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please consider donating to the north gaza cruelty-free kitchen/camp + cruelty-free water project
[emerges from the wall] hi!
Martyrs, dir. Pascal Laugier (2008)
i just had the hottest idea — what about a meta-ish post with billy's diary entries...
the parallels between billy and nancy loomis as parent figures... both are the foundation of ghostface, but with one major difference between them. nancy became billy's motive due to her absence in billy's life, but billy doesn't want to abandon his child, sam, even when dead. she is doomed to have him haunting her at her weakest, because his legacy will always live to chase her around. one way or another, it's a matter of generational trauma that will thrive in their family tree...
SCREAM (2022) dir. Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett
SCREAM 1996, dir. Wes Craven
HE WAS RIGHT ! HE WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG ! ... should have listened to his gut feeling . shouldnt have let his heart clench upon seeing another one of tatums friends down . SHE CARES FOR THEM , then why doesnt dewey trust them ? tatum loves her friends , loves them more than anything ... one sided , FAKE ! but the pain he feels isnt fake , its real . realer than ever . unlike anything & deweys hands tremble , feels hot and cold at the same time when with a THUD ! he falls . fingers try & try to reach for the doorknob , but its impossible . out of reach , hes failed ( like so many times in his life ... ) this once , he couldnt be the hero , not even when he wanted it so fucking BADLY . show everyone youre worth more than being the joke of the town .
hands flat on wooden floor , he doesnt know exactly whats happening , breathing picks up . HEART BEATS OUT OF CHEST . he wasnt trained for this . he never had to experience something like this . HE NEVER THOUGHT HE WOULD EITHER . ( woodsboro is a small town , nothing bad ever happens ! its peaceful ... except - )
chin raises , jaw clenches and it hurts , everything hurts . @lobmis ❝ billy ... ? ❞ I WAS RIGHT ! no time to celebrate , not when the monster speaks like it expected this to happen . like it was planned all along & a bad feeling gnaws at his guts . MAYBE HES TOO LATE ! - and maybe tatum is long gone , too . tears , treacherous and dangerous burn in his eyes and hands clench into fists . he wants to push himself to his feet , but his legs wont move .
❝ where's .... tatum ? ❞ TYPICAL BIG BROTHER ! thinks of her , despite being the monsters next victim . thinks of his little sister & foolish as he is : he thinks maybe that she is safe and sound . that she left long ago , that nothing bad happened to her . that she is at home , wondering WHEN DEWEY WILL RETURN . sharp breath inhaled . PAIN , NOTHING BUT PAIN ... then nothing .
❝ WHERES TATUM ? ❞ did you do the same to her ? is she laying somewhere wondering why no one is helping her ? ... WONDERING WHY DEWEY ISNT SAVING HER .
𝙳𝙴𝚆𝙴𝚈 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚃𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚖?
NARRATOR (V.O): ... THAT'S WHERE WE LEFT OFF. A scary movie, a record-breaking horror classic ... keeping the audience on the edge of their seats, as they root for their goody two shoes, the underdog... Shouting at the screen, produce of well - induced catharsis: '' KEEP AN EYE OUT! '' It is too late... Your pleas, sympathetic in nature, can not be heard by the actors in the picture. Walking in at the wrong time, wrong place. Almost as if it was perfectly scripted, it was meant to fit the narrative... Suiting it down to the ground!
𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝚄𝙿𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙸𝚁𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝙳𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙼 — 𝟸𝟼𝟷 𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙴𝚁 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙴 — 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙳𝙴𝚆𝙴𝚈 𝚁𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚈, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚜𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚘, 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗. 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍... 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚢. 𝙱𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙼𝙸𝚂 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎.
𝙳̳𝚄̳𝚃̳𝙲̳𝙷̳ 𝙰̳𝙽̳𝙶̳𝙻̳𝙴̳: CAMERA TILTING EVER SO SLIGHTLY, IN SYNC WITH THE DRAMATIC VIOLIN STINGER STILL PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND...
𝙔ou wait briefly to respond, all while you watch. Amused, not holding back an evil, perturbing smile in the slightest: ( ... ) ❝ 𝐻ey... relax —— ❞ It widens into a sneer, genuine joy reflecting in your eyes this time. He's under so much pain... and you have complete power over him. It excites you so much all you can do is... ❝ ᖇᙓᒪᗩ᙭! ❞ Sᙅᖇᙓᗩᙏ!! Letting out a chuckle afterwards: ❝ 𝑅elax there buddy! You gotta relax!! ❞
I͟m͟p͟r͟o͟v͟.͟ ͟!͟ At this point of the screenplay, you have creative freedom to tell the story. After all, the role of serial killer is about going off script more often than not...
𝓢tanding up, 𝑦our feet at his eye level. Agitation no longer present in your diction, changing to a standard - paced voice: ❝ 𝘚he's well taken care of — ... She's hanging out ... in the garage actually. ❞ A wordplay very cleverly introduced, a double meaning. Remaining ambiguous still... ❝ 𝒫oor girl had the hots for me tonight. I declined her offer, nice and easy. Next thing I know, she's throwing beer bottles at me — completely loses it for things not going her way. ❞ Lie after lie after lie, spinning a web. Rushing your words, stopping your walking and turning while you were delivering your speech... ❝ 𝙂oes bonkers! Goes batshit crazy! AndthenBAM!!! ❞ An abrupt stop. Re-gained intensity growing smaller again... until you switch back to a conventional pace. Features relaxing into a dull, lifeless expression...
❝ 𝐆arage door crushes that slut. ❞ Tatum is dead, she met her fate. ❝ 𝘍unny ending. ❞ A question will be raised to rub salt into the wound: ❝ ( ... ) Don't you agree? ❞
as i'm sure you already know, israel has resumed aggressive bombardment of gaza as of march 18th. at least 400 people have already been killed, with hundreds more wounded or buried under the rubble. on top of this, israel has also been almost completely obstructing the entry of aid for the past several weeks, and cut off power to the last functioning water desalination plant on march 9th.
it is more important than ever that those of us outside gaza do not attempt to ignore the ongoing genocide in favor of the illusion of security. any small thing you can do is better than complacency.
if you need a place to start:
help Suad get urgent medical treatment for her baby and mother-in-law - @suad-khaled (#279 on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's spreadsheet)
help Mahmoud reunite with his family in a safe place - @supportgaza (#151 on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's spreadsheet)
help Amal take care of her daughter and provide for 20+ family members - @amalashuor (#175 on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's spreadsheet)
help Firas and Nisreen continue their education and support their family - @firasmuhaisenn, @nisreenameen, @helphashemfamily (verified by @/90-ghost)
you can find more campaigns to support here, here, or here, or a big (nonexhaustive) list of gazan organizations and mutual aid initiatives here. if you have the fortune of disposable income, i highly encourage you to contribute something in any of these directions. it can truly help save lives.
Jamie Lee Curtis in The Fog (1980)
the cigarette perched between my lips smoldered like a dying star, its ember a fragile heartbeat in the yawning winter night. the cold air crashed against my face, biting, whispering secrets only winter knew, but i did not shiver—no, the chill never quite reached me, never seeped past my skin into the marrow where something far colder already curled, coiled, waiting. my hair, wild and unbridled, danced with the wind’s unseen fingers, yet the same breeze that should have frozen me left only a hollow sensation, as if i were nothing more than smoke curling into the abyss . . . still, beneath my ribs anxiety unfurled like ivy creeping over stone, slow and inevitable, sinking its restless tendrils deeper, deeper, until i could no longer tell whether the trembling in my hands came from the cold— or from something far more insidious.
my head tilts upward, the motion slow and hesitant, as if the very air had thickened into something viscous, something resistant to my movements. in that fleeting moment, i forget the raw sting of my chapped lips, the way they crack like parched earth.
my breath lingers on the edge of sound, poised to spill into the silence between me and the figure standing before me, an unseen weight pressing against my chest. my fingers, traitorous and trembling, tighten into themselves. and yet, despite the pull of curiosity—or dread— my gaze clings to the ground, anchored in place as though meeting their eyes might unravel me entirely. ❝ you seem lost. ❞ my eastern cadence refuses to leave me, and i don’t want to leave it, really. ❝ did you need something? ❞ / @lobmis .
𝕍illain arc . . . 𝑇he 𝐵ig 𝐴pple ought to hear about the existence of the new menace in their midst. A soon - to - be global phenomenon, a fictional character that is gaining popularity among chaosmongers. The motive is vengeance, but the line is blurry. It is up to interpretation, meant to quench the blood thirst of those whose demeanor is marked by their past. 𝙏he ɠhostface revolution is starting ... A sweet, tragic hate letter to right - doers who carry a sense of entitlement. It started out as an idea conceived in your own eccentric mind, and now it is morphing into your own means of rebellion.
𝙵̲𝙰̲𝙳̲𝙴̲ 𝙸̲𝙽̲:̲ 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙽𝙴𝚆 𝚈𝙾𝚁𝙺'𝚂 𝙿𝙸𝙴𝚁 𝟷𝟼, 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙽𝚃 𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙻𝙸𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚃𝚈 — 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙶𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚕𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗. 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚘𝚗 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕, 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝: 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝙷𝙴 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜.
𝒜 train of robe floating modestly with the frigid air currents. Arms dangling to give off a relaxed image, chilling to the core still. Frozen for seconds, minutes ... now facing her from a close range. As a distinctive (technology - ridden) mask protects your identity. The identity of the creator, of the blueprint. Hands clad in black, an all - black attire ... mimicking the very own darkness in the scenery. She asks away, yet you let your essence speak at a muted volume first.
( ... ) Eventually, your distorted, filtered voice raises a subject: ❝ 𝑩ut I am exactly where I need to be... ❞ Pause, still not moving a single limb in your body as your speech comes about. A delayed answer to a second question comes next, a flair for the dramatic: ❝ 𝒀ou think I came here for nothing, Yelena? ❞ That's right. You have been watching her...
Martin Buxbaum
Scream (1996) dir. Wes Craven
Isolation - Joy Division
𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙸𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 — 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑. 𝙱𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙼𝙸𝚂 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘. 𝚂𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔, 𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎.
𝓙ust before you can grab your stuff and be on your way back home ... you are pulled aside by @dewriley. The dynamic has just shifted, from a collective hearing to a private conversation. That's your cue, it's time for some acting excellence:
❝ 𝓛ook — I get that it wasn't personal. But you know me, don't you?❞ Eyes pendulating, making sure your conviction is as truthful as you can make it be. Pupils remaining steady, with its original width: not a single lie shall be perceived. 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝'𝚍: ❝ 𝓦hy would I even want to kill your sister's best friend? Huh - ( ... 𝟶.𝟷𝟶'' ) my own girlfriend? ❞ An inconspicuously sharper tone is delivered with your lines. 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝'𝚍: ❝ 𝓘 was doing what any guy my age would do. All I ever wanted was to comfort her ... ❞
𝙰 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙽𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝙱𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚈: ❝ 𝓘'd never do anything to hurt her ... In any way. ❞
ℝole . . . 𝐖olf in sheep's clothing.