#scream 7

[soloragoldsun]

With Scream 7 being advertised, I'd like to give a friendly reminder that Spyglass fired Melissa Barrera from the franchise because she spoke out against the genocide in Gaza. Jenna Ortega left not long after. We can still love the movies that came before, but the franchise is no longer what it once was. The producers proved that they would rather lick the boots of murderers than stand with their actors. Boycott Scream 7!

[fanofspooky]

Horror movies by year:

2026

[covnsha1]

Old artwork of the man himself

[uuugggh2809]

[stabhound]

When people make Billy openly possessive I get a little irked. Because yeah it fits, but I feel he’s more of a ‘inside’ possessive guy, he won’t show it.

Mostly because he’s gotta keep up the looks, whether it’s pretending to be charming or pretending not to be an absolute fag.

Stu? He’s openly possessive, and NOT in the way of “you’re mine.” More in the way of,

“I can do things you wouldn’t let other people do and I’ll make it apparent.” Kinda way, if you know what I mean?

in the way that he’s slinging his arm around Billy’s shoulders, SPLAYING himself across him. Billys so used to it he won’t even NOTICE until either Stu makes it apparent or someone mentions it and he shoves him off.

Billy makes it SEEM like he’s annoyed, but Stu knows better than that.

Most adults see it and go “Boys will be boys.” Friends see it and think “That’s just how Stu is/how they are.” Sid at first thought the same (she knows better now). Randy definitely thinks something’s up, (of course he does) and Tatum doesn’t doubt it.

Stu thought that would go well into adulthood. You know, when the plan worked. Maybe they’d have old habits to laugh about.

Maybe he’d just have Billy. That was okay too.

Now that Billy’s gone, Stu doesn’t have someone to lean on.

He thought he’d be okay. But if you ask him? Being alone really fucking sucks.

[strangeboyonearth]

drowning in shallow water

. ✦⫘⫘⫘ˎˊ˗ ꒰ jock! ben brown x shy! male reader

. ✦⫘⫘⫘ˎˊ˗ ꒰ fluff, lots of sexual tension

. ✦⫘⫘⫘ˎˊ˗ ꒰ when asked during "spin the bottle", ben reveals that he wants to fuck you.

"guys! i'm good! i— i was just dropping off some of your cheerleaders—" the thumping bass and overlapping conversations curbed your protests. it wouldn't have mattered if the varsity team heard you anyway. their hands were dead set on bringing you to the middle of their party.

"relax, kiddo. it's just a game. stay a while, would you?" lucas bowden sat you the right side of the circle, made up of other jocks and their girls. in the middle, an empty dom pérignon laid horizontally. but your breath caught when you saw a blond man laughing at his friend on the couch, holding up a beer cup with practiced confidence. his blue eyes were sharp enough to slice through your own esteem.

you didn't even realize that he caught you staring, his an eyebrow cocked up. embarrassment widen your eyes before looking down on the persian rug, heat rushing through your veins. "that's ben brown. our striker. hot, isn't he?" lucas chuckled into your ear before smacking your back. someone in the room reached forward to spin the bottle, earning howls from the crowd that formed around the circle.

the first few victims were standard: someone revealed they made out with the history TA, one chugged one beer bottle in one go, and another gave the goalie a lapdance in front of everyone. it wasn't when the neck pointed to ben that the unsaid words on your tongue stuttered. "truth." he spoke with lazy mastery, taking one long sip from his cup that made your toes curl in your shoes.

"alright," some blonde cheerleader leaned forward. "how about you tell us why you asked the team to drag someone into this game?"

"yeah who do you want to fuck tonight brown?" another jock boomed out. the crowd erupted in collective laughter. lucas elbowed you in his joy, and you just tried to mirror him. something about that question didn't sink in with you just yet, but you knew it was there.

"you." everyone turned to ben, and your breathing completely stopped when his pointer and middle finger forming a gun was pointed in your direction. he probably pointed at lucas, he had to be, but lucas was also smirking in your direction. "not lucas. you, boy in the black sweater." ben jerked his fingers upward, eyes locked into yours.

the crowd's collective oohs was muffled to the edges by the bullets that hit your body all at once. shame and unease burnt the flesh of your skin, but a bittersweet arousal and honor emerged from all those feelings. you didn't even know who ben was personally, but apparently, he wanted to see you bent for his pleasure to take. you were so focused on your thoughts and pulling the hem of your sweater that you didn't even hear them call your name.

they met your surprised face with amused looks. you find the bottle pointed towards you, making you grip your legs. "new rule! you're not allowed to choose truth anymore!" someone yelled in the crowd.

"t—that's illegal!" you tried to protest, but everyone just cooed in your words. lucas pinches your cheeks like you just mispronounced your first words. just then, the party host hannah yells: "i dare you to kiss ben brown!"

a full decalescent wave revered your body. you shook your head, but the way you met ben's gaze told a different story. it was a lie if you said the thought of the taste of his narrow lips didn't fill you at the moment. would he move like a prayer, with grace and regard? or would he treat like a war where he'll bite and draw blood?

"jesus," ben made his way towards you in three big strides. your breath tangled into the threads of his lemony musk overwhelming your senses. there's an amused look in his electric gaze, a sly smirk playing on his face. "relax." he smashed his lips onto yours.

no sympathy was found in the movement of mouth, fully engulfing you in a distinct heat that you never felt in your entire life. your hands fisted his shirt- pushing him away, pulling him close- as your legs bucked into itself. ben held you up, groaning into the kiss and slipping his large tongue to explore the crevices of your mouth. he tasted like heaven and hell, life and death, sobriety and addiction all at once. and when he pressed your head further, you might've lost a piece of yourself into him.

ben pulled away. you bring your fingertips to your lips, the ghost of ben's roughness still branded to your senses. ben bites his lower lip slightly upon your actions, and that's when a whimper leaves your swollen lip.

"damn brown's down bad." lucas howls with the crowd. ben chuckles to himself, turning around like nothing happened. you're left in your daze, the addictive sweetness playing on your lips, drowning in shallow water. "who's next?" ben crashed back onto the couch, his gaze fully aware of his sins.

a few more rounds ensued before the crowd fully dispersed. still dizzy, you followed the tall jock into the hallway. the drink hasn't left his veined hands, the moonlight drawing lines on the perfect edges of his face and hair. "missed me?" ben asked, turning to face you. "wanna go further? i know a bedroom here."

"y-you stole my first kiss!" the words tumble out your lips like an accusation. the fire in your chest was confusing- anger and invigoration colliding.

ben chuckled darkly, sending waves into your system. he stepped forward until he fully crowded you against the wall with one casual arm. you had to tilt your head up in order to meet his look. "stole? you were leaning into me, boy. pretty sure that was consensual." he leaned down to graze your ear with his teeth. "now i would pretty much would like to fuck you right now, but i'm pretty sure i'm gonna collapse in a few minutes. and i would like to tear your ass up sober anyway. i'm wilder that way."

he stands as straight as he could. "goodnight, pretty boy. i'll find you again. and you better be ready for me." ben squeezed your cheek before stumbling down the hallway. "and you better not hide from me!"

you watched ben disappear into a bedroom. he's taken everything from you: your once untouched lips, the ability to breathe properly, and your heart, which you knew he would play around in his hands to his own satisfaction. and you were willing to drown in his presence as long as it was his oceans you were sinking in.

[mckenna-source]

MCKENNA GRACE as Hannah Thurman in Scream 7 (2026)

[aceofheartsssss]

"You look like you've seen a ghost"

⚠️ SPOILER RANT below! SKIP straight TO THE FIC if you HAVEN'T WATCHED SCREAM 7!!! ⚠️

So, I watched Scream 7... wow, I've never been so utterly disappointed. They had the PERFECT chance to make it good and bring Stu back, but NO, some stupid, old RANDOS were the killers... it was going so fucking well til the end. So, I decided to do it JUSTICE and write a fucking ficlet about Obsessive!DILF!Stu Macher x GN!reader. I coulddddd have written my own alternate ending to the movie but I felt like adding Yandere Stu lol.

(I shouuuuuld let you know that I'm no Shakespeare, so I've decided to leave HOW Stu Macher survived up for interpretation, apparently he was going to return in the original Scream 3 script, but I don't know how to write that in or how they were gonna do it originally.)

Warnings: Stu Macher (duh, he's a warning), obsession, 20-25 and 47-49 age gap, violence (no shit), stalking, kidnapping, my blood and knife kink show a bit, sowwy, eventual potential stockholm syndrome implied, enjoy!

He watched from afar. He'd been waiting for this for so long. He wasn't stupid about it, no. He'd waited far too long for this moment and it was going to go his way. He'd gathered his own little cult. Weirdos, psychos, stupid teens, and just overly bad people who seemingly believed him to be some sort of higher entity… stupid. But in a way, he was. Stu Macher. One of the two original Ghostface killers. An insane, absolutely psychotic, man that was fucked up in the head, living in the shadows, hungry for blood and revenge. He had, in fact, survived what had happened to him all those years ago. His face was completely scarred all over but he still had those eyes, those utterly deranged and disturbing eyes to rival horror movie demons.

How did he do it exactly…? How did he survive? Perhaps Roman had been involved in his survival before his own untimely death? Perhaps his mystery older sister had been involved in getting him out and away? Someone replaced his body for another? Someone took him to a hospital in another town where he'd be unrecognizable, especially due to the scarring? A decoy...? Well, it was all irrelevant now thirty years later, and the eerie, unsolved mystery of what seemed to be the literal immortality of Stu Macher only added layers to him that just made him appear even more like a higher, entity that was a manifestation of evil.

Now, after creating a foolproof plan, his chance finally arrived. He was going to kill Sidney, he was going to kill her husband, he was going to kill her daughter, who was currently the same age he was when this all began, and anyone else that got in the way. He'd already burned the old Macher house to the ground, all while having a bit of fun with some victims inside, as it should be. How he'd planned it to be. And if anyone managed to get to him somehow, he was also prepared for that. He had people, he was prepared. Thirty fucking years led to many things for him. He was utterly ready for anything. Anything at all.

Then, you happened. YOU were not part of the plan. YOU were a pain, an obstacle. A rock in an otherwise smooth road. A random person that was now a part of Sidney Prescott's life, therefore you were also supposed to be a victim. He should’ve found the concept of killing you easy and get it over with, but... he found that after he tracked you down and watched you follow your daily routine to make killing you simpler, that he'd grown a filthy, perverted, little obsession towards you. You were like a stupid, innocent little animal, oh, it was so alluring!!! He didn't wanna KILL YOU!! Now he just wanted to keep you to himself. You were just starting out in life, doing all these stupid things, going through every day, trying to improve and thinking everything would be okay, and he just couldn't get enough of it. You were so fucking stupid. It’d been the most entertaining thing since 1996. As his revenge plans got set into motion, his perverted obsession with you grew too, creating a new plan, a special task just for him.

- You were working in The Little Latte Coffee Co with Sidney Prescott herself, or, Sidney Evans, you should say. You never would have thought you'd have such a great bond with a woman that'd been through so much and had such a drastic age gap with you. Yet, here you were. In fact, she had liked you so much, she'd given you the job almost instantly. You were pretty much just starting off your life, no idea where it'd go, really. Having a stable job was the main thing right now. And if you were being honest with yourself, you actually liked the job. It was peaceful, calming, and flexible. Sidney mentioned to you that she'd been struggling with her teenage daughter, Tatum. All you could do was tell her that it'd all work itself out, it was just during the teenage years, because that was really all you could say. Having children seemed stressful, and you couldn’t relate, so you really couldn't give her more advice than that. She nodded and sighed.

Then the killings began.

Tatum's friends had been killed brutally, slit throats, gutted organs... her school was only a few blocks away from where you lived. When you'd heard the news, goosebumps filled your arms and you were suddenly consumed with the urge to dispel any and all fluids from your body as you rushed to the bathroom of the coffee shop, hands clammy, shaky, and sweaty, and you swear you felt dizzy. You spoke to Sidney and she told you she was scared, she also told you to be careful. You rushed back home every single day after work, in fear of your life. It'd been a rough week and you were terrified. Apparently, Sidney had been attacked in her home just yesterday, and was now going out and about with Gale Weathers, trying to find information about the seemingly random man that attacked her family. They had suspicions that he had connections to someone else, potentially Stu Macher, but it felt too far fetched, their main theory was that someone had used an AI deepfake to make FaceTime calls to Sidney. They were on the hunt for that person, or any clues, anything, really.

In the past, the killings usually involved people that Sidney knew dying in horrific ways. You knew this because she'd told you that before. You were almost regretting getting close to her in the first place... You locked the doors of your shitty apartment and closed all the curtains, yet you still felt watched as you drifted off to a restless sleep every night, sometimes waking up for seemingly no reason. One night, you were half-mindedly eating some reheated pasta while watching the news. Apparently, there were theories that many "Ghostfaces" were involved now in a sort of cult… coming straight to your town. You nearly puked but managed to hold it in... until your phone rang. You glanced over at it and all color drained from your face when it said Unknown Caller. You let it hang itself up and stared at the phone with eyes so wide, they'd look creepy from a third person point of view. Then it rang again.

Fuck. You thought.

You picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hello." A deep, gravelly voice spoke. It was the "Ghostface" voice. You've heard a recreation of it in the Stab movies. Your lower lip trembled dreadfully, praying to God it was just a prank.

"What... do you want?" You wondered, trying to sound as if this were a normal, casual phone call.

"I just wanna talk to youuu... you're sooo fascinating to me." He responded in a growly voice. He almost sounded almost... flirty?

"What do you wanna talk about…?" You asked, biting your shaking lower lip. He paused for a bit, then spoke in a taunting tone.

"How about life. Interests? Favorite foods? Tell me, Y/N... how does that pasta taste?" He said and you felt so ill and hopeless as you realized this wasn’t a prank. He was watching you. You wanted to explode.

"Who are you?" You asked darkly.

"That's a silly question to ask. You know I'm not gonna tell you..." The man said and you threw your head back with a wince. I'm so fucked, you thought as you looked at your ceiling mindlessly.

"What do you want from me? What did I do?" You wondered, voice coming out shaky.

"Oh, nothing... You didn't do anything. That's the interesting part..." He mumbled quickly, seemingly mostly to himself, and you wondered what the hell he was going on about.

"Tell me... do you like scary movies?" He finally added when you went silent. He continued on when you didn’t respond to him. “I really like The Collector. 1965. Do you know what it’s about, Y/N…?” He said in a menacing, teasing, nearly excited-sounding whisper. You were beginning to panic.

"Please leave me alone." You said weakly, trying to think of what to do, phone nearly falling from your shaky, sweaty grasp. You'd probably have to leave town, right? You needed to go. Your thoughts, however, were interrupted as he responded to your plea.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, you see… I've grown... a little… obsessed with you." He said and before you could register it or respond he hung up. He hung up so suddenly, he didn't even give you a second to begin thinking about packing your stuff before your door began rattling madly as someone pounded the hell out of it, making your heart feel as if it was jumping out of your fucking chest. Your eyes widened wildly, looking around in fear. Your body kickstarted and you began running around for somewhere to hide but halfway through, you realized that was stupid. He'd find you anyway. You tried to control your breathing and think as you heard the door begin to break. You quickly texted your friends that you needed help as you hid inside a closet near to the front door. The police wouldn’t make it in time. You had to act. You were going to try and get out of the closet and out the front door the second he busted inside. Stupid, a last resort. But he’d find you if you hid anywhere else in the small apartment. You had one chance.

All while this was happening, the other members of the cult were hunting down Sidney, Tatum, Mark, and attempting to complete the rest of the plan. Killing Tatum’s boyfriend, her friends, tracking them down, gathering them all up like cattle. Ghostface was literally everywhere, and he was literally immortal. Every time one “Ghostface” died, another one showed up behind and slit a throat.

Stu Macher, yes. THE Stu Macher, was the Ghostface that was in your apartment. Yes, his obsession with you had grown so much that his main priority had actually shifted from the woman that he'd been plotting against and hunting down for literal decades, to her innocent little employee she'd hired. He simply didn't care anymore. He wanted you.

The door burst open and you kept your mouth shut as he ran to your bedroom. You listened carefully as he began heading for your bedroom but then- Shit, you thought when you realized he'd figured you out. He had come back quickly, and it was time to run. You sprinted for the door but he grabbed the back of your shirt roughly as he tugged you back. You yelped as you punched him in the face, making him stumble just a little. He quickly recovered and shoved you harshly to the ground with both hands, making you fall on your ass as he straddled you. You tried pushing him away and trying to choke or hit him but he grabbed your wrists with one large hand.

"NO! Don't- don't kill me- I didn't- I'm not even INVOLVED with Sidney- ugh- HELP! SOMEONE HELP M-" You growled as a last resort, ashamed and even angry at the insane difference in your strengths; it made you feel useless. He shushed you degradingly, covering your mouth with his other large palm, holding your head still. "Be good, be quiet... shh, shh, shh..." He whispered with perverted excitement as you shook around violently. You were going to die...

Then, to your surprise, he pulled out a zip tie and tried to tie your wrists up. The concept of being immobilized pumped some more adrenaline into you and you thrashed around with insanely uncharacteristic strength as you actually managed to get him off of you. You turned and crawled onto your feet like a mouse frantically escaping from a large cat, getting up and making for the door. He got up with the inhuman speed of someone who yearned for this day for a long time as grabbed your ankles, making you scream as you fell again, searing pain spreading all over your chest and chin where you'd made contact with the ground. This time, he stepped on your midsection while he tied your wrists up, immobilizing you at last. He then put a knife to your throat to keep you quiet, cutting just enough flesh to be a warning, to show some blood. He breathed heavily at the sight of it. "Now, you're gonna be good for me. You're gonna be silent, or I will hurt you." He warned, the knife nearly daring to go deeper. You nodded before something happened that made your vision go blank as he dragged you away into the abyss of night.

Your friends had indeed seen the text and called the police, but no one found you. There were no clues, no cues, no indications, nothing. They assumed you were dead. Sidney blamed herself for it. You were almost like another child to her. She almost regretting ever getting close to you…

Everyone ended up believing that Stu Macher’s return was simply a stupid AI deepfake but only you knew the truth. He took you somewhere unknown. It seemed like a house. He showed you his face. He was, indeed, Stu Macher, and you didn't know where the hell he'd brought you. All you knew was that you couldn't get out. He'd planned this well. The walls were... not normal. There were windows that had bars in them and outside you could see what seemed to be the woods. Nowhere.

Ghostface was technically gone... but they did not know with certainty if Stu Macher was alive, where you'd gone, and why it’d all ended seemingly so easy, why he ceased to attack Sidney any longer.

⚠️‼️ I DO NOT CONDONE THIS SHIT IRL, IIT’S JUST MY STUPID, INTERNAL FANTASY, I DON'T WISH IT IRL, I’M NOT A FUCKING WEIRDO. This is meant to stay here and stay here ONLY. ‼️⚠️

It’s not kidnapping if I consent! Take me away, STUUUU, take meeee!!!