WARNINGS for mild smut, talk about explicit photos and actually healthy communication for once.
thinking about being the first and only person to take lewds/nudes of corey and guiding him through it.
he's very nervous about it, but he trusts you so much. trusts that you have no ulterior motives and that you want to look at pictures of him naked out of pure adoration and love, even if he doesn't understand why. (and of course it's the same the other way around).
it starts really coy, because he's so shy and no one has ever wanted to look at him so much before. most of these photos are just of his face, his big wet trusting eyes looking up at you through his glasses. sometimes with his broad, bare shoulders visible. he gets more and more flustered because you keep praising him so much -- how he's so beautifully handsome, how he's being so good, how perfect every single inch of him is -- his cheeks get so pretty pink. he finds it difficult to look straight in the lens so at first all the photos have him looking past the camera, at you.
then you get him to pose for you, guiding him into each position or giving him little directions because he doesn't even know how to "be sexy" yet (even though he is always the most beautiful, sexy person to you no matter what he's doing or what he wears). he lies in bed and does as he's told; turning away from the camera, then facing it again, flexing his muscles, on his knees, opening his legs just a little wider.
and then you slowly work up to action shots, getting him to touch himself for you while you sit at the end of the bed and watch, the way his eyes flutter and close, how his hand moves faster unless you tell him to slow down, the twitch in his muscles, how he grabs at the headboard for something to hold onto. capturing the look on his face when he finishes on film forever.
afterwards, looking back through each and every photo with him is almost as much fun as taking them. he's just as blushy and just as shy, but you can see how it strokes his ego to see you so enamoured with his looks.
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A Dark Shadow, A Shape
Summary: Corey picks the wrong target.
I hate Corey with my entire being but I will exploit this dynamic until the bitter end. Have some protective!Michael
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Four years post-Michael, and your nightly routine was still the same: cook dinner, eat alone at your dining room table, take ten minutes to clean up, and put your leftovers out on the windowsill, just in case.
Tonight your hastily carved jack-o-lantern grinned at you with its slash of a smile as you set a plate of grilled vegetables and steak on the white-painted windowpane above your sink, chancing a glance out your backdoor– only empty backyard– before grabbing up the bowl of candy sitting on the sideboard and making for the front of the house.
Darkness settled in early that particular Halloween night, but Haddonfield kids could’ve cared less; they flooded the streets, dozens of cowboys and fairies and last minute sheet-ghosts because someone’s mom forgot what day it was. In more than one way, it seemed, and you thought of Michael then, Haddonfield was keen to forget.
You set the bowl on the front porch amid the fake cobwebs and plastic skeletons and retreated back into the house, not willing to partake in the festivities.
It was at that moment that your back door squeaked open, rusty, decades-old hinges complaining too loudly for you not to hear. It slammed shut again, and nothing more. But there was something unmistakeable in the air; something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up.
“Michael?” You draw the blinds and shut the lights, sealing yourself away from the part of Halloween you had never felt too comfortable with to begin with. Your socked feet make no sound even on your old-ass creaky floor. “Is that you?”
A footstep behind you. That’s all the warning you got before a pair of hands grabbed you from behind, wrapping around your throat and squeezing tight.
You bucked and choked for air, fighting with all your strength against the unyielding grip of your attacker as seconds ticked by and darkness threatened to suck you away, until finally you popped your head back, connecting with hard plastic and the flesh beneath with enough force to send sharp pain blossoming through your head.
Your attacker yelped and his grip loosened, allowing you to break free as he stumbled back a few steps, clutching at the cracked plastic of his scarecrow mask. This gave you enough time to make a mad dash for the kitchen and your knife block, Scarecrow-man at your heels.
You were inches away when he dived, grabbing at your ankles and dragging you down. You smashed your head against the hard lip of the sideboard, a strangled scream tearing from your throat as you hit the floor, vision swimming. Still, you managed to flail as he crawled up your body, pinning you with his legs.
Grinning wildly through the half-ruined mask, Scarecrow-man produced a knife from seemingly nowhere, tilting it so it gleamed wickedly under the kitchen lights.
Time slowed down.
You saw him draw the knife back, ready to plunge it into your chest.
You saw a dark shadow, a shape, looming and impenetrable, appear behind him.
Then Scarecrow-man was being dragged off you and tossed across the room. There was a thud and your table tipped over, spilling your quilting materials all over the floor. The knife clattered and spun across the floor, but you didn’t see where it went.
You were too busy staring in awe up at the figure standing above you, thick, slow breaths echoing beneath his tattered, grimy mask. “Michael.”
He tilted his head. His one eye gleamed. He didn’t offer a hand to help you but he did stand still after you hauled yourself to your feet and grabbed his arm, swaying and fighting the sudden swell of nausea and vertigo, and that had to count for something. Blood dripped from a gash in your forehead down the side of your face.
“I knew you’d come back,” you breathed, and held up a hand to touch the gross, weathered plastic of his mask, tracing the groove of a bullet hole with the pad of your thumb.
Michael stared at you for another second, then his head snapped toward Scarecrow-man, who was clambering up, stripping off the scarecrow mask.
“Corey Cunningham?” You managed, and he grimaced. “I never took you for a cold-blooded killer.”
“I’m a lot of things,” he snapped, but paled as Michael took a step toward him, fists clenching at his sides.
You shook your head. It hurt. “You better get out of here before something happens.”
Michael took another step forward, and Corey bolted for your back door, disappearing into the Halloween night before either of you could do anything else, leaving you alone with Michael Myers, the babysitter murderer.
But of course, you weren’t scared of him.
“I left you some dinner,” you told him, and he turned to look at you, tilting his head to one side; it reminded you of a cat. “But you’re taking a shower first. You reek.”
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Forgot about mike
Hear me out
We think of it as the song that launched Eminem, especially since his voice was so unexpected, but it's also a killer Dre song with Eminem's voice as a perfect foil. Dre and Eminem are fucking shit up in this song, too, like burning down houses and strangling people in broad daylight. Dre just wants one more platinum album then he's out.
I had the spine-tingling realization that it reminds me of Halloween Ends in its dynamic and greater context.
TBF I don't think many people forgot about Mike, but Mike wasn't seen in Haddonfield for almost four years until our favorite scarecrow came along. Eminem wrote Forgot About Dre (originally for Snoop/Dre). Some people didn't like Halloween Ends, but I've also seen posts by some people who have only seen Halloween Ends but will likely explore the rest of the franchise. In the same way, when Forgot About Dre came out, it reached a new generation/fan-segment. That doesn't at all diminish the long-established legendary statuses of Dr. Dre or Michael Myers, but new viewership/listeners don't hurt IMO.
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