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lorimnnn · 1 year

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Mine pt.3 (Michael Myers x AFAB!Reader)

summary: before Michael was ever ‘The Shape’ of Haddonfield, he was just a boy. he was a boy in love with the girl across the road, his sister’s best friend--- the only girl to show him kindness, love and warmth. you.

Basically, Michael falls in love with his sister’s best friend at 6, who sometimes played emergency babysitter especially when Judith was fooling around with her bf. He clings to those memories growing up in the asylum until the day he breaks out, where he decides the first thing he wants to do is find you and keep you, your sunshine only for him. Reader is super girly and feminine, which just fuels michael’s possessiveness.

cw: gore, violence, kidnapping, obsession, manhandling, possessiveness, non-con themes, not edited :((

welcome back sowhatariyana bigcreatorwombatdreamer cherryxnessa literalawkwardsimp bitchyglitterfox cavern-creature herwitchbasement mychemicalimagines itsjust-menow nerd-bookworm fall-myriad saccharinescalpel puppiegutz666 pupperony

pt. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

It comes to you when you’re trying to sleep--- the memories.

The memories of Judith. It’s been so long, you don’t even remember what she looks like anymore, and the pictures of the two of you standing next to each other feel like no more than husks of who you used to be. Growing up--- and growing apart, especially--- did that to you. She was your best friend.

But she was becoming less and less worthy of that title the more she hung out with Danny and selfishly indulged in her own desires without a plan or second fuck to give.

Not that Judith could tell.

You remember getting ready for a party. It was the last one you were going to before your vacation with your mother, and the last one you would ever go to in Haddonfield no less. You were at the vanity.

Judith was on your bed, lying down with her feet kicked up on a pillow. Shoes and everything. That last part made you grit your teeth, but you knew it didn’t matter whether you told her you didn’t like it or not.

You knew it was all because of Danny.

Once her puppy love for him died down, she’d come to her senses and remember how to function like a respectable human being, an older sister, and a better friend.

You were giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“Ugh!” she groaned. She’d been going on and on for quite a while now, and you didn’t really know what she was talking about. All her complaints seemed to mash together into one, big blur of unpleasantries you couldn’t care less for. “I’m so annoyed.”

“Why?”

“I can’t believe Mom is making me babysit Michael for Halloween.”

You remember humming back at her as you swabbed some lip gloss over your bottom lip. Then you were adjusting your earrings, and eventually your dress--- shorter than usual, celebratory of one, last hurrah. You looked stunning. You turned in your mirror over and over again like some narcissistic egomaniac.

“I was supposed to go out with Danny for Halloween.”

“Mhm.”

“Mom knows this. Why does she keep planning things over my plans? I have a life, too. The world doesn’t revolve around her.”

You’d nodded sympathetically. Inwardly, you’d rolled your eyes.

“I’m so jealous of you, you know.”

That caught your attention. You looked at her hesitantly.

“Why?”

“You’re going on vacation.”

“You’ll miss me?”

Judith sighed exasperatedly. “Your babysitting skills, yeah.”

Ah. There it was.

You turned back to your vanity and checked your reflection one, more time.

“Let’s go, yeah?”

Judith jumped up. She was still moaning and groaning, but this time you ignored her as you drove to the party, cranking up the radio over her voice. You weren’t supposed to be driving, not really, but there was a special perk to looking like a senior when you were still a freshman, one that your parents didn’t care much to rectify as long as you returned their baby without a scratch.

Judith began to shout at you. You’d ignored her still.

And then she grabbed your arm and yanked on it for your attention, causing you to swerve. You had lightning fast reflexes though, and too much self-respect to be too shocked at her actions. You still had lightning-fast reflexes.

Your self-respect? Not so much.

You remembered your last words to Judith as you stomped on the break and turned into the side of the road. You waited for her to stop shouting, and then you looked at her, pointed to the sidewalk, and glared.

“Get out. Get Danny to drive you, or walk for all I care. You suck, Judith.”

And when she didn’t get out, still screeching nonsensically at you, you snapped. You got out yourself and dragged her out. Oh, yes. Kicking and screaming and everything. You shoved her so hard, she tore open her knee on a rock as she fell.

You didn’t turn back once.

You drove off.

That had been the last time you saw Judith. The last time you saw your best friend.

Somehow, you still failed to regret it, even to this day.

---

Michael didn’t come back the next day, but that wouldn’t been silly, anyway. The police were all around your house, maybe guarding it--- but you knew better. Your house was a trap.

And you were the bait.

“I just don’t understand why he let you live,” one detective had muttered. “He never lets any of them live.”

You’d shrugged. You weren’t too emotional about it, but then again, you were still denying any of it ever happened.

Michael Myers is a serial killer, not a rapist.

But that night, it had been crystal clear that he hadn’t meant to kill you. And he wasn’t going to, if he usually followed a pattern. This irregular, jarring disturbance was a new trail to follow into the unknown. It sparked fear in Haddonfield.

None of them thought it could get any worse than this.

Well, neither did you. If it wasn’t already bad having your house flooded with cops and journalists, the top priority of every authority’s watchlist, a council-approved ban from leaving your house and the unspoken promise of another visit from a serial killer discovering his cock for the first time, then maybe the constant, bone-chilling feeling of being watched following you through every moment was enough to drive you insane.

Or maybe it was the man claiming to be Myers’ psychologist insisting to talk to you every day, even though you denied him each time.

“Please, Miss L/N.”

“Please what, old man?” You mumble through the keyhole. “You’re going to have to beg prettier than that.”

You hear one of the cops stationed at your porch stifle his laughter behind a cough. You smirk.

“This is no time for games, Miss L/N.”

“And this is no time to be harassing me for the fifth time this week. I can literally get a restraining order; won’t that be fun?”

“Michael is a dangerous-”

“Blah blah blah. You’re forgetting that speech won’t work on me. I’ve already maxed out the danger, Mr Loomis. So kindly fuck off unless you can say something useful, like maybe: ‘Oh, Miss L/N! I have a coffee for you’ or maybe even ‘I know how to get the ban off you!’, or, my personal favourite: ‘I can promise Michael won’t fucking destroy your next one-night-stand!’“

Doctor Loomis goes quiet.

The cop chokes again, and you open the door that tiniest bit to grin at him in the face.

“You know, if I was sure I wouldn’t be putting you on a hit list, you’d probably be warming my bed right now.” You wink. You really hope you aren’t pushing it, but who knows--- he left before the two of you could discuss the rules of this demented little game. “You’re real cute, you know. And if your face is like that, I wonder what the rest of you’s like.”

The young cop is just a rookie. There isn’t any real suave to him yet, no kinky cop fantasies. Or maybe all of the kinky cop fantasies, if he was really that fresh off the boat. That’s hot. You like the one’s with no ego.

Usually that goes hand in hand with no experience, unfortunately. You’ve unintentionally established yourself as a cougar.

The cop’s entire face descends into a deep crimson, and it spreads down to his neck. His hands. You follow it down his uniform and back up.

Doctor Loomis clears his throat. “Miss L/N, please.”

You laugh. “That’s the spirit. Aren’t you a bit too old for this?”

Doctor Loomis sputters.

You laugh harder.

Then you close the door again.

Outside the door, you hear the cop trying to hustle him away. But Loomis won’t be deterred, and you hear the thud of him throwing himself against the door for one, last time.

“I researched you, Miss L/N!” He yells, voice strained. “I know your history, and let me tell you now, any connection you think you may have with him is futile! He is insane! He is pure evil!”

You don’t answer.

You do, however, thrust your middle finger towards the door like he can see it, because you feel strangely unjustified on Michael’s behalf. Isn’t the whole ideal of being someone’s psychologist to tell people that they aren’t insane?

You don’t know much about Michael.

But if he’s been stuck with this big oaf all his life, then maybe he wasn’t a born monster.

Maybe he was created instead.

You kick the door where you imagine Loomis’ crotch would be as you hear him get dragged away.

---

Later that night, you wake to a thud at your porch. You instantly know it’s the cop. This time, you don’t even deny it. Maybe now he’s here to finish the job.

Maybe now he realised his mistake.

You sink further into the sheets and pull your blanket over your head the way you used to when you were a kid, scared of the dark. It’s ironic, really. How could someone shut their eyes, inviting themselves to pure darkness, yet be afraid of it in the world around them?

They’re the same thing.

Yet one is controlled--- and one is not.

Darkness controlled...

You spare yourself a short moment to mourn that cop outside. He’d been so cute. So eager and dutiful, and also so distracted every time you stepped out just to check your mailbox. Didn’t matter whether you stepped out in a robe or something completely un-sexy. He was enamoured. That had been nice.

It’s always nice to feel adored.

You hear the doorknob rattle, and you curl into a ball.

He’s really fucking there.

You know you don’t have enough time to run and grab the phone. Maybe that would only provoke him. But would you really rather stay alive when you were doomed to his plot?

The detective didn’t know why you were still alive, and frankly, neither did you. Old babysitter or not, he had no reason to keep you around.

You didn’t understand it.

The door swung open.

The floorboards creaked beneath his weight, the sounds sharp and cutting against the silent, chilly air. It feels so tense.

You’re so scared.

You battle with your urges to save your skin. It’s all purely instinctual, all impulsive and illogical, but it doesn’t stop you from considering whether or not you still had time to run. Maybe crash through your bedroom window and pound down the doors of your neighbors until someone let you in.

But you know this town, even though it had been so, so long.

You know this town just like they know Michael, and because of that, they were never going to let you in.

Your bedroom door finally opens. You hold your breath.

You can hear him, now--- his breathing shallow, labored, his footsteps wet and squelching against the floorboards. You hope it isn’t blood.

But what else could it be?

Don’t cry.

Don’t run.

A large, meaty hand fists the blankets, tugging them away from you. Or trying. Your flight or fight instinct kicks in, and you’d already rejected flight. You wrestled with him to keep it over your head, but it was no use. He was too strong.

It’s almost supernatural, how strong he is.

He rips the blanket away from you and you gasp, your nails burning. You scramble towards the corner of your bed as he watches you through the holes of his mask, those unseeing eyes, merely shadows cast over where his sight should be detailed, observing you too closely.

He sees everything.

The heaviness of his breathing doubles, and you dig your burning fingers in to your mattress.

The adrenaline snuffs out your fear, but not by much. You still tremble. You still manage to hold your chin up as you glare at him.

“Well?”

He’s silent, a solitary statue.

You refuse to scream. You should, but you won’t. You know better than to try.

“Don’t just fucking stand there like a creep,” you snap. “Do something. Play your part. Don’t be confusing; it doesn’t suit you.”

Almost on cue, he raises his knife above his head. Your force yourself to keep your eyes open, gritting your teeth against the fear.

Nothing.

Nothing happens.

It infuriates you more than it scares you, and on an enraged impulse, you snatch the pillow off your bed and launch it at him. It hits him square in the face.

He doesn’t even the flinch.

It falls to the ground and you both look at it, pathetic. You even have the gall to be embarrassed about it.

“Don’t just stare at it...”

His head snaps up. He looks at you.

Your hackles raise, and he advances, landing with one knee on the bed as he crawls towards you, one hand outstretches as it descends on your ankle. You screech and scramble back, falling. It doesn’t hurt. You squeal anyway, purely out of fear, and back away from him--- into your old vanity.

Memories.

It hits you like a train, and the parralell is almost funny, if not entirely, terrifyingly ironic. You, at your vanity, touching up your makeup. Michael staring at you, starry-eyed and wondrous.

“You’re a princess,” he used to say when you’d teasingly ask him how you looked. He used to be so cute.

Now he’s a man, and he’s a serial killer, and he’s sitting in the same position he used to as a kid but he’s not a kid. He has a knife in his hand, one that’s wet with the blood of the cop outside, and it’s going to go into you, soon, if you’re not careful.

Michael follows you on to the floor. You throw your hands over your head and he catches your wrists, and as he fits himself between your legs, it suddenly occurs to you what he’s trying to do.

No.

No no no-

NO-

You fight him, elbowing him in the cheek. It does nothing. He contiues to press his weight against you until there’s nowhere to go, until he’s so hard you can feel him stabbing into your core, demanding entrance through his mechanic’s overalls.

This time, you scream.

But it’s just as you expected. He bends his arm, your wrist still in his hand, and muffles the noise against his forearm. You bit him, you try anything.

But he’s relentless.

You’re better off subjecting yourself to his torment.

Terrified, you shut your eyes. You fall limp, hoping that your compliance will end this quicker, that your obedience might persuade him to hurt you less--- but he doesn’t hurt you at all.

He lays down between your legs, head on your chest, and shoves your hands into his hair.

You have no idea what he’s trying to do and don’t really care... That is, until you feel the tip of his knife poking you between the ribs. You rack your brain and think.

Think.

And then you remember.

The two of you, curled up on your couch, watching TV, just like this. And despite yourself, you laugh. You laugh hard.

“You hunt me down for this?”

Michael doesn’t answer.

“You’re so fucking weird,” you sigh. “I don’t get you.”

You suppose this is better than whatever you thought he was going to do with you in the beginning. A lot better. Even if it makes no sense. But if it saves your skin, you’ll do anything.

You’ll even graze your nails at his scalp the way you used to .

Something of a purr vibrates in his chest.

You relax, if only slightly.

But you don’t fall asleep, even when he does. A sleeping beast, content in your arms, almost peaceful, almost tamed.

But the knife, still fisted in his grip like a comfort-toy, stays there to scare you.

But something tells you he won’t use it.

So long as you obey.

---

Michael is celebrating.

Finally.

Fucking finally.

He has you.

But the next step is to keep you--- and make sure that you know one thing.

You’re his.

Mine.

And you’re coming with him to his childhood home, where he’ll keep you forever, just him and you... You want him, don’t you?

You want him now.

You wanted him then.

Maybe not as much as he wants you, twice as much now than he did as a child, but that’s easily rectified. You’ll learn.

You’re already learning now.

Did I make it worth the wait?

comment to be tagged or follow to be up to date with the next one (if you want it, let me know!)

and reblog if you want to help me grow!!

Also, would you guys be interested in an ao3 story where I turned these into proper chapters?

#Michael Myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers x y/n #halloween #slasher #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #Slashers

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pompompinkdandelions · 3 months

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I beat Pokémon Crystal for the first time!

As i played through Pokémon Crystal for the first time, I simultaneously felt regret at not having grown up with the pokémon series and overwhelmed at how different the older games are!

I enjoyed the music and delightful 8-bit pokémon designs. There's something very charming about the overall presentation. Importantly, I was so happy to play as a female character! It was a lot of fun discovering this region for the first time, even though it was difficult at times to change my play style to accommodate this older title.

I have played games with HMs before, but I guess its been a while. And playing this just really feels like constantly having a doduo peck at your head... reminding you incessantly how annoying HMs are. Almost as annoying as HMs are the waaaaayyyy too frequent phone calls! I was happy at first to see a way to rebattle and earn more money and xp, but by Arceus did I not yet realize how often the trainers would call. It's so bad It makes me question if it was ever playtested at all. It's so disruptive!

This is my first game without the fairy type, and without experience share. So that's been a learning curve as well. I feel quite spoiled by the newer games in how much less grinding is required to have a decent team. Of course, I always support the players that want a more challenging experience, but for me... I don't want to go back to the grind fest lol. Admittedly, I had to spend a lot of time readjusting my team as I learned some differences with this older game, and that inflated my playtime. Fortunately, it wasn't that bad. I did a lot of mindless grinding on Victory Road while walking on the treadmill or watching documentaries, so it didn't feel like I was really wasting my time lol.

Given the tech this was originally released on, the chip music is delightful and the Pokémon sprites look great. The encounter music in particular stood out to me and some of the pokemon have such expressive little poses! I swear Graveler never looked cuter. Meganium didn't really serve me particularly well as my partner pokemon, but Sweetpea was cute so oh well lol. I always disliked Jynx, but I got a shiny Smoochum in my odd egg. She ended up being my MVP big time. Thank you, Belinda. I'm sorry I was ever harsh with you! Pupperoni the Arcanine also served me well. And Spicey Gee, my shiny gyarados was welcomed into my party as well. Ms. Pidgey was nice to have in a pinch, and Last Hope the Lanturn was a last minute addition to help with my battle against Lance. I actually took very little damage and never used any potions so I guess I did alright lol.

I have to admit I don't often dabble in pokémon postgames, but I suppose I'm not experiencing the full game if I stop now. So I will fight the urge to move on and see what Kanto has in store for me! Plus, I have to catch the legendaries at the very least.

I do have some complaints with my experience on virtual console. A lot of optional features in Pokémon Crystal were meant for the Gameboy Printer, and while obviously they couldn't support that, they absolutely COULD have tweaked those and other features to work on 3DS, including online trading. None of that matters now though, as Nintendo has shut down support for the 3DS anyway, but STILL. It is a bit of a bummer I can never complete my pokedex if I wanted to.

So with this Johto experience behind me, the only other region I have never visited is Unova! The next pokémon game I play will probably be Black or White!

--------

For clarity, my Kanto experience was Let's Go Eevee and I have never played R/B/Y or FR/LG. I own Red on VC.

My Hoenn experience was Omega Ruby, and I first explored Sinnoh in Shining Pearl.

In the future, I'd love to play SoulSilver and Platinum.

#pokemon crystal #gen 2 #johto #meganium #gameboy color #virtual console #Brittany plays Pokémon

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