#Farmhouse Slasher

[terr0rsh0cked]

Redraw a bunch of icons for my toyhou.se !! Slasher OC comeback

[gophergal]

Consider this 4 page comic a companion to "Ropeburn," my origin comic for western AU Jason

In this one, I decided to go for black and white and no dialogue. I figured it'd be a good exercise in visual storytelling

[frudoo]

Slasher 141 again, sorry to bug, I'm chomping at the bit. She meets the others? I humbly ask for more pleaseeee

Can y'all tell I'm horny for slasher Johnny

Warnings: Smut throughout, so MDNI. Fingering, strange men, reader is just getting a taste of what she signed up for. Fem!Reader obvs.

     Simon doesn’t talk much. Maybe it’s because Johnny’s got his hand down your pants and he doesn’t want to interrupt, but even so, he just gives off that kind of vibe. Johnny’s trailing kisses down your neck and you’re whimpering, just trying to get the two of them to make small talk.

“S-Simon, are you… do you also- um… you know. Kill people?” You wince at your poor choice of words, but the kisses from your date don’t let up, so maybe you’re alright.

     Simon’s beady eyes meet yours through the rear-view mirror. Fuck, if he’s not a serial killer, he should be. Those dark brown eyes are deeply unsettling, making you nauseous. He nods in affirmation before turning his eyes back to the road.

"We all are."

Well, shit. Is there such a thing as a murderer-radar? Because if so, yours is in mint condition. 

     Johnny bites down on your neck harshly at the same time his middle finger slips inside of your pussy, and you squeal. Is this what they do? Seduce a vulnerable woman with deadly curiosity such as yourself, just to take her away and dice her up? God, you really should have paid more attention to the warnings in all those true crime documentaries. Now you’re going to end up in one. 

     “Are… are you going to kill me?” You sigh—rule number one: don’t question what the big serial killers are going to do to you while you’re in their truck.

     Johnny grins against your neck, his hot tongue soothing the bite he’d just left on you. He inserts another finger, and, well… maybe getting the best finger-fuck of your life before you die isn’t the worst way to go out. You mewl when he curls them right up against your g-spot and almost miss Simon’s low voice answering your question.

     “If we wanted y’dead, y’already would be,” he shrugs, pulling onto a long dirt road that leads to a large farmhouse, past herds of cattle and fat pigs who look like they’ve never missed a meal. 

     Simon’s answer does nothing to settle your nerves, although the orgasm that Johnny coaxes out of you works well to distract. There’s a black cat waiting by the front door when they guide you inside, and your head starts pounding. If that’s not an omen, you don’t know what is. Damn Johnny and his beautiful, charming self, and damn you for not being bothered enough by his career choice when you should have been. Now you’re not even sure what you’ve gotten yourself into.

     It’s warm inside. Inviting, despite everything, with cozy furniture littered across the den and taxidermied animals decorating the walls. Extravagant chandeliers hang from the ceiling, lighting up the area with a dim yellow aura that helps remind you to breathe. The walls are painted a dark green and the fireplace is going, and on the largest couch sits two more men—one with blue eyes nearly as piercing as Johnny’s, and another with the prettiest lips you’ve ever seen.

     Now that you can see him better, you realize that even Simon is ridiculously handsome, with short blonde hair and a scar across his lip that must have been the result of repairing a nasty split. More white marks are littered across his face, but the honey of his brown eyes don’t seem nearly as cold under this warm light. It almost makes you forget what they do for a living.

     “I’m guessin’ this is her, since she’s not hog-tied,” the one with blue eyes speaks gruffly, standing from his seated position and slowly stalking closer.

     He’s taller than Johnny, but not quite at Simon’s height, and his hand is rough against your skin as he cups your cheek in his palm. His thumb runs along your bottom lip, eyes taking in every inch of your person. The man hums thoughtfully before removing his hands from you, looking between the men who stand by your side.

     “Pretty thing, ain’t she? Nice and soft, too,” he concludes, calling the other man over to check you out as well.

     Your breath hitches in your throat as the new man smiles down at you, those luscious lips spread across a perfectly straight set of white teeth. He doesn’t touch you, just gives you a once-over before nodding.

     “She’s perfect,” he confirms to the previous man before looking to you again. “M’Kyle. Tha’s John, and m’sure y’know those two already.”

     You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. You still have no idea what the hell is going on, or what they mean by perfect. Perfect for what, exactly? More taxidermy? Pig food?

     “Glad ye approve, Cap’n, Gaz,” Johnny beams, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Knew ye’d love her.”

     Your eyes widen slightly when Simon leans down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, followed by Kyle, then John. You’re frozen in place, but Johnny just chuckles and scoops you up into his arms, strong legs striding down the hallway into one of the bedrooms.

     “Dinnae be afraid, hen. They like ye. Ah told ye, ye’ll ge’ along jus’ fine,” he presses his lips against your temple, then lays you on his bed. 

     “We’ll ge’ yer room set up in the mornin’, but ah need tae taste tha’ sweet cunt reit fookin’ now. Dinnae be quiet, lass, let ‘em hear yer bonnie moans."

[sea-lanterns]

TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE

synopsis: (slasher! AU) getting chased by a chainsaw-wielding murderer goes…horribly right?

featuring: beidou

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, violence, mentions of gore, blood, brief mention of vomiting, strap on, penetration, squirting, size difference, blo.wjob, choking, prey and predator kink, pet names (beidou calls you her little lamb), chasing, sharp things near areas they shouldn’t be, se.x in a barn, cursing.

art credits: chainsaw man

Holding your breath as best as you could, you heard the whirring of a chainsaw close by and prayed to whatever higher entity above that you would get out safe. What first started out as an innocent vacation with your friends, suddenly turned into a bloody chainsaw massacre, as the farmhouse near your vacation home had the most insane serial killer you’ve ever bore to witness.

From what you saw before your friends’ early demise, was a tall, muscular woman wearing a leather mask that mimicked human skin. It made you sick to your stomach, right before she sliced open one of your friends and left blood splattering everywhere. Traumatized was an understatement, you were left standing there in shock before forcing your legs to move and start running. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know you should run now and get therapy later, not too keen on getting sliced to ribbons like your other unfortunate friends…

The leather-masked woman slowly looked up. Her one eye gazing at you through her mask as blood slowly dripped from her strong, bloodied hands. The further you ran away, the longer she stared, suddenly no longer chasing you as she turned the chainsaw off. 

You didn’t notice, of course. After all, you were too busy running for your life to see the way she licked her lips underneath the mask, pulling it off to take a breather and smirk at the way your cute little legs ran off to your car. She chuckled to herself, kicking aside one of the corpses of your friends and slowly stalking her way towards your path, humming to herself as she wondered how long it would take for you to notice that she slashed your tires with her chainsaw.

It didn’t take you long to notice, however; as the moment you ran to your car, you noticed the cut up marks on your tires and mentally cursed yourself with your luck. “Well fuck me with a chainsaw…” you groaned, before hearing the whirring of a chainsaw in the distance. “Wait, bad choice of words—”

As the chainsaw wielding woman tore down some shrubbery with her blade, she smirked and waved at you mockingly, almost flirtatiously with the way she flexed a bicep through the thin cotton flannel of her shirt. ‘So cute…’ Beidou couldn’t help but think as you stood there dumbfounded like a baby deer, wondering all the sweet little sounds she could get out of you once she got you all alone. 

“Ah shit…” you quickly recollected your nerves and started running in another direction, remembering that you spotted a truck near the barn that you could hopefully hotwire once you got there. 

As you ran, Beidou just chuckled when you took off in the direction of her old family’s barn, rubbing her calloused fingers against her forehead to wipe the sticky sweat off her skin. “So much work for one little lamb…” she sighs, eying the way your legs ran halfway across the field. Call her perverted if you will, but the woman couldn’t help but envision your legs wrapped so prettily around her neck while she eats you out. The soft flesh of your thighs just begging to be held down by her hands…

“Fuck…” Beidou was getting hot and bothered just thinking about it, groaning before slowly moving her way towards the direction where you ran. She was taking her sweet time in chasing you down, as she figured a girl as cute as you wouldn’t be so hard to hunt. 

Through hard, heavy footsteps, Beidou watched from afar as you tried hotwiring the truck outside her barn, chuckling to herself as she wondered how long it would take for you to realize there was no gas.

“Oh Goddammit!”

Apparently it took you two seconds. 

Beidou had to keep herself from smiling as she watched you frantically run into the barn to search for a gas canister. You were so cute in the way you panicked so frantically, darting this way and that like a little rabbit running in circles. 

Oh, right. Beidou had to chase you, not admire you. 

She let out a sigh and slowly entered the barn as quietly as she could, watching as you searched high and low for a gas canister, (or at least something that would protect you) in a barn full of hot air and hay. She watched you search through the barn and folded her muscular arms together in amusement, leaning against the doorframe with her chainsaw off and settled by her hip. ‘Poor little thing has no idea I’m right here…’ Beidou smirks to herself, almost tempted to tap her finger against your shoulder and scoop you up in her big, bulky arms.

Beidou drew closer, shadow slowly looming over your smaller figure and making you shiver as you start to notice the darkening light. Your blood ran cold, body tensing as you realized that Beidou was currently standing right behind you. “The little lamb has wandered out of her pen…” you hear her mumble huskily, pushing against the trigger of the chainsaw to give you a threateningly loud whirl. “I need to bring her back.” 

“A-Ah…” your throat went dry and you almost stopped breathing the moment you heard the chainsaw behind you. Not daring to look back, as you knew that if you did, you’d get a face full of spinning blades and blood. 

“…Hm.” Beidou chewed her lip at the sight of you still facing the wall, placing a rough hand on your shoulder and letting go of the chainsaw. “That’s not good. I want to see my pretty lamb’s face…”

She reached over to gently cup your cheeks and slowly bring your body over to her. Compared to you, she was absolutely massive. A tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered woman who looked like she could crush your skull with just one squeeze, towering over you like a bear leering down at its next fallen prey…

“…I know begging rarely works but please don’t kill me.” You say under a trembling breath, locking eyes with the mysterious killer behind the leather mask. “I— I won’t tell anyone anything, I swear. Hell, I sincerely apologize for my friends who trespassed on your property. Haha…ha…”

Beidou smirked at the way you shuddered under her grasp, like a little leaf that was quivering in the wind. She wondered if you could take what she had in store for you, or if your poor little body would crumble to dust with how she was going to manhandle you. 

“Shhhh…” you were caught off guard when the woman suddenly began petting your head, treating you like some sort of shelter pet. “Don’t move.”

Well, you weren’t planning to, and with the way she was still holding that chainsaw made you obey every command she gave. Beidou was pleased to see your compliance, pressing a thumb against your bottom lip before leaning closer to murmur in your ear. “Are you scared?” She asks breathlessly, chuckling at the shiver you gave her from her voice. 

“…A little.” You reply quieter. 

“A little?” Beidou repeats, smiling a little and reaching up to pull off her mask. “What about now?” 

Your eyes widened as you locked eyes with a roguishly handsome woman. She was missing an eye, had her face scarred with multiple scars, yet you could tell even from a glance that she was extremely handsome despite being a killer. 

“…Uhm.”

Your cheeks burned hot for a moment before you quickly snapped out of it. Even if she was hot, she was still insane…!

“Uhm…?” Beidou edged on, giving you a toothy grin as she leans against a wooden post. “Didn’t expect a face like this, huh?” 

You didn’t know how to respond to that. I mean, how could you when your killer was literally flirting with you after just chasing you with a chainsaw. You weren’t sure if she was trying to trick you by seducing you, or if she was genuinely flirting. Either way, you were still a bit terrified. 

“…Dammit. I didn’t mean to scare ya’ that badly.” She sighs, moving closer until you are practically backed up into the wall. “I just wanted to see your pretty face screaming…”

“You killed my friends!” You suddenly exclaimed, before covering your mouth in shock.

“I did, didn’t I.” Beidou chuckles, gently moving her chainsaw against your thigh, cooing at the way you froze. “Well, your friends should know better than to trespass on my property anyways. It was very rude of them to enter my family home without permission.” 

“That—” your breath hitches as the metal blades of the chainsaw gently graze your inner thigh. The chainsaw was off, luckily; but you could feel the severity of the situation as Beidou could turn the chainsaw on at any moment. “…That doesn’t give you the right to slaughter my…my…”

Images of your friends being sliced to pieces replayed in your head. You wanted to vomit, feeling a hot billow rise in your throat and threaten to spill over. You turned to your side and suddenly hurled the contents of your stomach on the ground, Beidou not looking surprised as she reached over to rub a comforting hand on your back. 

“…That was a lot, lamb.” Beidou hums, pushing a lock of hair over your ear. “But let it all out. It’s okay…”

“You’re a sicko.” You couldn’t help but cough, a wave of fatigue crashing over your body as all that running and trauma finally caught up with you. “Dammit…fuck…”

You were sweating from both the hot barn and the aftereffects of vomiting, looking delirious before suddenly losing your balance.

“Oh...” Beidou moved forward to catch you from your fall and prop you against her muscular body. “I guess a small fry like you would fall eventually. You should drink some water.”

“What…” you looked more confused than anything, unable to keep your head up as you rested it against her chest. It didn’t make sense to you as to why the killer was being so nice, yet your body was too exhausted to fight back after running and screaming so much. 

As you felt your body slowly slip into unconsciousness, you felt the killer wrap her arms around you and enclose your frame with her taller body. You’ve never felt so warm (and terrified) in all your life, yet she seemed to be gentle with you as she stroked her hand over your head. “Shhhh…you’re so sweet compared to them.” Beidou cooed, some of the blood on her shirt rubbing on your face. “I don’t understand how such a sweet little lamb like you would be hanging out with such jerks…”

‘They were still my friends…’ you wanted to say, but fatigue kept you from saying any more. Instead, you just breathed heavily and tried to move away, only for your thigh to accidentally brush against something firm and hard.

“Fuck.” You heard Beidou curse in front of you, a sly grin crossing her face. “Feel that? Ever touched something like that before, little lamb?”

You let out a surprised yelp when you felt it, confused as to what you just touched. 

“Ever heard of a strap on?” Beidou chuckled, reaching a hand down to slowly unzip her trousers. “It’s what I was planning to use on you if you agreed…”

Your eyes widened as she slowly revealed a large, silicone dildo. You had no idea she was packing such a thing while chasing you, but just looking at the size of it had you unexpectedly aching in the heat of your core. “You…I…” You sputtered out as her words finally caught up with you. She wanted to use this on you? She wanted to fuck you?!

“You’re beaming, little lamb.” Beidou grins, giving her shaft a few playful strokes. “Are you turned on? Just moments ago you were cursing me out for being a sicko…”

“You still are!” You exclaimed back, yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away from how she was pumping the base of her cock. “I just…ugh…” your delirium wasn’t helping either as another wave of heat coursed through your body, Beidou  staring at you with an arrogant grin before tilting your chin up to look at her. 

“I have a proposition for you,” she speaks in a low, husky groan. “Let me have my way with you, and I’ll let you go. Or I'll let you go right now, but chase you to get my high…”

As if to emphasize her point, she gave the trigger of the chainsaw a small squeeze, causing it to whir to life for a split second. Upon hearing the loud roar of the chainsaw again, you tended up and shook your head no, clearly frightened for your life.

“By…letting you have your way, you mean…”

Beidou smirked, moving closer to murmur in your ear. 

“I want to fuck you, little lamb.”

The way she whispered it had your nerves sparking with tension. Eyes flickering down to her strap, back to her face, and back to her strap again. “If I let you fuck me…will you really let me go?” You ask in a smaller voice, tempted by the offer of such an easy way out.

“I promise, my princess.” She hums, though that dark glint in her eye says otherwise. “Just let me reach one high with you, you’re too pretty not to lust over…” She exhales breathlessly before leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Do I have your consent, my little lamb…?”

As her hot breath tickled your ear, you chewed your bottom lip before contemplating your options. “…Only because I want to be let go…” you say shakily, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see Beidou’s reaction. 

“Oh, I know,” you hear her chuckle, before a large hand pushes your head down to kneel against the hardwood of the barn floor. “But first, I need you to lube my dick with your throat. A pretty girl like you needs some assistance if she’s gonna take something this big.”

When you open your eyes you’re met with the fat tip of her silicone cock. The color a nude shade that matched the skin tone of Beidou herself, as well as a fake vein that ran from the base of the shaft all the way to the tip. “Suck it off, pretty girl.” Beidou chuckles, pushing you closer so that your lips brushed against the head. “The better you wet it, the easier it’ll slip in.” 

Obediently, you parted your lips to take the head into your mouth, stretching your jaw to accommodate the wide girth and slowly bob your head down to suck. 

“…God.” Beidou groans as she stares down at you, her one good eye glazing over with lust as she watches you suck her off. “That’s a pretty sight…”

She pushes you down a bit deeper and watches as you almost gag from the size. Beidou was one to always pick toys on the larger side of things, so it was no surprise to see you struggling to take her length inside your mouth. 

“Gh-Ghhck—” you choked a little and accidentally let some drool leak past the corners of your lips, Beidou moving a finger down to wipe some of the drool away and pat your head. “Easy there, girl…” she hushes, gently pulling you back so you could pant for air. “Don’t want you suffocating, that should be enough for me.”

Strands of your saliva stuck to the toy as you gasped for air, Beidou stroking your spit all over her cock before hoisting you up to stand. “Shorts off, I promise to go slow…” In quick motions, you begin unzipping your shorts to slide them off, Beidou not wasting another second as she quickly moves in to scoop you up into her arms and pin you against the wall.

“H-Holy shit—” you instinctively cling to her broad shoulders and wrap your legs around her waist. “Don’t drop me—!”

“I won’t drop you, little lamb,” Beidou chuckles, trailing a thumb down to your bottoms and rubbing circles against the soft fabric. “I’d never drop someone as sweet as you…” 

You felt a jolt of electricity when you felt her thumb rubbing circles against your clit. Although still clothed, you could feel how hot and big her fingers were as they toyed with your pussy from above your underwear. You couldn’t help but imagine her stuffing each one of her fingers deep inside you, the image making you wet as she continued playing with you to get you ready. 

“My, you’re getting wet already…” the woman chuckles heavily, sliding your panties aside so you could feel her large fingers prodding at your hole. “Practically drooling for my cock to be shoved right in…”

She groans and continues massaging your folds until she feels you dripping over her fingers and down her arm. Once she’s sure you’re ready, she grips the shaft of her strap and angles it so that the tip pushes against your hole.

“Ready?” She purrs roughly, teasing your entrance with her head.

“Mhm…” you didn’t want to let her know how much you were craving it, so you bit your lip and hoped for the best. 

“Alright.” Beidou groans, steadying her hips before slowly sinking you down on her cock. “Oh…shit.” She husks, feeling your walls part for the intrusion and swallow her whole. You squirm for a bit as you feel the mushroom tip spear through your folds, stretching you out to your limit due to how thick the strap was. 

“Ah…hah…” you took deep, steady breaths as Beidou slowly eased her way inside of you, the smooth, slightly textured edges of the cock massaging your innards before you finally met her at the hilt. 

“Oh…the little lamb is quite tight I see…” Beidou grins, feeling a little resistance before sliding out. “Let me fix that for you.”

Without warning, she begins moving her hips a little more and has you bouncing in her arms with small, wet, thrusts. She was holding you with just her strength alone, as she thrusted her shaft further into you and had you whimpering as she went. 

“Is it deep enough for you, my lamb?” Beidou hums slowly, keeping up the rhythm while sliding her hands down to hold you by the rear. “I knew you’d be addicted to the size…”

She punctuates the end of each sentence with a sharper thrust, pounding away while she holds your legs up and grinded you against the wall. Though the dick she was wearing was not a real one, Beidou could feel every push and pressure against the harness while you grind your hips against the belt, making the woman grunt with pleasure.

“Just earlier I had you screaming, eh?” She laughs hoarsely, squeezing your ass with her hands before making you spread your legs wider. “I’ll have you screaming even more now… Screaming until your throat is torn and your cunt is filled to the brim.”

You moaned as she spoke such filthy words into your ears. She was fucking you so good that you were almost forgetting she was a masked killer who slaughtered all your friend, making you squirm with ecstasy and whine.

“Oh? Is the lamb whining for more?” The killer laughs, slamming her hips even harder against yours and making you scream with bliss. Nails gripping onto the blood-stained fabric of her shirt and trying to stabilize yourself from falling over in pleasure.

“T-Too…too much…” you whimper out into her ear, close to sobbing as you bury your face into her shoulder.

“Too much?” She mocks with an arrogant grin. “No baby, it’s perfect.”

She practically growls the word into your ear and raises your hips all the way up until just the tip was left inside. Once she feels you shiver under her hold, she braces you for impact before slamming you down roughly. Over, and over, and over again.

With each rough slap, it wasn’t long until you felt your insides tighten like a screw, before suddenly letting loose and squirting all over her strap, eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

“Oh…baby…” Beidou grunts, gazing at the way your cum dripped out of your hole and down her shaft. “That’s a sight…”

She senses your overcoming exhaustion and lays you down against her chest. Large hands coming up to hold your back as she kisses the top of your head. “I take it back, I don’t want to let you go,” Beidou murmurs softly, petting your head like you were an innocent farm animal she wanted to take in. “I’m going to keep you here and let you join the family, you’d be such a good wife for me after all, hm?”

She chuckles at the way your eyes flutter shut, fatigue taking over your body as you pass out in her arms. 

“Rest well, my little lamb…”

That was the last thing you heard before you blacked out.

[equarretedddd]

ive been terribly sad for three days now so ive put together a list of my random assumptions and headcanons about murderface soooo here we gooo:

deep down in his soul he has a subconscious desire to live an ordinary life in a small cozy farmhouse, perhaps on his own island (he is interested in the "farm idea" but his grandmother in his youth made most of this process fuckin unbearable);

hes such a dog person. he loves big massive dogs and dreams of a trained doggie;

his desire to be accepted and loved is a canonical actually, so he wants to experience absolutely ALL kinds of love towards himself: brotherly love, friendly love and romantic love. like... he wants it all in its entirety and to the limit, but he doesnt know how to achieve it;

he actually has suicidal thoughts for quite a long time, but he definitely did not try to make it cuz even despite how often he found himself in life-threatening situations, he consciously wants to live TOO MUCH;

as a teenager at the age of 13-14, MF was in love with a boy with whom he talked very often and who was didnt care on his appearance and his actions, but later something traumatic happened to, which subsequently led to his homophobic behavior (perhaps it could be betrayal or smth related to religion or extremely severe bullying);

he has a terrible tactile hunger that he cannot fill, he cannot hug anyone purely on a subconscious level;

he loves classic slashers and goofy horror movies with cheap murders, bc he is afraid to watch real horror to the depths of his soul, otherwise he starts having a nightmares and nighttime panic attacks;

he knows how to cook and does it even quite well;

one evening, charles accidentally heard murderface crying bitterly in his bedroom but he never told anyone about it, even if MF wanted to be heard;

he doesnt take creative hobbies seriously, but one day he was able to find a preference for making macrame and knitting (hes especially ashamed of the last thing, he thinks its some old lady shit but he cant stop being interested in it).

[iztarshi]

Fandom: tmnt 1987

Prompt: Unresponsive

Notes: AU where the window got Leo. Which then turned into "wouldn't it be funny if 87!Casey somehow had a farmhouse?" and somehow then into "Casey Jones gets bullied by turtles".

-

“So, would you have expected Casey Jones to have a farmhouse?” Raphael says. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while, for all he says it like he’s continuing a conversation.

“Nah, dude. I always thought he was feral,” Michalangelo answers.

“You mean homeless?” says Donatello.

“No, no, I think Michelangelo’s got it right,” Raphael says.

Casey Jones growls from the driver’s seat, Splinter clears his throat pointedly, and the three of them chorus, “Sorry.”

April glances back at them from the passenger seat. “Any change?”

Everyone looks to where Leonardo’s limp body is lying, his head cradled in Splinter’s lap against the bumping of the truck.

“None yet,” says Splinter. “We must have patience.”

“We’re here,” Casey says, turning suddenly down a path between trees. The turtles, eager to take their mind off their fallen leader, scramble forward to look over April’s shoulders.

“Okay,” Raphael says. “If I had expected Casey Jones to own a farmhouse, that’s exactly what I would have expected.”

The farmhouse is dark and delapidated, a dip in its roof making it look like it’s frowning. It looks like the sort of place where university students have their car break down and then get chased around by a guy in a hockey mask.

Casey Jones, guy in a hockey mask, gets out of the car and comes around to the back. “I’ll carry him,” he offers. He’s not stronger than the turtles, but he’s sure as hell bigger, and he can carry Leonardo in cradled in his arms with Leonardo’s head resting on one broad shoulder.

Inside the farmhouse looks neither like the setting of a slasher movie nor the home of a sane person. There is sports equipment everywhere, much of it broken, and everywhere there isn’t sports equipment there are televisions.

“If the window didn’t kill Leonardo, this dust is going to,” Raphael says.

In the bedroom, which may be Casey’s bedroom since it has a television at the foot of the bed and is not so full of sports equipment no one can reach the bed, Casey goes to lay Leonardo down and is stopped by Raphael.

“These sheets need changing,” he says. “Please tell me you have a linen closet.”

“In the hall, second door down,” Casey says, and hold onto Leonardo while Raphael makes the bed. Afterwards Raphael heads out with a pile of dirty linen in his arms, the other two turtles trailing him. Michelangelo pauses in the doorway and runs back to squeeze Leonardo’s hand one last time before going.

Splinter pulls a chair up beside the bed and sits down. Casey and April stand looking down at Leonardo.

“He’s small,” Casey says. “Especially for someone who’s pinned Casey Jones before.”

“Can I take a picture?” April asks. When Splinter looks questioningly at her she adds, “It might make going back easier if there’s public sympathy for the little guys.”

Splinter slowly shakes his head. “No. I do not think Leonardo would want to be seen like this.”

They look at the turtle, bruised and almost grey against the cover, and then Casey Jones turns and walks out.

In the basement of the farmhouse Donatello is taking apart a television to mend the washing machine. Raphael is sitting on the washing machine complaining about not being able to do the laundry, how can Casey Jones own a farmhouse with thirteen televisions and no washing machine? Michelangelo is poking through the piles of sports equipment to see if there’s something interesting.

Casey Jones enters with a bellowed, “Destruction of property!” and Raphael slides off the washing machine to square up.

“Listen, bub,” Raphael says. “You’ve already got more televisions than anyone needs. I normally leave this sort of declaration to Leonardo but I will defend this washing machine with my life.”

Casey aims a blow at Raphael’s head, Raphael drops to all fours to duck and trips Casey in the process — getting an exclamation of dismay from Donatello who he nearly lands on. Casey rolls back onto his feet, nearly gets pinned with a sai through the sleeve, and then lifts Raphael up to throw him and hesitates with the turtle dangling in the air.

“A little help here?” Raphael says to Michelangelo.

Michelangelo shrugs, “It’s his house.”

Raphael swings one leg up as if to kick and then drops it again.

“Look,” says Donatello, “I can either fix the television up again or fix the washing machine. But they’re both going to be broken beyond repair if you fight on top of them.”

“Okay, fine,” Raphael says, looking up at Casey. “It’s your house, you pick what gets fixed.”

Casey Jones puts the turtle down and looks away. “Fix the washing machine.”

Raphael hops back onto the washing machine and leans forward to tap the centre of Casey’s mask the way he’d tap his friends’ beaks. “Good choice. We can do your laundry too once it’s fixed.”

“No need,” says Casey.

“Trust me,” says Raphael. “There really is.”

-

It’s a sunny day. Outside a bunch of makeshift washing lines are strung between the gnarled and ominous trees. Inside the house Michelangelo and Donatello are sweeping with a brooms made out of hockey sticks with bunches of twigs tied to them. Raphael, perched on Casey’s shoulders, is dusting the ceiling with a feather duster made out of a lacross stick with a bunch of shuttlecocks tied to it.

“Never springcleaned before,” Casey says.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Raphael answers. “What’s with all the sports equipment, anyway?”

“I like sports.”

“Not enough to play it with thirty hockey sticks at once.”

“Do you like baseball?” Donatello asks. “I’m pretty good at that. We could have a game later.”

Casey is quiet for a moment. “It’s been a long time since I played.”

“Aw, jeez, now we’ve got to play,” Raphael says, leaning outward to get a cobweb and, coincidentally, resting a hand on Casey’s head to balance.

Michelangelo leans his broom against the wall. “I’m going to cook us some lunch,” he says. The kitchen, the first room they tackled, is sparkling clean and empy of sports equipment now.

After lunch they play baseball, slightly hindered by the rules being a bit unclear with only four players and Casey yelling about “rulebreakers!” with exactly as much passion as he yells about lawbreakers. It’s still a pretty good time. They can almost forget, until dinner, that Leonardo is lying upstairs, pale and unresponsive.

April has to go back to the city, the news waits for no woman, and her departure leaves things feeling more empty and hopeless than ever. The turtles try to keep themselves busy. Casey’s house has never been cleaner and Casey himself does jobs like fixing the squeaky doors and the leaking gutters that he could presumably have done all along. But now he does them with turtles giving advice, fetching tools for him and heckling.

-

It’s one evening as they’re watching the Dirty Harry movies to please Casey that Splinter’s shout rings through the house, “My turtles!”

They scramble up the stairs in a panic, clinging to one another’s hands and to Casey Jones, afraid of what they’ll find when they reach the top. But in the bedroom Leonardo is sitting up, pale and weak, but trying very hard to smile. They throw themselves onto the bed, trying to be gentle and to hold him all at once.

“Where is this?” Leonardo asks, as he wraps his arms around all of them.

“This is Casey Jones’ farmhouse,” Splinter informs him. “He has been kind enough to let us stay here while you recovered.”

Leonardo blinks. “Casey owns a farmhouse?”

“That’s what we said,” chorus the turtles.

“But y’know,” Raphael adds. “It’s not actually too bad.”

[m0ney-mach3r]

Asks open 🔪

Status: chilling

Note - (bored)

Status guide

chilling - online

killing - offline

on the phone w/ Billy - away

snoozing - sleeping

—————————————————

‼️please read below before interacting‼️

TW : mentions of murder, profanity, mentions of violence, psychopathy, etc (it’s Scream, what do you expect.)

Mod notes

- Please be patient as it may take me a while to reply to whatever you guys send me

- I’m a minor, light sexual jokes are fine but no smut roleplay/heavy nsfw or sexual content

- I apologize if I am out of character at times

- asks always open! Will also take drawing requests! (might not respond immediately)

- please ask to DM

- will gladly roleplay with anybody from other Scream accounts and/or anyone from any media/crossovers :3

- if I don’t know what to say during an rp, please understand that I try my best

- please don’t kill off other characters without permission

- feel free to ask questions to me/mod if you’d like :3

Fandoms I’m in

Scream (1996)

Saw (franchise)

The Outsiders (book and film)

And more!

Blog tags!

#macher rp🔪

#machers blog🔪

#macher answers🔪

#macher draws🔪

#macher reblogs🔪

——————————————————

Who is Stu Macher/Stu Macher’s personality

Stuart "Stu" Macher is the secondary antagonist of Scream (1996 film). He is Billy Loomis's accomplice, as well as an insensitive and eccentric best friend. A horror movie fanatic, he went along with Billy's slasher film-like murder spree, the late-September 1996 Woodsboro Murders.

Stu is a deeply psychotic and maniacal yet dimwitted person. Although had no distinctive motive for helping Billy murder people, he nonetheless takes joy in it, proving himself to be extensively sadistic. Adding to his sadism, Stu is rather spiteful as he also saw this as a good opportunity to get revenge on his ex-girlfriend, Casey Becker by killing her and Steve Orth purely out of pettiness for her dumping him. Stu also likes to put on a playful and joking demeanor to hide his true deathly, sadistic, frigid cold-blooded, and cruel nature.

In spite of his common faux pas, Stu is fairly intelligent and capable of forming well-devised plans. He also seems to show comprehensive understanding of central and symbolic story elements in horror movies. As such, Stu creatively uses his abilities to his full advantage, even showing the sense of urgency to plan out ways to avoid detection. Clear examples of such would be his specific methods of remaining inconspicuous and/or even framing others for his and Billy’s own crimes.

Even after his true nature is revealed, Stu shows more of his cruelty by continuing to crack jokes to taunt Sidney. He shows intense joy in planning to frame her father for the killings and even gets ecstatic as him and Billy prepare to stab each other to make themselves look like victims.

Stu Macher’s life/family

Stuart Macher was born sometime in late-1978 or 1979 (17-18 years old). He grew up in 261 Turner Lane, Woodsboro, California, a large farmhouse with his sibling(s) and parents. He has at least one elder sister, Leslie, who gave birth to a son, Vince 3 years after his death. From his house, it appears he either has a younger sister as well, or a niece through Leslie, Vince's would-be older sister. Stu’s parents are rarely present as they are usually on trips without him, leaving him home alone for most of the time.

Stu Macher’s appearance

Stu is a tall 18 year old high school student with short, messy, unkept dirty blonde/brown hair, He has wide, blue eyes and thin lips with small ears, big teeth, and dimples.

[wafflebloggies]

the long con - part 7/7

a Don't Feed The Muse/Captain Disillusion crossover story. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

*

The Captain stood in the middle of the Mayhew’s front hall, letting the door swing slowly to behind him. In the warm darkness, his sharp eyes sought a point up and to the left, moved away, found the deeper vacancy ahead where the foyer led to the second floor. The hallway was high and open, with a long transom of square panes above the door and a thin sidelight window like a straight slatted backbone to each side. The streetlights cast a tall golden gateway, surprisingly bright, framing his shadow and stretching across and along the glossy wood floor.

He put out a hand, found a switch. The illusion was broken, warm light picking out an ordinary, tidy, two-story space, with pictures on the walls and filling a sideboard of heavy red wood, an open room to the side mostly taken up by a big dining-table, with all of the chairs pushed neatly in. Faith, said a little wooden ornament hanging from the ceramic keyplate by the door, in painted letters. Be Joyful Always, Pray Continually, advised the big dark span of barnwood, directly under the transom, in a looping, light-hearted font.

Precious Memories, said a long picture-frame directly across the hall, busy with a collage of photos of two children- no, three, as the Captain took another closer look he saw that Anthony was there too, in several photos with Mark, from kids barely school-age to teens to two grinning adults with their arms draped around each other.

The Captain looked away from the pictures and up the wooden staircase, to the darkness where the banister gave a sharp right-angled bend around a hidden corner, disappeared into shadows. He removed his other hand slowly from his jacket pocket, cleared his throat.

“I come in peace,” he said.

The house seemed unimpressed. That it seemed to be anything was a peculiar feeling, that the Captain would have been more than happy to chalk up to his hyper-awareness, to the extremely weird day he was having, to anything other than the fact that there was a sluggish heaviness to the air and that his head had started to hurt again, dully, as soon as he’d stepped over the threshold.

He climbed the shadowy staircase. The first half was easy, with the hallway lights at his back, his shadow dark and jagged up the treads in front of him as if it was in a hurry to get there first. Past watercolours and a framed cross-stitch, to the turn. The darkness beyond, up to the landing, was heavy, like a physical curtain barring the upper floor from sight. It felt, to the Captain, like it was daring him to come any closer.

The Captain was irritable enough, by this point, to take it straight up on the offer. He snapped his fingers, and a screen shaped itself above his hand, lighting the way. It took him a couple of seconds to realise that it was playing the sewer scene from IT, and he tapped at it impatiently until it settled down into a featureless, even light. As he continued to the top of the stairs, it bathed the walls, the farmhouse-style shutter on the landing window, the surprising spindly shape of a side-table, in a uniform white-blue glow.

“Hey,” he said, lifting his voice. “You can drop the slasher movie act. I know you’re here.”

The hallway was as tidy and scrupulously clean as the rest of the house. He turned left, through a panelled door, and found himself in a mid-sized bedroom. Here, the methodical upkeep seemed to have faltered. It didn’t feel so much like the result of a messy nature, than simply a creeping lack of care. The bed was unmade and the floor was scattered with clothes. DVD cases were piled everywhere in untidy stacks, and a PC stood on a cluttered, dirty desk littered with discs and papers.

The Captain glanced at everything, seemed to pay attention to nothing in particular, missed very little. There were more photos pinned here and there between the collage of movie posters that covered the walls, several stuck up near the bed. A dark-haired woman with smiling eyes and a fretful-looking guy with a snub nose and glasses. Mark and the other, older kid. Mark and Anthony, again, in matching track shirts, beaming at the camera.

He looked at the photo, at all of the photos, at the only movie poster in a frame, on the wall next to the closet door.

“The original trilogy was better,” he said.

As if this was a password, the closet door cracked open, just a tiny bit. The Captain stepped back sharply, his screen sputtering for a second before it regained its form. He stood, facing the slatted door, a bright yellow shape in a sea of blue and white and dark slanting shadows, and he didn’t move again, not even when a low, liquid sound like a burbling laugh seeped slowly up his spine and rose, like black groundwater, into the back of his mind.

“Oh, no. I don’t do the whole ‘telepathy’ thing. Come on, it’s only polite, if you want to have a conversation, use your words.”

...my words?

The Captain blinked. A very small amount of black, almost indistinguishable from the thin streaky line that held his mask in place over the chrome, started to wind its way from his nose. He sniffed it away, sharply.

“There you go. Much better.”

you. shouldn’t. be here.

“Yeah, well, I was invited. What’s your excuse?”

The feeling of laughter again, sluggish and thick.

we thought. our host was. more reliable. but… he still has. so much. to lose. our methods always work. in the end. he only needs. a little more

motivation.

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing a lot about your methods.” The Captain folded his arms. “Enough to be pretty sure I don’t like them. I can’t say I understand what your endgame is here, but you nearly got two people killed tonight, and that’s definitely not the way to build a lasting partnership. You can’t ‘motivate’ humans to make art by making them miserable. And, I hope you don’t need me to spell it out, but you can’t be someone’s creative inspiration if they’re dead.”

He dropped his voice, his tone serious, earnest. “Listen, let me give you the low-down on this, okay? I know these people. I know how they work. I’ve been here, learning about them, living with them, for a long time. Well- not literally with them, a few thousand kilometres above them most of the time if you wanna get specific- but the point is, I know how you feel right now. You’re small, you’re scared, you think you’re all alone on this weird planet, and I know you probably think this is the only way you can get what you need, but it’s not. All these lies, all this- manipulation, trying to cut this poor kid off from the rest of his species just so you can coerce him into swallowing your screwed-up version of reality, it’s- it’s not gonna fly.”

no…?

The closet door moved again, as if stirred by a breath. There was a new note in the voice, now. Curdled and laboured still, even as it halted and pawed slowly and thickly through each word, it sounded chillingly gleeful.

it seems. to have worked. for you.

“Alright, that’s it-” The Captain stepped forwards, grabbed the handle, and in one move threw the closet door wide open.

It was empty.

Or, not quite empty. As the Captain stood, confused, looking into a shallow space with a few hangars still bundled on the rail, a few boxes stacked on shelves above, he could make up a dark, spreading splotch in the lower corner. By the light of his screen he could see it, like a burn, a sludgy Pompeii cast, the shadowy shape where something had been for a while and was no longer. The impressions of fine lines, like fern fronds or fungus, crawled across the carpet and the walls, radiating outwards, etched like the marks of something that had been clinging on for dear life with a grip that stained and scarred.

The Captain looked at it, and a shivery crawling ice-cold sensation travelled slowly all the way up to the top of his head. It was the feeling of adjusting ideas. He’d been quick to point out, earlier, that Mark’s ideas were not set in stone, that his certainties could still change and that being open-minded was not just necessary but healthy, a vital critical skill. He was, on the whole, a huge fan of the concept. What he was not a fan of was the simple difference between knowing, on Mark’s advice, that the thing was in the closet and couldn’t move, and now knowing that yes it could and it might be anywhere.

A sound, low and somehow sticky, just above the threshold of silence. The Captain turned, sharply, looked up. Flung up an arm, the bright screen at his shoulder flaring and scattering apart as his concentration broke-

-and the light went out.

*

pathetic.

The voice, slow and satisfied, in the darkness.

you thought you were. the only one who could see. these humans. how they really are. you thought. you have. the insight… to understand… us?

from them?

or.

from you?

It felt like drowning, bodiless, a sinking scrap of flotsam in a sea of black ink. It felt like dying. It felt like falling, hurtling through space, without the strength to stop or save himself, bright stars burning above, black earth below. It felt like-

small. scared.

The voice was laughing.

alone.

Somewhere, a million miles away in the physical world, he knew his body still existed, still moved and breathed. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see anything but the blackness and the terrible awareness of the thing that had been playing with Mark Mayhew for months, the ghastly enveloping consciousness of a thing that was bigger, somehow so much bigger, than any gluey spitball lump in a closet had the right to be.

He had been wrong. He had tried to think, he had wanted to think, that the thing felt huge because it had such a strong hold, that it seemed so vast and looming because of how much it overshadowed Mark’s mind, how much it had gorged itself on the ideas and energy of the human it had chosen. Now, too close and too late, he felt the full scale of it, the sense of many, the voice in his head just one swollen tendril of a gargantuan, interconnected whole.

so weak. so limited. so much. like us but… so much less. you attached yourself to one human. one host. to survive. his ideas. gave you form.

The feeling of intrusion, of this careless amused thing pawing clumsily through his memories, was an obscene assault on all of the senses he had left. He would have screamed, if he’d still been in control of anything to scream with.

his power to create. yours. his identity. yours. such short-sighted… waste. to chain yourself to one. finite. human. when every idea in this world. could be yours.

you chase. their approval. try to influence. their minds. always afraid… that they will stop. giving.

that he will forget you.

A long, complacent, unbearable breath. Wet, slow, full of teeth, the sound of a wide, wide, jagged smile.

humans forget. so easily. our host. will not know. what became of you. in time. he will give us. his ideas. his channel. his friend. his mind. in time. he will give us. everything he has left. and with Reconnection… everything he was. will only be another part. of us.

of all. of us.

of MOTHER.

Eyes and teeth, teeth and eyes. A world, a whole world of nothing but heaving black and gold, hunger and hatred.

With a horrendous effort, the Captain looked back. Made himself look. To remember he had a mouth, a tongue, a voice of his own, that he knew words, that he had something to say, these things felt like the most arduous impossibilities in the world, but to remember them was to grasp that they were real. That if these things were real-

-so was he.

“You… forgot…” He had to stop, gather strength. Every word felt like it weighed a ton, his voice weak, thin, like the echo of something only half there. But he could hear it, he could hear himself, the reassurance of the sound existing in a physical space, an incontrovertible reality.

As if his voice was a locus, a signal in the dark, he began to grasp some sense of what kind of a space it was. Wood panelling, clean stone flags, copper pans and utensils hanging from the ceiling like strange fruit, a door somewhere to the left with thick, dimpled glass. Not the place he’d lost himself in. Perhaps he’d wandered down the dark, creaking stairs without knowing it, perhaps he’d been drawn mechanically down, closer, the cellar door a yawning black mouth at the kitchen’s end. He couldn’t know for sure, but it mattered very little as long as he could sense that there was movement, here in the darkness. Something besides himself.

He tried again.

“… forgot something…”

The voice was amused. It couldn’t hear, or maybe it was deaf altogether, to the sharp bright sound that was growing clearer by the second in the Captain’s mind. He could feel the sluggish thing gathering itself, maybe bored of this game, maybe too hungry to resist much longer, even for fun.

oh? tell us.

The Captain’s gloved hands felt numb and a billion miles away from his body, but with his rising sense of where he was came control, and with slow groping fingers he found the pocket of his jacket, felt inside. Brought out Alan’s phone, the screen bright, the call-time ticking.

And then there was a click, and a sick, squishing, suckery smack, and as light flooded across the kitchen Mark was at his side, his pale bloodless face full of fury and loathing, his own phone clattering to the floor as he grabbed and held the thing, his Muse, tightly clamped in both hands.

“I heard everything, you slimy little shit.”

In the blinding yellow light Mark’s Muse was a pathetically small thing, barely a double handful of writhing tendrils and beady little black eyes, screaming and yammering up a hail of noise in both of their minds as it flailed in shock and outrage. Inky goop ran bubbling and dripping, twisting down Mark’s arms to the elbows as he raised it, holding it at revolted arms-length away from his chest, ripping every frantic hold it had on walls and skin and clothing loose in one savage yank as he strode away across the kitchen.

no no no no no! Mark! please!! your m-

The voice broke off into a horrendous wail, as Mark slam-dunked the squirming mass straight down into the sink, slamming the button with one bony elbow and stuffing the shrieking thing right into the hungry buzzing throat of the garbage disposal.

A spray of black ichor, a terrible gloopy crunch. The mechanism struggled for a moment or two, getting to grips with such an unexpected, unwieldy meal, but after a heart-stopping cartilaginous crack and a couple of deep munching growls it evened up into a nice, even, disengaged purr. A little inky water rose, filling the sink to barely an inch, before it rippled quietly back down, and the water ran clear.

*

It was barely dawn on the morning of the next day. A fine, blue summer morning, already hot, the rain still lying in puddles and glittering in the grass, ready to be baked out of existence by the day’s heat.

Alan, about as awake as anybody would be, jangled abruptly out of sleep by the doorbell, stumbled to his front door as if the remains of his vivid and troubled dreams were tumbled about like an obstacle-course, getting in his way. The feeling of unreality failed to entirely go away even after he had gotten the door open, and squinted sleepily out with a hand up to shield against the soft rising sunlight, because the Captain was standing on his front path, with every appearance of having rung the doorbell himself. At least, there was nobody and nothing else in sight, although Alan took a bewildered look up and down the length of the potholed driveway that ran along the side of the building, towards the road.

It wasn’t solely that the Captain didn’t generally do doorbells, or knocking- though he didn’t- or that he looked distinctly uncomfortable- though he did. It was unusual and alarming enough that he was here at all, let alone here, so weirdly still and awkward-looking and lacking any immediate, demanding motive, at stupid o’clock on a Sunday morning, with nothing to explain himself apart from a small cardboard tray.

On a normal, day-to-day basis, the Captain barely acknowledged that Alan had a life beyond Disillusion Industries. Although very far from the way he’d been, a long time ago, it certainly was the way he navigated things now. If faced with evidence that Alan did not exclusively pop into being whenever the Captain required him to exist, that he was an actual person who had to do boring human things like eat and sleep and pay taxes, had family, friends, a home- he tended to handle it poorly. Alan had slowly come to accept this selective blindness as a good thing, on the whole, given that when the Captain did manage to co-opt some other element of Alan’s life into Disillusion Industries, his approach could be… less than careful. The last time he had ever come anywhere near this quiet suburban street, on a certain memorable occasion nearly six years prior, he’d entered Alan’s apartment through a window, and left through the roof.

Seeing the Captain standing on his narrow little strip of a front walk, therefore, made Alan nervous. The roof was long since fixed, and he really wanted it to stay that way.

“Captain?” Alan stifled a yawn so strenuous it nearly made his jaw pop. “I- I know you said early, but it’s not even six yet…”

The Captain hesitated, then dug in his jacket pocket with his free hand. There seemed to be a quantity of dull black staining, like dried ink, in an arterial spray across his front, making him look as if he’d stood in the way of a minor printer malfunction.

“Here’s your phone,” he said, awkwardly, passing it across. Finding it sticky with the same dark congealed goop, Alan took it very gingerly between finger and thumb, and with no better idea of what to do with it, wiped it off on the hem of his shirt.

“…Thanks.”

Leica, a small, lithe bundle of calico fur and curious ears, padded around his legs and greeted the Captain like an old friend, her coat a vivid hodgepodge of orange-black-white-orange as she twined happily around his ankles in the early sun. The comforting normalcy of her presence made it easier for Alan to go on.

“What happened last night, Captain? Why did you make me promise to go straight home from the hospital? Why did you need my phone? Is- is everything alright?”

The Captain stooped to scratch Leica in the sweet spot, the fluffy white bib under her chin. She leaned into his touch, squinting her large green eyes. Here, her confidence had the advantage over Alan’s, in that she had known the Captain her entire life, and had never known him to treat her with anything other than affectionate respect.

“I brought coffee,” he said.

Alan was thrown enough by this extraordinary statement, without immediately being faced with proof that it was true, as the Captain straightened up again and handed him a takeaway cup from the little cardboard holder. The fact that it was stone cold (unsurprising, as it originated in a café chain located several hours to the north) barely registered with him. It always used to be, he remembered, vaguely. Regardless of all the difficult scientific realities he understood without a hitch, the Captain had never quite managed to grasp the concept of thermal entropy over time.

“Wh-”

“Alan, if you say ‘why,’” said the Captain, in a headlong, completely desperate voice, “I’m going to lose my mother- hecking- mind. We need to talk about so much- like, all of the things- and I have no idea how to start. I have no idea- how- to explain myself.”

(what happened? i don’t remember what happened. does it matter? we’re okay, aren’t we? we’re both okay.)

“I mean- I’ve never had any idea how to explain you,” said Alan, cautiously. “If that helps? And we… we kind of agreed we wouldn’t try, didn’t we? Right at the beginning.”

The Captain shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Maybe that was a mistake.”

Now that Alan was awake enough to look closer, see more, the Captain definitely looked as if he’d been through something. The splattering of black goop was worrying enough, considering he was the only person Alan knew (or had ever known) who bled black, but he didn’t look hurt anywhere- just exhausted, like something since the hospital had completely floored him and he’d only just made it back upright. It wasn’t just that, either. The Captain looked terribly shaken. He was always so quick to ward off any idea that he wasn’t one-hundred-percent perfect, hiding any real weakness or bad feeling under a million layers of prickly dramatic deflection that made it impossible for most people to even tell if it was genuine or not, that Alan couldn’t feel through to any way of asking if he really was alright.

He didn’t look alright, and he’d ignored even the least direct approach to the question, and there the options dead-ended. The best Alan could do was ask something else, something that at least got close.

"What was it, Captain?"

"Something... here from somewhere else."

This at least felt like a straight answer, if not exactly a complete one. "Like..." Alan hesitated. "Like you?"

The Captain flinched. "No. Nothing... nothing like me."

“Are those kids going to be okay?”

“Kids? Come on, Alan, they’re like twenty-five.” When Alan only continued to look at him, the Captain sighed. “Yes. Probably. More okay than they’d… well, that’s probably something else we need to talk about. I told you I have no idea how to start. But I- I couldn’t risk you getting caught up in the whole thing. I needed to know you were a really long way away, or I couldn’t have…”

“I mean, I understand that,” said Alan.

The Captain looked at him with some amount of surprise, and enough relief to make Alan suddenly not at all certain he understood anything at all. “You do?”

“Sure? It was superhero stuff, it’s not like there was anything I could have done.” He waved his free hand vaguely at the Captain, who wasn’t helping his confusion by watching him with a sinking, anxious kind of disappointment in his half-silver face. Falling back on self-deprecation at least felt safe, not as strange or as unsettling as the growing realisation that the moment in the shuttle the previous day might not just been a painful one-off piece of weirdness, that something between them could actually have changed and stayed changed.

“You’re Captain Disillusion, I’m just… the guy that does your laundry.”

“That’s not true. It’s- never- been true. Alan, I…” The Captain struggled for a moment or two, like he was wrestling with something big and painful stuck in his throat, then ran a hand across his face, scrubbing off a few dried flecks of black from his nose and dragging a finger gingerly under the line of his mask, as if all of a sudden it was bothering him. He glanced up at the sun, still rising above the thin fence of palings that ran the length of the driveway, and then looked at Alan, directly, his sharp bright eyes defiant, vulnerable, sorry, bewildered.

“… Can I come in?”

Alan blinked a couple of times, then smiled. He reached out and took the Captain’s coffee, still in the little cardboard holder, and tucked his own cup in the space next to it.

“Of course. Come in, Captain. Let me heat these up a little, and… we can talk.”

[sukiaprojects82]

The slasher farmhouse is inspired by the Roblox horror game the butchery the slasher farmhouse but it’s a 1980s version of the butchery

The butchery probably set in 1995 after the slasher farmhouse 1 in 1984

The slasher farmhouse 2 the hunted past will be set in 2022 were Lisa explore the abandoned Farmhouse and the barn this house has been abandoned for years the crazy killer name Joshua Melvin

He had been killing his victims and his family members and loved ones

Joshua is still out there to look for his victims cross the town of Randy city in Texas

Even know that Randy city is a fictional town located in Texas

[slaasherslut]

Milo Vess OC

slasher oc character introduction

Name: Milo Vess

Age: 24

Birthday: July 18th 1999 (cancer)

Hometown: Caligo, GA (fictional town in the state of Georgia)

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Relationship Status: Single

Height: 6'2

Ethnicity and Race: White American

Build: Slim with defined muscles in his arms and legs

Physical Description: Dark semi curly brown hair in a shaggy wolf cut style that stops just below his chin and has a chunk of white hair in the front, chestnut brown eyes, dark freckles all over his cheeks and nose, small patch of facial hair on his chin, has a faint jagged scar on his left temple/forehead which his hair usually covers.

Occupation: Groundskeeper for Sine Anima Cemetery on the edge of town

Style: Baggy plaid jackets and shirts, metal band tees, black cargo pants, black jeans, combat boots, random bits of jewellery from his victims.

He sees spirits, he gained the ability after a car accident when he was 8.

The accident left him with selective mutism, which he overcame when he was 19 but he was severely bullied for in school.

He has "canities subita", which is what gave him the white streak in his hair.

The left breast pocket of his jacket always has a crushed pack of smokes and a lighter.

Hes very quiet and reserved, you know hes comfortable around you when he starts rambling and laughing louder.

He lives in an old farmhouse near the cemetery, before that he lived with his aunt and uncle.

He loves to sketch. He has a small sketchbook he carries around where he loves to draw spirits he sees and other things throughout the day that catches his eye.

He was once possessed during a seance gone wrong

picrew link

tagging some moots who might be interested: @rottent33th @the-pinstriped-hood @soupbabe @bluecoolr-main @probably-a-plant-thing @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @kalid-raven @damien-mlm

[mediamixs]

Top 10 horror movies to watch this summer

Here are 10 great horror movies set during the summer:

1. Jaws (1975)

Steven Spielberg's classic about a killer shark terrorizing a beach town is the quintessential summer horror movie. When a giant great white shark arrives on the shores of a beach town and starts attacking people, it's up to a local sheriff, a marine biologist, and a professional shark hunter to hunt it down.

2. Friday the 13th (1980)

In this iconic slasher, a group of camp counselors are murdered one by one while trying to reopen Camp Crystal Lake, which was the site of a young boy's drowning years earlier. The film spawned a hugely successful franchise.

3. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)

A group of teenagers on a summer road trip find themselves stranded at a remote farmhouse that is home to a family of cannibals, led by the chainsaw-wielding Leatherface. The film is based on the real-life murderer Ed Gein and is considered one of the most influential and terrifying horror movies ever made.

4. Sleepaway Camp (1983)

After a mysterious accident kills her family, a shy young girl is sent to summer camp, where a series of bizarre and violent deaths occur. The film has a shocking twist ending that is considered one of the most memorable in horror history.

5. The Burning (1981)

At a summer camp, a cruel prank goes wrong and leaves a caretaker horribly burned. Years later, the campers responsible are targeted by a vengeful killer wielding hedge clippers. The film features gory special effects by Tom Savini.

6. I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997)

After covering up a hit-and-run, a group of friends is stalked by a hook-wielding killer who knows their secret. The film is a slasher with a twist, combining elements of urban legend and revenge.

7. The Hills Have Eyes (1977)

A family on a road trip gets stranded in the desert, where they are attacked by a family of mutant cannibals living in the surrounding hills. Wes Craven's film is a gritty and disturbing take on the summer road trip gone wrong.

8. Cabin Fever (2002)

A group of college graduates celebrate their final summer before the real world by renting a cabin in the woods, where they contract a flesh-eating virus. The film is a gory, darkly comedic take on the cabin in the woods horror trope.

9. Piranha 3D (2010)

When a sudden underwater tremor opens an ancient fissure in the earth, prehistoric piranha are released into Lake Victoria, just in time for the annual spring break party. The film is a gory, tongue-in-cheek homage to 1970s creature features.

10. Midsommar (2019)

A couple travels to Sweden to visit a rural hometown's fabled mid-summer festival, but what begins as an idyllic retreat quickly devolves into an increasingly violent and bizarre competition at the hands of a pagan cult. Ari Aster's folk horror film is set entirely in the bright light of summer.

[filmstudentrambles]

Pearl(2022)

Pearl(2022) is the prequel to A24’s horror slasher X(2021). Mia Goth plays the younger version of her 2021 elderly antagonist. The movie follows the younger Pearl as she desperately tries to escape the Texas farm her family owns. She’s trapped with her puritanical mother and paralyzed father. Forced to labor on the farm during the day and bath her sickly father at night. While Pearl is married to Howard, her marriage doesn’t save her from her farmhouse prison. Howard left shortly after the marriage and is away fighting in World War 1. Howard doesn’t make an on screen appearance until the end of the movie. Director Ti West makes it explicitly clear how miserable Pearl’s life is. Liberation is not coming for Pearl.

The film showcases toxic femininity through Pearl, providing what some people might refer to as ‘the woman’s joker’. Pearl, like popular sad girl icon Amy Dune from Gone Girl(2014), embodies unapologetic selfishness and female rage. Goth’s character has become especially popular among femcels. Femcels are a more recent classification of women who are find themselves involuntarily celibate. Femcels are similar to incels, however online forums, research, and discussion regarding incels focuses on male experiences. This is why femcel has emerged as the term and community for involuntarily celibate women.

While Pearl(2022) has received primarily positive reviews I couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. At the end of the film, I just didn’t care that much for Pearl. Mia Goth gave a great performance and her monologue at the end felt cathartic in the moment. However, the film didn’t leave a lasting impression on me. Perhaps I didn’t relate to Pearl as I grew up in a puritanical household but have since left. Maybe if I was still trapped, I would feel more sympathy towards Pearl. I was hoping that the film would explore the female rage in a more detailed and nuanced way. Perhaps the horror film was too unrealistic for me and I wasn’t able to suspend my disbelief. It didn’t feel clear to me that Pearl was unable to leave. I felt that there were opportunities available to Pearl that she was able to take, but did not. Of course, a horror film often includes violence and gore so perhaps that is why the film took the direction it did.

Ultimately, Pearl is a deeply troubled woman. Goth gives a chilling performance which emphasizes the instability of Pearl. Other characters, particularly Pearl’s puritanical mother, felt like caricatures. The film seemed to lean heavily into stereotypes and tropes rather than providing a cast of grounded, fleshed out characters. Overall the film was entertaining, but did not leave a lasting impression on me.

[creatureshrieks]

Laurie ; Texas Chainsaw Massacre - Family verse

Laurie and her two friends, Annie and Lynda, were on vacation from their college when they decided to spend their time going on a cross country road trip to experience more of the world than their small town of Haddonfield had to offer them. They planned to drive to California, though they'd take a multitude of detours just to see what the wide open roads of America had in store for them. One detour, however, got them lost down some lonely stretches of the Texan plains and served to only get them further and further away from any major sense of civilization. Endless expanses of nothing, the occasional farmhouse, scattered gas stations. They began to run low on fuel when they decided to stop for the night instead of driving around blind, parking their car and deciding to sleep until sunrise. Unfortunately, the group of girls had been stalked from the moment they shut off their engine. In the dead of the night they were attacked, the three taken hostage and back to the family home where they where dragged beneath the house and left to hang while the family prepared to have them for dinner. The three fought against their captors, though it did little to change their fates. Annie was the first to go, followed by Lynda. When it was Laurie's turn for slaughter, however, a particular member intervened and insisted the family keep her, if only so he could keep her for himself.

Laurie and her friends are on a road trip when they get picked off by the Slaughter/Sawyer family

They get taken back to the family home and killed one by one, though when Drayton calls for Laurie to be killed someone (Michael) intervenes because he's obsessive and Laurie can't be killed because she fought back the hardest and stabbed him so, so many times so clearly she gets to live

She ends up being kept by the family against Drayton's wishes (everything is against his wishes tbh)

She forms a bond with Michael

Slasher Laurie resurfaces, if only because she wants to protect Michael from anyone that might try to harm him/take him away

She doesn't enjoy killing, but she's not against it if it means protecting people she cares about. On the outside she looks very normal and she's very sweet and very much does try to dissuade people from approaching the Slaughter/Sawyer home, but anyone that trespasses gets stabbed.

Laurie uses a kitchen knife as her weapon of choice. Easy to use, always handy.

bounces off runa's michael :)

[hatterhare]

a DC hatterhare au I've been working on - its a cheesy horror movie plot called "The Madness of March" (itd be one of those unconventional slashers with very introspective themes on nature vs nurture / sexuality / etc with AiW imagery - but the acting/writing/cinematography is cheesy as hell)

synopsis:

a research group from gotham city has been sent to observe and collect flora and fauna from an ecosystem in western texas. after their car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, they stumble across a farmhouse with only one occupant (Pascal) inside. learning that help wont be able to come until the next day, Pascal let's the group stay in his home with the only condition being to not go in the barn after dark, but after the head of their research group goes missing, a few members decide to venture out anyways. a series of chaos and betrayal ensue.

(betrayal because Jervis turns on her research group and joins Pascal as the secondary antagonist partway through the script)

[rickchung]

Pearl (dir. Ti West) x TIFF 2022.

Actress Mia Goth (also a co-writer) and [...] West both return to the slasher world of X (released earlier this year) in the blood-soaked, WWI-era origin story [...]. As a prequel about one of the previous film’s elderly homicidal farmhouse villains in the 1970s also played by Goth in heavy makeup and prosthetics, we see her as a young woman getting the taste for killing.

[purpleplaid17]

Jess Watches // Sat 30 Sept Synopses & Favourite Scenes

X (2022)

Set in 1979, adult movie actors and a small film crew arrive to a farmhouse occupied by an elderly couple in the desolate Texas countryside.. As the day shifts to night, the visitors slowly realize that they are not safe.

The first hour is an indie film about sex workers making a movie where something doesn't quite feel right. The following 45ish minutes is a slasher horror where you realize that the unsettling feeling gets even creepier and bloodier than expected.

Killjoys (with friend) 1x10 Escape Velocity (Season Finale)

Tensions on Westerley boil over when the Company arrests anf frames Alvis. As peace in the Quad hangs in the balance, our Killjoys are finally compelled to choose a side.

Delle Seyah stealing every scene she's in. Even Johnny was amused at her openly flirting with Dutch. And who wouldn't given the chance.

Supernatural Academy (with friend) 1x12 Supernaturals of New York Part B

Still on the run, the pack discovers the consequences of magic and the power of an ally at once.

Jae giving Hali a piggyback ride as they jump and swing around the city. Though I was a bit disappointed Hali not once shouted "PARKOUR!"

Shelter 1x04 Phantom Threads

Mickey has a breakthrough in the search for Ashley. Chief Taylor has a tense confrontation with Bat Lady. Ema and Spoon make beautiful music together.

We got Shira and Hannah being adorable, past AND present. Both admitting they were in love back in high school. Then we ALSO have Whitney being very obviously into Ema, who gets so flustered around her crush because it is very much mutual. And Buck and Ema (and Spoon) have such beautiful singing voices. It's like watching 2 different shows lol.

The Consultant 1x01 Creator

After a workplace tragedy, Regus Patoff appears at a gaming company claiming to be in control, acting in bizarre ways and giving no real direction. Craig and Elaine work together to uncover who and what he is doing.

At first I was intrigued because here comes this older grumpy disabled man coming to run this company. Does he secretly have a heart of gold? Definitely not! He was then immediately rude, ableist and borderline abusive. But he's not who he claims to be. So there is a mystery to be solved. Hopefully with some justice and/or revenge from the workers.