come and get me

𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

[shapeslain]

#𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 - a low-activity writing blog for allyson nelson of the halloween franchise. a study in intergenerational trauma, survivor's guilt, and finding yourself again after the worst has happened. heavily affiliated with @shapecopy & written by lou (they/he, white, 25). 21+. about page forthcoming. 

[horrorwomensource]

Jamie Lee Curtis, Judy Greer, and Andi Matichak as Laurie Strode, Karen Nelson, and Allyson Nelson in Halloween (2018)

[kitchenknifes]

@godblooded / cont’d

alana’s smaller than michael, than corey, than cameron. frail, almost. the doctor who’d operated on her knee had told her she had bird bones—she remembers that, at least, through the haze of morphine and whatever else that’d been pumped into her system after her blood-soaked clothing had been cut off of her. what he hadn’t told her was that her mother lay dead just a floor above, so maimed she’d needed a close-casket funeral like vicky, like cameron, like oscar, like corey, like doug, like her father—everyone.

too many funerals. the last one she’d been to had been to lay the boogeyman to rest for good, and she’d thought there’d be finality in it—which there was. but it’d been fleeting. too often she forgets he’s not out there, too often she looks over her shoulder, and too often she wonders if alana will somehow be next in his endless pursuit to destroy her, even hundreds of miles away.

she’s asked alana about dr. lecter, because of course she has, and she knows that despite his incarceration, he remains a boogeyman in his own right.

“if i were to do that—i don’t even know what flowers you like. if you even like them so—do you even like them?” allyson asks with a sheepish little smile, momentarily drops her gaze when alana stares back up at her with such an intensity in her blue eyes that it almost makes allyson feel shy, which she’s never been a day in her life. she lifts her gaze back up to alana, cups her face with long, elegant fingers.

her thumb traces over alana’s cheekbone fondly.

“i don’t think anyone’s ever said anything like that to me before,” she murmurs. corey had offered to burn it all to the ground for her, and she’d wanted to for a long time. the thought doesn’t sound as appealing when she’s with alana.

her therapist tells her she has a tendency to foster codependency, but this feels warm, good, unlike the intense oil fire—the amor fou—that her and corey had been.

“—easy to forget all of that other shit when i’m with you.”

[godblooded]

alana’s contented nature reflects in the warmth of allyson’s gaze — her intensely capturing stare becomes something softened, rounded at its edges, shirks the judgmental azure of her professional self.

(she’s infinitely proud of allyson for her own therapy. alana doesn’t know if she’ll be able to trust another person again — smeared by another in her own profession, the sting is still there, the knife still jabbed in. another psychiatrist alleviated of their license, another psychiatrist ferreted abusively from the field. but it will never go away, ever. public record, public humiliation — she’s used to both.)

but she knows herself. knows the line she walks, balances — and for a person with no balance, she makes it an art.

“i do. i love flowers. i love daisies most. in floral language they mean innocence everlasting — picking bouquets of wildflowers. not exactly something i grew up doing in chicago.”

a charmed smile graces her face, a fully displayed thing full of genuine sincerity. the boogeyman lives in a box behind layers and layers of dr. chilton’s carefully executed security measures — and while alana sees him everywhere, while she can feel him sometimes just behind her ear, she forces herself to remember the difference. she refuses doggedly to allow him to hold onto her this way.

the good doctor leans up on tiptoe, bumping the other’s nose with her own, as canine as the five dogs slumbering in a pile in the other room. she holds loosely, keeps herself quite sturdy against allyson’s sturdy nature.

“oh? i mean. usually i’m labeled weird off-the-bat for statements like that.”

it’s a touch of self-consciousness, ever-present even at her age. alana bloom has always felt like too much.

“some days i could swear i feel stable.”

she punctuates the statement with a hum, gentle and full, the faint echo of chopin’s chopsticks an endlessly distant melody wafting from just another room away that only she can hear.

[shapeslain]

"—that's not something i grew up doing in haddonfield, either, if that makes you feel any better."

allyson's smiling, now, because she's going to remember that. daisies. it fits alana, really—except for the stupidly low hanging fruit that is her surname. much of the time, nothing about alana seems real—her pretty last name, her impossibly blue eyes, her rich dark hair that allyson thinks she could get lost in when she buries her face in it or runs her fingers through it.

sometimes, she wants to bring alana back to haddonfield—or thinks she should want to bring alana back. let her meet grandmother, see the place where she came to be. but all of it's been touched with bad memories—the nights spent sleeping under judith myers' bedroom window, in her car, in doug's apartment. maybe alana would help her find beauty in it again.

long arms wind around alana's narrow waist, forehead pressed down and in against hers. she decidedly likes that she's so much taller.

"you're a little weird, but i like you weird. it suits you." she must look silly like this--in her cartoonish scrubs compared to alana's finery. somehow, she likes it more.

she pushes alana's hair behind her ear again, the gesture as fond as it is pensive. she hadn't known alana when she'd been in the crux of it, when she'd chased every thought of michael myers to the bottom of any bottle she could get her hands on when the ebb and flow of painkillers for her knee and head had ended.

"—one day at a time, right? we'll get there."

fake it til you make it, or something like that. she runs her fingers through alana's hair.

"—it's almost apple season. and pumpkin season. and i have to put miles on my new truck, so—"

[shapeslain]

i have... returned because i have zero self control and allyson is MY roman empire, that's all

[theedorksinlove]

CAROLINE DHAVERNAS as ALANA BLOOM ⤷ hannibal ✗ 1x07 - ‘sorbet’

[crumbargento]

Son - Ivan Kavanagh - 2021 - USA/Irlande

[shapeslain]

allyson and alana quite literally have one of those kitschy fucking 'love lives here' signs in the kitchen unaware of the irony about it. it exists because it's a joke about alana looking like an absolute fucking housewife sometimes. it even has that awful cutesy cursive font everyone uses for rp promos.

i'm absolutely dying. because you know allyson bought it because it reminded her so very much of their running gag about alana looking like a homemaker from the 1950s sometimes - and to make it even better (worse?) it's a saying that has a theme throughout their house. it's their live-laugh-love. and there may or may not be decals everywhere to attest to that.

[shapeslain]

“i get it.”

she does - the nights, mornings, days like this have dwindled albeit very slowly over the course of the past year. killing michael myers had done nothing to help, contrary to what she thought what would happen. and it’d been disappointing, to say the least, when she’d come to that realization the first time. if anything, the boogeyman’s dead black eyes boring into her soul has joined the litany of terrible bad shit in her head. 

it’s not so bad with alana, who fits easily in the envelope of her long arms. such is the height difference between them that it’d be easy to put her chin on alana’s head, but she doesn’t, instead leaning down to lean her chin on her shoulder, brushing her hair back to kiss her temple. 

“can i interest you in coming back to bed?” she asks in the same way she'd ask to bargain, pads of her fingers brushing over her cheek as she follow’s alana’s gaze forward, into the dark morning. she's not sure what she has to trade for it, but she hopes it's a tempting offer.

@godblooded​ / cont’d.

[shapeslain]

ok some halloween ends canon divergences in no particular order rly:

allyson kills corey after he shows up at the strode house in the myers mask. gotta think abt how it happens more thoroughly but she shoots corey and michael finishes the job when she leaves at laurie’s behest to wait across the street for the police. they both laid out the trap for corey, not aware michael was soon to follow. 

still just don’t understand why we didn’t get a more emotional resolution between the two of them so this is my answer to this problem, lmao. could still have the scene where allyson cradles his head and cries in parallel to the scene at the halloween party, fr. also this scene was cut and i think it’s corey so.

laurie and michael have their fight in the kitchen, allyson comes in to save laurie when michael is about to land a killing blow on her by stabbing him in the back with the same knife she’d given laurie in the hospital room and the same knife she’d stabbed him with during the events of 2018, a direct parallel to her mother saving her. unlike her mother, though, she keeps stabbing. 

i understand it would be a copy of h20 but i personally think allyson and laurie should’ve beheaded michael in the style of this image.  

i also like the idea of karen being a single mom because i dislike ray nelson lmao but i’ll think abt it.   

[fjsdfjsfjsdfujsdfafdijfaijfasd]

ANDI MATICHAK as Allyson Nelson and JAMES JUDE COURTNEY as Michael Myers in Halloween (2018) & Halloween Kills (2021)

[shapeslain]

Alana’s going to kiss one Allyson Nelson on the cheek. Because she can. That’s allowed. Go away.

and allyson nelson beams at the contact. she's standing, and so is alana, and she's wearing doc martens so she's even taller than she normally is. she doesn't comment on the effort it'd take to lean up and kiss her cheek from alana's stature, but it's clear she's appreciative.

which she indicates by kissing alana on the cheek, too, and leaning down to press her forehead against hers with a smile. because she can do that, too.

" hey. " / @godblooded

[iwantslashers]

Movie vs. Novelization

[shapeslain]

the way the only content of allyson i can find is my own michael & allyson content, and then its mostly just. corey. like. david gordon green really was spitting lies when he said ends would focus first and foremost on allyson’s psychology and development huh

[shapeslain]

because... what was this scene supposed to be??? is that michael or corey or a dream??

[ffinalgiirl]

Corey & Allyson Halloween Ends (2022)

[shapeslain]

the way the only content of allyson i can find is my own michael & allyson content, and then its mostly just. corey. like. david gordon green really was spitting lies when he said ends would focus first and foremost on allyson’s psychology and development huh

[shapeslain]

𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙰 ♡

a hand squeezes. gently. alana is tender as the dawn is light outside her front door in not but a few hours. when she smiles she’s unhaunted. when she smiles she’s alive.

“ i could definitely make worse decisions. ”

she doesn’t know the line she’s toeing when she speaks. she doesn’t know that she’s swaying from side to side and she could drop at any moment. madness is an overtaking thing, consuming, and the familiar touch of allyson’s hand is long-fingered, another familiar comfort she struggles to forget. so instead she keeps moving and steps down into the living room, the tremendous tv hung high above her fireplace. the dogs click click in the dark away from them. going to settle, seeking silence.

“ you’re welcome to laugh at me. i know i was wearing about thirty tons of black eyeliner. it was a thing. ”

she’s cycling through her television memory, seeking a file drive somewhere in there. when she clicks it, the screen is a blown-up series of glitchy pixels. they settle when her own voice cuts in, high-low, soft and hard at once, “ ed, put the fuckin’ camera down! ”

it’s a sight to behold. winter blue eyes, vibrant beyond measure, arresting on such a young face. a hoop encircles her lower lip, a shiny silver thing with a tiny black ball through it. her hair is long and messily thick, streaked bubblegum pink and swept over one bare shoulder. she’s wearing a dead kennedys crop-top, legitimately tearing back to kick the camera lens so hard it grinds to static right before eddie yells Y’BROKE IT! and right behind follows alana’s voice through the static, GOOD, FUCKO.

in her eyes is nothing but the sight of how much she wishes she could tell that person what it would be like, life, beyond that camera lens. how she wishes she could dissuade herself to be anyone else. to avoid so many things.

“ told you it was bad. ”

   i could definitely make worse decisions.  does alana know at all what she’s doing to her ?   she must not.  allyson hopes she doesn’t, anyway.  she allows alana to lead her further into the house.  alana bloom’s home seems sleek,  but not in the sterile doctor’s office sort of way.  it’s still warm,  from the dogs at their feet to the comfortable furniture to the fireplace.  allyson sits alongside alana,  long legs instinctively finding their way beneath the coffee table,  with her hand still in alana’s,  as she watches.  now that she’s been granted the opportunity to touch,  she thinks,  she won’t let go.  once she’s invited she’ll stay,  like some sort of vampire.  instead of blood,  it’s human contact,  something she’s unsurprised to find she’s needy for now that she’s granted the opportunity.  (  she hasn’t touched anyone like this,  hasn’t let anyone touch her like this,  since corey --   )   

her other hand,  laid at her side,  finds its way to alana’s arm,  rubbing up and down absently,  as she does laugh.  not at the young,  grungy alana,  but with her.  her mother had kept similar tapes of allyson,  herself,  and her father,  from all of the years leading up to her death.  somewhere on her old destroyed cell phone in haddonfield,  there’s a video of her national honors society induction,  taken the night before her mother and father had been murdered.  she hasn’t tried to watch it yet.  

after a moment,  she glances at alana.   then,  she lies her head against her shoulder,  mindful of the possibility of her own hair finding its way to alana’s mouth.  

‘  no. you were cute.  ’

[uplandglinda]

Andi Matichak photographed by Tina Turnbow for The Bare Magazine