Carol J Clover’s (2015) Final Girl, the female slasher protagonist who survives to the end of the movie, has become a staple of horror scholarship, providing insight into the function of gender within the genre as well as our cultural beliefs surrounding femininity. Given the attention paid to horror’s leading ladies, however, another fascinating figure has gone unexplored: the Final Boy. This project analyzes nine horror films from the 1980s with young male protagonists in order to conceptualize and critique this previously unidentified trope. Utilizing McKerrow’s (1989) critical rhetoric as a guide, this research not only provides a thorough definition of the Final Boy, but a deconstruction of how this recurring narrative reinforces harmful ideological structures including misogyny, white supremacy, ableism, and homophobia. Ultimately, it is only the boys who are white, able bodied, heterosexual, emotionally repressed, and sexually successful who are able to survive to the end of the film. In doing so, they ascend, not just to manhood, but to a messianic status, allowing them to save both themselves and others. This trope serves to naturalize the oppressive hierarchy of masculinity through who gets to live and who has to die. Identifying the figure of the Final Boy gives us a deeper understanding of one of the horror genre’s most influential eras and sheds light on the covert ways that media can reinforce damaging cultural ideas about gender.
My master’s thesis is now published and available to read for free online!
₊˚୧ PAIRING: Alexander Babtiste x f!reader || Witchboard (2025)
₊˚୧ CATEGORIES: oneshot | READER 18+ | hinted smut
₊˚୧ WARNING: none (?) maybe vague smut mentions
₊˚୧ HINT: Alexander wants to see if you truly are a witch or just pretending.
₊˚୧ WORD COUNT: 1.5k
NOTE: I don't think I've ever seen fanfics of him? I have no idea why I even wrote this, I just got an idea in my head before my afternoon nap and when I tried to write it down, it sounded- not too bad- so why not. Alexander fanfiction yall...
Alexander observed you from the window at first, gaze puncturing through the clear glass as he attempted to figure out if you were yet another charlatan enchantress. Oh, how he loathed those frivolous girls who would play-pretend, or even think themselves a true gifted witch, when they were but playing themselves. Why did he come to you? Hah, well, that was straightforward. He sauntered by your unimpressive witchstore and couldn't help but laugh. And, if you had managed to earn a chuckle with your advertising alone, Alexander was more than willing to test your 'abilities' on his own skin.
Your customer left, the door opening to Alexander's right. He didn't break his gaze away from the window, surveying your cleansing practice. That would tell him a lot about whether you were a common scammer that he would entertain himself by scaring off, or a real one, with an affinity for the occult. And as he stalked your window, Alexander had nothing to reproach; your technique was correct, albeit an amateurish one, but nonetheless effective.
"Hm."
His cold, sterile expression morphed into a kind smile as he leaned back from the window and stepped inside the store, closing the door behind himself and studying his surroundings. Artefacts, relics. Yes, he could sense a vague energy emanating from them, but of course, a cheap witch like you wouldn't afford any real antiques. Alas, Alexander turned his gaze to you with the same unsettling smile.
"Ah... a practitioner, are you, dear? I must've landed in the right place."
The way Alexander carried himself caused you to draw back. There was something about this man, even without looking into him, that made you feel on edge. These were the most frightening of spirits, the men and women who possessed an undeniable charm and wealth, which you deduced from their attire; these were the kind of people who carried something profoundly wrong with them.
"I don't remember having booked any other sessions for the day. The store is closed."
"Of course, how silly of me. You see, love, I was merely walking by, and this peculiar place of yours caught my attention. Now, you wouldn't happen to be in such a rush to leave that you couldn't offer me a bit of a... taste of what you can do. Correct?"
"I have no interest in discussing with you, Mr." You felt his presence strong, almost suffocating for your senses. "If you wish to book a meeting, by all means do so, but today I cannot have you."
Alexander scrunched his brow, but his impish smile remained plastered on his face. Manipulative charmer, you deduced.
"I am sure, my dear, that you can make an exception this time." Alexander insinuated, his hand reaching into his pocket as he took out a stack of cash, which he placed on your table, a smirk growing on his lips. "I am not a cheap man, you see."
You glanced down at the money he gave you, then eyed him. Whatever eerie feeling you had about him was making you feel on edge. He was a man of power himself; he had a keen sense of esoteric, so why was it that he needed your observations? It was almost this curiosity that made you want to see who he really was. What purpose did he have to come to you? And as if reading your mind, you heard Alexander again, with the same sweetened tone.
"I beg of you. Observe my future."
Alexander still harboured in his heart the belief that you were an impersonator without an affinity for the craft, so he was eager to see if he was correct or not. Tempted by the cash and his curious appearance, you accepted the deal, inviting him to sit as you pulled out a deck of cards, tarot cards. Alexander nearly choked on a laugh that he tried to keep to himself.
Tarot? Pathetic. Yet, it was his fault for not specifying the kind of practice he desired from you. Tarot be it then.
"I will need your name, Mr."
"Alexander." He rested his head on his palm, elbow on your practice desk, eyeing one of the lit candles. "Alexander Babtiste."
A shuffle. Another shuffle.
The cards refused to come out, which had never happened before. Alexander bit back an insult. How he wanted to teach you not to pretend-
A card jumped out.
So sudden it was that it nearly made you lose hold of the deck. The cards burnt your skin. It came out sharply, nearly hitting Alexander, who drew back an inch, stunned too. The card fell in front of him, and you glanced down at your hands. No burning marks, yet you could've sworn it felt as if you had stuck your hands in a fireplace only a moment ago.
'The Devil'
Alexander snickered.
You gulped.
That became interesting, Alexander thought, eyeing the card that faced him threateningly.
You shuffled again. This time, two more cards jumped out, the same burning feeling worsening to the point that you had to let go of the deck, which fell down on the ground at your feet.
'The Tower' and '10 of Swords'
But the cards themselves wouldn't have scared you if not for the uneasy feeling his smile caused you. It changed, somehow. It was fake-sweetened, you knew that, but now it felt almost like a threat.
"Fuck."
Alexander licked his lips. So then you were something special, weren't you? There was a real sensibility to esotericism in you, which he could certainly appreciate. You were, by Alexander's assertion, the only valuable relic in this silly practitioner's chamber. He could surely find a good use for you if you came with him.
So he wasn't going to leave without you.
"What did you see?" Alexander asked cockily. There was no use playing pretend anymore.
You breathed heavily, eyeing the cards and him, gulping and standing sharply. You wanted to leave, to run. His presence was enveloped in demise and fiendishness. He was more profane than any other man you've had the misfortune to look into. Alexander stood up after you, but you were cornered. He was standing between you and the door, and there was no way to walk past him.
"You need to leave. Right now."
"No, darling, I don't believe I want to do that."
"Leave."
"But why? Don't you see?"
Alexander came past your table, fingers sliding across the wooden texture before he brought them to his lips and licked them. He leaned down and collected your deck from the ground, dropping it carefully back on the table before he turned to you.
"You, my darling, can be very useful to me. And I... well, I believe I can be equally useful to you, hm?" Alexander stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, smiling again. "After all, I sense a connection between you and me, one that would be quite beneficial for both of us."
His hand glided down from your cheek to your jaw, which he pushed up to make you look at him, then lower across your neck and to your shoulder. Alexander then leaned in to your ear and hummed a few words that, before you could comprehend, sent through you a vision.
You saw yourself in a lavish room, with Alexander by your side on the bed, then another scene, pure lust and pleasure of being handled by him. Even in this meek vision, Alexander caused you to see what you craved. Feeble witch, all you craved was the Dionysian abandon and pleasures. A hedonistic view, but one that Alexander could so easily offer you in exchange for your obedience and willingness to join him. He could give you the bodily pleasures and wealth you sought if only you agreed to heed him.
And at last, you snapped out of it with a gasp, just in time for Alexander to make a move.
"Hush hush hush", he grabbed your throat and shoved you into the wall, his body pressed up into yours, removing even the slightest chance to escape. "Good girls keep their mouths shut, hm? Nobody's going to believe you anyway. Those stupid people out there don't see what we see. Join me..." His voice grew soft, tempting.
If there was ever a devil walking among men, you were certain it'd behave like Alexander. A true devil, for he won you so very easily with the vision of your deepest desires and chant of his words.
Alexander leaned in, lips by your ear, whispering against the shell of it, causing you to squirm at the sensation of losing control to him. Did you even have a choice? Perhaps. But his words were too tempting, his actions too confident, and you gave in, breathing heavily as he licked the shell of your ear, giving you a hint of what you could have if you followed him.
"I can offer you everything you desire, and believe me, dear. I know exactly what it is you yearn for."
"The house in the film was also used in Waxwork (1988) and Willard (1971). This Los Angeles home has since been "retired" as a filming location."
Witchboard (1986) dir. Kevin Tenney
