#slasher detour

[scaremichaeltodeath]

Announcing the SLASHER DETOUR: a mini-series within a mini-series

Because Michael is such a novice when it comes to horror, between Halloweens I and II, I'm taking him on a Slasher Detour to give him a sense of just how much the genre changed after the original Halloween.

PROM NIGHT (1980) TERROR TRAIN (1980) FRIDAY THE 13TH (1980) MY BLOODY VALENTINE (1981)

Then, we'll continue on with the Halloween series with Halloween II and move through the sequels until we hit Halloween Ends.

[steviebbboi]

Once Upon A Friendship

Pairing: Childhood Bestie!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.6k~ guys i obviously have a problem, my fics just keep getting longer and longer and idk how to stop

Rating: Teens and up!

Disclaimer: Well, well, here we are~ submitting this lil ficlet for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer Writing Challenge using the following prompts: carnival/county fair + forced proximity + "You think that's blood?". & Because I also wanted to engage with our writers community even more cuz <3, -- I'm also submitting this to @the-slumberparty Sundae Bar challenge: Chocolate (secrets will be REVEALED), butter scotch (childhood friends and the feelz is real 🥹), french vanilla (cause forced proximity trope was inevitable for our reader), w/ toppings of chocolate syrup (established relationship), graham crackers (flashback-backstory heavy), and toasted almonds (🫣get ready for some angst).

Summary: Growing up together, you and Steve were inseparable. Where did it all go wrong?

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't cuteeee~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: Minors just be mindful that this has mentions of teenage sexual activity but not explicit (all age appropriate) but adding my warning below just in case, explicit language in few pieces of dialogue, ANGST with a happy ending, childhood besties to enemies/strangers, bucky, wanda, and nat are your besties too, steve is a shit communicator, both steve and reader are young and a bit naive, cheesiness ensues, fluff, work is not beta'd so any grammar mistake is my bad!!

*Any comments/reblogs are much appreciated and are so encouraging - more than you know. Pls don't hesitate to interact with me <3

“Argh, Wanda, no– I told you, I hate these things!” You whined despondently while grabbing at her arm.

“Look, you only have to go straight in and see it all the way through! It’s not like there’s any detours.” Wanda replied while giving you a deadpan look. 

You returned the look with your own mocking face, “Wan, you know that isn’t the reason why I hate these things! They grab at you and try to scare you.” You shivered at the thought of one of the maze actors dragging you away somewhere where you couldn’t be found.

“Well…that is their job, y’know?” Wanda said, holding her chin in mock thought. You scoffed and shoved her playfully while she giggled at you. 

“Plus, it’s so hot out! It’s probably so stuffy in there, especially if we go in with a random group.” You complained while attempting to fan yourself while holding your hair up off your neck. This summer was brutal, you couldn’t believe that anyone would be at the carnival fair today. But alas, everyone seems to want to enjoy the last throes of summer. 

“We won’t go in with a random group - Nat said that they’re going to meet up with us before we go in.” Wanda said distractedly while taking out her phone, assuming that she was going to be checking in with Natasha.

Your brain took a second to process what she just said before you froze, your mouth agape, “Wait, ‘th-they’re’? Don’t tell me…”

Wanda stood ramrod still as if lightning just struck. The finger that was twirling her own hair froze its mindless motions as she stared at her phone unblinkingly as she realized her mistake. 

“Argh, Wanda!” You hissed out and covered your face with both of your hands in genuine despair.

Wanda held a guilt-ridden expression, “Oh no, I’m so sorry, chip – I completely forgot that he would be coming-- honest!” 

You released a heavy sigh and closed your eyes to mentally prepare yourself for dealing with the person that you despised the most in this world.

Steve Rogers. The bane of your existence. 

Well, not really (-ish).

He also happened to be a guy that you have been crushing on since you were 10 years old.

Did he know this? No. But even if he did, you would be the last person on Earth that he would pick. How do you know this, do you ask?

You and Steve knew each other since you were basically in diapers. Alongside Bucky and Nat, the four of you grew up together. Although, that didn’t stop you from drawing the short end of the stick when dealing with your pre-pubescent teen years. 

You were a late bloomer– while Nat developed boobs and became a natural flirt at 13 years of age, you were still dealing with the bullies at 13 years old whilst trying to navigate hormones, underdeveloped boobs and pre-teen acne. Bucky quickly developed a barely there mustache and a smirk that made all of the other girls swoon (though, you were convinced that it was really just for Natasha instead). And Steve…well, Steve was like you. Underdeveloped, skinny, no hair to be found on his face. He was as tall as you, and dealt with the bullies way worse off than you ever had to do. 

But that didn’t stop you from falling in love with Steve Rogers. 

Steve was one of your best friends. He always looked after you, whether it were mean girls coming to pick on you again or making sure that you got lunch together. You walked home together, stayed at each other’s houses to study or play video games. You developed a routine where one day in a week, you would order a chocolate chip milkshake while he got a vanilla whip at your local diner, and stayed there for hours just talking about your common interests together. Steve gave you your nickname, ‘chip,’ since he constantly made fun of the fact that you got the same milkshake everytime.

You also remember when the both of you decided to be each other’s first kiss. It was awkward and weirdly coordinated, but it was nice and you trusted each other. You both laughed afterwards and hugged, swearing to each other your friendship was still intact. When your parents would make playful jokes or tease you about when you and Steve were going to be a couple, you blushed and would shy away. 

Where Steve was, you were there too. 

You were basically inseparable as you both knew that you two were the underdogs of the group. Bucky and Nat quickly became the ‘It’ power couple as you all entered into highschool. Steve and you were the glue to your little gang and it just felt so nice to not be alone.

Thankfully, you were able to grow more into yourself by the time that you were 16 years old. Your skin cleared up a bit as you learned to develop a skin care routine, and your boobs started to actually look like there were two of them. Though, you never could quite get past the social isolations (despite the fact that your two best friends were the hottest and the most popular kids at school). 

And while you changed a little bit, Steve…well– Steve changed alot. It was like one day he just woke up and became the guy that he was always meant to be. He started developing a build and grew a beard, had a huge growth spurt and joined the football team. He became strong and capable of anything. But, he was still Steve. He continued fighting for the ‘little guy’ even though he became on par with Bucky and Nat’s social class at school. 

Unfortunately, with Steve’s new social status came the one thing that you couldn’t compete with: Sharon Carter. 

Captain of the cheerleading team, it was almost natural for Steve and her to become a couple. You remembered the day that Steve and you hung out after school for your regular milkshake when he told you quietly that Sharon asked him out to the junior year annual dance. He blushed beautifully as he told his best friend the news, and you made sure to plaster on a fake smile and told him that you were happy for him.

After he took you home, you did your homework, took a shower– and as you got into bed, you cried yourself to sleep feeling utterly alone for the first time in your life. 

Things changed after that. Steve couldn’t walk you home because he was walking Sharon home. He couldn’t play video games with you at yours because he was at Sharon’s. Then, he started canceling your daily milkshake hang outs. 

“I’m sorry, Chip- I have practice to get to.” 

“Sharon mentioned that she needed my help today. I’ll see you next week.”

But next week came and went, and still no Steve.

You quickly realized that Steve was blowing you off when you caught him making out with Sharon at the library in school when he told you the day before that he was going to be at football practice. 

You didn’t mean to catch him at all - but you heard noises and glanced over to see him and Sharon behind the well-known ‘hook up’ section of the library. You squeaked in surprise since they were only half clothed, Steve with his shirt off and Sharon in only her bra. As you stood there shocked, you caught Steve’s widened eyes as they both turned to look at you. Sharon was pretty annoyed that you interrupted them (clocking her narrowed glare), but Steve at least had the decency to look embarrassed as they both put their clothes back on. 

The shock of catching him in the act wasn’t as surprising (as much as it broke your heart, you knew that people in relationships would typically take it to that level fairly quickly). What was surprising was Steve’s reaction. You thought that maybe he would apologize for lying to you, or for blowing you off as many times as he did. But instead, he cleared his throat and his eyes became more stern as he didn’t say a word. He took Sharon’s hand in his and left. 

You remembered standing there for another 5 minutes until you saw another couple glare at you as they took Steve and Sharon’s space. You didn’t even get what you came for– you walked straight home, crying, despondent over losing your best friend. (It was the movie scene where the side character gets discarded and cries silently in the rain - you felt so pathetic).

From that point forward, you didn’t bother texting Steve anymore. And he didn’t ever attempt to text you. He ignored you in the hallways and you didn’t ever look up at him when you would pass each other either. 

Throughout all this, Nat and Bucky were there for you when you came to them about what happened and your waning friendship with Steve. Nat was pissed while Bucky looked confused as to how your friendship could change so quickly. Even though they were still close with Steve too, Nat and Bucky made sure to include you more during their hangouts or offer to take you home, which you felt grateful for, but it didn’t change the fact they had each other. And that you were still alone. 

College was your wake up call to move on from Steve Rogers. You applied to universities that were all out of state, intentionally left your decision last minute so that no one could talk you out of it. Your parents didn’t approve but ultimately respected your decision. 

You remembered graduation where all of your parents made you take a group photo on the bleachers. Nat and Bucky were on the higher step as you and Steve took the lower one. It was awkward as you two barely looked at each other, and fumbled on where to place your hands. It was Bucky who eventually groaned exasperatedly and placed your hand on Steve’s back while he placed his around your waist. 

You recall the moment that really ended things between you and Steve, which was a party at one of Bucky's friends’ places. Nat and Bucky invited you to come in order to have your ‘last high school experience’ (whatever that meant). Unbeknownst to them, you were leaving the next day for settling in your new university halfway across the world. 

The party was blasting obnoxious EDM and the house was littered with red solo cups and other kids yelling at each other as they played beer pong. Feeling so displaced, you took a beer and headed upstairs to look for an empty room. 

Just your luck, you would enter the one that had Sharon (again, half-naked) on top of Steve (who was again, also shirtless) on the bed. You obviously interrupted them in the middle of something again. As they both turned to look at you, Sharon groaned your name in annoyance with an ‘ugh, seriously?!” and for you to ‘‘get out.’’ You couldn’t help but ignore her as you looked at Steve once more. 

He had this same look of annoyance in his eyes as he sat up on the bed that was so unfamiliar. You’ve never seen Steve look at you like that before– as if you were a nuisance or some sort of insignificant thing. It was the same look that he gave you at the library. He became the bully that he used to protect you from when you were kids. 

Something took over you in that moment where you felt your already fragile heart just shatter into several pieces. Though, somehow, all traces of self-pity and loneliness left your body as you coldly looked over at this stranger that you realized you maybe never really knew in the first place. In that moment, you tuned out Sharon’s nasty words, and only looked at Steve with an intentional, apathetic glint in your eyes. 

The words just slipped out before you could even process them:

“I wish that I had never met you.” 

You could mutedly hear Sharon scoff and give some sort of insult (you couldn’t really remember honestly) since the only thing that you waited for, and wanted to notice, was Steve’s reaction. You watched as the traces of annoyance in his eyes glazed out and changed into something that looked akin to shock, panic and something else that you couldn’t place. 

Satisfied with finally being able to impact him for once, and to let him know how much you hated him in that moment, you turned to leave determinedly– you were pretty sure that you heard him yell out your name before you left but you slammed the door hard, ran down the stairs, and out of the house until you made the trek home. 

You told yourself that night, as angry tears fell out onto your pillow in your childhood bedroom, that you would move on from Steve Rogers. That you deserved more and that you were going to make space for yourself in your own way. 

As you settled into your new apartment, met Wanda as your new roommate (and now your certified best friend), you received a call from Nat and a text from Bucky.

Natasha was, naturally, upset at you for leaving without telling her. She made you promise to never do that again and to come to her more when you needed her. You felt one piece of your heart pull together again at how sincere and emotional Nat was on the phone. You realized that you may have also neglected your best friend when you and Steve were close, and promised her on the phone to never let that happen again. 

Bucky sent a text saying, “Dude, what the fuck,” which is pretty polite for him, considering the context. You apologized and explained to him your desire to build your own life and while he was still mad at you, he expressed his understanding and respect for your decision.

Bucky and your relationship was never very close like Steve’s and his was, but he always looked after you (in his own way). You felt protected by Bucky in ways that you couldn’t with anyone else, and you knew that he would always ultimately support you as he would his younger sister. He told you to text him if anyone were to bother you, and you promised that you would check in with him daily.

You did receive one text from Steve: “I’m sorry for everything, chip.” That was all he wrote. 

You glared at your phone and deleted his text, so overwhelmed with your anger and determination to remove Steve Rogers from your life. It seemed as if your lack of response was enough for him to get the message that you were done since he didn’t text you since that day. 

At Uni, you really grew and developed into yourself. You became involved in college campus life, got a job as a TA, had a boyfriend or two. You dated one guy for six months before calling it off since you were better off as friends, and any other flings that you’ve had were short-lived or just didn’t land well enough to be in a committed relationship. 

But you learned alot from these relationships and ultimately felt grateful to connect with people as you proved to yourself that you were something without the people back home. That you were more than the girl who loved Steve Rogers. You were proud of yourself for that.

Flashforward to now, you’ve just finished your freshman year of college. You’re visiting home for the summer to visit your parents, and to visit Bucky and Natasha, both of them ultimately decided to attend one of the local colleges. You kept your promise with them and stayed close, and even brought Wanda back with you– since introducing her to them last week, she became fast friends with your childhood friends. 

You haven’t really spoken to Steve since that last stint in high school. Considering that your two best friends were still close with him too, and your families were all close, you couldn’t exactly avoid him. But you never talked about what happened in highschool. At the chance that you would see and interact with each other, you would greet him politely even though there was still some animosity there. 

Steve wasn’t outwardly mean or rude, and he would try to talk with you more than once before in the past year, but you were evasive everytime in avoiding anything deeper than a “hello, how are you doing?.” You would stuff down the guilt from his disappointed and hurt expressions as you actively avoided him. You brushed off your friends who were begging you to try to repair your friendship with Steve– and just go back to school, blissfully living in ignorance. 

But now, as you stood in line awkwardly waiting for the Summer Queens County Fair’s haunted corn maze with Steve (your friends suddenly “needing” to get some drinks or go to the bathroom while Steve and you waited for tickets in line), you felt like you wanted to pass away from the how thick the tension filled the air.

You could practically feel Steve’s tense energy in attempting to engage you in conversation. And damn him, he looked good. His muscles looked even fuller as they were accentuated by a basic white tee, and his beard- argh, his beard- only made his features even more rugged and handsome. 

You hated the way that he could still make your heart flutter, even after all this time had passed. 

“So,” you almost jumped when he finally broke the silence. “How have you been, chip?” 

You felt yourself take a minute to defrost your stiff and frozen body as you turned to look at him. You met his curious gaze and said blatantly, “I’ve been okay.”

Silence filled the space again as your bluntness seemed to envelop the air around you. “Uh, that’s good. Are you…–how are you finding your classes?”

You looked back at him with narrowed eyes and just felt a rush of frustration move through you seeing his eager expression, that puppy dog look that always made you feel empathy for him suddenly made you feel annoyed and impassive.

“We don’t have to do this, Steve.” You said to him bluntly while crossing your arms defensively.

Steve’s own eyes narrowed in confusion and he swallowed heavily. He seemed to be thrown off by your comment. “I’m just trying to get to know you again, chip–”

“Well, I don’t want you to get to know me, Steve, okay?!” You interrupted him as your voice raised before lowering in the latter half. 

Looking up at him, you met his eyes for the third time that night, but what you didn’t expect to see was that he looked so crestfallen and sad. 

The guilt that has built up over the past few years swooped in and rested heavily in your chest. Instantly regretting your outburst, you sighed, “Look, I just think that we may be better off just not talking to each other, okay. We don’t have to try to be friends again just because our friends forced us to finally interact with each other since highschool.”

Steve winced at your cutting words, and he still had this sadness on his face as he looked down at his feet before he said quietly, “I’m not trying to…–I just…it’s been a long time, chip. The last time that I saw you, with Sharon and with what you said, I–,” you both winced in that quick rehash of the incident. Steve finished with a weary sigh, “Honestly, I just miss you.” 

You frowned when listening to his words as the sincerity behind it felt displaced, and out of nowhere. You also couldn't help but feel concerned as you really looked at him. Outwardly, Steve looked as put together as he usually did. But people weren’t used to seeing him the way that you had growing up.

Looking closer, his eyes weren’t as bright as they could be, and they looked tired. Slight dark circles were forming underneath his dim eyes, shading his fully bearded face that was just a tad unkempt. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well and his shoulders had a hunch to them that could be perceived as calmness when you knew that it more resembled a tiredness or despondence. 

Your frown was still on your face as you elected to ignore his declaration of missing you and simply asked, “Are you okay, Stevie?”

At your question, Steve noticeably straightened up and his mouth parted in surprise that reflected in his eyes. You both stood there for a moment as you stared at him with concern and him looking at you with…mirth? With your lips pursed, you glanced at him with narrowed eyes at seeing the humor alight in his eyes, brightening them a bit more towards its familiar shade of cerulean blue.

“Okay, what just happened?” You asked suspiciously. 

Steve’s eyes brightened more and the grin that was growing on his face grew even larger into a soft smile. “You called me Stevie.” 

You lurched back a bit as you replayed the moment briefly in your head and stuttered a bit at the realization. You hadn’t meant to call him that at all, but when you saw that sad look on his face and the signs of it on his body, you couldn’t help but recall moments similar to when you were just kids, walking home, checking in with each other during similar moments, but experiencing these things together. 

“Uh- I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you–,” You blushed and stuttered as you tried and failed at attempting to save your slip. 

“No,” Steve interrupted you, his smile wilting a little bit. “Please, don’t apologize for that. I,– I miss us when we were just kids. Nobody calls me that anymore, well, beyond Nat and Buck, of course.” He said sheepishly while running his hand through his hair, disheveling it even more into a natural, annoyingly perfect quaff. 

You gave him an assented hum and cleared your throat as you looked back down at your feet, giving the flattened grass an invisible kick. You both were quiet again but the awkward animosity wasn’t as present as it was before. You both shifted on your feet a bit more before glancing up at each other from time to time, barely missing each others’ eyes before finally, your gazes met each other at the right time. 

He was looking at you differently– this time with that good-natured smile and levity in his eyes that glinted at you with that same ‘something else’ that you couldn’t quite put a finger on a year ago. 

His small grin was reluctantly infectious as you felt your lips start to curve upwards as a response.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes trying to stuff down your smile as you replied with a cheap response. Memories surfaced again of your witty banter that you used to share that always started with Steve’s little smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you opened them again to meet his own humorous gaze.

Steve’s soft smile grew into a teasing smirk, “That’s good, at least I got a smile and a laugh from you before you start to avoid me again.” 

You only gave him an incredulous look at how blatantly out of pocket that sounded before letting out a sudden, full belly-laugh with him. You couldn’t believe that you were laughing again with Steve Rogers. 

You felt this feeling again too - it wasn’t heartbreak, but rather, the shattered pieces that were shoddily put together again throughout the years felt solidified just a little bit more.

The laughs died down and the both of you remained standing there with genuine grins on your face. Before you lost your nerve, you felt a sudden urge to have him listen to you, to hear you, and to understand what really happened between you two. 

“Steve–,”

“Chip, I–”

You both looked at each other and laughed for a moment before he indicated for you to go first. His grin looked so boyish and sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him as you two were just high school kids in Brooklyn again. Comfortable and authentic, together. 

About to open your mouth, you get interrupted again by the person that you least expected to see on your visit back home.

“Chip? Steve? Oh my gosh, is that you two? Wow, chip! Look at you, you certainly grew into yourself!” Sharon’s pitched voice pierced the mutual bubble that was starting to form between you and Steve and flattened its existence.

You gave her a quick glance over and were internally surprised to see that she seemed to be exactly the same. Her eyeliner framed her hazel brown eyes that were widened in what looked like surprise, and with a hint of condescension (cause why wouldn’t she look down upon you with all of that pity). Her blonde hair resting softly down her back as she stood there in her floral skirt, her friends right behind her glancing over at you and Steve disinterestedly. 

You stood there and gave her a fake shoddy grin as you greeted her back politely. “Sharon, wow, hi.” Your monotonous tone couldn’t be covered up in time before the words left your mouth.

She only gave you a dull hum before she glanced over at Steve with a smirk. “Hi Steve, how are you?” 

The curious part of you couldn’t help but try to catch Steve’s reaction to her presence. You had no idea where things left with them since you left that day, and you never bothered to ask your friends either. Assessing him, he was looking at her with a nonchalant expression, and you were unsure of how deliberate his reaction was as he made small talk with her. 

Trying to gauge his expression, there wasn’t any sadness present in his eyes anymore, nor was there any mirth. But, you did notice a stiffness there. The corner of his eyes crinkled a little too harshly as he forced a polite smile onto his face. You could see his jaw clench as Sharon droned on about her college experience.

Time couldn’t erase the fact that you did know Steve Rogers for some time– and when he was uncomfortable, he wasn't able to hide it at all. 

The theatrical tunes of the fair and the echoes of people screaming in mirth and laughter suddenly came back in as you hear the booth employee for the haunted corn maze (this line was way too long for what it was worth) call for you and Steve to step on up. 

You couldn’t stifle the quiet mutter under your breath, “thank god” as a wave of relief flooded through your body at being able to escape the dangers that you just experienced as you turned around to follow the employee to the front of the maze. You didn’t even say bye to Sharon, and you didn’t even realize that your friends hadn’t returned from their supposed tasks. 

Your mutter may have been louder than you thought as you heard a snort from beside you. Glancing over, Steve was looking down at you with a returned humor that you just rolled your eyes at him. “Well, it’s not like you wanted to be there anymore than I did. Your tells are still exactly the same, Stevie.” You said derisively. 

Ignoring the harshness of your tone, Steve only smiled more as you slipped boundaries again. You only caught it when you saw that he was simply just staring at you in response. Only then did you catch it and you rolled your eyes again with a small smile. His smile grew more as he intentionally leaned and walked into your path as you both followed the employee. You stumbled to your left at his deliberate clumsiness and shoved him away from you playfully before you could stop yourself. 

You’re teasing around with Steve Rogers. And reluctantly admitting, you weren’t unhappy about it. 

You both continued to shove each other away as Steve kept teasing you until you reached the front of the maze. The employee turned to face you before you went inside to explain the rules and you were listening attentively until you heard a throat clear from behind you. Looking back, you see that it's Sharon and her friends. 

Trying to, but unsuccessfully, cover your agape mouth at seeing that they were actually following behind you this entire time, you clenched your jaw with annoyance and turned to face forward again.

The despair that you felt come in earlier from Steve’s arrival has returned tenfold with Sharon’s presence. Paired with the fact that you’re being forced to have entered a haunted corn maze, your hackles rise angrily at the fact that you’re being forced into a situation with both Steve and Sharon that you didn’t even wanna be a witness to, AGAIN.

Feeling suddenly so tired and exhausted, you let out a despondent sigh, “Okay, are we doing this or what?” The employee merely raised their eyebrows before motioning you to move forward in the maze.

You could feel Steve’s eyes following you as he tried to walk next to you, but you could hear Sharon trying to engage with him again. You could hear him respond but you didn't really care anymore. You didn't mean to be rude, but you were feeling resentful of all of it again. Especially hearing Sharon’s whiny voice trying to speak with Steve right directly behind you, you once again felt utterly alone. 

Torches and string lights lit up the corn maze. Although, the night sky was void of any lights or stars, which made the maze really feel like a maze– isolated and desolate. You could hear Sharon’s two friends in the back muttering that they were scared as they let out occasional, little screams at any sounds that could be heard (even if it was just the wind grazing the corn harshly, or honestly, the sounds of their own footsteps, ha.) 

Feeling so bored and wanting to leave, you turned around to just go back when you saw Sharon holding on to Steve’s arm with a worried look on her face. 

You were passing by some rows of hay with a sticky red substance spilling all over it when you heard Sharon’s small screech.

“Omg, you think that’s blood?,” She said with a genuinely worried tone. 

You wanted to laugh so bad as you looked over at Steve, just in time to see the rolling of his eyes and heavy sigh. She seemed to be grasping onto him with an even tighter grip and although Steve wasn’t shaking her off, he did have that uncomfortable look on his face again.

His second aggravated sigh and furrowed brows gave away his annoyance as he attempted to subtly create some space between his body and her touch. You turned forward again as the laughter erupted in your throat, but you managed to stifle it in time with a pursed smile on your face at hearing Sharon’s affronted noise in response. 

You could read a mean girl from far away at this point – Sharon’s attitude wasn’t lost on you nor was her sudden closeness with Steve. But it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would, even if you found out that they were still together after high school. Honestly, a part of you felt satisfied that Steve, the one responsible for the existing tension between you in the first place, was finally just as uncomfortable as you were. To see Sharon offended and to see Steve’s discomfort made you feel a sense of justice and a resurged faith in good ol’ karma. 

That pride you felt in being able to find your own comfort in your healing made you feel giddy. You weren’t in any sense of a relationship that held any drama. It felt good to know that the forced proximity didn’t just affect you at this moment. Yeah, sucks to suck, doesn’t it?

You flinched a few times as you continued walking throughout the maze with some actors coming out to scare you, but as you saw the glaring red Exit sign, you couldn’t wait to get outta there. Speed walking at this point, you were determined to walk out of this maze with your gaze forward, determined to not look back at the two sore points of the past few years. 

You made it to the exit and sighed in relief. You were already a few paces away when you heard Steve call for you.

“Wait, chip! –” 

The body is a wonder - your mind was so fixated on leaving but when you heard him call out for you, your mind flashed to the both of you waiting in line, flashed to the sounds of your laughter mixing together, the feeling of him leaning into you. You didn’t want to but, suddenly, your feet just stopped in place and you turned around to look over at him. Hope swelled in your chest…

And there was Steve. And Sharon. Kissing. 

You inhaled deeply at the sight, not expecting to have caught them, yet again, mid-kiss. The tension knotting in your stomach finally exploded, and your stomach dropped making your feet feel so heavy. It was like watching a car crash happening in front of you - you felt fixated and couldn’t move, turn away. The hope that was swelling in your chest evaporated like mist, and you felt so foolish. The pieces that were somehow lodged together again from your earlier interaction broke into pieces, and felt grinded into dust. The wind took its opportune moment to breeze through your hair, and it almost felt like it intentionally took your longing for your best friend again with it.

Steve gripped Sharon’s arms harshly, shoving her away from him with an angry expression on his face. “Sharon, what the hell?!” He exclaimed. Turning away from Sharon and her pouted expression, his widened eyes frantically found yours. 

Even a few feet away, the panic that you saw in them was familiar. You remember seeing it exactly when you had severed the existing relationship between you and Steve that night. 

You couldn’t help your reactiveness– you were feeling so triggered by what you were witnessing. Your vision started to get blurry as you felt that familiar burning sensation building in your eyes. The panic in Steve’s eyes intensified at the sight, and when he made a move to step forward, your feet instinctively took one step back. 

Completing the reenacted memory, you felt your mouth press into a hardened line as you met his gaze with a ferocious determination. Familiar numbness rose up and a lethargic apathy just washed over you. You bravely met his gaze and although the words weren’t being said, you and Steve both heard the words.

“I wish that I had never met you.” 

The truth was, the anger and rage that you were feeling (and let’s be honest, the resentment that you suppressed and just gaslit yourself into reframing it as healing) was just the surface. Underneath, a deep and hollow feeling of just being unwanted and undesirable bubbled up with a vengeance. You didn’t wanna hear it, but you were tired, were abandoned by your friend(s), and energy depleted from tonight’s event. You knew you couldn’t be there any longer. 

Your feet continued to step back slowly as you heard Steve asking for you to please wait - but then Sharon took his arm again needily and you took that as your opportunity to bolt. 

You dropped your teary-eyed gaze away from his almost desperate looking one, mumbled out a quick excuse and left with a brisk nod. It was just like when you were 17 again, you heard Steve call out your name again but you don’t stop to look. You didn’t see him staring after you so longingly and looking so dejected, nor did you see him blatantly remove his arm from Sharon’s grip again while they hushed out intense looking whispers at each other. 

The parking lot of the carnival was in sight as you wiped away the bitter tears from your face. You knew that leaving was immature of you, and you knew that you would disappoint your friends. You knew that you were breaking your promises to Nat and Bucky (and now Wanda) about talking with them before making any impulsive decisions.

You reached your old pick-up and opened the door harshly. The tears wouldn’t stop as you stood outside the car. Almost child-like, your hands curled into fists as you brought them to your eyes and just sobbed. 

For a moment there, you thought that maybe…maybe you could start again. Maybe you and Steve could rekindle your friendship, or at least, talk things through. You thought that maybe you’d be able to continue laughing again. You shook your head, feeling so much pity for yourself. 

Heaving out another wilted sigh, you closed your eyes and tilted your head back to allow the fresh winded air to dry your tears upon your chilled face. You needed time to think, and you knew exactly where you wanted to go, and what you needed. 

The sweetness of the chocolate shavings melted in your mouth, leaving only the sugary taste behind. You took another sip of your milkshake and made sure to swipe some whipped cream from the top for an extra sweet finish. 

The diner was mostly empty, spare a truck driver or two sitting by the bar tops. You mindlessly stir your milkshake some more with the plastic straw and couldn’t help but relieve another sigh from your body. You came to the diner for nostalgia’s sake, and a chocolate chip milkshake was always a huge dopamine boost for whenever you were feeling sad. 

But this time, getting your favorite milkshake at the diner left more of a sour taste in your mouth as each sip just reminded you of Steve.

You decided that you would try to bring yourself to feeling better before you left for home, which meant drinking your milkshake, making small talk with Betty (the sweet, old waitress who has been giving you milkshakes for free since you were a teenager), and settling the grievances that you could actually fix. 

You instantly texted Wanda to let you know that you had left the carnival, and that you hoped that she was having fun going to the bathroom for the past hour. Instantly receiving an apologetic text back for ditching you with Steve, you figured it was as good a time as any to also let her know that she would have to ride back with Bucky and Nat (given the fact that you also had basically left her there too). She sent you the mouth wide open face emoji, and you knew that you both could call it even.

Nat texted you a selfie of her and Bucky pouting remorsefully. It was enough to make you crack a grin (Bucky looked so ridiculous). You demurely sent them back a picture of your middle finger (because you were the bigger person of course), which only had her text back an apology with an IOU. You knew that they were only trying to be your friends, but at least you would have this photo as blackmail for future purposes. 

You started to play a game on your phone mindlessly when you heard the door ring, indicating a new customer walking in. Not even looking up, you proceeded to win the next level of the game until someone set another chocolate chip milkshake down on your table. 

“Oh, it’s okay, Bet, I didn’t want–,” you started to say as you looked up. But it wasn’t Betty who dropped off the milkshake. 

It was Steve. 

Your eyes widened a bit in just processing that he was actually there, standing in front of you. He actually came to find you? The scene from earlier was so crystal clear and akin to your high school memory, you were convinced that that would be it. As you sat there staring doe-eyed at Steve, the scene had felt like it glitched as it was now playing out differently than you had expected.

Heat rose to your cheeks as your gaze focused on Steve’s determined facial expression. You turned forward to face your new milkshake and deliberately avoided his narrowed gaze. You could feel him still staring at you and you shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t say anything but moved to sit across from you in the booth, heaving out a heavy sigh of his own as he did too.

You kept your eyes down as the both of you let the silence permeate the air around you. A few minutes passed before you were about to officially just get up and leave when Steve broke the silence first. 

“I swear,” he turned to look over at you with an exasperated gaze. “I had no idea that she was going to be there.”

A disbelieving scoff came out of your mouth and you rolled your eyes blatantly. “Steve stop, again, you don’t have to do this – “ 

“Stop saying that, chip!” His voice was filled with a sternness that you couldn’t ignore. Your eyes widened at him as he continued, “I’m here because I want to be, okay? Not cause Bucky, or Nat, or your family told me to or forced me to. I found you - and I asked you to wait earlier and you ran away, again!”

A glare scrunched up your face as your fury rose up at the audacity of his scolding, “Excuse me?! I didn’t want to wait because I didn’t want to watch you and Sharon sucking each other’s faces off, again!” You flourished your mocking with a tight expression and only caused Steve to oppose you even more.

“She was the one who kissed me – I didn’t want to be there with her either. I haven’t even seen or spoken to Sharon since you left!” Steve blurted out.

Your heart felt like it was racing in your chest and your mind blanked at hearing Steve’s reveal as you tried to stutter out a response. “What– I don’t–,” words were hard. You thought that they were together for some time during the year in college. With the way that Sharon was acting, you assumed that they were still interacting with each other, somehow, at the very least.

Steve took advantage of your surprised silence and continued, “God, chip. After what happened at the party, I just…I realized then how much I hurt you.” He looked at you with such remorse as you just continued staring at him. The hardness that was built over the years was still surrounding you, trying to protect you, even if Steve was professing his regret. 

“When I heard you say that you regretted having ever met me,” you both flinched at the words as he said them, “and this look in your eyes…it looked like you really despised me and I felt it and I just–,” Steve cut himself off with another flinch and pinched his eyes shut. 

“I let it get to my head. When I made the team and when people started to pay attention to me, when those bullies stopped bothering me and actually invited me to things, I lost sight of what really mattered to me the most and that was you. I know that that is a stupid excuse, and that I was hurting you, even way before what happened at the party and I was dumb, immature, and just stupid, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, chip.” He spewed out the words faster than he could coherently process them but the sincerity could be heard in his rushed tone. 

His downcast, teary eyed gaze met yours and you felt your breath hitch slightly at the sight. Growing up with Steve, he was always the formidable one. He was the one who reached out first to hold your hand if you cried. The one to maintain composure and calmness while you were the one who was more nervous and panicked. To see Steve so out of breath, wistful, and low-spirited was worrisome and unfamiliar to you. 

You were at a loss for words as you tried your best to process his words. Steve bit his lip nervously as he tried to gauge your reaction. When you only met him with more silence, the despondent look in his face only grew, “Please. I completely understand if you still don’t want to be friends, and after this, I’ll completely leave you alone. But honestly, chip, I can’t leave knowing that you still hate me. I- I know that’s selfish, but I can’t.” 

You moved your stare to blankly look at your melting milkshake, the whipped cream completely evaporated into the cold drink. 

“You hurt me.” You blurted out.

Steve almost looked startled at hearing your voice after such a lingering silence. “I know, and I’m so sorry–.”

“No, Steve,” You interrupted him indignantly, “you hurt me.” The tears blurred your unseeing gaze again as you focused enough to meet his own. The whimper dislodged in your throat as you could no longer hide the suppressed pain.

Just like that, the both of you were 15 years old again. You were crying after being teased by other kids or bullied for your flaws, and Steve was there trying to console you. The impact of these experiences were a shared burden impenetrable to your friendship together.

The difference now is that, instead of your tears being spurred by the mean-spirited popular kids, Steve was the one who committed the offense, a betrayal that cut so deep and you were the only one to shoulder the burden. 

Steve swallowed heavily as he blinked furiously to hold his own tears at bay. He seemed to understand what you were saying as his eyes glanced over the different features of your face. He knew all of your vulnerabilities and ignored, neglected his care of you by treating you the way that others had growing up. He abandoned you when you needed him the most, and he had to understand the severity of that in the same way that you tried to tell him then as you were now. 

Steve exhaled deeply as he looked over at you. His still despondent eyes held a layer of genuine understanding as he apologized despairingly, “I’m so sorry.” 

You sniffled as tears fell freely onto your cheeks, your puffy eyes and pained expression causing Steve to flinch in his own despondence. You brought a closed fist to your face again to wipe the tears and winced as you suddenly felt strong, sturdy arms envelop you in a soft embrace.

The tears only came down stronger at the feeling of hugging your best friend. Not feeling so alone anymore, your heart cried out with you in relief as you turned and tucked your face into his chest, your arms moved to clutch his back. Once you did, his embrace only became tighter as he squeezed you to him closer. 

You both sat there for a while, just hugging, soft sobs falling from your lips while Steve continued to repeat quiet, but earnest, apologies. After a year of animosity, sadness, and unresolved hurt, the both of you silently agreed to let this moment just be. 

Eventually, your tears stopped running so harshly and you sniffled back your snot-filled nose very charmingly as you reluctantly pulled away from his warmth. Steve still kept one muscular arm around your shoulder as you looked up at him hesitantly.

“Stevie?” You began to ask. Steve responded with a soft hum for you to continue while rubbing your shoulder soothingly. It didn’t even seem like he noticed that he was doing it.

Before you could lose your nerve, you meekly asked, “Why did you start pulling away from me when you started dating Sharon?” 

Steve’s hand froze and he stilled as if he were preparing for the worst. He sighed while closing his eyes for a moment. Taking a breath, he opened them back up to look at you with a resolved and honest gaze.

“When I told you that Sharon asked me to the prom, I thought that would’ve been the moment that you told me that you liked me the same way that I liked you.” 

Your heart thundered so loudly in your chest as you gave him a shocked, glazed over expression. 

He liked you.

“But then you smiled at me, and you said that you were happy for me, and, I guess a part of me felt like I was foolish to have ever thought that you would actually like me more than a friend. I continued things with Sharon because I felt like I had to get over you.” He said regretfully. 

You blinked up at him a few times before you asked dumbly, “And that’s why you were pulling away? The lies and the fake excuses, or why you ignored me when you were with Sharon?” 

Steve flinched with each question as he confessed, “Yes. It was really immature of me to ignore you. If I could go back and do it over, I would in a heartbeat.” An intentional look sat on his face as he expressed his remorse. 

You released another speechless hum in return, still processing that Steve liked you. In a spur of your own adrenaline running through your body, you suddenly disclosed, “Steve, I did like you the way that you liked me.”

Steve stilled and inhaled sharply, “...W-what do you mean?” 

Mustering up your own fostered courage, you exhaled deeply and said, “I liked you too. But I was your best friend. I thought that you were the one who didn’t like me, so I thought that if I supported you in dating Sharon, I wouldn’t lose you completely.” You felt your face scrunch in confusion as how ridiculously unnecessary this entire separation was.

He only looked at you with incredulity as he realized, “So, because we couldn’t just buck up and tell each other honestly in that moment that we liked each other, we ended up losing each other anyways?” 

“Ugh, what a mess.” You revered and knocked your forehead against his chest ashamedly. You both were quiet again as he resumed rubbing your shoulder calmingly. 

“Chip?” Steve suddenly spoke out. 

Raising your head up to look at him again, still cringing from such a huge misunderstanding, you gave him a soft hum to continue his inquiry. 

Steve looked down into your eyes, making you feel mesmerized with how deeply he was gazing at you. From how close your faces were, you could really see the subtle hints of green in his blue eyes. There was still some grief there as you looked at each other but there was again, something else that you still couldn’t point out. 

Noticing that unknowing glint in his eye for the second time that night, you questioned him curiously hoping to finally find out, “What is it?”

“I like you.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, his eyes filled with mirth again and an honesty that couldn’t be faked. Your thundering heart skipped a beat as you felt your own spirit restore within you. You could feel those pieces in your heart start to build again. 

You looked back at him with such relief as Steve pulled you in closer, you took in another deep breath as you responded.

“I love you.” 

His eyes immediately glowed with an infectious joy, a genuine laugh and smile graced his face as he got closer to you. You could hardly breathe as you returned his loving gaze, his nose nuzzled yours gently until the both of you met each other halfway in a tender, first kiss. 

A/N: my cue to say: and they lived happily ever after! i would love to know what people thought, thanks for reading :)

Main Masterlist

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Tag(s): @patzammit @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @stellar-solar-flare @mercurial-chuckles

[meownotgood]

holds my hands out gently..... what are some aki fics (besides ur masterpieces omg u carry this fandom) u would recommend? (also im so sorry about the situation rn hang in there, u got a lot of support surrounding u 🩵🩵🩵)

🫂 love u anon! of course, here's some aki fics I enjoy!!! :)

contract with the devil and the sequel return of the devil by @arabaka (delicious filth in the BEST way)

detour by @f1gments (so good and juicy, my lover is so talented 💫)

rush job and like you never left by @pompomegranate (perfect and spicy!! plus I love how aki is written so much especially in like you never left)

I'll fetch you anything you like by @brayneworms (so yummy but so well written. deserves to be savored many times over)

hold my hand, there's no need to be brave by @hash-slinging-slasher-trash (absolutely beautiful and tugs at my poor heart like nothing else. I think of this at least weekly)

[venus-haze]

Howl (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: It’s almost inevitable, going on a road trip and ending up with car trouble. The nearby town of Ambrose seems like the perfect place to get your friend’s car a new battery without going off schedule too much, except the handsome mechanic at the body shop decides a dead battery will be the least of your worries as the road trip abruptly ends far worse than you could have imagined.

Note: Please read the warnings before deciding to engage with this fic. Reader is a cis woman, but no other descriptors are used. Your age is ambiguous in this, but it was written with a reader in their 20s or older in mind. This is my first slasher fic, but I’d like to write more. I hope Bo isn’t OOC in this (especially the ending, I feel kinda eh about it). I rewatched the movie and read the script right before starting on this but who knows. Please let me know what you think! Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings: Murder/death. Descriptions of violence involving weapons (guns and knives). Disturbing and sadistic behavior. Misogyny. Kidnapping and prolonged captivity which involves physical abuse, emotional and psychological manipulation, major Stockholm syndrome, distorted sense of time and self. Duct tape as a gag. Sexually explicit content which involves coercion (non/dubcon), knifeplay, bloodplay, and cigarette burns. Do not interact if you are under 18.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips when you and your small group of roadtripping friends arrived in Ambrose, a charming little town tucked in a forgotten corner of the Louisiana swamplands. You felt comfortable there, safe, even. Disarmed by a nostalgic main street lined with colorful family-owned shops, you thought nothing of it when you all made the trek to reach the town’s gas station and body shop in search of a new battery for Laura’s car. Sure, the detour put a damper on the road trip, but you figured it’d only cost an hour or two of driving time.

Just your luck, the gas station was there, as the strange man along the highway had promised. That didn’t necessarily mean the place was open, as the gas pumps were half-rusted and at the obvious mercy of the elements. You had let your friends argue amongst themselves about whether or not to go inside the shop. You were the only one who noticed a broad-shouldered, handsome man in a blue mechanic’s jumpsuit walk out of the garage that had just started blaring heavy metal from inside. Funny, you would’ve suspected a place like that to play some twangy country classics. The mechanic stood a few feet away from you all, watching the scene in amusement, and you gave him an apologetic smile.

When he gave you a smile in return, one that was more wolf than man, you thought that you’d offer your throat to him without hesitation, let him feast on you as he pleased. As much as you hoped looking a wolf in the mouth would somehow defang him, he seemed famished, in an almost controlled desperation the way one hears howling in the night. You were presented with a blood red flag from the start and willingly ignored it just because you were a bit too curious about the fire behind his eyes and the way he blatantly ogled you, not your friends. 

Trying to make polite conversation with him, you had asked him about the music that was playing in the body shop—Anthrax? Megadeth? Korn? You threw out names of metal bands, ones you’d seen on t-shirts or posters. He regarded you with amusement as he answered, though you’d retroactively acknowledge the predatory undertone of his words and actions toward you in the hour or so leading up to your life going to hell. He was always going to devour you.

Like everything in Ambrose, his good ol’ boy charm was nothing more than a facade to keep you in town as long as possible. Introducing himself as Bo, the exact man you all were told to look for, Michelle had cut to the chase and told him that Laura’s car was in need of a new battery. Your guard lowered even more as he threw compliments around like candy, asking all the right questions about the roadtrip you were 347 miles into. He searched for a brand new, more reliable car battery in the shop and the garage, only to muse as he charmingly adjusted his worn-out trucker cap that it might be back up at his house, one of the business deliveries he gets up there, he just hadn’t gotten a chance to unpack it yet.

In hindsight, you weren’t sure why you believed him, or why you let Renee walk up to the house with him by herself. What you couldn’t admit to yourself was that you almost didn’t, feeling jealous at the thought of her alone with Bo. A brief sense of satisfaction had swept over you when, for the second time, Bo’s attention was fixed on your body before he headed off to the house with Renee. You hadn’t seen her since.

The metal door of the basement hovel where you had found yourself trapped for god knows how long slammed open, and you jolted—at the harsh sound and at his unkempt appearance, sweat dripping from his brow, rage in his eyes, his chest heaving as he stalked over to the same spot you’d been in since he dragged you, screaming and crying but with no real fight, as you ashamedly reminded yourself, down there.

“Your friend is gettin’ on my last damn nerve,” he growled. 

A foolish hope bubbled warm in your chest at this. Someone was still alive, someone besides you at least. Which one though? You’d seen a looming tower of a man with long black hair stab Laura and drag away her limp form while Bo had wrangled you back into the body shop and down to whatever fucking dungeon you were probably going to die in. Renee was airheaded and shallow; you admittedly didn’t like her much, but damn, if she found a way out of Ambrose, you’d be her best friend. You’d bet anything it was Michelle, though. She was the one who had doubts about stopping in Ambrose in the first place, going so far as to call bullshit when Bo claimed the car battery was up at his house. 

It wasn’t like you could ask. He’d slapped duct tape over your mouth, as to his frustration he found he was out of superglue to seal your lips shut. The things that slip your mind. At least you still had your clothes on, though you doubted that would last. Blood, though you weren’t sure whose, stained your shirt beyond salvation anyway.

“Bitch won’t shut the fuck up,” he grumbled, double-checking that the restraints were secured. 

You resisted the urge to scoff, as if you hadn’t spent the past twenty minutes exhausting yourself trying to break out of them. The bastard was expertly thorough, to your despair. You had gotten a surge of adrenaline in his earlier absence, a newfound will to escape and survive as you tugged at the leather straps and duct tape holding you in place on the surgical bed, praying for some kind of give. As soon as he stepped foot through that door again, slamming it behind him, you had been no closer to freedom than when he left. The gravity of the situation came crashing down on you, a suffocating hopelessness.

His sleeves had rolled up a bit, and you noticed scarring around his wrists, raised and angry looking despite having healed for some time. You’d never seen scarring like that before, wondering what could have caused such intense trauma to his skin like that.

His eyes followed yours, and he curled his lip, backhanding you across the face. “Ain’t polite to stare.”

The stinging pain in your jaw and the weight of his intense gaze made breathing difficult—that and the duct tape. You began to hyperventilate, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He cooed in mock sympathy, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall down your face.

“Save those for later, darlin’,” he said. “I got somethin’ special in mind for you.”

He left your side to begin rifling through a duffel bag in a dark corner of the room. Emerging back into the light moments later, he had a hand-held video camera and a plastic tripod. Despite your lips being sealed, you hoped the noises of protest you made would somehow change his mind. Instead, he seemed amused by them as he set down the tripod and began adjusting the camera on top of it, giving you a wink as the green light near the lens flickered on.

You stared at the cracked cement ceiling while he set up the video camera a few feet away from where he had you restrained, unwilling to acknowledge what was about to happen. You’d rather be dead—though you figured by the end of the night, you would be. 

“Anyone ever tell you how fuckin’ pretty you are?” he asked, observing you through the small screen that flipped out from the side of the camera.

No, and you certainly didn’t want this to be the situation in which someone finally did. You wondered how many of your fallen comrades taped up on the dingy wall had heard the same line. It was almost impossible not to look at them, the dozens of polaroids of young women strapped to the same surgical bed as you, all in various states of brutalization, plainly spelling out your fate. None of the photos had captions scrawled beneath them, no dates or names—he probably didn’t know yours, either. 

Bo snapped his fingers three times in a row, your startled gaze immediately shooting over to him behind the camera where he was adjusting the settings. At least his tinkering delayed the inevitable. You stared intensely into the camera as if trying to will it to break, put up a fight on your behalf so he’d call the whole thing off.

He grinned at your obedience. “That’s it. Eyes on me, doll.”

You whimpered. Doll, how appropriate, how fucking fitting. The second he got his hands on you, your personhood was dissolved into objectification. You had welcomed the prelude to it, the desire in his eyes when he openly stared at you earlier as he fed your ego so you’d end up right where he wanted you—accessible, vulnerable, defenseless.

“Perfect,” Bo whispered, as the green light turned red, indicating he’d begun recording. He stepped aside and grabbed a nearby knife as he made his way over to you.

The video camera was no longer your ally; it couldn’t buy you any more time from the inevitable. In an instant, it became your voyeur, a guilty bystander in the terrorization that was about to be documented. You wondered where the footage would end up, part of his personal collection, or maybe someone as prolific as him was churning this shit out for sickos online who’d imagine themselves in his place.

He stood angled toward your side, giving the camera a clear view of your body. He took his time drinking in the state of you, bound and terrified as you looked between him and the knife. You relaxed a little when he set the knife to the side, but just as quickly, his hands were on your body.

His big, calloused hand drifted up your skirt—why the fuck did you put on a skirt this morning—to your panties, and you felt your face heat up at the self-satisfied grin that spread across his face as he felt the wet stain on the fabric, slipping his fingers past the elastic to feel your arousal. He toyed with your clit, rubbing and pinching it as you resisted the orgasm you felt creeping up on you. Then, just as you were about to give in and go over the edge, he pulled his hand away, smug at the noise of frustration you made.

Picking up the knife again, he dragged the tip of the blade across the soft skin of your thighs until it rested far too close to your cunt for comfort. Your breathing was ragged, but you tried not to make any sudden movements or do anything to inadvertently provoke him. The bulge in his pants seemed especially pronounced, he certainly wasn’t doing this to you to compensate for something, you could tell that much.

He smirked upon noticing your eyes on the outline of his cock through his clothes. 

“How bad d’you want it, darlin’?” he asked, his voice a low, almost velvety purr.

You shook your head furiously, screwing your eyes shut as he moved the blade, only for him to begin shredding through your clothing until they were nothing but rags on the floor. There was nothing to do but watch in horror as he sliced each of your bra straps, pushing down what was left of the undergarment to allow himself access to your tits. He held the knife to your throat while he leaned down, sucking on one of your nipples until it felt sore, like it was going to bruise. He finally pulled back, smacking your other tit for good measure. 

The knife in his hand was dull, you realized, to your dismay. It appeared clean enough, all things considered, but with a blade like that, any injury he inflicted on you would take more effort on his part and hurt far more on yours. A sharpened blade would hurt, but it’d be quick and precise. You felt bile rise in your throat with nowhere for it to go as you considered how cruelly deliberate he was about all of this. Asshole.

For a few glorious moments, your mind had drifted elsewhere as he used the knife to cut through your panties—until you heard a scream and a groan from outside, both you and Bo pausing to look up at the grate in the ceiling and listen. Another scream and what surely must have been a body hitting the pavement, perhaps it was your imagination running wild, but you could’ve sworn you heard bones crack upon impact. Michelle. You felt your chest tighten.

Bo grinned, his wild gaze back on you as he tauntingly dragged the blade across your collarbone, far too close to your throat for comfort, “Listen, if you’re good for me, I’ll keep ya. Won’t have to end up like your friends up there.”

Keep you. You hated keep you. Keep you was long-term, turning your current situation into a permanent arrangement. Keep you was a threat, a dark omen hanging over your head like a bolt of lightning about to crack down on you. You wondered if any of the girls on the wall were so lucky as to receive such an offer. 

“Whattaya say?” he asked, as if he needed permission.

Another vomit-inducing sound came from above, and you looked at him, nodding wildly. 

He pressed a sloppy kiss to your forehead, a praise of “good girl” coming from deep in his chest.

Without warning, he plunged the blade into your forearm, a jagged, brutal cut that split your tender flesh. You screamed through the tape as white hot pain seared through your body, mascara-stained tears streaking down your cheeks as you writhed against your restraints. As soon as he pulled the knife from your arm and leaned down to lick the blood from the wound he inflicted on you, you passed out cold.

Almost to your disappointment, you awoke a few hours later, your injured arm bandaged up, though you could see your fresh blood stains had become the latest addition to the already stained to hell mattress you were laying on. Your pussy felt sore and aching, and you could only hazard a guess as to what else he did to you after you’d passed out. At least you’d gotten an IUD a few months earlier.

Bo was disgustingly chipper when he checked on you about an hour after you woke up, a smile on his face as he walked down the stairs with a TV dinner and a dusty bottle of soda. The scent of over-microwaved corn made your stomach growl, and you didn’t even like corn that much.

When he removed the tape from your mouth, you knew better than to mouth off or try something, not when you were fully aware of what he was capable of, and enjoyed doing nonetheless. Your compliance pleased him, as he praised you for how well you did, that the video he got was the best one yet—like you were made for it. You immediately lost your appetite.

As days went by, he checked on you frequently, though there was no rhythm to his visits, keeping you on edge. He restocked on super glue, but through reasoning unfathomable to you, decided duct tape suited your mouth better. Sometimes he’d bring food for you that wasn’t even fully heated, and there was something especially hellish about having to eat half-frozen mac n’ cheese. You wished he would at least undo your restraints when you ate, but instead he fed you himself, like you were a child—only allowed microwave dinners that made you feel more nauseous than full and having to drink lukewarm tap water or flat soda from a straw. 

Your arm was healing to his satisfaction, though where he had stabbed you would undoubtedly scar over horrifically. Astoundingly, you didn’t need stitches, but he assured you that Vincent–you assumed the long-haired man who’d killed Laura–was great at stitching people up. You weren’t sure whether to be comforted by that or not. 

Then there was the bed across from the surgical one you were strapped to, its promise of comfort taunted you, but the only time you were in it was when you were restrained as usual, your face buried in the grimy pillows, ass up as he either fucked or belted you until you were crying or bleeding. He preferred both. The TV appeared broken, but you didn’t want to watch anything and be further reminded of the outside world you were missing anyway.

The basement didn’t have a bathroom, and so the only time you were freed from your restraints was when he’d bring you upstairs to the one in the gas station, a knife to your throat the whole ascent up to sunlight, a few taunting yards away from freedom. Though the scummy bathroom had no windows, he went as far to go in with you while you used the toilet, and you knew it was to humiliate you more than it was to make sure you didn’t escape. You couldn’t check what you were sure was your haggard appearance, as the mirror on the wall was covered by brown paper, shards of broken glass poking through the quick cover-up. Maybe it was one of the girls pictured downstairs, seeing an opportunity and taking it, smashing the mirror with an elbow and sheer force of will to put up one last fight. The rust-colored stains on the tile floor told you that while it was a valiant effort, she was not the victor.

You knew you smelled rancid from being down there, anxiously sweating every moment you were in his presence mixed with your own dried blood and his cum that you were sure he’d gotten on every inch of your body at that point. He had presented you with a pack of half-dried, lemon-scented wet wipes on one of your trips up to the bathroom, and you wasted no time in using every one of them to scrub yourself down as he watched intently, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette, the bulge in his pants reminding you that you wouldn’t stay clean for long.

The worst part was, you began looking forward to him checking on you. He was sadistic and deliberately cruel, but isolation did you no favors as your already fragile mental state caused you to crack. Time was absolutely not on your side, you’d lost track of it anyway.

One day, however, you heard another group of unsuspecting travelers speaking to Bo outside the body shop, their voices echoing down the grate that allowed the only natural light in. Your hope for rescue turned into a hope for something that shook you to your core when you acknowledged it—you hoped he wouldn’t replace you. 

While you didn’t want to spend the foreseeable future in a dungeon, strapped to a surgical bed for a psychopath’s amusement, you certainly didn’t want to meet the inevitable, brutal death that awaited you so soon. The women who came before you were nowhere to be found, and you could only imagine the worst had happened to them. You didn’t know what Bo did with the photos and videos he frequently took of you, but you sure as hell didn’t want to spend your final moments as the subject of a hardcore snuff film.

You nearly gagged as you heard Bo use the same lines and excuses that he’d given you and your friends. No one in the group even protested, two people volunteering to tag along with Bo up to the house to get the taillight they needed. It wasn’t long before the sound of an all too familiar struggle ensued above. Metal clattered, people cursed and screamed, tires squealed, and you could hear Bo cursing and struggling before a gun shot rang out, bringing the fight to an end. You weren’t sure who had won until you heard, echoed through the grate, Bo asking Vincent if he was okay. Your stomach turned at the sound of his voice and the fact that he was alive, though you didn’t want to think about whether it did so in disappointment or relief.

You were shaking when Bo stormed into the basement, blood splattered across his face and on his clothes. He punched the wall, shouting “Fuck!” upon impact. 

Your wide eyes were glued to him, and he turned to you, acknowledging your presence with a momentarily intense gaze that inexplicably softened as he closed the short distance between you.

“You were real good,” he said, sounding almost confused. “Stayed nice and quiet while Vincent and me took care of business up there.”

You awkwardly jerked your head toward his face. He’d gotten to know your quirks and tells, as he answered your unspoken question.

“‘S not mine,” he mumbled, sloppily wiping the blood away with his hand. 

The tone in the basement for the next hour or so was almost uncomfortably domestic, like he really cared about you. Perhaps you’d proven your loyalty in his eyes by not making attempts to warn the unsuspecting tourists of what awaited them in Ambrose or trying for some kind of escape amidst the chaos. 

Of the dozens of things you hated admitting to yourself about the situation you were in, you almost liked it better when he was mean to you. There was less guessing, less overthinking when he’d simply throw you around, fuck you, and then leave. 

Over the following days, your conflicting feelings over the slight intimacy he was displaying, a kiss on the forehead here, a meal that wasn’t microwaved there, only grew. If there was anything you could do to gain his favor in this way, you’d do it, you’d do anything for him to be nice to you more than he was cruel. After all, you’d gotten yourself this far with your mouth duct-taped and your arms and legs strapped to a surgical bed or immobilized by the host of restraints he had in his possession. He realized such when you leaned into his touch at one point, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion briefly before he grinned. Neither of you, it seemed, were particularly experienced with whatever relationship you’d found yourselves in.

“C’mon—“ his thick Louisiana drawl made it difficult for you to discern whether he was calling you doll or darl’. Regardless, he freed you of your restraints and presented you with the first article of clothing you’d seen since he brought you down there. It was yours, and you knew exactly where you had put it in your suitcase. A slinky little satin slip that you’d bought days before the trip as nightwear, hoping you’d get lucky in some city or town along the way. The sight of it made you want to scream.

“We’re goin’ on a little date,” he said jovially. 

You shook as you attempted to dress yourself, embarrassed when he had to come over and help you get the slip over your head. The fabric was just as soft and silky as when you’d bought it off the rack, though it was wrinkled and you noticed a white stain near the hem. You supposed you couldn’t have it all.

To make matters worse, your legs were weak from the limited use of them over time, buckling beneath you as you tried to slip your feet into the kitten heels that you didn’t recognize. While Bo made a fuss about having to help you with your shoes as well, easily a size too small anyway, you could tell he relished in how helpless you were.

Finally, he pulled the duct tape off of your mouth. He handed you a tube of chapstick—cherry, though most of the label was worn off, odd, it almost looked like the one Renee had. You could care less, though. It was the first time your mouth was untaped for something other than eating one of the disgusting microwave dinners he brought you or him fucking your throat until you cried. You applied the used chapstick liberally, rubbing your lips together in hopes it would soften them some. 

“Gimme a twirl.” He whistled as you did so with the grace of a newborn fawn. “Shit, oughta enter you in the Miss Ambrose pageant. Knock all them other girls outta the park.”

Miss Ambrose. The posters were plastered throughout town when you arrived. You could only imagine what the qualifications for the winner would have to be.

He brought you upstairs, no knife to your throat this time, but you knew better than to try something when he always had that or a gun on him. Besides, you were far too weak to even make an effective escape attempt. You trudged forward through the shop, almost at the door when you stopped suddenly, catching a glimpse of yourself in the small mirror on the wall.

The reflection wasn’t you. It couldn’t be. The woman who stared back at you was worn-out, beat up, pathetic—you couldn’t accept that he’d done that to you in, well, you really didn’t know how long he’d kept you down there. If Bo noticed your shock at your appearance, he didn’t care, as he pressed a kiss to your bruised, bare shoulder before throwing his arm over it and leading you outside, into the cool night air.

A cigarette was nestled between his fingers in his other hand, and you felt yourself start to sweat at the sight of it. Normally, the worst he would do was blow smoke in your face, amused by your evident discomfort. A not so distant memory of him putting one out on your thigh, cigarette in one hand and video camera in the other, nearly made you tense up. It was almost as if being out of the restraints, out in the open, made you feel more vulnerable to his cruelty.

He offered the smoke to you, and for half a moment you considered taking it so as to not upset him, but you allowed yourself to meekly shake your head. To your relief, it was the right move.

“Good, these things’ll kill ya. Hate to see somethin’ like that happen to my pretty girl,” he said, taking a long drag on the cigarette before flicking it aside.

You could barely keep up with his long strides, the prolonged weakness in your legs and impractical, ill-fitting heels doing you no favors as he led you down the deserted streets of Ambrose. 

The town lit up like it was taunting you, highlighting all of the things you would have noticed if you weren’t too busy making heart-eyes at the handsome mechanic to let them fade into the background. Flickering street lamps laughed at you as you walked up main street under Bo’s arm, making some grand walk of shame past every red flag you ignored, every chance of escape you fumbled. Then again, you were still alive, and Bo had made no mention of Laura, Renee, or Michelle since the night he brought you to the basement. You hated that you didn’t know how long it’d been since then. It could have been a day, it could have been forever. It felt like both.

You stumbled a bit when Bo stopped in front of a light blue, mid century-style house that had seen better days, but inside seemed to be bustling. 

“Little housewarming party for some new neighbors. Thought you might like to see ‘em,” he said.

You couldn’t conceal the shiver that ran through your body at his chipper tone, he only used it when he was going to do something to you. Most of the time, to your frustration, you couldn’t read him, but his tone of voice gave so much away. 

As you and Bo walked up the short path to the front door, you noticed vague silhouettes patterned the plain curtain in the window, though you could hear faint feminine laughter and upbeat music from inside. After school specials from the height of the Satanic Panic flashed briefly through your mind as you wondered if the torture you’d experienced at Bo’s hands was an initiation or ritual of sorts. The thought was oddly comforting, the possibility of your suffering being meaningful as opposed to simply for the amusement of a sadistic killer.

Bo knocked on the front door before finding it unlocked and letting the two of you in. He kept up the pretense of the housewarming party, making quips that fell on deaf ears as you tried to mentally prepare yourself for what you were going to walk into. You held out no hope that the women would help you, and upon entering the living room with Bo, found it wasn’t possible anyway.

No one reacted when you and Bo entered the room, his arm tight around your waist. The TV was blaring a Bewitched rerun, cacophonous with the Connie Francis cassette that was playing on the radio sitting atop a dusty bookshelf. You recognized the song as soon as it went into the chorus—Who’s Sorry Now. The unfortunate irony wasn’t lost on you, but it seemed to be lost on the three women in the room, who hadn’t moved an inch since you and Bo walked in.

Despite the chatter and laughter, it sounded like the noise wasn’t coming from the women, but rather echoed in from elsewhere. Bo’s grip on you loosened, and you took it as his unspoken permission to check out the party for yourself. Cautiously, you stepped forward, unsure of what to expect from them. Were they aware Ambrose was some fucked up murder town? Did they know what Bo had been doing to you?

A strangled scream tore from your aching throat as you saw the faces of your gracious party hosts. A woman leaned against a dingy, stained couch, forced laughter etched into her wax face. Laura. Your eyes drifted to the woman sitting on the couch with her hair curled between her fingers in one hand, the other gripped tightly around a retro dial-tone telephone. Renee. In a nearby armchair that looked like it’d been dragged out of your grandmother’s house sat a woman whose face was scrunched in clear annoyance, her arms folded across her chest. Michelle.

The resemblance to all of them was uncanny. It wasn’t until you leaned in to examine the wax figure of Laura’s face that you noticed it was far too real for your liking. In a panic, you scrambled backward, directly into Bo’s strong chest. You were sure if he had fed you before this, you would have thrown up all over the place. His sheer delight at your distress made you sure your suspicions were correct, your friends had been encased in wax, their dynamic preserved as part of Ambrose’s facade. The people in the shops, chattering you could hear coming from buildings, it was all pretend, all except you and Bo. You’d yet to meet Vincent, but you weren’t sure you wanted to, if this was what he did to his victims.

Bo pushed you onto the couch so that you were clumsily seated between Laura and Renee. You knew better than to move, remaining as still as the wax figures around you until he told you otherwise. Tears flowed freely and silently down your face.

Taking a step back, he tilted his head as he regarded you mockingly. “Ya know, Vincent might have a good point—you’d fit into the scene real well.” 

Out of the corner of your watery eyes, you could have sworn you saw Michelle’s eye twitch from her spot in the armchair. God, was she still alive in there?

“Well darlin’, I can’t blame ya for wantin’ in on this girls’ night here. Seems like you’re missin’ out on a lot of fun,” he said, grinning as he stood over you. “Me and you have a whole lotta fun too, ain’t that right, Y/N?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you choked out a sob at the use of your name, him giving you some of your personhood back was almost too much to handle. He didn’t appreciate the significance of the gesture, or maybe he did and just wanted you to get the fuck over it. Regardless, he let out an impatient growl at your lack of response.

“I’m waitin’ on an answer, doll,” he demanded.

“I want—“ your voice was hoarse, the words clawing their way out of your throat. “I want to stay with you.”

“Yeah?” he whispered, eyes black as he leaned over you, using his body to cage you into your spot on the couch. 

All you could manage was a weak, “Yeah.”

“Guess it’s time to bring you home to meet the family, then.”

He kissed you on the lips, the first time he’d ever done so. He didn’t seem to care that your lips were woefully chapped and bruised, as he deepened the kiss as soon as you began to kiss him back–when did you start kissing him back? Your brain felt fuzzy. It was nice actually kissing him, even though he seemed like he was more concerned with claiming you. Still the situation was fucked up, making out with the man responsible for you and your friends’ misery right next to their wax-preserved corpses. If this constituted a party in Ambrose, you’d decline the invitation next time.

After a few minutes, he broke from the kiss and pulled you up from the couch. He made a show of announcing your departure to the girls, thanking them for putting on such a great party, adding to his own amusement and your crushing guilt. 

The walk back to the gas station was quiet, despair overwhelming you as you neared the building, unsure of how long you’d be stuck in the basement again. 

As you began shuffling over to the front door, he grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Where d’you think you’re goin’? Didn’t I say I was bringin’ ya home?”

“Yeah,” you answered.

“Get your pretty ass in the truck, then,” he said, smacking your ass for emphasis.

He opened the passenger door, and you maneuvered to the middle of the bench seat, correctly assuming he’d want you right next to him as he drove. You weren’t sure where his house was or how long the ride would be as he cut on the engine and began driving up the street, past the fake shops and the blue house where your friends would remain, a twisted, parodic form of themselves preserved forever.

The radio was playing the same heavy metal you’d hear playing from above in the gas station, but you were no more familiar with the artists than you were when you first asked him about him, your sad attempt at flirting that the lonely and insecure part of you figured was harmless, not even considering the worst that could happen.

As he drove the truck up the road, toward a house on a hill, he glanced over at you every so often. The light from the dashboard illuminated his features, and you allowed yourself to take him in, frustratingly handsome and charming when he wanted to be. You wondered if it’d be easier not to feel so soft for him if he were some disgusting old man. 

Bo’s hand gripped your thigh. “Ya look like a damn dream in that.”

“Thank you,” you said, a small smile appearing on your face. 

You’d give him that much, for all the names he called you while putting you through your wildest nightmares, he never said anything negative about your appearance, and if the reflection in the mirror you saw earlier was any indication, you’d been looking rough for a while.

The truck finally stopped, and he helped you out of it, his hand on the small of your back as he led you up to the house. He unlocked the door, and when you walked into the foyer, you were almost surprised that, for the most part, it looked normal and lived-in, clothes strewn about and empty cans of beer on several surfaces. Undoubtedly a mess that smelled of must, cigarettes, and something you couldn’t quite identify. 

Still, at least it was a house and not a windowless torture dungeon. You knew to count your blessings and not comment on the state of the place. It wasn’t often women like you moved up in the world of unwilling captivity. Besides, if you played your cards right, maybe he’d let you clean a bit. Jesus Christ, who were you? Wanting to clean up after him, be this psychopath’s housewife? You sighed. You were whoever he wanted you to be.

“Tired?” he asked.

You shook your head. With the exception of your first night in Ambrose, wherein he went easy on you, as a rule, Bo liked you awake and somewhat alert when he was around, and you knew he wasn’t bringing you to his house for a candlelight dinner followed by a romantic slow dance in the kitchen.

There wasn’t an opportunity to inspect much else of the house, as he began leading you upstairs. All of the doors down the long hallway looked more or less the same, off-white as a result of time and tobacco smoke, streaks of what you assumed was blood on each of them. He stopped in front of a door on the far end of the hall and opened it for you, pulling you inside.

Bo’s room, like what you’d seen of the house, was an organizational disaster. You weren’t sure what to focus on first. It wasn’t until you did so that you realized you should have asked, but when you noticed the stack of Polaroids on top of a nearby dresser, you grabbed them. Each one was of you in various states of torture and pain, framed similarly to the other ones in the basement. He scrawled something beneath one of the photos, and you were able to make out the chicken scratch as your name and ‘pretty when she cries’. The gesture was romantic by Bo’s standards, and you set the photos back down, almost overwhelmed.

Bo walked up behind you, pressing his crotch into your ass so you could feel his erection. One of his hands wrapped around your throat, the other playing with the hem of your slip. He gave your throat a light squeeze, and you remained still, waiting to see what he’d do next in the unfamiliar territory.

He turned you around, giving you a rough kiss before shedding you of your slip, still intact as it pooled at your feet. You almost let a giggle escape from your lips, so he really did like how you looked in it. He wasted no time in pushing you back onto the bed, and you gasped, light and airy at how nice it felt. A real bed, messy and unmade nonetheless, but compared to what you’d been strapped to, it felt like you were floating on a cloud. 

Bo took off his clothes, fully nude before you for the first time. You noticed similar scars around his ankles as those around his wrists but knew better than to stare. Besides, there was so much more to look at when it came to Bo. He was a lot of things, but you’d never accuse him of not being hot. It was one of the first things you’d noticed when you first saw him, and finally getting to see him on full display made your core feel pleasantly warm.

There was no foreplay, none of the pain or cruelty you’d come to expect as he climbed over you. Instead, he pounded his long, hard cock into you, no more concerned with your pleasure than usual, yet your body betrayed you as you neared orgasm despite how roughly he handled you. It was the first time you weren’t restrained while he fucked you, and you had no idea what to do with your hands. 

Hesitantly, you reached up, caressing his cheek. Fazed by the intimacy you initiated, his thrusts became erratic, and he took your hand, kissing your palm before pushing your arm away. Then, as if to remind you who was in charge, not to get too comfortable around him, he, in turn, slapped you across the face, and you came around his cock with a moan that sounded almost foreign. His orgasm soon followed, and he cursed under his breath as his hot cum pumped inside you. 

To your disbelief, he didn’t drag the act out any longer, pulling out of you and allowing you to settle into the pillows. He reached over to the nightstand on his side of the bed—was this now your side of the bed? Would he let you sleep in it with him?—and shook a cigarette out from the pack, sticking it in his mouth and lighting it with a rusted Zippo lighter. 

“Gonna be tough findin’ another girl to keep down there who’ll do it for me like you,” he mused, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Got real lucky with ya.”

Your heart lurched at the thought of another woman down there. You quickly convinced yourself it was out of empathy, after everything that Bo had put you through, to hell and back until you were a shell of yourself and somehow lucky to be alive, you wouldn’t wish that on any woman. 

The part of you that now belonged to him, broken and dependent, seethed with jealousy at the possibility of his attention being divided between you and someone else. He’d spent so much time with you while you were down there, would the other woman get the luxury as he fed and fucked her. Other woman, as if she’d be his mistress, his honey on the side, rather than a captive just like you. You hated yourself, feeling pathetic as ever for having such thoughts.

Despite yourself, you whispered, “No.”

“Whattya mean ‘no’?” he asked, his angered expression quickly dissolving into smugness upon noticing how bashful you were, avoiding his gaze. He couldn’t have that, now. 

Gently lifting your face, he forced you to make direct eye contact with him. “You jealous? Want me all to yourself?”

No. Maybe? Yes. You gave a weak nod at his question, hoping he wouldn’t make you confirm such out loud. You were never as lucky as he was.

“Say it to me, darlin’,” he ordered, his voice soft as he pulled the answer from you.

Humiliated, you gave him what he wanted, all the while mentally convincing yourself otherwise as you admitted tearfully, “I want you to myself, Bo.”

Snuffing the cigarette out in the bedside ashtray, he took your face in his hands and kissed you with an uncharacteristic sweetness, before slyly suggesting a shower together, your first one since you’d gotten to Ambrose. Thoughts of him fucking you mercilessly against the shower wall made you squirm, but it meant you could finally use real soap, maybe even wash your hair. You nodded in agreement, to his further delight. 

You noticed your bags in the corner of the room, mostly undisturbed except for your suitcase, which he had clearly rifled through to get the slip you had been wearing. At least they were still there, maybe he’d let you wear your clothes from now on, even if it was on his terms. You wasted no time in grabbing the bag that housed your makeup and toiletries before following him into the bathroom.

He woke you up the following morning with your choice of engagement rings in a plastic bin—you shuddered to think of what happened to their previous owners—all glittering boldly and promising eternity with a man who would return to you with blood on his hands and fire in his eyes late at night, the predator finally claiming his prey after the long, drawn out chase. Your head was always going to end up mounted on his wall.

[fandomnerd9602]

Stitched Together

Allyson Nelson-Strode x Wick! Reader

Part Two of 'Stitched' - Set during Halloween Ends

Life was moving quite well for you and Allyson Strode. You moved in together with your newly adopted dog. You were on friendly-ish terms with Ally's grandmother Laurie. You even made friends with the local mechanic, a good fellow by the name of Corey Cunningham. All seemed pretty easy going for you.

But then you got the call from the Chicago branch of the Continental. Allyson and Corey didn't know about your real job. The family business. You belong to the lineage of one Jonathan Wick. Most called him the Baba Yaga. You called him Dad.

But there was no time to dwell on that. The Continental called you to a meeting in its bar all the way in Chicago. You told Allyson that you'd have to attend a day conference and went out.

On the way out of town, you found a couple of band geeks beating up Corey, smashing a bottle of chocolate milk in his hand.

You throw the car into a spin and jump out, "hey!" you yell as you run to your friend's aid. The band geeks scatter. Corey looks to you, a little disappointed and a little angry.

"You alright Cunningham?"

"Could be better" he huffs as you quickly wrap his hand in a towel and guide him to your mustang.

It was a detour but you take Corey to the hospital. "Honey" you call out to your girlfriend, "stitch job needed"

She doesn't hesitate to begin the procedure, "well this brings back memories" she chuckles

"Huh?" Corey asks

"Allyson and I met this way" you shrug.

"I got this covered" Ally smiles at you, "you still heading to your meeting? Think you'll be back in time for the party?"

"Yeah" you wave at her as you head out, "I'll be back by tonight"

"Why don't you come with us, Corey?"

Corey actually smiles, "uh...sure."

You make your way out of Haddonfield and towards Chicago. Your destination lies in sight: the Chicago Continental. A building relatively similar to the one in New York.

You walk into the lobby and come face to face with Persephone, the concierge.

"Welcome back to the Continental, Mr. Wick" she smiles, her gothic eyes stare daggers into yours.

"Hey 'Seph" you state, "where is he?"

"The Bar" she smiles, "drinks have already been paid for."

You walk into the hotel's bar to find your grandfather, Winston, sitting there sipping a martini. "Hello (Y/N)" he smiles, "it appears that everyone in the family besides your father has been fighting some sort of slasher"

"New York?"

"Your brother is fighting Ghostface" he winces before taking another sip of his drink. "want anything to drink?"

"I have a drive home, can't drink" you smirk.

"Shame. I feel the Wick boys could use one"

"Maybe after. Why am I here?"

"Your assignment has not changed. We want the head of Michael Myers."

"Easier said than done, Winston"

He smiles, "I thought the Shape was no match for one of the Baba Yagas"

"I'm gonna need guns"

"Check with the armory here, no charge" Winston takes one last drink from his martini as you head out.

You load up on all your weapons. A shotgun with dragon's breath ammo, a bowie knife, and your family's favorite: the 9mm Pit Viper. Your dad would've approved.

Maybe it was some devilish machination or some cruel twist of fate but as you drove towards Haddonfield, something was afoot. Some evil influence had a desire for your friend.

Corey just so happened to run into those band geeks again. He was beaten and thrown over the edge of the bridge.

And something...or rather someone found him.

To Be Continued...

[troublerats]

Who is currently in the cult that grace and Wanda created and what are their family roles? Btw does the cult have a name?

The cult doesn't really have a name, but we personally call them "The Forever Cult" or "The Butcher Family" when referring to them.

The members are Wanda Butcher, Grace McNally, Jack Davis, Abel Owens, Katherine (Kattie/"Kitty") Clyde, and Isabelle Butcher. The rest of the family usually use the last name "Butcher" but those are their legal names. They all function under the alias of a family unit, though are roughly still a family.

In the face of the public, Wanda and Jack usually pretend to be the parents, while Abel, Kattie, and Isabelle are their kids. In reality their unit is a lot more complex.

Although the older adults, Wanda Jack, and Grace, tend to be seen as more parental, it really depends on the kid. Kattie is a lot closer to Jack and Wanda, first Wanda later Jack. Meanwhile Abel is very selective around people and is only really close to Kattie and Grace when it comes to seeing people as parental figures.

Meanwhile Isabelle is only really close with Wanda, and loyal at least to Kattie. She hates Abel at first but later finds she cares for him too. The three adults relationship also tend to be complicated, Jack and Wanda have a love hate relationship and are either arm in arm in allegiance or at eachothers necks in authority. Grace meanwhile tends to keep the peace as she means a lot to them both. Wanda being her romantic partner, and Jack having a close relationship with her that they both can't really describe beyond "not romantic, but not just friends."

But as for them individually:

Wanda is the head of the cult, taking over during a period of Jack's absence. She tends to orchestrate plans and is generally the most fanatic. Despite a brief detour where her and Grace became addicted to a substance called Tarnished Gold, her main goal and the goal of the cult, is to gain immortal life and unravel the mysteries of The Flipside. Wanda also has a vampiric entity attached to her, known as "The Butcher." Which comes out when she has not consumed enough "Gold," and has a bad habit of eating anything and anyone around her. Feeding on blood and automatically transforming it into "Gold."

Jack is the one who first pulled Wanda into him and Grace's plan, making them a unit of 3 killers. Jack and Grace are the ones who new eachother for the longest, not counting Kattie and Abel who grew up together, as for many years him and Grace lived together in a queer platonic relationship. Jack had a partnership with a Flipside entity which exchanged knowledge with him for a piece of Jack's being, symbolized by taking his two front teeth. Jack was able to get in contact with this entity, and pursued by it, due to being a "Philosopher." A human with otherworldly powers that are directly tethered to The Flipside in a way.

But despite having these powers, Jack is actually one of the weakest Philosopher's in the series, and that power is cut in half even further after his deal. Jack and Wanda tend to be the heads of the operation interchangeably.

Grace is the most deadly of the cult, without taking "The Butcher" into account. After an accident her and Jack had, regarding the entity Jack was in contact with, Grace was scarred with one time use alchemical symbols that made her body able to heal from almost any injury. Symbols originally made for Jack, and she's important to the plan because of this. In short, she's essentially a Slasher villain in ability. I make jokes about it often but she could be run over by a car or shot with a shotgun and will get up near moments later. Her wounds will close, her bones will snap back into place, and she'll continue pursuing whoever she's after.

Some injuries take longer to heal, and she normally does have a recovery period, but the immediate damage doesn't slow her down. She's usually the one who brings back the bodies, along with Wanda.

Abel and Kattie are adoptive siblings in a sense. They both grew up together as orphans, going from foster house to foster house, and once Kattie became an adult, she became Abel's legal guardian to get him out of the system. Abel is a teen for most of the story while Kattie floats more around early to mid 20s.

Abel for a good portion of their life, has been fighting leukemia, which has gone in and out of remission several times. He's at the same time also dealt with being paraded around like a savant, taking college level chemistry since late middle school. He later honed this chemistry, into the cults alchemy and production of a more pure and clean version of "Gold." Which he uses as a medicine to treat himself. Meanwhile Kattie, worked hard in robotics, which started as her modifying toys in her teens or making brand new ones. Later specializing in prosthetics and mechanical mannequins. She uses these skills to help and improve Isabelle, as well as her and Abel combine both their skills together to make mechanical monsters and other dangerous devices of sorts. Kattie and Abel tend to be more of the straight men out of the group, while ironically being the 2nd and 3rd youngest.

ISABELLE IS A very normaL and vEry human tEenage girl who likes to hang out and dance with her friends. she is the youngest of the butCHEr's aNd is jaCk and wAnda'S only biological daughtEr, coming after her aDopted sIbliNgs Abel and kattie.

the butcher's are a VEry normal family and kind family, they help their community, and alwayS bring duck eggs to their work or School for othErs. isabeLle, abel, and KATTIE are kids, their parents jaCk and wanda, and wondeRful roommate grace, raised thEm All so well behaved and kind and good.

ThEy live out in the countrysiDe, alone but self sustaining. no one ever visits because of how long the drive is, but i am sure they are great company

[brokehorrorfan]

The Barn: The Novelization is available now in paperback and e-book. Based on Justin M. Seaman's 2016 throwback slasher, the 216-page adaptation is written by Brian G. Berry (Snow Shark).

It's Halloween 1989, best friends Sam and Josh are trying to enjoy what's left of their final Devil's Night before graduating high school. But trouble arises when the two pals and a group of friends take a detour on their way to a rock concert, finding an old abandoned barn and awakening the evil inside. Now it's up to Sam and Josh to find a way to protect their friends and defeat the creatures that lurk within The Barn.

Order The Barn: The Novelization by Brian Berry.

[mediamixs]

The Chucky saga will have a new movie

The new upcoming horror movie involving Chucky is set to be directed by the original creator, Don Mancini. This movie marks the franchise's first canon feature-length outing since 2017's "Cult of Chucky." Don Mancini, who conceptualized Chucky back in 1988, confirmed the news of the upcoming film on the Scream Dreams Podcast. While details are still in the early stages, Mancini hinted at the possibility of sending Chucky into space if there is enough demand from fans. The movie is expected to be more faithful to the existing series, especially with Mancini's involvement, promising a return to the classic Chucky storyline. The Chucky franchise has seen various sequels, spin-offs, and a TV series, with the latest season featuring Chucky infiltrating the White House. The idea of a Chucky in Space movie has been teased, hinting at a potential new direction for the iconic killer doll.

The plot of the new Chucky movie involves the iconic killer doll returning in the third season of the television series. Set as a direct sequel to the seventh film, "Cult of Chucky," the series follows 14-year-old Jake Wheeler who discovers the infamous Good Guy doll in Hackensack, New Jersey. This discovery sets off a chain of events where Chucky's sinister nature collides with Jake's struggles, leading to shocking murders and bizarre occurrences. The third season unfolds with Chucky infiltrating the White House, entwining himself with America's First Family, while characters like Jake, Devon, and Lexy navigate romantic entanglements and growing up amidst the chaos. The series promises a mix of horror, laughter, and unexpected twists that have defined the legacy of Chucky, offering fans a continuation of the doll's chaotic saga.

The genre of the new Chucky movie, directed by the original creator Don Mancini, falls within the slasher sub genre. This upcoming film marks a return to the big screen for the iconic killer doll after a detour to the small screen with the "Chucky" TV series. Don Mancini, the mastermind behind Chucky since 1988, has confirmed his plans to bring the character back to feature films, hinting at potential new directions for the franchise, including the possibility of sending Chucky into space if there is enough demand from fans.

[televinita]

People's Sexiest Man Alive would never steer me wrong!

Idly browsing through DVDs at the library, I saw "Thanksgiving" (apparently released last fall and which, like most movies these days, I've never heard of), whose cover gave off immediate Slasher (the series) vibes so I turned it over to read the back.

Whereupon I saw Patrick Dempsey in a sheriff's uniform and IMMEDIATELY said "sold" and put it in my checkout bag without even reading the summary. This is the level of auto-watch we're at here.

Spoilers for the ending, and also Scream 3 I guess, below the cut:

and listen, I knew it was too much to hope that I would get away with a second horror movie in which he is the kindly local law enforcement who neither dies nor kills, but also I didn't! Especially when he immediately became the reassuring and comforting presence to a teenage girl whose entire remaining family kinda sucks. Not even the godawful accent* stopped me, and believe me, that was A Trial.

[*which, I am horrified to learn while googling to confirm what to call it, is real?? "he was instructed to lose the accent in order to broaden his acting opportunities" well I'm sorry to say, whoever told him that was entirely correct. Just like he had to ditch his original nose. I have never apologized for being shallow as hell in my screen preferences.]

Other thoughts:

+ MC's love interests both kinda suck, but as far as the friend group, I'll be damned if I didn't immediately find them all distinctive and interesting within about ten minutes of knowing them. Goosebumps 2023 aside, I have watched so many exhaustingly bland teens in films and TV shows that I assumed my ability to enjoy an actor under about 25 was gone forever, but no! Look! Here they are, being Interesting! ESPECIALLY the lead...Nell Verlaque? Show me MORE, IMMEDIATELY.

[side detour #2: oh my god, she was also in Big Shots?? TUNA are you KIDDING ME this might finally drive me to the seas, the high ones specifically]

+ In other news, the violence and gore made me sick to my stomach (also like Slasher!), and after about fifteen minutes I simply could not watch most of the terrible scenes. Or at least, I didn't want to, but sometimes I didn't turn away fast enough and they got me. I will be having nightmares, thanks!!!

+ Fortunately I will simply soothe them away with the correct AU in which someone else is the killer because of reasons, and after her remaining family members are brutally butchered, Quasi-Uncle Patrick Dempsey simply steps up to offer her a home and several years' worth of trauma therapy. 🤗

[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 :)

[meownotgood]

20 fic writing questions, thank you for tagging me @hash-slinging-slasher-trash 💪💕

1) how many works do you have on ao3?

14 total works!!

2) total ao3 word count?

253,421.... damn... I haven't checked so I didn't expect it to be so much lol (that's a lot of aki)

3) what fandoms do you write for?

chainsaw maaaan (aki man) but I hope to write more for bg3 in the future because I really enjoyed it!!

4) top 5 fics by kudos?

#1 quiet dream with 1,009 kudos

#2 arrival in tokyo with 568 kudos

#3 fired with 473 kudos

#4 a little death with 413 kudos

#5 cherry waves with 389 kudos

the way my fic with the most hits and kudos isn't even aki... it's a dan heng x reader fic I wrote in like three days... 😭 I suppose it's because I wrote it right when hsr came out so I got in on it early... either way it makes me laugh LOL

5) do you respond to comments?

I try to! I read every one just sometimes too busy to reply

6) what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

the end x3 and last act are pure angst all the way thru. last act is definitely my fic with the darkest or angstiest ending (and also my least popular fic, interestingly) (I don't blame u for not wanting to read about aki dying we read to get away from that ok)

7) the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

happy does not exist in chainsaw man world so the gale fic I recently wrote has to be up there. gale please marry me so we can live happily ever after

8) do you get hate on fics?

not on my fics on ao3 I don't think but I've had anonymous hate mail telling me my writing sucks or whatever, it's to be expected at least once on tumblr so it doesn't bother me in the slightest haha

9) do you write smut?

hahha.... me? noooooo.... I'm innocent... (LYING)

10) craziest crossover?

never written a crossover fic but I've had a lot of dreams about aki meeting other characters if that counts

11) have you ever had a fic stolen?

......... unfortunately 😭 (let's not talk about the incident) (every time I see l*on k*nnedy I hear the voices)

12) have you ever had a fic translated?

not to my knowledge

13) have you ever co-written a fic before?

not exactly but I helped my beloved f1gments write her fic detour and she helped me a lot with under the influence, it wouldn't be a thing without her help!!! ily 💓💞💕💞

14) favorite ship?

me x aki (or akiangel I suppose)

15) a wip you want to finish but probably never will?

I wrote 10k words for a gun fiend fic that never ended up happening, he's quite difficult to write lol...

16) writing strengths?

writing a lot and being unshamefully crazy 💪

17) writing weaknesses?

dialogue is so hard for me 😭 also I need to have more confidence in myself!!

18) thoughts on dialogue in another language?

it's hot.

19) first fandom you wrote in?

if we're talking on ao3 it's chainsaw man, but if we're talking in general... I wrote my fair few of madoka magica and warrior cats fanfictions back in the days.....

20) favorite fic you've written?

I'll always hold a little death close to my heart <3 it was so fun to write and truly when I fell back in love with writing I think. I would have given up if it wasn't for the experience I had creating that fic

not sure who to tag but! anyone is welcome to join!

[denimbex1986]

'...In a 2011 chat with Moviefone, Evans was speaking about his Captain America debut and professing his love for his flop Danny Boyle movie Sunshine.

Why Sunshine Deserved Much Better Than Being A Box Office Bomb

This 2007 sci-fi epic placed Evans beside an incredible ensemble, including Cillian Murphy, Rose Byrne and Michelle Yeoh. Alex Garland (28 Days Later) penned the screenplay, which involved a space crew trying to save the dying sun by dropping a bomb on it; naturally, things go very wrong the closer they get. Sunshine had a relatively modest budget in blockbuster terms, and despite featuring a great cast and a name director, Sunshine was a surprise bomb worldwide that only grossed $32 million.

In the years since, the film has been largely reappraised and even attracted celebrity fans like Quentin Tarantino. Sunshine is basically a B-movie, but one with a unique hook and fronted by a cast that brings real depth and humanity to it. It's smart, ambitious sci-fi that never talks down to its audiences and isn't afraid to get bleak. In short, it's closer to the classic sci-fi movies of the '70s, and as Evans himself stated in the aforementioned interview:

All my good movies, nobody sees. Everybody goes and sees 'Fantastic Four,' but nobody sees 'Sunshine.'

Why Sunshine Bombed At The Box Office

There are a few reasons Sunshine underperformed so profoundly. Probably the key issue is that instead of being released in September 2007 as originally planned, it was moved up to July. Sadly, watching a movie about the sun amid the summer held little appeal to most moviegoers. It didn't help that the film's marketing was quite lackluster too, and compared to crowd-pleasing fare like Michael Bay's Transformers - which released earlier in July 2007 - Sunshine barely stood a chance.

Word of mouth didn't help either, because while most critics and viewers enjoyed Sunshine's first two acts, its bizarre turn into slasher terrority in the finale is jarring. Even Tarantino views the third act switch as a "betrayal" of the film's tone up to that point. There's also the possibility that a grim, R-rated sci-fi adventure just wasn't what audiences were craving in 2007. The film has great setpieces, but it dives into some fairly philosophical ideas and concepts too, and releasing such a project during the summer blockbuster run was a bad idea all around.

How Sunshine's Success Could've Changed Chris Evans' Career

In his Moviefone interview, Evans believes that had Sunshine been a success, it could have completely altered his career. Up to that point in his filmography, Evans had often been cast as the cocky, good-looking guy, including in the Fantastic Four movies. Sunshine allowed Evans to play a more mature character; one who took a level-headed approach to the problems the crew faced while also trying to cope with the stress of saving the world.

It presented Evans in a new light (pun unintended), which could have led him away from blockbusters and towards more adult thrillers and dramas. Instead, Sunshine bombed and Evans refocused on more commercial fare before being cast as Captain America. Given his love for Steve Rogers, it's doubtful Chris Evans regrets that decision, but it is interesting to picture where he would have gone had his sci-fi detour gone to plan. Still, Sunshine is held in high regard now and is easily one of the best sci-fi movies of its kind in the last two decades.'

[brightbeautifulthings]

The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix

"Men die because they make mistakes. Women? We die because we're female."

Year Read: 2022

Rating: 3/5

About: Lynnette Tarkington is a final girl. After surviving a gruesome holiday attack in which the rest of her family were victims, she's grown up a paranoid and over-cautious shut-in whose only contact with the outside world is a support group with other final girls, survivors of their own harrowing mass murders. When the other girls begin to go missing or turn up dead, Lynnette is convinced that they're being targeted by a new killer-- but even her fellow final girls don't believe her. Trigger warnings: character death (graphic, on-page), spouse death (on-page), parent/sibling death, cancer, hospitals, blood/gore, fires, violence, guns, abduction, needles/drugging, alcoholism/drug addiction, trauma, sexism.

Thoughts: I'm a longtime fan of Grady Hendrix, but I found this really underwhelming. In theory, I love the idea of final girls meeting together to support each other and kick some ass. In reality, it's a group of catty women who barely like each other, in-fighting and treating trauma victims like they're crazy. Generally, I like Hendrix's brand of tough, resilient female main characters, but this was not his characterization at its best. I didn't like any of the girls, and my favorite character was Fine, short for Final Plant. I did enjoy it more when they started to come together as a team, but it happens late in the book, and the end message falls a little flat.

There's usually some element of found footage in his books, in this case mostly articles and online commentary about the murder sprees and the film franchises that have sprung up around them, and I found that underwhelming here as well. A lot of it reads like a Fight Club brodude spouting bullshit theories about women and killers and what it all means (one of my only margin notes is, in fact, on one of these pages and says exactly that: "B.S."). I did enjoy Hendrix's acknowledgement section formatted as credits for a horror film though. Cute touch.

Given Lynnette's totally erratic behavior, the plot is all over the place. She doesn't have a plan for most of the book, and the majority of her decisions could charitably be considered Bad Ideas. There's an abundance of pointless travel scenes and an utterly weird detour into the death by cancer of one of the girls' wives, which feels at odds with everything else that's going on (not to mention completely out of place in a story about slashers). The only time I ever wanted more on any of the characters was when the Dream King was brought up. It's obviously a nod to Freddy Kreuger, and it seems to be kept purposely vague here, as the novel is otherwise placed in a realistic world.

This brings me to the most off-kilter thing about this novel. Hendrix has loosely based each final girl on a classic horror film (Halloween, Friday the 13th, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Scream, A Nightmare on Elm Street, what looks like some mashup of Christmas horror movies like Black Christmas and Silent Night, Deadly Night, and I want to say... Leprechaun?). This makes for really fun backstories for any horror fan, but it's at odds with the running critique in this novel about how final girls are treated in real life. People have an unhealthy obsession with the survivors, the girls are often targeted again by people who worship the original killers, and there's a whole black market catered to things from their crime scenes.

I just can't figure out what Hendrix is trying to do with this. If it's a critique aimed at the way true crime is handled in popular culture, that's apropos; I wouldn't doubt a lot of that is true about horrific tragedies like the Manson murders. If it's a critique about the way slasher killers are taken up by popular culture, that's where I get confused because the stories his characters are based on are not real. Sure, fiction can and does influence reality, but we enjoy all kinds of things in fiction we wouldn't tolerate in real life. Half the time, I felt like I should be apologizing for liking (completely fake?) horror movies, and that's alienating for what I'm assuming is the target audience of this book: horror fans. Wrong audience for that particular message-- assuming that there is an over-arching message to this novel, and I'm not convinced. It comes over mostly as a lot of half-baked moralizing with an end theme that's unsupported by the rest of the events.

[scaremichaeltodeath]

In 1980's "Terror Train," Jamie Lee Curtis has the most challenging acting task of all. Pretending to like close-up magic because the magician is kinda cute.

Listen to the second stop on our "Slasher Detour" now!

[whorrorgrl]

What I Watched in July

What didn't I watch this month?

I was going to do my usual thing of just listing off every, single movie I watched within the month. They're usually short of ten, which is good since I'm only able to upload ten pictures at a time on here. But I had a very, very long leave. 31 days exactly. I was bored out of my mind, broke so there's not much I can do, and a natural homebody anyway. I watched a total of 20 movies, and that's only counting new ones. I watched all eleven seasons of Modern Family and then circled back halfway. I watched The Bear, which was pretty good! I'm a sucker for corny sitcoms so I polished off American Housewife. Rewatched some episodes of iZombie. Rewatched a few comfort movies, and decided to go down the horrors of the 80's.

I had a rule and that rule was to watch as many new movies as I could. I'm so prone to sticking to my comfort zones in many sectors of my life. It's why I'm a home-body, it's why I have three good friends, and it's also why hitting failure in the gym's a challenge - my 10-12 reps of moderate weights that only begin to challenge me on the last three is enough.

Anyway!

My favorite era of horror is the 2000's for two good reasons. It gave us gems like Wrong Turn, Texas Chainsaw (2006), Triangle, The Ring, Shutter, Dead Silence, etc. There's a style in storylines, tropes, camera angles, and just general ambiance that bookmarks it as the 2000's. Final girls running through the woods in a classic white tank and blue daisy shorts; A roofless Jeep barreling down a detoured road with teenagers/YA; an entity terrifying a protagonist and the library scene of them researching connections to their harrowing situations. The second reason is, of course, nostalgia. Kind of hard to beat. I grew up on these movies. They're so comforting. I've managed to stick to mostly 2000's and 2010's movies, but I know there are gems I'm missing out on. Few I'm already acquainted with are Misery, Death Becomes Her, The Craft, the Scream franchise, the Sixth Sense, etc. However, these movies are only a few years to a decade shy of the 2000's, which obviously took its influence from its predecessors. But two generations away? The 80's seemed far fetched. I convinced myself that I wouldn't like it or maybe I was too used to other horrors to find the syrupy, gooey looking blood and corny jumpscares scary enough, much less enjoyable. Granted, I did watch Nightmare on Elm Street, Child's Play, and Halloween, but I was only afraid of Child's Play because I watched it as a literal child. Nightmare and Halloween I'd watched a lot older and I don't like them at all. They're actually overrated to me.

So that was the goal this month. Watch some old shit. And that I did.

1. Shrooms (2007, Paddy Breathnach)

A group of American teenagers head to Ireland to get high in the woods. With the help of a local tour guide, the group sets up camp for a trip of a lifetime. However, things take a turn when a deadly mushroom gives Tara the ability to see which of her friends will be killed off, as a mysterious murderer lurks close by.

I had to start with a new 2000's just to grease my way in.

This movie is not one to take seriously. It's a horror movie involving shrooms where there's a scene of a talking cow, so calm the think pieces on this one. It gives you a decent storyline and there are psychological aspects as one would guess, but nothing much different from any other YA slasher. It honestly requires nostalgia for me to love above a normal degree. Since I don't have that, it's a nice one and done watch. For some reason, though, I still bought the DVD. Maybe I'll watch it on my own trip.

One surprise is the hillbillies the teens run into that remind me of Tucker and Dale. They have absolutely nothing to do with the mess going on outside but are the easier targets to blame. Random, but it's so funny seeing hill billies outside of America. Growing up in another country where you watch all these American movies, you get these stereotypes in your head of what it all is. School lockers, Disney World, and Hillbillies in some state like West Virginia or Kentucky. Seeing an Aussie in the sticks is so funny to me.

The movie encompasses all that I like: dumb teens being killed off but in another country. Indigenous (2014), Hostel (2005), The Green Inferno (2013), As Above So Below (2014), and Turistas (2006) aren't shaking in their boots though. I for some reason don't want to talk about the ending. It's good. I just feel like this review is getting too long for how I really feel about this movie. A decent 5/10

2. Frankenhooker (1990, Frank Henenlotter)

After a horrific accident butchers his wife Elizabeth, a pseudo-scientist Jeffrey gauges up a plan to rebuild his wife and bring her back to life piece by piece.

I found this one on Amazon Prime....which I thought I unsubscribed from. Not that this connects, but they are currently being sued for a few class action lawsuits, one being making it difficult to unsubscribe from their membership. But anyway, I had Prime. While simultaneously going through my bank statements, I was checking out their horror options. The ones that were free were obscure. Frankenhooker was among them.

The accident that murdered his wife Elizabeth was a lawnmower that Jeffrey himself created. It ran her over and tore her to bits. Aside from her head, a hand, and some miscellaneous limbs, he didn't get much from his dearly departed before her other parts were cleaned up. He concocts a plan to revive her with the upcoming lightning storm that should help reanimate her back into one piece. Only, he needs parts. So he shops for hookers downtown.

I outright laughed with this movie because it's so ridiculous. The scene of the hookers blowing up was so campy. When you can see the split second they replaced the actress with a dummy, oh my god. So goofy, but I actually respected. When you can see the amount of time that went into something so silly, it's actually fun. Practical effects show effort. I was imagining them making head molds out of the actresses and spending hours getting them right just to blow them up. Or painting those limbs; a dislocated foot, an arm, an entire thigh. It was all so much. The burbling purple liquid...so odd.

I would watch this one drunk with a group of friends. It's just camp, that's all I can say. That scene of the reanimated left over body parts? The ending?! The ridiculousness of it all. 9/10. I don't care. I just skimmed the director's other works and I'm adding them all to my lift if they're even close to Frankenhooker. A fun watch.

3. Christine (1983, dir. John Carpenter)

17-year old, Arnie, buys and restores a rusty 1958 Nlumouyh Fury automobile. Unbeknownst to him, the car is possessed by a murderous entity.

I ain't even gon' hold you. I thought this movie would be stupid. In my head, it's only so thin the line can be to tread with a villain like this. A car....

But!

I was wrong. I am completely surprised by this and I understand why it is a classic. I even bought the DVD. We're officially in 80's territory, bordering on the 70's so the characters and their mannerisms were very uncanny valley for me but not too bad. This is my second John Carpenter movie alongside Halloween (1978). I've only watched The Fog (2005), but I've added 1980's to my list. I actually tried to start it but fell asleep and gave up. Not sure why, but anything other than Freaky Friday that has Jamie Lee Curtis as the final girl makes me sleepy.

I liked how there's no backstory as to why there's an entity in this car. From the day it was made, my girl Christine was killing. Didn't crawl out of hell and run into a conveyer belt, no Charles Lee Ray business; just made bad. She's regenerative, vengeful, and even jealous when Arnie, her new owner, gets a girlfriend. Arnie isn't the most popular guy in school and is constantly bullied, even with the help of his friend. Christine makes it her mission to rid Arnie of those who harm him. Later, she'll rid him of those who try to get between them. It was just such a good plot that was executed perfectly. I thought this was going to be some mess, but 10/10

4. Psycho II (1983, dir. Richard Franklin)

After the murders in his hotel, Norman Bates is back in town on a clean slate. He goes back to Bates Motel where mother awaits.

In Scream 4, Kirby Reed made a comment about Psycho II being underrated. It stuck in my head for a while until I finally decided to watch it. I can 100% agree. Listen I'll find any reason to hate on Alfred Hitchcock like I would any abusive, misogynistic director in Hollywood, but Psycho II is better than its predecessor. Anthony Perkins reprises his role two decades later as the movie follows the same time frame. Norman has been hospitalized, diagnosed with BPD, and is released 20 years later following the incidents. Not all are on board, especially a persistent Lila Crane, but Emma Spool vouches for him so that he can get a job at a diner. He meets Mary Loomis (with apparent relations to Billy Loomis) and a new set of killing starts.

Before I even start, there are two Tillys? I was casually stalking the actors and realized that the actress for Mary is Jennifer Tilly's sister, Meg Tilly. I couldn't believe how small a'world we live in. Now I have to watch Body Snatchers (1993) and anything else Meg is in.

I loved the plot twist of this movie and how it all ended. Norman is really an unwell character so you find yourself sympathizing with the man. He's awful, but you watch as this man fails to discern reality from his own madness and how mother is incorporated into it. She is a mysterious woman. We don't see much of her, sort of like The Woman in Black. She is this big entity in the movie even though you know she isn't real. This movie is the peak of mommy issues. The ending where a real, flesh and blood option is open to Norman to have a mother but he's only interested in the twisted, evil version that haunts his head is fantastic. 10/10

5. Psycho III (1986)

Bates Motel is still in business, and Norman is still free. He's fallen in love once more, this time to a fallen nun. But will his past be behind him, or will it all unravel in this third addition to the world of Norman Bates.

It only made sense to watch the third installment. You see more of the look of the 80's that it's so known for, especially slashers. This is where the infamous scene from Scream (1996) comes in when Billy Loomis says, "We all go a little mad sometimes."

The parts I liked were of course mother. She continues to be this looming, bigger than life figure tormenting those around Norman. I liked the slasher-like scene of the young partygoers dying at the hands of "mother." Maureen replaces Mary as a potential love interest as Norman provides her shelter in his motel. They fall in love, despite her knowing his past. The ice machine scene, the bathroom scene, even the showdown in room 12. Again, you really begin to feel sorry for Norman and the cards he was dealt. Not that a serial killing, mentally unwell white man needs it, but mother is really a prison of his own making. The scene of the cop sucking on that bloody ice cube turned by stomach more than my laxative pills ever could. 8/10

6. Psycho IV (1990)

Released again, Norman Bates calls in on a radio show to retell his life as a young boy. Much to everyone's horror, when the show ends he has one last murder to commit to end it all.

I'm conflicted with this movie.

It's not bad...but 90% unnecessary. Aside from the ending where he finally burns down the house where it all started, I kind of didn't like that we got to meet mother. I've watched and loved Bates Motel (2013), so I'm aware that Norman and Norma always have incest - more so on Norman's part than Norma. In Bates Motel, Norma was creeped out but ignored it or tried to gently transition from Norman's weird attachment. In Psych IV, Norma punishes him harshly. She's severely abusive, negligent, and just awful. She blames Norman for everything, including his existence.

While it's interesting to watch his origin story and how he came to be, I kind of liked not really meeting Norma. I liked her being a decayed, fried out corpse in a chair. I liked meeting her only through Norman's unreliable retelling and untreated borderline personality. She was an entity..smoke and mirrors. Now that I've met her...I wanna kiss her.

She's hot.

Why would they make her hot? Plus she was a hypocrite. She would shame and abuse these women for being whores and sluts while she paraded around in no panties with a man she wasn't betroth to. I always pictured her as this uber-anal, only-have-sex-to-reproduce, stiff, old hag. When you build up a character that's existence is reliant on a character's retelling or the audience to fill in the blanks, it's so easy to ruin them by making them flesh and blood.

I want to pretend this movie doesn't exist.

Aside from the disappointment in meeting my hero, I liked the movie. The ending was solid. It's hopeful...and opens the door for more movies for Norman's spawn. 6/10. I really liked the movie. It can't be 100% a stand alone but it'd be a 8/10 if it was. I'd watch it as one and pretend it didn't ruin three other movies for me.

7. Black Christmas (2006)

A murdering sociopath escapes prison and returns to his childhood home. However, he finds out that his house has been converted into a sorority house and begins killing the students living there.

The casting is amazing, for one. They pulled Lacey Chabert fresh off the set of Mean Girls. May Elizabeth Winstead had just wrapped up making history with Final Destination 3 (2006), lugging Crystal Lowe on set with her. Katie Cassidy had just finished getting slaughtered on When A Stranger Calls (2006). We practically grew up with Michelle Trachtenberg. It's like Do Revenge: drag the pop girls and boys from popular shows/movies and you'll have a cast people will be excited to see before even considering the plot.

Because this story sucked.

Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the problem. This has everything I ever asked for in a 2000's movie. What else could I need? Am I ungrateful?

I have tried countless times to get into this movie. I'll cut the shit, like three times. And every time I have zoned out. I'm burnt out with this movie. It takes too much effort to be fully engaged and I don't know why. I love Sorority Row (2009), which has a similar premise, and Scream 2 with that sorority scene was amazing. I eat it up every time I watch it. Slashers with predominantly women casted is one of my bread and butters. But Black Xmas is just....I don't know. I don't know! I can't get into her. 3/10

8. The Thing (2011)

Kate Lloyed, a paleontologist, is recruited to Antartica by a team of scientists when they discover an alien buried in the ice. However, when the alien escapes, the team fights to figure out who they can trust as the alien could be any one of them, mimicking their dead crew.

This is such a good movie to watch when it's grey, raining, or ice cold. I love Mary Elizabeth Winstead and she is one of my favorite horror girls. Plus I get to see Kristofer Hivju, who I drooled over in Game of Thrones. This creature feature has a good creature reveal that doesn't completely ruin it. If anything, it enhances it. That one scene of the alien merging too people together and then crawling around on all fours was amazing. They don't make it an easy alien movie where you can pinpoint the creature. It can turn itself into one of the crew members, mimicking everything except inorganic materials like teeth. You get this claustrophobic feeling since there's limited places to run. They're stuck in the cold, unforgiving land of Antartica with a town miles away. The ending was a nice addition. I immediately bought the DVD and it is now added to my collection. It would've been better to watch the original John Carpenter movie, but this one popped up on my Netflix header and I immediately clicked on it. 9/10

9. The Slumber Party Massacre (1982)

When her parents go out of town, high school senior Trish decides to throw a slumber party. But things go downhill when an escaped killer wielding a power drill is loose in the neighborhood.

This movie seems derivative of Black Christmas (1974) and also came out the same year as the original The House on Sorority Row. Escaped convicts hacking up young girls were just on trend.

This one is kind of like Black Christmas (2006) for me. No matter how many times I watched it, it's like I never did. This is a rewatch, but not really because I didn't pay much attention the first time. It really brings nothing new for me. A movie doesn't necessarily need to be groundbreaking and fresh plot wise for me to like it, but it sure does need allure...some type of glue that keeps me watching. The Slumber Party Massacre didn't really have that for me. I watched it and immediately forget all that I just finished watching. As I watch these 80's movies, you really realize how nude obsessed this generation was. Pluto in Scorpio, sure, but these movies are just filled with boobs and bush, bush, bush. 5/10

PART TWO COMING SOON!

[mfhunter]

Movement in music is key, as it is in so many other areas of life. Regular readers see countless articles published here that malign records hung up on a single tempo, one stagnant theme, or an unchanging mode of propulsion. That’s no accident. Regardless of style or content, music that doesn’t move—whether that movement refers to tangible momentum or intangible emotional connection—doesn’t land. UK thrash metal quartet Blacklist understand this principle and showcase their mastery of it on sophomore outing With Murderous Intent.

Blacklist may be newer to the scene, having established themselves a mere six years ago, but they harken back to the sounds of thrashteryear. That means references to legends like Exodus, Zoetrope, and Dark Angel abound on With Murderous Intent. However, Blacklist aren’t your stock standard, rehashed thrash worship. Modern death metal and melodic black metal threads weave deftly throughout this latest outing, in much the same manner as heard from Crypta. Informing the thematic content of the record, classic campy horror a la Exhumed takes center stage, injecting oodles of stupid fun into this deadly platter of hooky riffs and exuberant rhythms.

As implied in my introduction, Blacklist’s greatest strength on With Murderous Intent is their mastery of momentum and movement. Dynamic songwriting stuffed to the tonsils with killer riffs, righteous guitar wizardry, thunderous beats, and a delightful blackened-rasp-boozy-bark vocal combo relentlessly hacks and slashes through fifty minutes of thrash metal muderdeathkillery. Opening duo “Cannibal” and “Blood Baptism” set the stage with rapid-fire D-beats, pummeling double-bass runs, ripping solos, and shredding riffs. Meanwhile, gang shouts of “HUMAN CONSUMPTION” in the former and “BLOOD BAPTISM” in the latter remind us all of the lost joys of cannibalism and ritual sacrifices, respectively. In order to disabuse me of the impression that With Murderous Intent only has one speed, mid-paced romps “The Shape” and “Kill the Coroner” stomp skulls while telling tall tales of horrific monsters and mad scientists hell-bent on my ultimate demise. Thrilling stuff. Detouring slightly from ravenous thrashing, a heavier death metal influence finds purchase on bangers like the subtly neoclassical “Blood Baptism” and the rabid “The Dismemberment Blade.” Wielding the scythe of death with scalpel-like precision, these tracks bring a vital spice to the record, while more melodic proclivities and constantly evolving songwriting bolster the record’s storytelling in longer numbers like “The Shape” and album highlights “Naturom Demonto” and “With Murderous Intent.” In short, almost every fascia connected to With Murderous Intent’s ten hash-slinging slashers serves to elevate Blacklist’s music, and leaves no room for boredom to brew.

Impressive though With Murderous Intent undoubtedly is, there is a lot of material to unpack. Three songs clock in above six minutes (one of those right on the cusp of eight), and most others settle between four and six minutes. All of a sudden nearly an hour transpires in a single run. Thanks to Blacklist’s excellent pacing and track arrangement, this record’s runtime feels closer to forty minutes than the actual fifty. However, I often feel just a touch winded by the time the admittedly awesome title track closer wraps up. Unfortunately for me, that negatively impacts the record’s immediate replay value. Compounding this drawback, “Lethal Infection” and “Never Sleep Again” fall short of the high mark established by the overwhelming majority of With Murderous Intent’s material. Solid tracks on their own, passionately performed and enjoyable in the moment, they are regrettably less compelling and less memorable than all of their album mates—especially so positioned back-to-back between two of the album’s best.

There is a lot to love in With Murderous Intent. Blacklist’s particular application of a tried and true thrash blueprint, tempered with death metal and black metal touches and given definition by their 80s horror theme, makes for a wildly entertaining and deeply enjoyable experience. It may not be the easiest to get through if you are pressed for time, and a couple of its selections don’t live up to the standard of Blacklist’s elite. Fortunately, those are but minor faults. The truth is, I haven’t had this much fun with modern thrash in quite some time. You deserve to have some fun, too. Get Blacklisted today!

Websites: facebook.com/BlacklistMetal | blacklistthrashmetal.bandcamp.com Releases Worldwide: August 2nd, 2024