#tatum

[sportsmusicsoapsmoviesfan]

[thatoneautistic]

why am i rooting for a slow burn amangela potato sitcom tv show romance rn????

and why did i think they were about to kiss for a sec? 😭

[unteriors]

E State Highway 43, Tatum, Texas.

[skulkfinn]

the un cut scream my beloved please be in theaters soon! @juryof69

[myadagoat22]

“Final scene part 2” Poly ghostface (There’s reallly no warnings so we’re good,but it’s pretty long)

The newsvan hummed quietly in the dark, its glow coming only from the monitors Kenny hovered over. His fingers tapped across the control board like he was hacking into the Pentagon.

“So… what’s the plan?” Kenny muttered.

Gale leaned back in her seat, eyes sharp. “Prep the compact. We’ll hide it in a window and tape tonight’s festivities.”

He fiddled with the camera, small enough to hide in his palm. “Control board’s glitched. We can’t carry a live picture.”

“What’s the delay?” she asked.

“Thirty seconds.”

“As long as it records, I don’t give a shit. We’re not doing a remote.”

Before Kenny could respond, the van door slid open. Gale stepped out, heels crunching gravel—only to nearly scream when a hand touched her shoulder. She spun, heart stopping.

Dewey stood there, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Evening, ma’am.”

“Deputy,” Gale exhaled, hand pressed to her chest. “Good evening.”

They chatted—her about breaking stories, him about “keeping an eye on things”—until finally Gale snatched the camera from Kenny, winked, and followed Dewey toward the house.

⸻

Inside the kitchen things were way less tense. The microwave beeped as popcorn popped, and the air smelled like cheap beer and junk food.

Y/N leaned against the counter, half-watching as Sidney, Stu, and Tatum tore through bags of chips and candy like it was a feast. Other teens drifted in and out, the whole place buzzing with music and laughter. Randy barged in with an armful of VHS tapes, dumping them dramatically on the counter.

“I thought we’d make it a Blockbuster night,” he announced proudly.

Stu grinned, “I thought everything was checked out.”

“Nah,” Randy smirked. “Had ‘em hid in the foreign section.”

Sidney picked one up, squinting. “The Fog. Terror Train. Prom Night. Why is Jamie Lee Curtis in, like, all of these?”

“She’s the Scream Queen,” Randy said like it was gospel.

“With lungs like hers, she should be,” Stu added with a smirk.

Tatum nudged Sid. “Tits. See?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, snorting into her drink. Typical.

⸻

Later in the living room the party had hit full swing. Teens piled on couches, on the floor, basically anywhere they could sit. Y/N sat cross-legged near the TV, watching Randy try to lead a vote like he was running for president.

“How many Evil Dead’s?” he asked. Hands shot up. “How many Hellraiser’s?”

Arguments broke out—half-serious, half just drunk yelling. Y/N just grinned, sipping her drink, happy to be an observer.

The doorbell rang. Stu, already buzzed, stumbled toward the door.

“I got it! …Tatum, get me a beer. They’re in the garage fridge.”

Tatum groaned. “What am I, the beer wench?”

Before anyone could laugh, Stu’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Hey, guess who’s here? It’s that chick from Inside Story!”

Every head turned. Dewey walked in first, Gale on his arm.

“Tatum,” Y/N muttered under her breath, “is about to lose her mind.”

And she did. “Shit, Dewey! What is she doing here?”

“She’s with me,” Dewey said casually. “Just checking things out.”

The guys in the room couldn’t stop staring at Gale, practically drooling. Even Stu’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights.

“Of course,” Tatum muttered, storming off toward the kitchen.

Y/N stayed put, watching the room shift instantly. Gale knew how to own a room—everyone’s attention went straight to her, even with the music blaring and drinks flowing.

“Wanna interview us?” one kid asked eagerly.

Randy jumped in. “We’ll say really nice things about our slaughtered friends. Real tragic.”

Stu smirked, “I can cry on cue.”

Y/N rolled her eyes again but made a mental note: Gale wasn’t just here to “hang out.” She was up to something.

he party kept pulsing in the living room, Randy now mid-rant about horror rules while half the crowd heckled him.

Stu suddenly leaned into the kitchen doorway, voice cutting through the noise.

“Hey, Tatum! Grab me another beer, babe. Fridge in the garage.”

Tatum shot him a glare so sharp Y/N swore it could’ve cut glass.

“What am I, the beer wench?” she snapped, but she grabbed the empty bottles anyway, muttering as she pushed past.

The door slammed behind her, leaving everyone to their chaos. Y/N stretched out on the couch, a little uneasy but chalked it up to the claustrophobic crush of bodies in the house. It’s just a party. Chill.

⸻

INT. GARAGE – NIGHT

The door creaked open as Tatum stepped inside, the flicker of a single overhead bulb casting harsh shadows on the walls. The hum of the beer fridge filled the silence.

She tugged the fridge open, cold light spilling across her face. “Beer, beer, beer… why are boys so helpless?”

The garage door behind her groaned. She froze. Slowly turned.

A figure in black stood by the steps. The mask—white, long-mouthed, hollow-eyed.

“Really?” Tatum laughed nervously, clutching the bottles against her chest. “Nice try, Randy. Cute costume, but you’re not scaring me.”

The figure tilted its head, saying nothing.

“Okay, seriously, you’re starting to freak me out. Cut it out, Stu, if that’s you.”

The figure lunged.

Bottles shattered against the concrete as Tatum stumbled back, shrieking, dodging the knife that sliced through air. She scrambled toward the garage door controls, slamming her hand on the button. The door whirred open—only for the figure to grab her, slam her down.

“Get the hell off me!” she screamed, kicking hard. For a moment, she wriggled free, sprinting toward the doggy door built into the garage door.

Her shoulders wedged through. Hips stuck.

The door clicked. Whirred.

Tatum’s head snapped up as the garage door started rising, dragging her with it. She screamed, arms flailing, but it was no use. The door lifted higher, higher, until—

SNAP.

The light bulb above flickered once. Twice. Then steadied.

Her body dangled limp, blood dripping onto the floor below.

⸻

INT. LIVING ROOM – SAME TIME

No one noticed. The movie was too loud, laughter too sharp, arguments too ridiculous. Stu howled at Randy’s “rules of horror movies” speech, Y/N burying her face in a pillow to muffle her own laughter at how worked up he got.

“Number one!” Randy shouted, holding up a finger. “You can never have sex.”

The room erupted in boos and laughs.

“Number two!” he continued, ignoring them. “You can never drink or do drugs.”

Half the crowd raised their beers defiantly, chanting “Bullshit!”

Y/N chuckled, sinking further into the couch cushions. If only you knew what’s really happening out there…

But she didn’t. Not yet.

[poisoneitherwaaaay]

happy valentines day to all the freaks (me)

[izu0m1i]

Bunny hop hop (SCREAM 1996 x serial killer!reader)

Warning: descriptions of killing, stalking behavior, blood, weapon description, "disposal of body" (youll see what I mean), mutilation, "surgery", yandere behavior (reader briefly), curse words

AUTHOR NOTE: I do NOT condone to this behavior! If you notice something weird (like something isn’t right) please be careful! The world isn’t a safe place. Regardless of what gender, build, knowledge or age you are!

Promolog: Softest Touch

Lurking

Stalking

Killing

Choking

Stabbing

Disposing

Hiding

Looking

Researching

And again

And again

And again

Looking down at my hands, blood everywhere.

On me

On her

On them

On the carpet

On the floor

On the wall

Everywhere you look

RED

Just RED

Sighing

Cleaning

Disposing

Burning

Running

Hiding

"..."

Curling

Hugging

Crying

"Y...."

Wrapping

Taking

Holding

"Y/n..."

Looking

Touching

Stabbing

"Y/N!"

Snapping out of the trance, Y/N looked up at the teacher, who was standing in front of her desk, arms crossed, looking fumed. Eyes narrowed, nose crinkled, glasses on the bridge of her nose, lips sealed with a frown, and wrinkles more noticeable. "This is the third time today that I have had to get your attention. If you have something on your mind, please share it with the class."

Her lips lifting in a smile, not kind, not soft but cruel.

What was the subject?

Ah history

Topic?

Romanian Prince Vlad III. Dracula

"The name Tepes, was given to him by his adversaries, not enemies, and not because he had any connection with vampires. He was an extraordinarily sadistic ruler who would torture his adversaries and had countless of them, including children, staked on his castle's fence so everyone could see, that if they opposed him or crossed him, they would have their head or body put on display on that spiky fence. You would have known that if you had read the biography and the tales of Vlad Dracula..." Y/N delivered back with a tired tone, simultaneously standing up and packing her things. After a moment of silence, the teacher spoke again, her smile long gone and replaced by a furious look.  (No, but real talk, someone told me that he had sharp teeth, and that why the name-)

"Go to the pri-"

Principal office. Ya, I got it." Passing the rows of desks with students with shocked looks, with the teacher fuming in the back, she pushed the door of the classroom wide open, slamming it against the wall, the sound echoing in the empty hallways that she walked through. Walking past the principal's office and going towards the empty cafeteria, which someone had left open.

"Idiots...." Y/N muttered and let out a puff of air, going inside and closing the door behind me. The cafeteria was small with a few metal tables and benches to eat at. The kitchen was closed and locked up. It looks so much like a prison that she wants to laugh. That's why most people eat their lunch outside.

She went to the last table in the back, where her back was against the wall. She would be out of view with the pillar of the food stand covering the table and her. Y/N lay down on the metal bench, her backpack on the floor against the wall.

She needs to get a grip.

Cant let this happen again

She needs to find a new toy soon...or she might really go mad

The last one was so savory

It was a successful night two days ago

The thrill of hunting and almost getting caught was a drug for her

She had studied her little bunny carefully.

What they do, their little hobbie, likes and dislikes.

Oh they were just so cute! Like a little bunny

So scared when she got into their house

Oh, so afraid and shaking like a leaf as she tilted her head to the side, her face covered by an old, ruggedy bunny mask. Her axe glimmered from behind her.

The screams that they let out were so delicius that she had to stop and just listen to the melody they let out.

The best thing she hears whenever she does her little hobby

But the thing is, she didnt even start!

Such a silly bunny

She could practly picture it again

How her heartbeat spiked up with each step she took towards HER victim

How they trembled as they begged for their life almost made her knee buckle

How she could only hear her own heartbeat while plunging her axe over and over again into the victim's chest. Tearing apart their arm, making small slashes against their side with their small pocket knife... engraving them with HER signature.

Marking them as HERS.

ALL HERS

EVERYTHING HERS

Chopping them into big sloppy pieces and then rearranging them how SHE wanted. After all, it was hers, no? Her victim, her kill. Hers to do what she wanted. Then, as a final touch-up, he put her gloved hands inside the chest of the still, open-eyed, mouth wide-open bunny, gripping the side of the deep wound she inflicted and pulling it more apart, making blood splash more on her already blood-soaked nightgown. And she could see it.

The heart.

Her hands greedily hold it and pull at it, cutting the arteries with the pocket knife. She observed the heart with at most love. That was what had beaten and pumped blood in her victim. The delicious blood that is now covering her, sticking the clothes to her clothes. On her little bunny sleepers (which she may have stolen from her darling).

"How messy of you, bunny!" she cooed as she cradled the heart close to her, slowly standing up, looking over her new rearranged masterpiece.

She never disposed of the victims. Why would she? They are perfect! It captures the essence of the playtime. Even though the arm might've been ripped and placed somewhere else, the left leg was bent the wrong way, and their chest was giving a peekaboo of her heart having been ripped out, and maybe in the process she messed with the organs....but they are perfect! Its a masterpiece! HER MASTERPIECE.

She cooed, smiling while stroking the heart, stroking it and pushing against its soft, blood-coated flesh.

Another heart to the collection!

Hello loves! how you all feeling? hope you all like this story which will be a long one...maybe even expanded to other sequels? WHO KNOWS