#buddy swanson

[mrsaltieri-real]

That’s it. That’s the post. Whose YOUR favourite murder boy?

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Since no one got around to asking and I want to share, Buddy Swanson isn't one for costumes (outside the Metal Killer fit) but when you ask and insist he agrees, leading to dark wash jeans, a black t shirt, a collar and kitty ear headband, he lets you put whiskers on him too.

[adaricruz]

u gon tell me there’s a horror musical n the killer is a metalhead

[tinalbion]

Is there still time for request? I just watched trailer for Terrifier 2 and I'm hyped! This may sound strange but can I get Billy Loomis, Art the Clown and Buddy Swanson with contortionist s/o who can twist/move her body in most freakish ways, like she doesn't have bones in her body? (If you ever watched Australia/America Got Talent act from Troy James, imagine that's what s/o can do. That dude scared the shit out of me when I first watched it!)

Omg, I LOVE that guy! His performance was amazing and I love seeing just how people can move like that, it's so wild to me, so I hope you enjoy this request! 

Rating: None

Length: 2k

Billy Loomis

Billy had no idea that you kept such an odd little talent to yourself, and he didn’t know for the longest time until several months into your relationship. You knew that people felt weirded out most times by your talent and you weren’t exactly out there wanting to flaunt it, only in certain circumstances would you show off to people. So tonight had been the night, though neither of you had expected it.

You and Billy were invited to Stu’s party, along with several of your other friends, who knew of your little secret and loved to have you do it when the group was drunk enough. It was a fun little gag and you loved acting as if they were so drunk that they had no idea what they were talking about. Harmless fun. So you and Billy arrived, his arm around your waist as you walked along through the crowds of people and you grabbed a beer, Billy grabbed one, and then you were both off to find a place to sit. Your friend Will greeted you enthusiastically and eyed you with a grin

"Will, don't you dare," you warned as you pointed a finger at him. Billy didn't question it but he was definitely curious. He leaned over toward you and whispered in your ear: "and what are we warning Will not to do, babe?" You wanted to tell him considering he wasn't one to get weirded out or uncomfortable, but you wanted to see his reaction, completely caught off guard as intended.

You shrug with a smile and sip at your beer, then you kiss his cheek and pull away. "You'll see in a bit, promise." He was content with that and continued to enjoy himself although he continued to eye you every so often as the night went on. More drinks were had, games were played, and beer pong proved to be not so fun. You lost, you NEVER lost. So when you finally admitted defeat, Randy turned to you and elbowed Will to get his attention.

“Guess you already know what we’re gonna request for you taking this loss.” You sighed and shook your head, yet the large smile on your face spoke volumes. Billy watched you intently as the crowd of partygoers gathered around your table and kept enough space around you, Randy gathered everyone around as he waved his hands out toward you. “Come on, let’s see what you can do!”

And just like a flip of a switch, you bent backward with ease and then you twisted your body where your hands were planted firmly on the ground as your spine contorted in ways these people never thought possible. There you were walking around as easy as ever and yet your body was twisted at the waist, and you looked like a horrible mangled creature running around on all fours. Some people reacted as you expected, some clapped and cheered for how absolutely fucked up you looked, and then there was Billy, who looked to be in a state between shock and intrigued.

After you finished your little display, you untwisted and stood back to your feet, then grabbed your beer bottle from Randy and sat back in your spot next to Billy. He just stared at you as you sipped at your beer and you scoffed. “What?” He only let out a laugh and shook his head. “You surprise me more and more every day. But uh, would you be opposed if I asked you to try something with me later on?”

You just sighed and shook your head with a grin. “Shut up, Billy.”

Art the Clown

Art had his own little secrets that you never really questioned him about and you guys got along just fine that way, so naturally, there were things about yourself that you hadn’t shared with him yet either. You guys were still learning how to communicate properly and it proved to be challenging, but sometimes you would learn something and you grew excited to get to know Art a bit more. So of course, here you were, seeing him yet again for the umpteenth time this week and you had ever wondered how he exactly felt being around you. You guessed he didn’t mind it since you were still alive and he always seemed to like to make you laugh.

As you continued to make it a routine to show up on a chosen day, you offered him the chance to hang out at your place, so he took you up on that offer, though he didn’t mention that he’d just show up out of the blue one evening with his bag draped over his shoulder, the tiny rocks he threw at your window to get your attention almost made you laugh if you weren’t scared to death at first.

“Jeez Art, you scared me!” You huffed, but you gestured for him to walk around to the front door. It was still early in the evening but you were curious as to why he’d avoid the front door at first, but it didn’t bother you. You offered him something to eat, he said no, then you offered a drink and he accepted water and sat somewhat awkwardly on your sofa. He seemed very out of place when it came to being here, but he did bounce up and down on the sofa a bit. Had a bit of bounce, he liked it. He never really got to be in places this cozy, so you told him he was more than welcome to make himself at home, except maybe he should not cause too much of a mess. He agreed with a devilish smile.

So Art made himself at home and began to walk around the place, allowing himself to check out the various photos and awards you had hung on your walls. He inspected each one and looked on and on as you watched from the doorway. His attention was now caught as he stopped at one award that stuck out more than the others. He leaned in close and saw the gleam of the award with your name engraved on it. It wasn’t your typical award either, but he turned to look at you and pointed to it.

“Oh, that? Yeah, I have sort of a neat thing I can do, I participated in an event and won. Wanna see what I can do?” You caught his attention as he eyed you curiously, and that’s when you placed your hands behind your head as you bent backward and began to move and twist in ways Art couldn’t even begin to comprehend. His jaw dropped and he stared at you as you twisted and moved in such inhuman ways that he was even too stunned to sign, he just stood there in your small living area and didn't move for about two minutes.

After you finished and stood back as normal as could be, Art began to throw his hands wildly and acted surprised as you laughed at his reaction. He was impressed and loved how insane it looked, he figured he could use you when scaring the folks in town during Halloween, or just for the hell of it. It was almost as if you could read his mind and tumbled out with: "I already know you're planning to use this in some way to mess with people, aren't you?" He faked shock, looked around the room, and gestured as if to say: "who, me? I'd NEVER." All you could do was laugh in response.

Buddy Swanson

It was no coincidence that you ended up working behind the scenes at the camp you attended, though you were sent there mainly because it was better than rotting away at home for that summer, so you accepted your fate and went along with it. They needed counselors desperately and since you had experience with kids, it was better than nothing. You approached Roger and had heard about this prestigious camp, though that was a term used rather loosely, and he hired you on the spot.

That's how you got to know Buddy Swanson, number one anti musical man, natural born cook, and an absolute cutie. He was hard not to fall for, but you kept a distance from him for a while until it smacked you in the face. The end of that summer, you both kept in contact and even discovered you both weren't that far away from one another. It started off like a whirlwind romance and you were swept up in it, enjoying whatever turn it took and you both just lived in the moment. It was hard not to do when you were in his company, he made you forget everything that weighed you down, everything that stressed you out. It was only you and him. Which led to you two camping at one point, a real camping experience with a tent and a bonfire, the works.

You both were sharing a couple of drinks when Buddy suggested a game of 'Never Have I Ever', and boy did you regret it. He drank so many times that you were almost willing to lie just to feel a buzz. He laughed at your feeble attempt too, he knew your tell when your eyes shifted away for a moment. "No, I saw that, get that drink away from your lips this instant!" He chucked. You let out a sigh and hung your head low.

"Well what do you want me to do?! I lived a sheltered life, not everyone gets that lucky, you know," you huffed as you gently chucked a small pebble at his shoe. So Buddy thought long and hard of something he figured you would have done, so he leaned back as he kicked a stick from under his boot. "Okay fine," he began, "how about… never have I ever pulled a prank on someone." You threw a hand up and groaned: "FINALLY!" Then you took a long swig and sighed in content. Buddy looked at you expectantly, wriggling an eyebrow. "So? You gonna share the story or what? I mean, you finally got one, hope it's a good story for you to share."

And you did. You went into detail how you had a sleepover when you were about thirteen, you were all sitting in the dark with flashlights held up to your faces, all attempting to scare each other. You rolled your eyes and said you were gonna go and get a drink, so they continued with their storytelling, and what the others didn't know was that you snuck around the hall and waited for them to think you were downstairs, then the floor creaked, they called out to you with no response. So all of a sudden, you scurried into the room on all fours, your body twisted as if you were mangled, and everyone screamed bloody murder. You laughed as you twisted back to normal and your best friend at the time laughed almost as hysterically as you did. "I had a feeling you were gonna do that," your friend remarked, to which one of them replied; "you knew they could do that?!" Safe to say, those kids had nightmares for a few days, and you loved every minute of it.

Naturally, Buddy was insanely curious. "Come on, babe," he said sweetly, "you gotta show me after THAT story!" So you got to your feet and found a decent area where the ground wasn't too uneven and there weren't a lot of ways to injure yourself, and you bent over so gracefully, your limbs moved as if you had no bones, and your torso twisted so easily that you thought Buddy's eyes would pop out of his head. "Damn, Y/N, that's incredible. If I would have known you could do that, I would have worked with you to scare the shit out of the theater kids." You laughed as you got back to your feet and sat down beside him again. "Guess we gotta come up with a plan for next year."

[darklylucid]

With, at last count, 30 different slasher villains, 6 Nameless Ghouls, a Satanic pope and, most recently, both Mac and Tony from 'Hell House LLC' running around in my head vying for attention, I tend to forget a few for a while until I suddenly go, 'OH YEAH...HIM!'

I just remembered Buddy exists, so I feel the need to remind all of you that Buddy exists.

Particularly this version of Buddy...

You're welcome 😜

(Please note that my rather extensive list of f/o's also includes 4 characters from 'Bones', an unruly pack of vampire trash goblins and, occasionally, Aquaman's DICK of a half brother, King Orm)

[early20sfailingplenty]

Home cooking, homicide // final(est) girl Bex x Buddy Swanson

A/N: Happy happy birthday @bisexual-horror-fan!!! Writing this for you was sooooo much fun and I can't thank you enough for all of the films we've shared, the discord chats, the streams, the writing, the commissions, just... everything. You have helped me make me braver and bolder and louder and prouder and you influence me every day in your teachings. You make this world a brighter, better, gentler and wiser place and I don't know what I'd do without you!!! I'm very proud of you and how far you've come and will continue to go.💖So here's to you, Bex, happy fuckin' birthday!! You're the final girl to end all final girls! Just as well you have a slasher to complement you on your journey...😉👀

Also, fun fact! The title of this gift is from Motörhead's song Eat The Rich, which is one of my favourite song of theirs! I was listening to it while writing this introductory note and got inspired by the lyric

"Get a sweet thing on the side Home cooking, homicide"

And here we have it! I hope you enjoy!! If not, I'm happy to write you something else.🥺💖

Word count: 2, 543.💕

You wondered how many people could say that their work shifts doubled as a date with their partner... not many, you would wager. Not that you could afford to, even if you wanted to, what with the meagre wages you and Buddy were paid for the incredibly demanding and repetitive work you did. You practically ran the entire kitchen between yourselves; both of you doing double the work listed in your job descriptions. Camilla was also hired to work here, but with her now working on the next production, she was rarely if ever on a kitchen shift. You and Buddy had been picking up where she should have been, so it was more work for the same money... typical capitalist bullshit. Even at summer camp.

But still... The point stood.

How many other people could say that their work shifts doubled as a date with their partner?

For you and Buddy, food was an every day guarantee and a joint staple in your daily routines. It was a joy to cook, a wonder to be able to eat what you wanted while you were on shift so long as you had the ingredients. Sampling dishes to make sure that the food tasted good wasn't strictly a necessity but you always said that doing so was for 'quality assurance purposes'; and it never failed to make Buddy smile at you fondly over industrial cans of food. To be able to take care of one another while you worked as best and as fast as you could as you got swept off your feet trying to feed the tens of kids at camp, the managers, actors and cast members, the musicians and everyone else who worked behind the scenes to make the magic happen on the modest stage, was a gift. You loved the life you and Buddy had built together and you loved the way you loved each other. You loved food, trying new recipes and dishes, eating and hanging out, and even doing the dishes was fun when you had Buddy standing shoulder to shoulder with you. He would sometimes flick bubbles over at you, trying to distract you, but you would only grin and swat at his ass with a sharply aimed towel the next time you walked past him. He always saw you coming. Sometimes he allowed you to do it, a smirk on his face with the sharp crack of the towel, and sometimes he simply dodged. It depended on his mood and how playful he felt.

It was just good to share the camp kitchen with Buddy, and your own passion and love for food and eating only made everything all the more richer for you. Buddy could take or leave cooking, he didn't care. Hell, he couldn't wait to get the hell out of dodge, but you made the kitchen what it was for the both of you. Your presence made everything brighter and more hopeful for Buddy, and he showed his appreciation for you through physical affection and food.

Buddy was always fun to watch in the kitchen. He cared little for the 'freaks' you both cooked for every day and yet he never allowed his emotions to get in the way of the role he had to play in the kitchen. The food itself was never affected by his hatred for his job and the person he was employed by. It was a hard slog in the kitchen daily for people he cared not for, but it was also a chance to spend the day with you. The both of you knew what you were doing in the kitchen and you knew the layout of the camp kitchen like the backs of your hands, so it was little more than a dance around one another to make the daily menus happen and even come up with some dishes which were rare treats; something you cooked just because you loved it. Or, if the budget allowed, just because you could.

Like oven done ribs.

It was a low effort meal (most of the things prepared in the camp kitchen were as the palettes of children and teenagers could be somewhat... limited, as could be the assigned budget) but it tasted so good – it was one of your favourites for a reason and Buddy loved to surprise you with it on special occasions; such as your birthday. He had squirrelled away some of the budget so that he could get you the ribs without anyone aboveboard finding out. You could have bought the ribs yourself, they were often on your grocery lists, but where was the fun in surprising you with your own food?

When asked, you could rattle off the ingredients like it was the back of your hand, and this was how Buddy had gotten the recipe from you. Emphasis had always remained on the apple cider vinegar being applied before the rub, which involved so many herbs and spices it had initially made Buddy's head spin, but now the gathering and application of these flavours to the ribs had become second nature to him. He wasn't as quick about it as you were, but he was close.

It always made your heart fuzzy to watch him, his dark curls hanging over his blue eyes, his eyebrows reaching for each other in concentration as his hands moved over spice bottles and herb packets, pulling one out and then either using it or putting it back with a slight shake of his head when he had picked out the wrong one.

Sometimes you helped him, sometimes you didn't... It depended on how bored you were, how busy the kitchen was and how evil you felt. Buddy always found the right one eventually, and watching him struggle could be fun. It wouldn't be fun for the food, though, so more often than not, you helped even when Buddy was more than capable of doing it himself.

You just liked to be close to him.

"You think these ribs will take long?"

Buddy's voice was quiet, his tender blues fixed on you as he asked a question he already knew the answer to just to hear your voice. He was soft like that sometimes, but only for you. His final girl.

"Nah," you shook your head, eyeing Buddy with a gaze almost as hot as the heat coming from the preheated stove. "Two, two and a half hours max. Want the meat falling off the bone, get it all nice and tender."

Buddy nodded his head. He was becoming increasingly distracted, quiet, while Camilla was becoming louder, more annoying. You had never liked her. You wondered what was happening to the Swansons, but you figured things would reveal themselves in all good time. And if not, well... Buddy was private, he kept things to himself, but if he felt the need to talk to you, then he would do so when he was good and ready and not a second before. It wasn't your place to push. Buddy knew you were there for him as surely as he knew he had curly hair, and you felt comfort and security in that knowledge too. The love which existed between the both of you was as natural and as easy as breathing. You didn't have to think about it.

It just was.

Buddy was a rather affectionate man. He didn't seem that way, but sometimes instead of flicking soap suds at you at the kitchen sink when the both of you were washing up, he would instead shuffle to stand behind you so that he could rest his forehead on the back of your shoulder, or he would wrap his arms around your waist and pull you flush against him. There were no intentions other than giving and receiving love in equal measures. He had been so deprived of touch and love; the upbringing he had received after his mother's murder wasn't love, not really. It was walking on eggshells and sitting on a secret so callous and cruel that it had twisted him into the man you knew him as; childhood trauma left to fester turned into a wound that never healed and instead ripped open and bled more still every time he had to face the man who ran the camp and the Swanson siblings' lives: Roger McCall.

It was a wound which never stopped bleeding, but you did what you could to help Buddy patch himself up.

You could have only ever suspected that patching Buddy up so that he could begin to heal was not what he wanted. No, what Buddy wanted was revenge. On Roger, on the industry, on his sister for becoming an actress... The Metal Killer was bloodthirsty and if revenge was what he wanted, then... it was revenge which he would have.

But not yet... the timing wasn't right. The place was, but the time had yet to pass. The much anticipated opening night of The Haunting of the Opera was when Buddy would get his revenge and Camilla would most likely end up being collateral damage. Buddy didn't want that for her, he really didn't, but he had chosen his path and she had chosen hers. It seemed that their life path, which they had always walked through together, had a fork in the road and they would be going their own ways. They were twins. Buddy and Camilla had always lived life together, but somewhere along the way did the fates show Buddy that they were to die alone, separated from one another in all ways but blood.

Never to meet again, if Buddy's own show went to plan. He was devastated to potentially lose his sister but if that was the way it had to be, then so be it. She had made her bed by deciding to follow her mother's footsteps to the letter. Buddy had dug the graves he needed, since he had failed in his plans to stop his sister from becoming an actress. All that was left was for the sands of time to turn their tricks, as they do on everyone. Buddy had accepted the way things would go. You were kept in the dark, your suspicions rising but otherwise left unattended, but your own role would show itself in time.

Until then, though, he was cooking oven done ribs for his final girl's big thirtieth birthday. And, oh, what a filthy decade it was to be. You and Buddy had plans to make money. Both of you had employment history with food, so it wouldn't be too difficult for you to work with Buddy in the restaurant he wanted to open one day. Probably in New York - that's where the money was. With money came power, and with power came the ability for Buddy to get out from underneath Roger's nails. Camilla too, if she wanted. It was looking increasingly like she didn't want to; she wanted fame, she wanted her mother back and she thought that pipe dream lay in following her mother's path. She was wrong, Buddy knew that, and so did you, but Camilla hadn't quite caught up yet to the fact that the industry she had dreamed of participating in ever since she was a child would eat her alive.

By the time she woke up, it would be too late.

The oven beeped, preheated to the correct temperature, and Buddy cast his eyes over the ribs to check them over before he slid them into the oven, smoothly kicking the door shut as he flipped a heavily grease stained white towel over his broad shoulder. It was one smooth movement; he had had years of practice. The mountain of dishes which had accumulated during the making of lunch made him scoff in derision. It was becoming harder and harder for him to take this job seriously. His dark ambitions were so important, his rage and trauma bigger than he. He just wanted Roger and the freaks to shut their faces, he wanted to get out, to get away, he wanted his own money and his own place, Buddy wanted freedom with no one remaining from his previous life except you, especially after spending most of his life living out choices which were made for him by a man he loathed.

As the ribs cooked in the oven, baking in the spices and the meat's own juices, you and Buddy entertained one another with jokes, miniature food fights (conducted using only waste products like bell pepper hearts or bits of spaghetti which never made it into the pot from where Buddy had thrown it in the general direction of the pot of boiling water without a care for where the uncooked pasta landed), and generally working hard to feed the entire camp. No matter the situation, you fought hard and somehow always made things work. Watching you in the kitchen, watching you go between cooking and cleaning up, always humming and singing, often made Buddy wonder how you would handle The Metal Killer. He knew beyond all shadow of a doubt that you would handle it and him with grace.

When you decided to do something, nothing and no one would stop you. It was what made you a final girl. It was what made you the final girl. You would survive the camp but all others around you would fall - the ones on Buddy's Wall, anyway. The rage within Buddy was strong enough that he could bring down someone twice his size, he could bend limbs and appendages with little effort; the kitchen had given him more skills than just time management. It had given him muscles, it had given him the weapons and the means with which to protect himself and his sister, to protect his final girl even though she could and would protect herself. Buddy admired the way you faced a situation with the seriousness it required and did everything you could even when it felt wrong, because you knew it was right. It was a distinction observed in few people. Buddy had only ever been able to keep quiet about the things he had seen, the things he knew, but you spoke up, you used your voice, and Buddy felt comfort in knowing that you lived for yourself in the way he had never been able to, no thanks to Roger.

The last hour of cooking the ribs involved basting the meat with its own juices every ten minutes, and so entertainment slowed, but the affection between you and Buddy remained as strong as ever. While the camp's menu for the various departments and age ranges had been fully catered to as per Roger's instructions, you and Buddy had somehow managed to find the time and ingredients to make your favourite sides to accompany the oven done ribs. It was to be a fire birthday meal, but the plans didn't end there. Not today, not with so many years of your life to celebrate alongside the promise of many more to come. More often than not, Buddy had more plans than actions, but on your birthday, your birthday, Buddy had more actions since the only real plan was to celebrate his final girl. His.

[halfadeckofcards]

A little something of one of my favorite underrated slashers, the Metal Killer from Stage Fright!

(And if anyone’s interested, I listened to The Silver Scream 2: Welcome to Horrorwood by Ice Nine Kills on repeat while drawing this. It fits perfectly.)

[bisexual-horror-fan]

You asked for "slasher related thirst asks" and I always aim to please so here I am Bex.

As mentioned yesterday, I finally watched Stage Fright and my life is complete now. I can't get Buddy out of my mind and I'm just reeling in horniness for him. Something that I already couldn't stop thinking about while watching the movie was him with that black face paint on his lower face just absolutely painting your thighs with it while very eagerly eating you out. That thought won't leave me. And he'd definitely tell you that he better still find your thighs covered in that paint when you see him again in the evening.

Him in the kitchen also won't leave me alone. I think it would be very on brand for him to make you the best fucking hot chocolate (very specifically that for some reason) on planet earth, jizz in it right infront of you and tell you to drink it. It's so nasty and I can't stop thinking about it. Also just general kitchen stuff - over the counter, pressed against the fridge, eating you out with you laid on a table, secret dick sucking while he's trying to continue making food for those fucking campers. You can't tell me that he wouldn't whimper beautifully when trying not to be too loud.

I am in Buddy Swanson brain rot right now and I can't leave, Bex. I don't think I want to though, I'm having a great time.

-🦇

Okay but correct!

The eating out thing is so, so on brand, and I am legit obsessed with the idea of Buddy eating out, he just has suuuch a good set of lips for it, could cradle a clit beautifully and those curls are just begging to be tugged on while he is going to town. So your first idea, signed off on, totally.

Also we don't talk enough about Buddy and foodplay! But he would! It is nasty and dominating and controlling and he would! And I have written about kitchen sex with Buddy a million times and I will write it a million more and not apologize for it either!

That last one tho, man, you are totally right, Buddy WOULD have the best whimpers ever, no way he wouldn't.

I am thinking of a bored and ignored piece that goes awry because he just can't keep up the facade because it feels way too fucking good, you know?