practical effects, cult gems, and bold vision, I’d be so grateful if you liked, followed, or shared this post. Every bit of support helps me keep going! 💀

link in source

[the-most-humble-blog]

Damien Leone Said Terrifier Is Just Entertainment, and the Woke Brigade Shit Themselves

Shut Up, Snowflakes, It’s Just a Killer Clown With a Hacksaw

Damien Leone, the evil genius behind Terrifier and the creator of Art the Clown—aka your sleep paralysis demon with a hacksaw—just set off a firestorm of outrage. Why? Because he had the audacity to say his franchise is, get this: “pure entertainment.”

That’s right, he didn’t kick a puppy, drop an f-bomb on live TV, or piss in someone’s oat milk latte. He simply said his batshit horror movies about a clown murdering people in horrifying ways aren’t political.

Cue the woke mob collectively losing their shit.

What Did Leone Actually Say?

Here’s the “controversial” bombshell:

“Terrifier is NOT in any way shape or form a political franchise. I fell in love with horror as a form of pure entertainment, and those are the films I like to make.”

That’s it. That’s the whole scandal. But because the internet is the internet, snowflakes read this and went, “Wait, what? No politics? HOW DARE YOU!”

Seriously, you’d think he told them Art the Clown was running for Congress.

The Woke Outrage Olympics

Let’s dive into the bullshit:

🔹 “Saying it’s not political IS political!” 👉 No, Karen, saying “my horror movie is just for fun” isn’t political. It’s called entertainment, and not everything needs to be a goddamn manifesto.

🔹 “Horror has always been political!” 👉 Sure, some horror is. Night of the Living Dead tackled racism. Get Out dunked on white liberals. But you know what else horror is? Watching people get hacked to pieces for no reason other than it’s fun as fuck.

🔹 “Art the Clown’s violence against women is misogyny!” 👉 Oh, piss off. Art the Clown kills everyone with the same level of brutal creativity. If anything, he’s the most progressive clown out there—an equal-opportunity murderer.

The Hypocrisy is Hilarious

Let’s get real for a second. These same woke assholes who are crying about Leone’s “lack of political depth” are the ones gleefully cheering when Art saws someone in half from the crotch up.

You don’t get to celebrate excessive gore and mutilation and then act like a Terrifier movie owes you a TED Talk on systemic oppression.

You can’t root for a clown eating someone’s face and then clutch your pearls because the director doesn’t want to wade into your political dumpster fire.

Pick a lane, you whiny hypocrites.

Why Woke Twitter Really Hates This

Here’s the actual reason the woke mob is so pissed: Leone didn’t pick a side. He refused to plant his flag in their never-ending culture war.

In 2025, saying “I don’t want my movie to be political” is basically code for, “I just committed a hate crime in the eyes of the woke police.”

One particularly brain-dead Twitter user screeched:

“If you’re not explicitly supporting marginalized voices, you’re complicit!”

What the fuck does that even mean? He makes slasher movies, not campaign ads. Get over yourselves.

Let’s Talk About the Feminists (and Their Fragile Feelings)

Oh boy, you knew the feminists would crawl out of their Twitter caves for this one. They’re out here crying that Art the Clown’s brutality toward women is some kind of secret anti-feminist agenda.

Here’s a reality check:

Art the Clown doesn’t discriminate. He’ll kill men, women, dogs, probably your goldfish.

He’s not pushing an agenda. He’s pushing a hacksaw through someone’s chest.

And to the feminists whining about “violence against women” in a slasher movie: What the fuck did you expect? Did you think Terrifier 2 was a Hallmark Christmas special? You signed up for blood, guts, and horrifying deaths, not a gender studies seminar.

Final Thoughts: Get Over Yourselves, You Sensitive Morons

Damien Leone is out here delivering some of the most batshit insane horror we’ve seen in decades. If you’re mad that he doesn’t want to turn Terrifier into a soapbox for your personal grievances, maybe you should stick to the Disney+ safe zone.

Not every horror movie needs to hold up a mirror to society’s sins. Sometimes, it’s just about a psychotic clown wrecking people’s lives in creative ways. And that’s perfectly fine.

So, to all the woke liberals, feminists, and crybabies clutching their pearls over this: Shut the fuck up, grab some popcorn, and let Art the Clown do his thing.

Tired of sensitive morons ruining your fun? Follow The Most Humble Blog for unapologetic takes and ruthless truths about everything from horror movies to the woke bullshit plaguing society. You’re welcome.

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This post is written for the purpose of artistic expression, cultural commentary, and psychological exploration of social and gender dynamics. It does not condone or encourage violence, harassment, or discrimination of any kind. Any references to power, strength, restraint, or critique are metaphorical, symbolic, and rooted in historical and cultural analysis. This is not a call to action — it’s a cultural mirror. If you feel offended, ask yourself if it’s from actual harm — or from seeing something you hoped no one would say out loud.

✨ TL;DR: If you're mad, it’s probably not because it’s wrong — it’s because you know it’s true.

[nyxvuxoa]

RENFIELD 2023 | dir. Chris McKay

[noobiestnoober]

silly idea, re2 leon meets and makes friends with nemesis

leon isnt stars so nemesis has no reason to hurt leon

long as he doesnt touch that stars badge of course :}

Buddy Cop Apocalypse (Leon and Nemesis)

🧟‍♂️✨ CRACKFIC SPOTLIGHT ✨🧟‍♂️

LEON & NEMESIS: BUDDY COP APOCALYPSE - A Resident Evil One-Shot

What if Leon S. Kennedy’s first day in Raccoon City meant making friends with the city’s scariest bioweapon? Chaos, comedy, and unexpected bromance await!

Author’s Note:

Big thanks to the anonymous requester for this adorable, chaotic prompt—this one’s for you! Hope you enjoy Leon and Nemesis causing mayhem and redefining the meaning of “first day jitters.” If you have more ideas or want a sequel (Jill cameo, anyone?), drop your suggestions below!

Leon S. Kennedy’s first day on the job wasn’t just hell—it was, frankly, stupid. Raccoon City had lost its mind. The police radio was all static, the sky glowed red with fire and sirens, and zombies moaned behind every door. The air stank of rot and fear. Most people would’ve found a closet, locked the door, and cried. Leon, unfortunately, was not most people. He was out of ammo, out of hope, and sprinting for his life down a dark alley that—thanks to fate and Umbrella’s questionable urban planning—led straight into a brick wall.

He spun around, expecting to see a slow, groaning corpse. Instead, he saw a mountain—a leather-clad behemoth stitched together like a kid’s failed sewing project. Shoulders as wide as a car. In one massive hand, it carried a rocket launcher like it was a baguette fresh from the bakery. The thing’s head swiveled, its mouth split open, and it exhaled in a guttural rumble: “STAAAAAARS…”

Leon’s hands shot up, badge raised like a cross to a vampire. “I’m not S.T.A.R.S.! I’m just a—rookie! Leon! Please?”

The monster’s red eyes flickered, scanning the badge, then Leon. It grunted, unimpressed. An awkward silence stretched between them. Leon’s brain short-circuited. Was he going to die? Be launched through a building? Or…?

Nemesis—because, obviously, it was Nemesis—looked past Leon at the growing herd of zombies behind them. With zero warning, he stomped forward, seized Leon by the collar, and flung him—remarkably gently, for an 8-foot death machine—behind a dumpster. Then Nemesis waded into the undead crowd with the subtlety of a bulldozer, scattering limbs and torsos like he was mowing the lawn. Leon watched in slack-jawed awe, heart hammering. Nemesis moved with brutal, monstrous grace. It was terrifying… but also, if Leon was honest, kind of impressive.

A minute later, Nemesis plodded back through the gore. He reached into his belt, produced a first-aid spray, and pressed it into Leon’s shaking hands. “Uh. Thanks?” Leon managed, blinking at the green canister. He was so confused.

Nemesis grunted, the sound vibrating in his chest. Leon was pretty sure that was Nemesis for “Don’t mention it.”

Their partnership was the stuff of fever dreams. Leon, half-dead and covered in grime, trailed after his massive new friend through the ruined city, mind spinning. Was this really happening? Was he honestly following a B.O.W. through zombie hell because it seemed safer than going it alone? The absurdity didn’t escape him, but every time he glanced at Nemesis, the monster just grunted, and Leon somehow felt a little less doomed. The rules became clear fast:

Don’t mention S.T.A.R.S.

Don’t touch the S.T.A.R.S. badge Nemesis kept on a chain like a childhood trophy.

Always accept healing items—even if it’s the weird blue herb that tastes like grass clippings.

Don’t ask questions about the rocket launcher.

If Leon tripped or lagged behind, Nemesis would grunt and gesture him forward. Once, when a flaming zombie staggered into their path, Nemesis simply picked it up by the head and yeeted it through a squad car window. The resulting explosion almost set Leon’s eyebrows on fire. Another time, Leon found a soda machine jammed and smacked it in frustration. Nemesis lumbered over, punched the machine once, and a cold can rolled out. Leon offered him the drink in gratitude. Nemesis stared at it, then crushed the can effortlessly, a faint look of confusion on his monstrous face. Leon tried not to laugh.

Between chaos, Leon sometimes attempted small talk, even as his mind reeled at the madness of it all:

Leon: “So, uh… do you have a name? Or just ‘Nemesis’?”

Nemesis: “…STARS.”

Leon: “Yeah, figured. That’s a no.”

Other times, he rambled just to fill the silence:

Leon: “You know, I thought my worst day would involve a parking ticket. Not, uh, bio-weapons and undead chihuahuas.”

Nemesis: (grunts, hurls a zombie dog into a dumpster)

Leon (nervous laugh): “Yeah, you get it.”

They crossed Raccoon City’s hellscape together: fighting through back alleys littered with bodies, ducking under burning debris, climbing over overturned buses. At one point, a group of zombie dogs cornered Leon. Before he could even draw his empty pistol, Nemesis stomped forward, roared, and sent the entire pack fleeing, tails between their legs. Leon had never been so grateful for unethical science in his life.

They even stumbled across an abandoned news van, radio blaring static. Leon fiddled with the dials, hoping for help. Nemesis watched, curious, until a faint voice crackled through: “…S.T.A.R.S. sighted near…” The radio was promptly crushed by a giant hand. Leon sighed and shrugged. “Not a radio guy, I get it.”

As the night dragged on, they took shelter in a ruined convenience store. Nemesis blocked the door with a shelf, then settled in the corner, ever-watchful. Leon sat on a crate, patched up his arm, and munched on a suspiciously unexpired protein bar. Occasionally, Nemesis would glance at the chain around his neck, the S.T.A.R.S. badge glinting in the firelight. Leon didn’t ask—he’d learned his lesson.

Leon glanced over, mustering a tired smile. “You know, for a bio-weapon, you’re not so bad. Kinda wish you were around during training.”

Nemesis let out a deep, thoughtful grunt.

Leon shifted, feeling awkward. “…Or not. Got it.”

By the time dawn crept over the carnage, Leon was limping, caked in mystery goo, but alive. Nemesis, apparently satisfied with his non-S.T.A.R.S. companion, got to his feet, gave Leon a last, solemn nod, and lumbered away into the smoldering city. At the alley’s end, he paused, turned, and flicked a spent first-aid spray can at Leon—a casual salute from one survivor to another.

“Good luck out there, big guy,” Leon called, genuinely meaning it. He watched Nemesis’s massive silhouette fade into the smoky light.

Somewhere in the ruins, Jill Valentine shivered, sensing a disturbance in the force—Nemesis was supposed to hunt S.T.A.R.S., not make friends with rookie cops.

Leon’s first day was still hell. But at least he had a story no one would ever believe. As sirens wailed in the distance and sunlight crept over the ruins, Leon took a deep breath and realized that surviving alongside Nemesis had changed him. Maybe, he thought, finding hope in this nightmare meant trusting even the unlikeliest of allies. Raccoon City wasn’t completely hopeless after all.

✨ Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, reblog, like, or leave a comment—your support means everything!

— Do not repost. Reblogs appreciated! Requests & feedback welcome!

“For all fandoms, check my [Masterlists Here]!” and “More Resident Evil fics? [Resident Evil Masterlist]”

READ PART 2 >>> HERE <<<

[funnyfiasco]

"Nothing like a little ambiance to keep your neighbors on their toes! 🛁🎭"

[danskjavlarna]

Psychotronic Squirt Gun interviews the vampire about whether Grave Mood Rings is actually a comic book disguised as an analog horror comedy tv series.

[aurorapicturecompanyinfinite]

FINNED FURY

When Hurricane Sandy floods New York City, a group of hipsters, hustlers, and hedge fund sharks must band together to survive an even greater threat: actual sharks, with legs. Watch it now!