#dr evil pose

[sptoastaddict]

Low Quality Screenshots of Spock in the Bugs Bunny Lunar Tunes Special

#looney tunes #special #star trek #Spock #reference #Bugs Bunny Lunar Tunes #dr evil pose

[shanxpennywise]

Dr Octavius Brine.

Thanks for looking! ♡

#ShannonxNaruto #ShanxPennywise #Traditional Art #Fanart #Lineart #Monochrome #Ink Drawing #Drawing Practice #Cartoon #Animation #Penguins Of Madagascar #Penguins Of Madagascar Dave #Dave The Octopus #Dr Octavius Brine #Human Form #Pose #Expression #Tentacles #Evil Villain #Male #Animal

[possible-raccoon]

Cringetober day 27: baby girl pose 💙

It’s more like babygirl outfit but I made the pose cunty so.

He would never wear this… <3

Cringetober template under the cut

#dr iceberg #scp #cringetober 2023 #babygirl pose #scp dr iceberg #*evil laughter* #anyway. #cw swearing #theoretical procyonidae artworks

[resetting37]

okay disclaimer I was a huge hunger games fan as a teenager (saying this in past tense is weird, the series still holds a special place in my heart, but you know what I mean. I was obsessed.) If you see some connections with my own world building to the series, then it's likely not coincidence, I take inspiration from post-apocalyptic settings for my own.

What IS coincidence is the fact that the new prequel book, the ballad of songbirds and snakes, is being adapted into a movie and the kooky-evil-genetic-scientist character is being portrayed with silver hair and heterochromia like my own kooky-evil-genetic-scientist character ??? I mean I get it's not *that* unique of a character design, but I just thought that was neat lol.

(I will say though if you've read the book, my oc dr. cloud ellocast is not as evil as dr. gaul. That woman is fucked up and I'm excited to see viola davis play her.)

#I'll keep hunger games rambles on this blog to a minimal this is oc turf !!!! #the pose too.. lol #also you can't really tell in that image but it's the same left eye that's bright blue lol #also if ur wondering why i'm making the comparison to cloud and not their clone echo who is much more of a character than cloud #it's because echo is even less evil #still bad but mostly spends their time fixing cloud's mistakes #also i have NOT finished the book so if dr. gaul dies.... then lol there's another similarity

[oifaaa]

To expand on the last anon- it's almost always women of color who get the most shit. Obviously from the fanbase, "Talia's an abusive mother" and all that, but also from writers! Talia was introduced as a morally complex anti-hero who hated killing, then 9/11 happened and suddenly she's this cold bitch. Shado was introduced as a compelling character who posed as a great narrative foil to Green Arrow and was complicated but clearly not evil, and then she SAd him. Jade Nguyen lost her entire family at a young age and was raised as a soldier which would've made such a great contrast to Roy and the Titans, both raised to fight but one for good and one for bad, but nope! She's a cold unfeeling neglectful mother who SAd Roy when he was high. It's just exhausting the way characters like Dr Freeze get to have the tragedy of what they've forced to do explored, they get to be sympathetic and likeable, but Talia, Shado, Jade, and so many others lose that opportunity. Fuck.

sorry didn't see this yesterday but yeah completely dc writers themselves seem to struggle with keeping morally grey characters grey on a good day but when it comes to woman of colour they just drop all pretences completely if they can write a woman of colour that previously had a very nuanced character as pure evil they will not hesitate

#ask #anon

[smallbutters]

Sickly Bodies - Michael Myers x Reader

Content Warnings - Stalking , mentions of suicide, murder (duh), uuuh michael myers is a warning alone lol

Notes - Minors DNI PLEASE, fluff but also murder, SFW, no specific pronouns or gendered terms used :))

Eyes of the devil.

Black, soulless voids behind them, devoid of all humanity.

Ever since he was transferred to the Sanitarium, Michael has been referred to and treated as a being of pure evil - a blight upon this world. How would Dr. Loomis react now, to the situation Michael finds himself in?

A body lies in his house, in his bed, and for once it hasn’t gone cold, the heat of life still flowing through it.

You.

Sick as all hell, writhing in pain as whatever illness you have beats you into a pained, sluggish version of your normal self.

Michael stands aside the bed, making no movement.

He watches you, for a while - rolling back and forth occasionally, groaning in pain all the while.

When you finally become aware enough to notice that you aren't alone, you look up to his mask and give a meek smile. Michael isn't a comforting person, he never learned how to be or even received any himself, but something in you knows that this is his attempt at it.

"You don't have to stand here, you know."

You get no response.

A few seconds of silence pass as you close your eyes, letting out a slow, shallow breath.

"This will pass, it might take a bit longer since you don't have any medicine in the cabinets, but I'll be just fine soon enough..." You trail off.

You are once again met with silence.

It doesn't take too long for you to succumb to the exhaustion and fall asleep, your body being completely drained from fighting off this virus. You don't know how long Michael stayed there, or if he even was there after you finished talking - for such a big body, he's incredibly quiet.

Unbeknownst to you, he stayed, unmoving, for a good half an hour after you drifted off.

He was planning on going out tonight - a frat house down the street has been too rowdy lately, and losing a few members would likely get them to quiet down (you had been bothered by the noise lately, but that isn’t why he’s going for them) But leaving you here alone, sick and in pain seemed to hurt his cold heart.

Why?

If you posed an obstacle for him and his goals, he really should just kill you. You two have been together for a few months now, in a sort of problem-and-problem-enabler type situation - you provided him a place to stay at your half-used apartment, food, and company (an attempt at it, at least), and Michael provided with a sense of safety as your behind-the-scenes guard dog, and an odd sense of pride knowing you’ve, to an extent, tamed the beast terrorizing Haddonfield.

Michael isn’t stupid, not in a general sense. While he had been in a mental institution for the past fifteen-odd years, he's killed dozens of people by now and never got even remotely close to being caught. He’s just a little socially confused. He’s been treated like the devil itself for the past 15 years of his life, so your kindness, let alone your peaceful coexistence with him is somewhat lost to him. Even the night you met had been something he’d never thought he’d let happen.

You had been taking pictures of the old Myers house a few months back, just after sunset. There was enough light for you to see, but with every photo you took that was getting more and more difficult. You had walked here by yourself, which you quickly began to regret - you could hear quiet(ish) shuffling coming from the side of the house, and it definitely wasn’t getting further away. You obviously knew of Michael, everyone did - but August was much earlier than he’d ever returned, and you knew some local teens had taken up pretending to be him just to get a scare out of people. At first you thought you’d just get a little spooked and laughed at, then be able to head home safely, but apparently impersonating a killer doesn’t sit well with said killer. 

The two impostors were killed with ease and a lack of ceremony, and you were quickly thrown into the house. You thought the last thing you’d ever see would be that infamous pale white mask looking into your eyes, but it wasn’t. You saw the eyes behind it - the man, the human. In complete honesty, neither of you knew why what happened next turned out the way it did. One moment you were pinned against the wall by the real Michael, the blood from the two imposters staining both your clothes. Then all he did was let out a loud huff before stalking away. The man who never left someone alive let you, of all people, live.

In the coming months you began to spot him near your apartment and - seemingly - following you around town. You were smart enough not to tell anyone, as you knew he’d disappear before anyone else could spot him and you’d wake up to a pool of your own blood and live out your last moments from a betrayal-fueled, merciless kill. From then on you had learned to interpret his non-verbality, which lead to an eventual fucked-up kind of kinship. You never tried to get him to stop what he does - to “fix” him. He appreciated that. With time he began to enjoy, even desire your company, and even went as far as allowing you to see who he was under the mask.

Getting to the location was easy enough - it was dark as all hell outside in the early December nights, and no one wanted to leave the safety and comfort of their homes. Especially since the small town had just been visited by the infamous boogeyman. Except, seemingly, the exact house he had his sights on. Perhaps it was just a lapse in judgement by a house full of drunk, intelligence-deprived party goers, but perhaps they thought one escaped asylum serial killer wouldn’t be able to survive against all of them. Either way, they left the side door unlocked. Entering the house, Michael quietly stalked around the trash strewn about - it seemed like a party had just concluded, which meant it was very likely that everyone in the house was dead asleep from over drinking. Easy targets.

It didn’t take long for Michael to be almost completely alone in the frat house. His ability to quietly stalk through it was really put to the test however, as the house was absolutely filthy. He could smell, even through his mask, the stink of cheap alcohol, smoke, and something that he’d be alright with never fully identifying. The ground was almost completely littered in something that looked like discarded clothes, with various kinds of large stains just about everywhere - for once maybe he’d actually be the good guy by killing whoever made this mess.

Finding said filth was pretty easy, people were asleep on the floor, on couches, piled together on beds. He saw two bodies sharing a bed, one draping an arm over the other, their hand being held by the other. He thought of you - your warmth finally allowing him to get some real rest at night. How you were never scared of his large hands, never seeming to care about the blood that can’t be washed from them. How you also seemed to sleep better in his presence, sometimes waiting up for him to even get to bed.

You better not be doing that now.

That room took him a bit longer to get through.

The last room was on the eastern side of the building, the master bedroom. Only a few people were in this room, two piled on the bed and one asleep face-down on the floor, lying in a pool of… something. Michael had gotten rid of two of them before he noticed how the only window of this room was perfectly facing your old apartment. You had been splitting time between there and the old Myers house ever since that night, but the knowledge that anyone in this house could have seen you through that window made his blood boil. He can’t stop you from interacting with people; he had enough common sense to know that you had to work and get money to sustain yourself and get whatever you thought Michael needed as well, and that a good person like you needed more than just a serial killer for company (much to his dismay). However, he absolutely could stop people from going to you first. As he stood over the last soon-to-be-corpse, panting from the adrenaline, he came up with a plan.

Michael had always made his kills swift and brutal, leaving no room for anyone to think it wasn’t his work. But tonight, he changed it up a bit. He woke the last victim up, quickly grabbing him from behind.

“Wha…what?”

The poor boy was barely conscious as Michael put the knife into the other’s hand, using his own to guide him to slit his own throat. Of course, there was a slight struggle, but having a hangover and fighting against a killing machine worked against the last man’s favor, and the knife glided across the skin, breaking through with a steady trickle of blood. He fell to the floor in a position of apparent suicide, and Michael then got to work. He wanted it to seem that this poor boy had lost his mind and killed every member of the afterparty he had hosted himself, all because of an obsession with the person across the street - you. Michael staged the scene by changing the boy into his overalls (plenty of stupid people had been impersonating Michael, no one would think it was actually his.) On a piece of paper, he wrote down your typical schedule for any given week - no, he did not memorize it, and he certainly didn’t repeat it to himself like a mantra when he needed to focus. Don’t be stupid. To anyone who’d see the scene, it would look like an obsessed maniac realized you were out of his grasp, lost his mind, killed all his friends and then himself. The police would likely put together that you were his target, and they would likely question you, but Michael knew you wouldn’t say anything. If anything, you’d probably assume they meant him, and would be absolutely shocked when it would be revealed to be someone else. Maybe you’d put together that it was all an elaborate ruse from Michael. 

Maybe you’d thank him.

Michael stole a change of clothes and left, leaving the knife as proof of the crime clearly not committed by him, a small bottle of cold medicine he found on the nightstand rattling in the pocket of his pants.

As he expected, the house was quiet when he returned. Well maybe not expected, but that’s what he wanted to greet him. He hated when you stayed up for him, as if you were an old married couple (deception and avoidance was his game, it was only a matter of him before he fell victim to it himself). You were his captive, and would likely end up being his victim too (deception). There was no love in his heart, in this home, anywhere close to him. He’s a killer, and only a killer (avoidance).

So why do his hands twitch when he thinks of you? Why does his body move on its own, craving your warmth and touch?

You were still asleep when he got to the bedroom, breathing shallow. He set the medicine bottle on the nightstand closest to you, going into the bathroom to make sure he was free from any blood before he joined you bedside. The dip in the mattress woke you up enough for you to open your eyes to see a bottle of cold medicine left for you (don’t mind the dark red smear on the label).

“Thinking of me even during a bloodbath?”

You sat up and took two of the small pills, washing them down with the glass of water you had gotten earlier in the night. When you laid back down, you were pulled into the grasp of your oh-so-thoughtful killer. You felt his face nuzzle into your hair with an uncanny tenderness- wait. His face? Like, the actual one?

“Your mask- where is it?”

He opted to not respond, instead pulling you further into his chest. You quietly hummed, too tired to press it any further. You reached back and grabbed his hand and pulled it close, right on top of your heart.

He huffed in response.

#michael myers #slasher x reader #halloween #original writing #slasher community #michael myers x reader

[egg-emperor]

New Sonic Channel EGGMAN wallpaper!

THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL HE'S SO PERFECT I LOVE HIM WITH ALL MY HEART AHHFKSBAHFKABDKAJFSJ!!!!!! 💕💜💖💕💖💜💗💜💖💕💜💗

I MUST include the description on the page because OMFG I'm losing my mind!!! Translation of what I could get through DeepL, seems slightly better than what I can get on auto translate on the page:

"It is no exaggeration to say that the Sonic series would not begin without him! He is pushing forward towards his ambition of world domination: ...... He has an IQ of 300!

You all know what I'm talking about, don't you?

The evil genius scientist who has no equal in this world.

It's Dr. Eggman!

It is rare to see Dr. Eggman, a scientist, in a fighting pose: ......! No, or perhaps he is watching with a look of satisfaction as he beheads his enemies with the mecha and robots he has created himself......! Either way, he looks really cool with his fearless smile and kanroku poses!

As you all know, Dr. Eggman has been Sonic's nemesis ever since his debut in the game "Sonic the Hedgehog" and has been a big villain who has been plotting various devious schemes. Sometimes he acts as a serious and dignified "evil genius scientist," and at other times he shows a slightly off-kilter "angry old man" side. ...... I think that this variety of charm is the reason why Dr. Eggman is not only a big bad guy but also a great villain.

Coolness like in this illustration is also one of his many charms!

The latest game title to feature Dr. Eggman is "Sonic Frontiers," the third free major upload of which was released today!

In this title, Dr. Eggman is trapped in a mysterious place called "cyberspace," but even in such a situation, his clear mind, strong will ...... He is still a very smart, strong-willed, and selfish man, and this time, too, he is "as good as Eggman! He was very unique with his new subordinate girl, "Sage". The unique relationship with the new subordinate girl, "Sage," is also not to be missed. ......"

-----------------

Let me just gush about WHY I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THIS:

"It is no exaggeration to say that the Sonic series would not begin without him!"

It really is no exaggeration to say many of the games and entire series wouldn't have even began without him and that's why he's so important!

"The evil genius scientist who has no equal in this world."

That's right because he's the BEST and he knows it so that's why his ego is huge! XD

"It is rare to see Dr. Eggman, a scientist, in a fighting pose: ......! No, or perhaps he is watching with a look of satisfaction as he beheads his enemies with the mecha and robots he has created himself......! Either way, he looks really cool with his fearless smile and kanroku poses!"

They say he's possibly either got a "fighting stance" like the big strong handsome man he is or he's watching with a look of satisfaction as he "BEHEADS HIS ENEMIES" with his "mecha and robots he created himself" !!!! FUCK YEAH HE LOVES VIOLENCE AND DESTRUCTION that's the real dynamic he has with his creations!!! And yes he does look "really cool" with his pose and his "fearless smile" AHHHH 🥰

"Dr. Eggman has been Sonic's nemesis ever since his debut and has been a big villain who has been plotting various devious schemes.

Sometimes he acts as a serious and dignified "evil genius scientist," and at other times he shows a slightly off-kilter "angry old man" side.

I think that this variety of charm is the reason why Dr. Eggman is not only a big bad guy but also a great villain. Coolness like in this illustration is also one of his many charms!"

THIS SUMS HIM UP SO PERFECTLY, he's a big villain that plots devious schemes of world domination! He's an "EVIL GENIUS SCIENTIST" AND an "ANGRY OLD MAN" side! I love how he's an evil scientific and evil old man, my favorite way to describe him!

"Coolness is one if his many charms." Yes he IS cool and that IS one of the many parts of his charm!!!!

"Dr. Eggman is trapped in a mysterious place called "cyberspace," but even in such a situation, his clear mind, strong will. He is still a very smart, strong-willed, and selfish man."

HE'S A VERY "SMART, STRONG-WILLED, AND SELFISH MAN" YOU'RE GOD DAMN RIGHT HE IS!!!!! 💗💕💜💜💕💗💕💜

"He was very unique with his new subordinate girl, "Sage".

AND acknowledgement that Sage is his "SUBORDINATE" as his servant and protector not the other way around‽‽‽

This is saying absolutely EVERYTHING I'm saying about him ALL THE TIME, it's like they reached into my mind and pulled out every single thing I've ever observed about his character and summed it up here!

I'm so glad I was right and that he really is the man I fell in love with and that OFFICIAL JAPANESE SONIC TEAM/SONIC CHANNEL MEMBERS who really get the say agree and describe him that way when it comes to their own character- I'm so happy I could cry :'D

#I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I'M SO SO SO HAPPY #dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #sonic channel #sonic frontiers #sage the ai #my post #hits

[king-crawler]

The Disney villain book i ordered 3 weeks ago finally came and the sleeve was oily and chafed but at least I get the fabled single paragraph of King Candy insight

this is truly a game changer

And ralf

[TEXT DESCRIPTION BELOW]

Page 166: Disney Villains: Delightfully Evil.

KING CANDY - WRECK-IT RALPH.

RELEASE DATE: November 2, 2012.

DIRECTOR: Rich Moore.

VOICE TALENT: Alan Tudyk.

ANIMATOR: Zach Parrish.

"Everyone should have known with a pass code like UP, UP, DOWN, DOWN, LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT, B, A, START that this sugary-sweet king was not on the up-and-up. Who in the gaming world doesn't know that cheat code?! King Candy is the ruler of Sugar Rush, a video game made of everything sweet to eat, or as a wise Wreck- It Ralph sees it, a "candy-coated heart of darkness.' " But Sugar Rush was not always such a dark place; it was once a happy kingdom where Princess Vanellope von Schweetz ruled until an evil racer from a game called Turbo Time messed with her code and took her game for his own. The biggest shock? King Candy and that villainous racer known as Turbo are one and the same. Alan Tudyk, the voice of King Candy, said he had imagined King Candy to be a much bigger character, size-wise, and found it really funny that he was actually such a small man."

“Portrait of King Candy. Artist: Clay Loftis. Medium: Digital."

“Final Frames of Turbo from Wreck-It Ralph (2012)”

"Concept art of Turbo. Artist: Jim Kim. Medium: digital."

Page 184: Disney Villains: Delightfully Evil.

WRECK-IT RALPH - Wreck-It Ralph.

RELEASE DATE: November 2, 2012.

DIRECTOR: Rich Moore.

VOICE TALENT: John C. Reilly

ANIMATOR: Nik Ranieri

“Wreck-It Ralph is a "bad guy" who has been forced to spend every day for the last thirty years trying to destroy the apartment building that took his home away and to thwart Fix-It Felix from fixing everything Ralph wrecks. After "wrecking" the thirtieth anniversary celebration of his game, Ralph decides to go on a quest to earn a medal and prove to everyone, including himself, that he can be a good guy and do good things. In an interview with the Los Angeles Times, director Rich Moore said that the idea for Wreck-It Ralph came when he was asked by Walt Disney Animation Studios to revamp an idea they had been working on for a while: a movie that takes place in a video game. "Video game characters do the same job every day," said Moore. "I don't know how you could tell a story about that, and then it kind of hits me. ... What if the main character did not like his job? If you had a character who is actually wondering: Is this all there is to life?" "

Concept Art of Vanellope and Ralph. Artist: Bill Schwab. Medium: digital.

Page 185: Disney Villains: Delightfully Evil.

Story sketches of Ralph. Artist: Jim Kim. Medium: Graphite

Final character pose of Ralph.

Final frame of ralph with the Bad-Anon support group from Wreck-It Ralph, 2012.

“Bad-Anon-One Game at a Time

"I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be than me."

-The Bad Guy Affirmation

Evervone needs a little help from their friends, even if their friends are a group of "bad guys." Bad-Anon is a place where the who's who of gaming bad guys can meet and talk about their feelings and what it is like to always be the one everyone loves to beat. Here are some of the familiar faces from the video games of the 1980s and 1990s.”

Bowser--King Koopa from Super Mario Bros.

Clyde--Ghost from Pac-Man.

Dr. Robotnik- -as himself from Sonic the Hedgehog.

Kano--as himself from Mortal Kombat.

M. Bison--as himself from Street Fighter.

Neff-as himself from Altered Beast.

Zangief-Red Cyclone from the Street Fighter series.

[TEXT DESCRIPTION END]

#the illustration is the best part #I knew there’d only be a page on him LMAO I’m not mad #I will still read the whole book in full ❤️ #wir #wreck it Ralph #turbo #king candy #🐛VIRUS OFFERINGS #Disney villains #Disney villains: delightfully evil #concept art #alt text #book #wir Art Book

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Coriolanus hands Bellova over to Dr. Gaul, knowing that she is his only chance to regain control of her, and subsequently, his future.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A DARK CHAPTER. It contains violence, torture, verbal/physical abuse, mention of suicide, Coriolanus and Dr Gaul being evil, swearing

A/n: I’m s o sorry this took FOREVER to write, it took me a long time to figure out what direction I wanted to take the plot☹️

Coriolanus shivered, pulling his expensive trench coat tighter around his body. Dr. Gaul’s lab was always cold, and she refused to turn up the temperature, as she claimed it would compromise the well-being of many of her beloved mutts.

The doctor, his boss and mentor, walked into the small room, standing at his side. She looked down at the unconscious Capitol heiress in the middle of the room, and smiled brightly. 

“I daresay this is the prettiest lab rat I’ve ever worked on.”

Coriolanus nodded wordlessly. He had always had a hard time understanding how Dr. Gaul was able to treat humans like dolls without feeling remorse. Now, he was finally starting to get it.

Bellova laid on a metal table, dead to the world. She was completely nude, which would’ve flustered a younger, weaker Coriolanus. But in the present situation, he was much more concerned with what Dr. Gaul had in store for her. 

There were thick leather straps secured around Bellova’s ankles and wrists, preventing her from leaping off the table and trying to escape. Even if she somehow undid them, there were Peacekeepers right outside the laboratory door that would intercept her in a heartbeat.  

Dr. Gaul set her case of equipment on the stand next to the table. She opened it up swiftly, revealing a plethora of tools. There were several syringes with odd-colored liquids inside, sharp instruments that gleamed menacingly in the brilliant white light of the room, and a variety of unidentifiable objects (which Coriolanus assumed she’d invented herself). 

“What are you planning to do?” Coriolanus asked. 

Dr. Gaul gave him her signature crooked grin. “Pull up a chair, Mister Snow.”

Coriolanus did as he was told, moving a chair from the corner of the room to the side of the table. Once he sat down, Dr. Gaul spoke again.

“I am going to run a scan of her brain while she’s still unconscious. See what went wrong with the serum I gave you. Then, I will determine what the next course of action should be.”

“What do you suspect happened that reversed the serum’s effects?”

“Her sheer willpower,” the doctor replied. “Miss Reginelle has always been extraordinarily strong-willed, it is not completely surprising that her mind was able to fight against them and win.”

“Is there something that triggered it specifically?” 

Dr. Gaul pursed her lips. “I don’t have a clue. But perhaps with a little…persuasion, we can get her to tell us. That way, we can ensure that the same mistake is not made again.”

.

.

.

After a thorough physical inspection was conducted, Dr. Gaul determined it was time for Bellova to wake.

As Dr. Gaul pushed the needle that housed the serum that would bring her back to consciousness into her arm, Coriolanus found himself holding his breath. He paced back and forth, wringing his hands anxiously. He wasn’t sure why he was so afraid. She was completely helpless, strapped down and trapped in the laboratory, and yet she still seemed to pose a threat.

After a few moments of silence, Coriolanus saw Bellova’s eyes open slowly. The sharp gaze in her pupils immediately told him she was still her true self. That wouldn’t last for long, thankfully. 

Bellova squirmed, tugging at the leather straps. She looked frightened, even more so than when Coriolanus had wrapped his hands around her neck.

“Where am I?” she croaked.

Dr. Gaul cackled quietly, the harsh noise echoing slightly throughout the room. “Oh, little bunny, you’re in my lab. You’ve been here so many times, you must recognize it.” The condescending lilt in her voice made Bellova’s pale face flush pink. “Or perhaps your mind is too frazzled to think properly.”

“I can think just fine, thank you,” Bellova hissed. “And don’t call me bunny. Now untie me, or I’ll make you wish you were never born, you sick, decrepit bitch.”

Coriolanus stifled a laugh. The fact that Bellova still possessed the courage to hurl insults while completely vulnerable was truly astounding.

Dr. Gaul just smiled wider. “Oh, but what’s the fun in letting you get away? Mister Snow and I are going to help you, make you a much better version of yourself. Isn’t that what you want?”

“No-“

“Too fucking bad,” Coriolanus interrupted her, casting her a cruel smile. “You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

Bellova’s body tensed as she tugged on her restraints, clearly wishing she could hit him. This only amused Coriolanus further.

Dr. Gaul leaned down, her lips inches away from Bellova’s right ear. “If you don’t stop struggling, I’m going to slit your pretty little throat and cut up your flesh to feed to my babies.”

Bellova shuddered, and squeezed her eyes shut. She was clearly trying her hardest not to cry. 

“I don’t care if you kill me,” she whispered. “A brutal death is better than a lifetime of domestication.”

Dr. Gaul looked at Coriolanus. The gleam in her eye told him that she had an idea. 

And knowing her, it was bound to be a gruesome one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Coriolanus stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor Dr. Gaul’s lab was located on, he was able to hear the screams. 

He winced, and gripped the strap of his satchel tighter as he strode down the hallway. He’d started to get used to the ear-splitting sounds, but that didn’t make them any more pleasant.

When he entered the laboratory, he hung his bag on a hook on the wall and headed towards the isolated experiment rooms. Dr. Gaul had set aside most of her other projects and left them to her assistants and the other Gamemakers. 

She was hellbent on breaking Bellova past repair. 

“How is it coming along this morning, Dr. Gaul?” Coriolanus asked as he swept into Bellova’s room cell. His mentor looked up from her work, and gave him a knowing grin. 

“Our little bunny seems to be just as stubborn as the first day we began playing with her.” 

He sighed, walking over to where Bellova laid. She looked awful. Her hair was matted, the whites of her eyes were bloodshot, and she was clearly malnourished. She was shaking, undoubtedly from pain and exhaustion.

After all, Dr. Gaul had been literally poking and prodding at her for almost four days straight. 

“When are you going to just give in?” Coriolanus asked, his tone dripping with venom.

“Fuck you,” she spat, crying out a moment after. Dr. Gaul had pressed a device that delivered an electric shock throughout her body to her neck, making her convulse and twitch. 

“Mind your manners, little girl,” she snarled. “Or I’ll increase the pain tenfold.” 

Bellova closed her eyes again, as if trying to disassociate to escape her reality. 

Dr. Gaul walked around the table to stand at Coriolanus’s side. 

“She’s not going to give in,” she murmured. “She keeps saying that she’d much rather die. There’s a high risk she’ll try to commit suicide. Her death would cause commotion within the Capitol’s elite, and I can’t have such disorder disrupting the peace we’ve worked so hard to instill.”

Coriolanus exhaled sharply. “So what do we do? Pretend she’s a rebel and turn her into an Avox?”

Dr. Gaul shook her head. “That would make you look extremely suspicious. You would also be seen as a threat to the Capitol. No, the only option we have is to create a new version of the serum. One that will take a stronger hold on her brain and make her truly, completely compliant. And you will never have to worry about any…unsavory behavior from her again.”

Coriolanus nodded. “I think it may be wise to keep a syringe with me at all times. That way, if something does occur, I can quickly take back control.”

The doctor gave him an approving pat on the shoulder. 

“You’re thinking more and more like a true Gamemaker every day, Mister Snow. Perhaps I’ll meet with the others soon and discuss having you join us officially.” 

Coriolanus smiled to himself, glancing once more at Bellova’s defeated form. 

Snow lands on top indeed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Dr. Gaul called the Snow penthouse, requesting for Coriolanus to head to the Citadel immediately. It was nearly midnight, so the doctor had to call almost three times before a groggy Tigris answered.

As he pulled open the laboratory doors, his heart pounded annoyingly fast. What if something had gone horribly wrong? What if Bellova had finally succumb to the torture, and her death would be the end of his climb to glory?

“Come in quickly, Mister Snow,” Dr. Gauls voice sounded. Coriolanus did what he was told, hurrying to Bellova’s room, trying to hide the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him.

When he threw open the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. 

Bellova no longer looked like a corpse. In Coriolanus’s opinion, she looked absolutely perfect.

Her hair has been washed and brushed, ridding it if the mats and tangles it had acquired in the past several days. Someone had clearly styled it, as her naturally straight hair now fell in mesmerizing curls across her back and shoulders. A makeup artist had covered her bruises and various scars, giving her skin a glass-like finish. Her body was covered with a light pink dress adorned with lace and cutesy bows, which contrasted her original personality so much that it was comical. A pair of white socks covered her feet, which matched perfectly with the dainty heels she wore.  

Coriolanus thought back to when Tigris was a young girl, and played with porcelain dolls. They had been a gift from her mother, and she treasured them more than anything. That is, until they were lost during the war. Coriolanus vividly remembered the single picture Tigris still had of her dolls, which she had kept on the wall of her room for years. Their perfect but lifeless figures were nice to stare at, but lacked character and depth.

It was almost eerie how much Bellova resembled them.

“What did you do to her?” Coriolanus blurted out, cringing internally at how unprofessional it had sounded.

Dr. Gaul smiled proudly. “I fixed her, of course. She put up quite a fight, though. Wouldn’t stop screaming and kicking until I had sedated her. Then, I did some minor brain surgery to remove any trace of the old serum before injecting the new one. This one should be completely devoid of flaws.”

He glanced at Bellova, who was still out cold on the experiment table. “So…has she lost her memory again?” 

The doctor sighed. “I hope so. But there is no true way to tell until she is awake.”

Coriolanus felt his patience start to deteriorate at an alarming rate, and grit his teeth to prevent himself from loosing his temper. “Please wake her up now, then.”

Dr. Gaul raised an eyebrow, and he could tell that she was inquisitive of his desperate tone. He didn’t understand why. Didn’t she know how important this was to him? If Bellova wasn’t truly fixed, he would have to spend even more of his time and energy protecting his reputation against the damming information stored somewhere in her mind.

But if Dr. Gaul was truly confused about his urgency, she didn’t vocalize it. Instead, she grabbed a terrifying-looking device that somewhat resembled a gun and pressed it to Bellova’s temple.

As soon as she pressed a red button, the device sent a shock through the unconscious girl’s body, causing her to jolt awake. Her grey pupils darted around fearfully, and she let out a pitiful whine of distress. 

Both the mentor and the apprentice held their breaths, anxiously anticipating Bellova’s first words.

Bellova’s lips, which has been painted over with a shiny cosmetic gloss, trembled ever-so slightly. She made eye contact with Coriolanus, and he swore he could feel his heart leap into his throat. Not in the romantic sense, of course. It was simply the thrill of being in control. 

“Coryo,” Bellova whispered, reaching out to him.

Coriolanus slowly walked towards her, taking one of her hands cautiously. Despite her innocent appearance, he didn’t trust her just her. 

After all, she’d tried to kill him mere days ago.

Bellova’s eyes swarmed with large tears, gripping his hand tightly. “I’m so confused, w-what’s going on? Why am I not at home? Am I sick?”

Coriolanus barely held back a groan of frustration. He’d have to lie on the spot, again. It was hard enough the first time, and he would have to alter the facts now that the initial lie was no longer completely relevant.

But before he could start weaving the web of deceit around Bellova’s fragile mind, Dr. Gaul spoke up.

“Silly girl, don’t be worried. You’re just having your routine checkup.”

Bellova’s brows furrowed. “Checkup?”

“Yes, my dear. I have to poke around your brain every once and awhile to make sure you’re alright.”

“Oh,” she replied simply. She turned to Coriolanus once more, her expression one of utter helplessness. “But…why am I so…Coryo, I don’t understand. I don’t understand myself, or anything or…”

Coriolanus met Dr. Gaul’s piercing gaze. Her expression was blank, but it told him everything she needed to know.

He was so close to winning the game he’d played with Bellova since they were children that he could practically taste it.

All it would take to secure his eternal victory was a handful of well-chosen words.

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊❆ ‧

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude, @have-a-nice-day-k, @that-daughter-of-hephaestus

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! Again, I deeply apologize for the long wait for this chapter, I promise the next installment will come out much faster🖤

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x oc #tbosas #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #original character #thg prequel #dr gaul

[conflictofthemind]

Not saying this means anything especially since TBSOAS (the book) only came out in 2020, more of a “hey this is weird” post but:

I’ve always thought these two looked / were similar as two wavy blond haired blue eyed men, and it definitely helps that they both premiered (in the case of film Corio) within one year of each other . But there’s like, more than that? And some of it is very strange?

First off, they are two characters who since the start of their chronological stories teeter between ‘good’ and ‘evil’ with a lot of forces in their life, including their evil scientist mentor, pushing them towards the dark side by use of manipulation tactics. Henry is much more of a direct victim to this than Corio is though, and the latter also does have more good influences in his life.

“Fueled with the terror of becoming Prey, see how quickly we become Predator?” - Dr. Gaul

“I could restore balance to a broken world… a predator, but for good” - Henry Creel / 001

Also, can I mention how both TBOSAS and TFS are set in the same exact time period? The Hunger Games uses retro futurism since the entire story is set centuries from now, but the era is clearly inspired by the late 50s to early 60s, especially given that it takes place 60 years before the main series.

Now here’s the actual weird part that had me making this post.

Both of their origin stories center on a romance with a female co-lead that ends with them killing her (heavy question mark). That’s not the weird part. It’s the way that the plots of both of these origin stories and said female characters are based off of old European folk-songs that were popular in Appalachia. TFS is based off of ‘The Tale of Barbara Allen’ and TBOSAS is based off of ‘The Ballad of Lucy Gray’ - Stranger Things just bothered to change her name to Patty Newby. Barbara Allen (Patty) appears as a covey sister of Lucy Gray in TBSOAS. Naturally, both of these characters are singers which plays a role in their respective stories.

I just have to say, it’s a very obscure source of inspiration to happen twice like this. There is a little part of me that thinks Kate Trefry and the writing crew on TFS might have been fans of The Hunger Games. But who knows.

Suzanne Collins wrote the TBOSAS prequel to answer the question of ‘nature vs nurture’ and how much choice villains have in becoming their future selves - which is the exact same question that is actively being posed by Stranger Things in regards to Henry.

And then how I got started on this line of thinking again today - the older adult versions of these characters both kidnap the respective sweet boy love interests and hijack them against the main characters. For strategic reasons and, in the case of Peeta, emotionally torturing the main character so she gives up. Will and Peeta are just both so similar as characters; soft and sensitive, traumatized, painters, both the poor underdogs with (seemingly) unrequited love for the protagonist though Mike isn’t really the protagonist.

I’m not sure if there’s actual inspiration being taken here. I typically assume not on the basis that I’m someone who can find connections between any pieces of media I enjoy. But the whole Appalachian folktale angle of it all is strange to me.

While I don’t think Henry was conceived with this in mind, it’s possible the inspiration sprang up during the further fleshing out of his backstory and into writing The First Shadow. Maybe it will even have an impact on the final season.

One of the things I liked about TBOSAS was the theme of the past coming back to haunt Snow in the future through Katniss and the music Lucy Gray created living on through her. If this was in any way inspiration, I’d love to see Vecna haunted by how similar Will is to him and especially the ways that he is different and able to do better.

#stranger things #henry creel #vecna/henry/001 #will byers #not going to put this shenanigans in the hg tag but uhh go everlark and byler parallels

[greenyvertekins]

Sonic Supertars JP official site character profile translations.

Sonic the Hedgehog The fastest Hedgehog of all time! He runs around the world at supersonic speeds and will confront those who pose a threat to his friends, peace and nature. He's usually enjoying a carefree life with his comrades but never overlooks Dr Eggman's wicked schemes!

Miles "Tails" Prower

Tails is an eager, genius engineer and the pilot of Sonic's plane "Tornado". He can fly in the sky by spinning his two tails like propellers. He is Sonic's closest friend and partner!

Amy Rose Amy is a lively pink Hedgehog girl with the power of initiative. She has a strong sense of justice, kind heart and is an ally of the weak.

She punishes bullies with her giant Piko Piko Hammer! Knuckles the Echidna

Knuckles is the guardian of the Master Emerald on Angel Island and the last descendant of his tribe. He uses his powerful spiked knuckles to knock down enemies and destroy walls. Though he is an obstinate person, he is chilvalrous and trustworthy. A reliable ally! Dr Eggman

An evil genius scientist who plots to conquer the world and establish the Eggman Empire. He has a might robot army and is searching for the Chaos Emeralds to reinforce his fighting power. That is why he came to the Northstar Islands. But what on earth is he planning...?

Fang the Hunter

Fang the Hunter is an agile Jerboa bounty hunter who is always on the lookout for spoils.

He is also a wanted fugitive who has used many different names over the years. Constantly attempting to outwit opponents, Fang has once again revised his beloved machine, the Marvelous Queen in his quest for plunder.

Trip the Sungazer

A mysterious girl who Fang first encountered on the Northstar Islands. She is heavily armoured but has a very clumsy side. She is submissive to Dr Eggman and Fang and ordered to guide them through these uncharted lands.

#Sonic Superstars #Sonic the Hedgehog #Miles Tails Prower #Amy Rose #Knuckles the Echidna #Dr Eggman #Fang the Sniper #Trip the Sungazer Lizard #My Translations

[random-dragon-exe]

Everyone who likes Disney Villains, listen up.

There's a really cool YouTube channel by the name of Pattycake Productions, that is currently producing a series called The Villains Lair.

It's about the disney villains getting revenge on their respective protagonists. Their lair is inside The Evil Queen's castle and they have a plan to work together (and at most tolerate each other) to achieve their individual goals at revenge.

Far better than any live action remake, the series has top notch costumes and actors that embody the villains to a T. From Dr. Facilier's charisma to Lady Tremaine's poise, they're spot on. Not to mention, the set design is great.

Of course, there's music galore. Can't have a bunch of villains without a few songs. The music slaps and the villain's voices are top tier.

Tensions arise between villains, interactions are fun, certain villains pose a threat to others. It has nearly everything that a Disney Villain lover wants.

If you're curious about which villains are included here's a small list.

The Evil Queen

Maleficent

Jafar

Frollo

Scar

Captain Hook

Yzma

Dr. Facilier

And there's more!

Now with all that said, if this seems like something that interests you, consider watching the series and the first episode, it's a fun ride.

#don't mind me #im hyperfixating again #hyperfixation my beloved #hyperfixation #random fandom stuff #disney #disney villains #the villains lair #pattycake productions #villains #the evil queen #maleficent #jafar #claude frollo #judge claude frollo #scar #captain hook #yzma #dr. facilier

[docgold13]

Profiles in Villainy

Henchman 21

Gary Fisher was abducted by accident by the villainous Fluttering Horde who had mistaken the large-statured teenager for their intended target.  A long time fan of science fiction and comic books, Gary was actually pretty psyched and he leapt at the chance of becoming a minion to a real life supervillain.  As such, Gary joined the ranks of the horde and became an underling of The Menacing Monarch, designated as Henchman #21.

Gary made good friends with his fellow minion, Henchman 24.  The pair were involved in many of the Monarch’s evil machinations and while scores of their fellow minions were killed in actions, the two always managed to survive; ultimately leading to the two considering that they might be indeed immortal.  

Such lofty speculations were cruelly snuffed out when Henchman 24 was tragically killed in action.  The death of his good friend took a drastic tole on Gary. 

He rededicated himself to the henching craft, honing his mind and body to their upper limits.  He became such a skilled combatant that he was even able to hold his own against the renown Brock Sampson, earning Sampson's rarely-offered respect.  

Gary became an inspiration to his fellow minions amongst the Fluttering Horde.  They called him ‘Two-Ton Twenty-One’ and treated him with great reverence.  In turn, Gary helped to better train the Horde, making them into a much more effective fighting force (with a significantly higher survival rate).  Although he had ostensively become The Monarch’s primary henchman, he refused the designation of 'Henchman 1' so to honor his humble beginnings and the memory of his fallen friend.  

With Henchman 21’s aide, The Monarch became a much more successful and feared villain.  Side adventures saw Gary becoming a member of SPINX, aiding the OSS in defeating Monstrosso and posing as the sidekick of the new Blue Morpho.  Yet he ultimately returned to his role as Henchman 21 at The Monarch’s side, acting as the villain’s top lieutenant and confidant (burying down his unrequited love for his boss' wife, Mrs. Dr. Girlfriend. 

Series co-creator, Doc Hammer provides the voice for Henchman 21, with the character originally appearing in the third episode of the first season of The Venture Bros., airing on August 21st, 2004.

#Profiles in Villainy #Venture Bros. #Henchman 21 #Henchman 24 #cut-out #paper art #Villains!

[senkusphone]

Dr. Stone chapter 3D trivia post

Hello, um. I hope yall had a pleasant solstice celebration of your choice- I've been pondering whether what we just saw merits a triva post, but let's try to squeeze some for the sake of completion, shall we?

Check out also my trivia posts for chapters 1D and 2D.

They're the same picture.

It took me way too long to notice what was off in this cover, it seems to be nothing but an aesthetic choice. Other than these off colors, this specific suika melon design first appeared during the Treasure island arc, right after Ryusui punted her off the Perseus.

To directly quote what I wrote at one time on the wiki:

Too bad, the ship Chelsea shows up in is not the Perseus D. Monkey from chapter 214 (which itself is a One Piece reference, as Boichi is a big fan).

Interesting that we get a nearly identical shot, instead of Kohaku standing behind her, it's Ruri and Matsukaze.

This posture done my Matsukaze is called Namaste (with other names such as Namaskar), which is used both as a greeting and as an indication of reverence all over the southern parts of Asia, along with other similar gestures. I know this is familiar to many myself included but I had never looked into the deeper details until now.

Figurines showing this pose have been excavated from the Indus valley civilization dating to between 2700 and 2100 BCE, making this piece of cultural heritage at least 7800 years old by the time of this panel.

Xeno has clearly had his hand in the architecture of the Japan side of the KoS, with some new constructions resembling his own Evil Disneyland back home.

Hold back yer tears

Kaseki has lived well. It's hard to tell how old he is now, he lived longer than the timeline's consistency thats for sure, I blame time travel.

At the time Taiju got wed, he was around 70 years old.

Kaseki and Chrome go back way further than the KoS, the fanbook tells us that Kaseki helped Chrome build his shed when he was just a boy.

Feel your heart a bit shakey? hang on there, we now get to talk about whyman's sorrow, and a small observation that I've made

Whyman can have emotions, the circuits that process that can be switched on and off, but the fact that a message can, or needs to be "left" for themselves, as well as his farewell for all eternity, has an interesting implication: once switched off, whyman loses the recollection of any experience they had in the meantime. These circuits allow whyman to feel, and also to then forget. This is useful, as emotions help them survive, but forgetting prevents the emotional baggage from growing infinitely over a virtually immortal life.

"If we remembered every single parting person, it would only be a few generations before the sorrow would pile up to the point it became unbearable. Maybe it is a blessing to forget. Forgetting allows us to get even. Forget sorrows as new ones replace them. Life can go on, if tragically. No accumulating loss that would one day make everyone struggle to survive and eventually pass on; though that last thing does also sound very much like today."

(10B points to the ~2 people who know where this quote is from, I digress)

So that's cool, and heartbreaking, but so what, does it connect to anything we've seen before?

Well...

In ch. 232 we see that Whyman does not know what created them.

How could that be, if they can remember things over deep time?

Maybe it is that Whyman chose to forget their creators, and everything they felt about them. Beings that they may even have loved in the deep deep past, and could not cope with yearning for.

The blonde, bangs & ponytail lineage.

The village graveyard. Last time we saw it, Byakuya's gravestone was opened to reveal the glass record.

A lot of recognizable headstones are still up now, some appear to have moved.

Other headstones might be gone or be different... The one with four dots that was there originally can't be seen in this new shot but it can be seen later in the chapter.

Also, I hate to break this to you, but there's more headstones now than there were before.

I counted 45 in the original shot, 50 in the new one, not including any that Chelsea and Senku may be covering. Granted this is likely just an oversight.

(I should mention that in order for them to match bottom to bottom, the top image is flipped horizontally).

(omg look at the babiesss)

What Xeno is telling Chrome is that if whyman went and altered their own past, then what they are seeing currently is the result of that, since whatever changes they made, are in the past after all.

They already happened and they are part of the timeline that leads them to where they are now.

Assuming they actually found Byakuya (or a petrified time traveler) means that either whyman created some sort of causal loop that is self sustaining (ie, the ramifications of the changes in the past include whyman going back to do them in the first place), or more in line with the many worlds hypothesis, that going back to the past and changing it creates a new parallel timeline where the repercussions of that happen, with no effect in the first one.

In the latter case it means the timeline we see now was altered by the whyman from a parallel universe.

The stone axe is a bit dissonant with where they are, technologically speaking, yes? Thing is, that's the one Senku took to the moon with him.

He's had it since chapter 1.

A few people I've seen mystified about this structure they unearthed at the cementery:

This is a collapsed building just like the structures that the Tsukasa empire occupied.

(shoutout to that guy about to die in the back)

Interestingly, this means that Ishigami Village is established on top of a once urban area.

I am always pumped for any extra bits of village lore I can get.

Did Suika's handwriting trigger your AI generated image senses? it did for me.

We were bamboozled again. If it ends up happening it's gonna be like the tale of the wolf. The moment we stop taking it seriously, Inagaki is gonna smack us across the head with it.

We were actually preparing for the poop on a stick to hit the f.a.a.n on discord. What do I make about the ending? I don't know, I got no big analysis this time around but I believe it's very likely we'll see more at some point.

#dr. stone trivia #dcst #dr stone #dr. stone #drstone #dcst whyman #dr stone whyman #whyman dr stone #dcst suika #dr stone suika #suika dr stone #dcst chelsea #dr stone chelsea #chelsea dr stone #chelsea childe #dcst kaseki #dr stone kaseki #kaseki dr stone #dcst chrome #dr stone chrome #chrome dr stone #dcst senku #dr stone senku #senku dr stone #senku ishigami #dcst byakuya #dr stone byakuya #byakuya dr stone #byakuya ishigami #dcst ruri

[megashadowdragon]

"'I'm just a cog' An analysis into the curious ideology of unclear justice and the real world parallels and questions it poses"

どっちつかずの正義 or Dotchitsukazu no Seigi, literally translating to unclear justice is one of the marine ideologies I have been curious about since we are introduced to the various marines and their mottos. It provides a curious introspective into this enigmatic character

On closer look, there is a sense of irony in Kizarus character. He is a light man, but is slow in his mannerisms. He shines brightly but prefers to stay hidden. He's the most proactive admiral but also hates the toll of work the most out of all

Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 All these serve to make him difficult to read. However, in between the moral justice of the likes of an aokiji and the extreme absolute justice of an Akainu, there is something terrifying about that Grey area in between and brings up a long debated sociological topic Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 the numenberg trials, involving the trial of a lot of high ranking nazi generals , consisted of a lot of individuals claiming that they were not truly evil. Most famously Adolf eichmann, who did not deny his place in the holocaust, however used the excuse that he was simply a cog Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 In theory, this would make sense, as the superiors such as Hitler would hold higher responsibility for the orders. But then you wonder, would this individual admit to their acts being deplorable if they had lost? Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 Coming back to one piece, it goes to what doflamingo says about the prevalence of justice and how justice is decided by the winners

This therefore makes the just following orders people the most disturbing of all, as they seem to only tip to the side that seems to be favorable at the time Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 Now coming back to Kizaru, we see that he has many sociopathic traits. In his first appearance, in trying to kill a couple of pirates who attacked him, he destroys a couple of civilian blocks, possibly killing several civilians in the process, but not particularly caring.

Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 When it comes to Kizaru, I think there are many inferences we can come to. Kizaru is certainly aware of the corruption and issues of the world government. He is strongly aware of what they do and those they wrong. However he chooses to overlook them. Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 Why you may ask? Because making a change in the world requires terrifying amount of ambition, grit and pain. Someone like aokiji has completely detached from the navy and even become a criminal, because it gives him the platform to stand for what he believes in.

Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 Akainu fights aokiji, someone who he actually holds respect for, to near death, so he can become the fleet admiral and make his own vision of the marine force. These two individuals have something they believe in and fight for. Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 However Kizaru, to me, is one of one piece examples of textbook sociopathy. He knows what the world is, and unlike someone like smoker, has the power to make a stand, but doesn't, because it is convenient for him.

Phantom @ThePhantomStra5

Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 The world government, with the marines as their face, have ruled the world for at least 800 years. They have determined what it means to be 'good' or 'evil' for all this time because they are the ones that reign Supreme. As such, Kizaru just aligns with them.

Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 It is scary to have someone like this, because like any sociopath, they hold little empathy and hold few genuine allegiances.We can see how Kizaru is more than willing to kill Dr vegapunk and sentomaru, who are like family to him.Or when he has no qualms with nearly killing Drake

Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 He is a symbol for the deep darkness in the human heart. If given the shadow of someone, humans are capable of all types of horror. The lack of hesitation to end human life or to show empathy on the basis of a 'higher power', is one flaw that has existed throughout human history Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 This is why Kizaru is the admiral for instance, sent to saboady. He is more so a weapon than he is an actual individual. But weapons are unstable and it is curious to see how Kizaru responds in a situation where the world government no longer hold the major initiative.

· Aug 3 Overall, in Kizaru, I see a man who in his attempt to find freedom in an oppressed world, has dulled his empathy and fully committed to being a cog in a working machine, rather than the wheel that spurs the cycle of change.

Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 There is a popular saying, with great power comes great responsibility. Kizaru as a character could be seen as a real world introspective. Many of us have the power to do something, be greater and be better. But we choose not to, because it will cause us some discomfort.

Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 Dissimilarly though, he is also an introspective into a sociopath, a deeply self centered man, who is given a platform to act freely, while not having to take responsibility for their actions or draw any major attention, because they hide themselves as part of a larger group. Phantom @ThePhantomStra5 · Aug 3 Now this thread was not to tell you that he is evil or something. Clearly Kizaru does have some sense of morality. However it is his reason for enforcing said 'justice', along with his general apathy towards certain factors that make him a sociopath.

this adds to the idea of sanji vs kizaru since kizaru is a soldier who just follows orders like the germa 66 guys a sociopath

@bottlepiecemuses

#one piece #admiral kizaru #one piece 1089 #op borsalino #op meta #one piece meta #op theory #one piece theory #sanji one piece #sanji black leg #black leg sanji #sanji blackleg #blackleg sanji

[angled-blade]

Thoughts Unspoken.

Pairing(s): Michael Myers/Reader

Warning(s): Implied mention of violence and murder.

Additional: 5,432 words. Written in 2nd POV [You/Your]. Storyline is set during the events of Halloween (1978).

Michael felt the rush of adrenaline left him quickly as he walked along the streets of Haddonfield, a cool breeze from the wind gently brushing against him. His body remained tense, ready to be on the run from the authorities whenever it was necessary to do so. The night of Halloween was still young—peace and silence now followed him after the actions he committed. Michael strayed away from his home for now, knowing that it would be the subject of interest for the authorities to look into as Halloween passes into November. He felt particularly empty, with a hunger now ebbing away at him the more steps he took down the street.

The function bothered him, as it still attempted to suggest to the Shape that he was still human. Perhaps it was true in the case of when he was younger, a small glint of humanity prospering in his eyes when he had first been taken to Smith’s Grove as the little child he was. The little light had been dimmed and quickly dissipated as he began undergoing treatment. No longer was he a little boy as much as his actions now were no longer excusable—his understanding of it being obscured even further by Dr. Loomis’ belief and understanding of him. If he was the Boogeyman they chose to depict and interpret, that was on them. One thing that was absolute, was that he was no longer human. The newfound title wrapped around his limbs in a tight embrace—as if daring others to prove otherwise. With it as the truth, his viewpoint on the world began to dull with every year that passed.

Common human functions that Michael saw for himself would be the motivations, goals and even desires belonging to those around him. He saw desire ever so present with his victims, their acts of blatant adultery—alongside their motivation to continue on running from him as a futile attempt to escape.. Despite being witness to the many moments of humanity before him, not once had Michael discovered a suitable situation where it required him to demonstrate it. 

Not that there was a possibility that he could have ever tried, but that was the biggest difference between man and Michael. Dr. Loomis’ claimed himself that his mind had already been perfected to the nth degree as a heartless evil who knew no bounds—with a taste for bloodshed, to top everything all off. He, in spite of any circumstance, should know that it was universally impossible for him to attempt at reigniting the cheap alternative of humanity. He knew it was, having had the opportunities to do so permanently snipped away from young. 

—

He recalls each defining moment during his stay at Smith’s Grove as if it occurred within a span of a few days.

When he had been admitted into the sanatorium at six, the four white walls were all that he could see and grow accustomed to. Michael had looked into every nook and cranny that may pose to him as a weakness in the foundation. By then, he decided that he wanted to leave Smith’s Grove. It wasn’t an if at all, but when. It was a more palpable answer to himself that where he was now was not at all ideal. Despite his distaste for the concrete barriers, he was initially tended to by the professionals who came to visit him. Keyword on initially. 

With time, almost every toy imaginable began to manifest before him, dropped off by the doctor in exchange for his words. Michael settled on answering yes or no questions, his child mind failing to understand—let alone wrap around the use of big words said by Samuel. He never understood, despite his high expectations of him being able to do so. 

Michael received more toys whenever he said yes to Dr. Loomis’ queries, to which he took advantage. There were only so many toys for a boy to get. He quickly lost his interest in receiving the toy itself, but still remained stubborn in keeping it a part of his collection. He was quick to figure out that his stubbornness was picked apart by the professionals overseeing him, in which he realised and acknowledged the many eyes on him—those who monitor his every move. 

Michael began to shut down shortly after, resulting in his behaviour now appearing slow and inattentive during interviews.

A year passed, the toys gifted to him from when he was seven were removed from his person. The reason for removal was due to his unresponsive behaviour toward the toys and when it was his turn to answer Dr. Loomis. Despite the sudden changes made by his doctor, Michael did not react. Jotting down his unresponsiveness as yet another inhuman quality, Dr. Loomis moved on to clear his collection, leaving Michael with a barren, white room. Of course, the boy did not seem to respond. With the lack of interest in the toys Dr. Loomis attempted to bribe Michael with for answers he wanted to hear, the lesser the primal urge of possessiveness became prevalent in the young boy.

At age nine Michael began to grow even more quieter, with each word he uttered barely above a whisper. In which his voice began to blend in with the soundless room. Even if he spoke, every word appeared to mimic a muffled voice from afar—that very voice being one inadvertently ignored due to its similarity with all that was natural. Not once would anyone expect a voice from normality. It was at this age where Michael began nurturing his patience, doing so after acknowledging that escape from what he presumed to be a tightly secured building would require for him to wait. With his almost hollowed sense of self, Michael’s focus on his restraint was expanded upon tenfold—testing the limits of it firstly, by remaining stationary for long periods of time. 

Age 10, the boy was near silent. The only sign that he was living were the small, barely noticeable intakes of breath that he took when the nurses checked up on him. Many of the nurses overseeing Michael presumed that he was merely zoning out. They were wrong, as Michael honed in on his skills, patiently waiting for the opportunity to arise.

With Dr. Loomis’ attempts at reaching him, he was continuously deemed unresponsive with every visit. This resulted in the doctor inviting other child psychologists to attempt at reaching him, the change bringing about the many doses they injected into Michael. Being heavily medicated left Michael even more sluggish, especially matched in movement as he was being led to and fro interview rooms before returning to his room once more. Despite the doses, it appeared to those on observational duty noting that Michael had begun to grow.

By the time his silence marked into its 15th year, Michael Audrey Myers had become a behemoth of a man. His stature was intimidating, paired with his already selective behaviour as a man of very few words—he found himself pandered into an image that was reserved for him, a being thought to be lesser than man in spite of the many human qualities they presumed he decided to impersonate. A concretised, textbook definition of evil. 

What they failed to realise was that with every visit they intended to make, Michael’s trust in them dissipates significantly with every direct question they dare ask. Prying into his physical condition was a matter he’d grown to tolerate, however, believing that they of all people have a right to pry into the memories he held onto? Michael stared back unamused, his body unmoving with his lips remaining sealed. Every move of his was monitored as usual, and much to Samuel’s chagrin and frustration, Michael didn’t react. With the claims made by that doctor, it appeared (perhaps as a butterfly effect to seem glad for) that the nurses and guards began to grow careless. Many of them had even been foolish enough to turn with their backs facing him, as if they themselves had forgotten who it was that they were to watch over.

Michael’s eyes were astute in recognising changes to routine, be it his—or the guards that patrol in the sanatorium. He learnt and remembered the changes that the guards at Smith’s Grove make during holidays, with it resulting in a good handful of guards being away and few that would remain patrolling the halls of the sanatorium. It appeared that with recognition of his inhumanity, his senses had heightened to an almost remarkable standard—his sense of hearing being one of them. He used that acutely hearing every footstep as the guard stepped toward the office to clock out. Everything by then appeared to fall into place, a perfect chain of events that followed one after another. Almost as if it were purely by chance, the opportunity to leave the sanatorium had come.

Michael followed through, escaping Smith’s Grove Sanatorium the night before Halloween.

—

That being said, he knew this change was what he wrought out for himself. It never would have been permitted by the doctors who tended to him. He had already blocked out the unnecessary aspects of social function with those people, finding each voice equally irritating than the last. Even if he tried to reciprocate, most, if not all, took advantage of his reaction as being the key to his path of confession and rehabilitation. Alas, there was no need to dwell on life at the sanatorium now that he had successfully paved a path for himself.

Hands far more bloodied than ever before, Michael seemed to snap from his thoughts as a voice calling for him rang through his moment of silence.

A voice among the blurred ocean, one that he was not used to.

Michael turned his head to the right, his gaze immediately locking onto someone not too far away—perhaps only a few feet. There you were, standing on the front porch with a large plastic bowl tucked under an arm. You waved at him. 

“You should head on home and eat, it’s getting late anyway—” You cautioned, before a smile appeared on your features. It was barely noticeable to the naked eye, but not to Michael’s. He took note of your smile that seemed to be illuminated from the warm light of your home. “—...Uh, Happy Halloween.”

With that, Michael watched as you retreated into your home. It had only been a half an hour, he thought. The authorities would still be at the Myers home, loitering around his property in an almost futile attempt to gather even a sliver of traces that could aid in pinpointing the Shape’s current whereabouts, as he came to expect. With a tight grip on the kitchen knife, Michael decided to follow you into your home, deciding to quietly enter through the backdoor.

—

You didn’t know what it was, but after seeing that strange man, you could almost feel an extra pair of eyes staring you down. It seemed as though they were watching your every move.

You chalked up the concern to something close to mere paranoia, setting aside the orange bowl atop the kitchen counter as you tucked away the leftover candy into the pantry. You felt too exhausted to make any labour intensive meals, leaving you to settle on a simpler meal to make. You took your time as you made a few slices of French toast, plating them carefully beside the bowl as you wait for it to cool. You found yourself continuing to ignore the unnerving stares that lingered, shutting the lights off with your plate in hand.

You stopped in your tracks once you turned on your heel to exit the kitchen. Your path was blocked by a tall figure, their presence looming over you despite them remaining almost perfectly still.

By some coincidence, you recognised the figure’s posture.

“You’re that man from earlier.” You spoke, voice already uneasy on how you should conduct yourself before this man. It was as if he was more intimidating up close, but you weren’t too sure. 

“You really shouldn’t break into people’s homes—” That’s when you saw it. It was barely noticeable, and yet with a small glimmer of light hit against the object that the man was holding, revealing the weapon. It was only for a brief moment, although you were now aware of the large kitchen knife that he held in his right hand. Figuring out ways to defuse and minimise the risk of danger, you wracked your brain to recall what you said prior. It hit you in an instant, with you quickly glancing at your plate of French toast. 

“…Are you hungry, sir? Wh–” A hitch was present in your voice as you tried to string words along in a cohesive manner. “Was that why you broke in?” You asked, hesitation layered thickly in your voice. His head slowly tilted slightly toward his left, as if processing your statement. 

—

Tilting his head back into its original position, Michael watched as you set the plate back onto the kitchen counter in its place. Deciding to humour you, he moved to the side before awaiting your reaction. You took the bait, though you ensured that you kept facing him as you moved away. You acknowledged the fact that he was dangerous even before he struck, a fearful expression plastered across your features. Michael turned his attention back onto the meal you had prepared, the smell of butter and egg still in the air as it attempted to combat the thick iron that seeped into the fabric of his boilersuit. The knife was now on the kitchen counter, coincidentally beside the empty plastic bowl that you had been using to innocently hand out candies to the trick-or-treaters. He lifted his mask ever so slightly, his mouth only revealed before he began to eat away at the bread. The meal assisted in abating the hunger he had, the function disappearing soon after—which returned Michael back into a familiar, clearer state of mind. He turned to face the direction from where you escaped to. Your shadow remained at the same spot—he presumed you were standing by the front door, ready to run when the time calls for it. He picked up his knife once more, the sound causing your breathing to quicken. The urge to kill had already died down earlier, leaving him at a loss on what to do. 

He left shortly after, leaving behind a victim bewildered at what transpired.

✻

The days bled through November as you wondered about the night on the 31st.

This strange man who you chanced upon on that fateful Halloween night—you found out about who he was that you survived from. It gave you chills that it was Michael Myers, the infamous serial killer known to be ruthless as he terrorised those who lived in Haddonfield, who had spared you amongst the others whom he crossed paths with. 

After that night in particular, you expected that he would return to kill you some way or another. You never expected him to be by the kitchen doorway, standing still as he watched you cook dinner. You almost dropped your meal once you saw him now a few steps forward, making himself known in an instant. The initial shock didn’t last once you noticed that he no longer carried the large kitchen knife from before, and that his attention was no longer on you—but rather, the meal you had prepared. You grabbed a fork before holding out the plate of carbonara toward him, eyes shutting instinctively in fear of any aggressive reaction. It was nerve wracking, feeling his larger hands grab the meal and fork. You peeked, seeing Michael’s back facing you now as you heard the sound of the metal fork hitting against ceramic.

“Y..You should be sitting down and eating. You might choke on the meal if you keep eating as you stand.” you chastised softly, tensing up once you realised that he stopped moving. You braced for the worse. This is where you die. You could hear yourself reasoning. You’ll die in your kitchen at the hands of Michael Myers. To your surprise, he seemed to listen. He moved toward the dining room, which had you even more agitated with the realisation that he must have figured out the layout of your home without you knowing—either by watching or something even more heinous—seating himself on the chair. It was as he was seated that you grasped how tall he really was, his body hunched over as he ate as quietly as he could. 

He stood up as soon as he finished his meal, his stare returning onto you before he nodded slowly. You blinked in confusion, before realising that he had left once again, leaving you once again mystified at his uncharacteristic behaviour.

You tried to not think too much about it, though you found out that it was only the beginning of his visits.

Days turn into weeks as you find yourself greeted with the sight of Michael more often than not.

One-off visits became weekly before transitioning into him visiting twice or thrice per week. You attempted to adjust, purchasing ingredients to prepare meals for two, plating your meal closest to the doorway to make any particularly quick exits—and almost routinely, Michael returned to eat once again. It was silent during the dinner you now shared together, leaving you to bask in exasperation at the current situation you were in with Haddonfield’s most wanted killer.

It was a Friday, you were seated across from Michael as you ate your portion of lasagna. You turned toward the direction of where he was seated, seeing him slowly take bites. His mouth was the only thing that was uncovered, save for his blue eyes that were visible through the eyeholes of the cheap latex. They were alluring, despite seeming empty yet so full of hidden secrets—some that he kept aside under lock and key. His slow movement as he ate had thrown you into a loop in the beginning, as it was jarring when compared to his ability to disappear sight in an instant—as if he were playing into the idea that he looked to be unassuming and harmless with the reaction speed he had, despite it being further from the truth. You knew that he was far faster than he would let on, leaving you to be reminded further that he was dangerously unpredictable. Alas, your staring did not go unnoticed, seeing how he paused on eating. Not long after, you were quick to realise that Michael was staring right back at you.

—

He watched as you stumbled on your own words, expectantly waiting for you to clarify.

“Sorry for–you know, staring. Did you… Did you like the food?” You asked sheepishly, seeming unsure of yourself as you did so. He could see a grimace present in your eyes, though it appeared to not be directed toward him but toward yourself. Michael wondered about the question, turning his gaze back onto his plate—his head tilted in the process.

 “The food.. Did you enjoy eating it?” You seem to have pressured yourself to elaborate further, most likely due to the silence that perturbed you.

Like? He thought, a feeling of loss now taking over his mind as he ran through multiple ideas on what that word entailed in his case. Did he like eating? Eating was a function he had to endure as a part of him to conduct—as it was a means to stave off the other functions such as hunger and fatigue. After eating as regularly as he visited you, he noted himself that the two functions made themselves less present. Eating was a function to prevent the other two, which were equally troublesome—and had been responsible for nudging the possibility of his humanity. With that conclusion in mind, he supposed that he did like to eat.

But to enjoy? What did that mean?

Michael returned his gaze onto you, head once again tilted as he stared you down. Once more, he was expecting answers from you. You seemed to pick up on this, appearing confused now at his reaction.

“Do..—” You paused, seeming to think over your words before continuing your statement. “—Do you… not understand what those words mean?”

Michael did not respond, though his eyes glanced at your plate for a brief moment. 

“To ‘like’—” You made sure to air quote it. “—it’s… a positive feeling that you might have sometimes. Say, doing a favourite activity for example. You would feel strongly about it, to say the least.” You explained, using your hands to gesture an emphasis on your own words. Michael mulled over your description of the word. You didn’t stop your explanation, filling the awkward silence now with your voice. This time around, Michael didn’t seem to find himself needing to block out your voice. He supposed there was no need to, seeing how your voice did not match the scratchy tones of those before you. Strangely enough, Michael found himself listening to you as you spoke. 

“To enjoy… It’s something you find pleasure in—like an activity you like to the point where you want to repeat—and even return to it—whenever you have the chance. Just like you eating right here… if that is okay to use.” You quickly ended your sentence, a sheepish expression appearing over your features. Michael did not appear to respond.

“Right… right. I’ll be clearing the plates now—” You spoke cautiously, before clearing your throat nervously, your voice now returned to normal. “—I hope that my explanation helped you out in understanding what it meant.” Michael stood abruptly, a slow nod being his only response to you throughout the entire night. Michael left soon after, multiple thoughts swarming his mind as if it were a hive of irritated wasps, a low buzz following after every thought that passed through it.

There was a lot to think over for Michael. He didn’t know what it was, but it intrigued his curiosity to look into it further.

✻

Days pass by as usual, he heard that it was near the end of November.

Michael still continued his visits, your home now a secondary shelter that he found himself returning to more often than his own—be it after a kill, whether he was hungry again or his visits were purely out of boredom—your home was a place that he returned to with a comfortable feeling washing over him, despite him not understanding why he felt it so. You seemed to welcome him inside as well, greeting him each time he stood in your living room or kitchen. You began changing, too, from your initial reaction of fear to one that seemed welcoming to the killer as you began talking to him, your hands multitasking as you did so. This change was new to him as well, seeing how it usually went quite the opposite for people who had interacted with Michael. It was always their guard being down and acting carefree in the beginning before it morphed into one of sheer terror. It was a horrifying feeling, one that overtook their entire body once they saw Michael as the danger he truly was. Despite that, their screams appeared satisfactory to the killer as he watched the life drain from their eyes. 

You, on the other hand, reacted differently. You acknowledged that he was dangerous, as seen with your fear on that night. How you used that fear to escape, however, was what made you incongruent from the victims before him. You reached him with a simple question, one that had him stopping just enough in his tracks from killing you. As if you were struck down with a short sliver of luck, you didn’t die. Slowly, but surely, Michael began to associate you with something similar as a provider—something to feed him. He supposed it couldn’t be helped that he needed you alive to solve the function of hunger. 

And then there was your explanation of those very two words that he was initially lost on.

One thing that also set you apart from the others that he met during his sprees was that you answered him truthfully. His questions were left unspoken, but you picked up on it. He knew how to tell whenever something was amiss, and by body language alone, you were no liar. 

With the time he spent over at your home, he realised that you were growing used to him—that left him confused.

Left to his own devices, Michael realised that he kept on repeating the words that you said in his mind. Answers came easily from you, it seemed to him. He took advantage of it, becoming quick in absorbing your words like a sponge, adding the newfound knowledge to something that was tangible for his mind to accept. Michael applied your examples, especially in the case of him constantly returning for you, taking his time forming new reasons as to what it meant for him.

He started simply enough, what was it that he liked?

He knew he liked eating. It served its purpose in reducing the function of hunger to a noticeable degree, allowing him to continue on his day. He liked the fact that you were quick to adapt and make food for him, as it benefitted him. 

Not long after, Michael began to realise that his answers were beginning to delve into far more specific aspects that pertained to you.

One notable answer was that Michael liked your voice. It was easy to listen to, nor did you seem to use it carelessly. You chose your words tactfully and with a caution that you still held onto despite having gotten used to him as a frequent visitor of yours. 

Another answer was your eyes. They held many emotions that Michael could not even begin to comprehend, nor would he ever find himself to begin understanding. As intriguing as it was seeing you emote freely, it left a bittersweet feeling to form within him the more he stared. This was more due to the fact that those eyes of yours were windows to something that he would never become. A human.

It was midway into December. By that time, he learnt more about feelings with your assistance. Michael began to understand the strong surges of what it was that came over him whenever he did experience them. He learnt the feelings of joy and excitement, seeing it prevalent as you talked about your hobbies. It was one of the many afternoons in which Michael entered your home once again. He did not kill today, nor did he feel the urge to do so. 

Michael noted the fact that you were not in your living room. It didn’t take long for him to realise that you were in your bedroom. He wondered why it was that you were keeping yourself quiet and hidden from him. There was nothing else for you to hide from him anyway. He walked closer, where he heard it a good few feet away from him. It was the sound of you crying. The sound by itself was one of many noises that he was used to hearing, but never from you, which resulted in him being put on high alert. He stood by the door to your bedroom, lightly tapping against it with a knuckle. You quietened shortly after, your hand now on the door knob. He expected you to open it right after, but you seemed to hesitate.

“—’m sorry, Michael. I’m.. I’ll be out soon, give me a second.” You sniffled through your assurance. Michael backed away from the door, standing still as he waited. There was now the soft sound of the doorknob being twisted, the door opening to reveal you before the killer. Now that you did so, he began to assess the situation and the state you were in. 

While you tried to wipe away the tears that streaked down your cheeks, the puffiness of your eyelids and the distressed demeanour you exuded gave everything away. Michael didn’t know what it was, but what followed after struck his chest hard, as if someone swung their bat and had it made contact with his chest. There he felt tide of negative emotions that swept over him, now with words that he learned from you to describe what it was he felt. 

Unbridled rage took over his body, an especially strong emotion that he initially was surprised to know he had, but it felt especially accurate to describe it as such. To him, it felt as though the world around him began to quickly quieten itself at the sheer malice that emanated from his person as his vision turned red. Your words began to sound muffled as he ignored all that was around him, his mind immediately zeroing in on what—or who, in this case—that had you end up in the way you were. He felt his previously dormant bloodlust spike once he had a name to his target. Michael realised that in that very moment, you had become the prized item that he unknowingly sought after from when he was a little boy—one that truly interested him, one that he felt had to be earned—unlike the however many toys that ended up in his way. In which by some stroke of luck, it had fallen into his hands right after he had made that decision to leave the sanatorium. To him, you were something that he now had to look after in his own way, in fear of you enduring harm as you had right now.

Michael’s vision cleared, the red quickly dissolved once he heard you call for him. Your voice seemed to pierce through the rage that he had momentarily, having him glance at your face. You made an attempt to assure him that you would be alright later on, resulting in the man staring back at you, eyes peeking through the mask unamused. He moved toward you, his gaze softening to an considerable degree as he nodded to you in way as if asking you to return to  your bedroom. You attempted to protest, but the words quickly died in your throat as you saw how tightly clenched his fists were. You sighed and nodded, retreating to your bed, hearing the door shut behind you.

The killer was quick to leave your home, knowing that there was a target for him to take care of.

—

It was now nighttime when Michael returned to your home. He made sure that there was no blood present on him, knowing you would connect the pieces if he came back as he usually did. 

What he didn’t expect was you bounding over him, concern over your features now as you looked all over him.

“You had me worried, Michael.” For what? He wondered, standing still as you lightly touched him—checking him over for any particular injury you presumed he might be concealing from the human eye. You worry too much. Michael huffed quietly, shaking his head to dismiss your concerns. You sighed, accepting his response.

“Alright… Okay. How about we eat dinner, then? I’ve already prepared it.” You offered before waiting for his response. He nodded, observing your expression turning into one similar to delight. You made your way toward the dining room, leaving Michael on his own by the backdoor. Visiting your home had brought upon many different experiences that were new and unknown to Michael. As he was, the killer began to acknowledge multiple things about himself that he believed to be fact and the truth itself.

Your words had its way to disturb his line of thought and the engrained beliefs he had about himself. Your thoughts and explanations had even challenged the very idea that he was evil incarnate and that he was… human. 

You gave him answers, for the better or for the worse, Michael didn’t care. Because of you, he learnt about the feelings that he had. Because of you, he was acknowledging the parts of him that made him human, and that had him realise he was not as emotionless as he was described and portrayed whenever he was with you. To others who have encountered him, he didn’t care that they saw him as such, knowing how reputation affected those deeply in the town of Haddonfield.

In the end, Michael found himself acknowledging a thought that he had been originally unsure of. Now, he was sure it was definite.

Michael was certain toward the idea of him liking you.

I hope you enjoyed reading this, I am really sorry for any poor quality you might detect!

Hopefully this rendition of Michael Myers that I have written is alright as well!!

If it is alright, please reblog this post! (:

Once again, thank you again for reading and Happy New Years!!

#michael myers x reader #og michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #og michael myers x you #slasher x reader #slasher x you