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its-time-to-write · 2 years ago

Note

Hi!! I absolutely love yo he fics talk about carrying the Jamie tartt fic community 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

could you please write something about like the Richmond team being out at a bar and someone kissing Jamie and reader seeing and the chaos that ensues, hopefully with a happy ending but I trust whatever you want to do 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Haha hey, thanks! I write because I have a lot of things in my head, so thanks for enjoying it and for requesting!

Also I literally hate looking for gifs because I can never find the ones I want

wrote all your lines in the script in my mind

“Why did I let you drag me here?” you ask your absolute best friend the whole world, “I hate bars so much!”

Colin grins. “It’s good for you to get out of your flat and into the real world for a change. You’re getting all pasty.”

“I am not!”

You can’t help but catch onto his infectious mood. He’s still happy after scoring a winning goal, so he and Michael convinced you to go out with them even though it was almost a whole week ago.

You and Colin had grown up together, kicking the football around his backyard until age ten, when you declared you were never playing with him again because he was “unbeatable.”

You hate losing.

You two had been inseparable, even at university. Colin was more outgoing, what with football and all. You were too, in your own way, but you hated bars. And going to the club. You said it was too many drunk, sweaty people but both Michael and Colin promised that it would be fun this time.

“If I have to go, you have to go,” Michael had said to you.

You had groaned, but acquiesced. You’re not too sure of your decision anymore, especially because of how many footballers are present.

The last time you were out with them, one of Colin’s teammates had taken it upon himself to flirt with you the entire night. And he flirted very well. Like, so well that you went home that night incredibly flustered. So well that it now occupied a permanent place in your brain. You played the moment he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear on repeat in your mind, like a tab on your laptop that you couldn’t bring yourself to close.

And you told fucking Michael, who told fucking Colin, who then teased you about it mercilessly until you swore you’d tell the press about the Incident when you two were ten.

Colin shut up after that.

Actually, that’s not entirely true. You’d go out to coffee and he’d say, “Saw your footballer today,” and you’d say, “He’s not MY footballer,” and Michael would ask, “Then why are you blushing?” so you’d respond, “I’m not blushing, it’s just hot in here, alright?”

Anyway, you’re at this fucking bar filled with fucking footballers and you catch yourself looking around the room for one in particular, and Michael catches you too. He doesn’t say anything, just winks at you and pulls Colin over to an open booth.

You tell Colin all the time that you like Michael better than him. It’s because Michael knows the meaning of the word discretion.

“I can be discreet,” Colin says.

“And I can play football,” you reply.

Michael says you two bicker like a pair of siblings. He’s not wrong.

Right now, though, you’re not bickering. A few of Colin’s friends are filling in the booth. Sam slides in first, then Isaac, and then finally Jamie.

Michael is sitting opposite Sam, then Colin, then you.

You’re all squished in, ordering drinks and food, swapping stories and laughing like you’ve known each other for ages.

You suppose you sort of have.

You’ve known Colin the longest, obviously, but the next one is Isaac. You met him shortly after university because he was always around Colin. You met Sam once he signed for Richmond, and Jamie when he domineered the little triad of him, Isaac, and Colin.

You really didn’t like Jamie.

You told Colin all the time that he was a prick and a bully, but Colin wouldn’t listen.

It actually was the cause for one of your biggest fights. You two didn’t speak for three months.

Then Roy head-butted Colin and Jamie was gone, and you’re sure there are other details in between but whatever the case, Colin was at your doorstep with takeout and an apology. You watched Look Both Ways and argued about which was was the best. And that was that.

When Jamie showed back up, you were less than thrilled.

“If you fucking act like that prick again, I’ll fucking sabotage this date,” you had said. You were setting up Colin with a friend of yours named Michael. You didn’t know him incredibly well, but you had a lot of mutual friends who absolutely adored him. You were pretty sure he and Colin would click but you didn’t want Colin to act like a douche again.

He didn’t. It worked out for him.

Jamie knew who you were to a certain extent, which you suppose is why he was flirting with you that night at the club. Your distaste for him was evident, but you felt so uncomfortable in that environment. You were sitting alone, trying to make yourself invisible, when a tipsy Jamie found you and began to make it his mission to get you to a) smile and b) not hate him. He succeeded at both, as well as secret mission c) make you blush and fall madly in love with him. (Not that he knew that option existed.)

But he did that with all the girls, so you tried not to let it go to your head.

It did anyway, which is why you’re sitting in this booth in this bar trying not to look at his perfect face for to long and pretending you don’t notice that his foot is resting next to yours under the table.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” he says, pushing himself up. You can’t help but notice the glint of his thin gold chain and the way his shirt hugs his bicep. Colin pokes you under the table.

You look back to the group and try to immerse yourself in the conversation, but you are far too distracted. Your eyes keep flicking to Jamie.

Jamie, as he orders a drink. Jamie, as he laughs to the bartender, Jamie as he… kisses a fit blonde girl in a tight skirt?

You look back to your table, eyes fixated on the chips in front of you. Oh. You suppose that settles things then.

You close the tab in your mind and try to muster up some of the old dislike you had for Jamie. It’s not really working, because all you can think about is how he drunkenly waxed poetic about your eyes and told you he had liked them even when they were angry.

This is the first time you’ve seen him since that night, so it’s not like it’s that big of a deal. What were you expecting, for him to soberly declare his love? Maybe Colin had over-hyped the way he said Jamie had asked about you the next day. Maybe he was exaggerating when he said he caught Jamie looking at the picture of you and Colin from uni that Colin had taped to his locker.

Maybe you were looking for something real in someone who was just looking for the next good time.

It doesn’t matter though, because it was just a crush. That’s what you tell yourself as you get up and tell the table you’re going to get some fresh air. “Too many sweaty boys,” you say with a nose wrinkle, and a squeeze to Colin’s hand that means I’m feeling anxious and need cold air.

You’re breezing out the door by the time Jamie returns, hair slightly tousled and frazzled expression. Michael and Colin exchange a look.

—

Meanwhile, you’re outside freezing just a little bit. The cold air is a welcome shock to your system, so you don’t mind the way you’re shivering. You take a deep breath, envisioning your lungs expanding to the point of popping. Your breath comes out in a whoosh, and you feel the anxiety beginning to dissipate. You stand, back against the bar wall, puffing cold air into the sky for a long time, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall.

You’re outside so long, that when the door opens and you hear footsteps coming toward you, you’re sure it’s Colin or Michael coming to make sure you haven’t been murdered.

“You plannin’ on freezing to death?” asks a voice that is neither Colin nor Michael. The owner of said voice leans against the wall next to you, mirroring your position. He’s so close you can feel heat radiating off his body, but you’re not quite touching.

You shake your head. “No, I’m not,” you hear yourself saying, “I just got a little anxious and the cold air is good for me, so… here I am.”

Jamie makes a concerned hm and nothing else. He just stands there next to you, not touching but still too close.

“Why are you out here?” you ask, breaking the silence. “Thought you’d be inside. Looks like you met someone interesting. She might be missing you.”

There’s no malice in your tone. You’re just stating facts as an observer. As a friend, maybe. The only thing that colors your words is just a hint of sadness. You’re sure Jamie won’t register it.

He grimaces and shakes his head. “Ain’t my friend. Some fan who thinks it’s fucking cool to kiss a footballer. Weren’t paying attention, otherwise I could’ve blocked it. I fucking hate it when that happens. It’s like, they don’t even see me as a real person. Just a sexy lad they can do whatever with.”

You chuckle at the way he says “sexy lad.” It reminds you of the way he had told you he had been a “wee sexy baby.”

“That fucking sucks,” you say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize, otherwise I wouldn’t have said it like that.” You’re taking deep, calming breaths, still trying to get rid of that anxious feeling.

Jamie just shrugs. He makes no indication that he’s going to continue speaking so you ask, “So, is that why are you out here, then? Is it to get away from her? Because if anyone should have to leave, it’s her. Pretty sure we could talk to someone and get her kicked out.”

You shiver, cold air beginning to seep through your coat. Jamie closes the gap between you, his bicep pressing against yours. You stifle another shiver, this one not from cold.

“Nah,” he replies, “that’s not why I’m here. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Oh. That’s weird. “Why didn’t Colin or Michael come?”

Jamie shrugs again. “Colin said some shit about fuckin whatever and Michael said the same fuckin shit, so…” he trails off.

You look up at him. “Jamie. You’re not making any fucking sense. I don’t know if it’s the cortisol flowing through my body or if you’ve had too much to drink, but you have got to be a whole lot clearer.”

That seems to get his attention, and bring him back to the reality that you two are outside, in the fucking cold, and he’s chatting with you as if nothing is wrong.

Jamie puffs out a breath, watching it coil into the air. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, then settles on: “I ain’t drunk.”

You’re still looking at him. He’s right. He’s stone-cold sober.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright. Colin said that you’d probably rather see me than him so… I dunno, I fucking came out here. I’ve been thinking about you ever since the last time we talked.”

Your cheeks flush bright red, and you’re grateful for the night sky. You keep taking your deep breaths.

Jamie continues, “You flirted with me for fucking five seconds, and it’s like- I forgot you hated me. Didn’t care about anything anymore, you just smiled at me fucking one time and I felt like I was floating.” He stares at the sky. “I fucking hate talking about feelings and shit, and you’re basically Colin’s sister, so I figured I didn’t have a chance. But I’ve been fucking head-over-heels since the first time you glared at me.”

You’re pretty sure this is an anxiety hallucination. That’s a thing, right?

Jamie is no longer staring at the sky, but looking at you. He breathes out a laugh. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make it weird.” He moves to go back inside but you grab his arm.

“Jamie,” you say. The look on his face when you say his name is so hopeful, that you feel your heart shatter and reform almost instantaneously. “Jamie, you- you like me? You came out here because you like me? And that’s why you were drunkenly flirting with me last month?”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

Your hand is still on his arm, and you’re standing face to face. You’re still breathing heavily, but so is he. You slowly run your hand up his arm and cup his face. He’s staring at you, mere inches apart, as you stand on tiptoe to reach his lips.

He kisses you back with the hunger of a starving man, arms wrapped around your waist the moment your lips make contact. You’re pulling each other closer, forgetting the freezing cold, when you hear an, “Oi, boyo.”

It’s Colin and Michael, walking out from the bar, headed home.

You and Jamie break apart and Colin points to him. “Break her heart, Michael and I will break your fucking legs.”

Jamie grins and nods, and you just roll your eyes. You’re going to have to tell them everything, but right now they’re walking away and it’s fucking cold, so Jamie’s pulling you back to him again to pick up where you left off.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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mrsmadlove · 4 days ago

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Promises of the Sun

(oneshot-shawn michaels)

"Don't you love me anymore?" His question hung in the air, heavy and oppressive, and I couldn't respond. It wasn't that I didn't love him; it was that I knew if I answered, everything would stay the same. Everything would stay the same, day after day, without end. The monotony and desperation had consumed me, and I didn't want that anymore. I looked at Shawn, my man, who was sitting next to me, his profile illuminated by the warm dawn light. But despite the light, I didn't feel that warmth, the atmosphere felt cold and distant.

"Shawn, please…", I whispered audibly.

Suddenly, his eyes began to tremble and filled with tears. My heart constricted as I saw him, Shawn had always been sensitive, but lately, I didn't know if his tears were from pain or just an excuse for me to loosen my shell. Either way, they were still tears, and I couldn't bear to see him suffer.

The look in Shawn's eyes locked onto mine, pleading, desperate. "Please, baby, I swear I'll change, I'll do it", he said with a voice full of emotion, as he stood up from the chair and threw himself to the floor on his knees, hugging my legs and torso. But despite his passion, I knew he wasn't telling the truth. I had seen this scene before, I had heard these words before, and I knew they were just a repetition of a script I already knew by heart.

"Will you go to rehab?" I asked, knowing the answer already. Shawn rolled his eyes and sighed with frustration. "Then, no Shawn", I said with a mix of sadness and resignation. "Love, I don't need to go to a rehab center to change, I'm going to quit the pills because I can and I want to", he said with a weak smile, as he gave me a gentle squeeze on the thighs.

"How long have you been telling me the same story?" I asked, my voice full of exhaustion. "I've already memorized the script, and I don't want to keep reading the ending", I said, sure of myself, but still, my voice cracked. "I'm so tired…", I whispered, and I couldn't hold back the tears.

Shawn stood up immediately, hugging me tightly. "Love, no, please don't cry, look at me", he said, his voice full of desperation. I looked at him. "I promise I'll do it, I promise", he said, his voice full of conviction. I looked into those eyes that still captivated me, those eyes that made me feel alive. He was so beautiful.

"I'm sorry, but this time I don't want your promise", I said, my voice firm but full of sadness. I stood up, and Shawn started crying, clinging to me like a lifeline. But I knew I had to let him go, I had to give him the opportunity to find his own path. I freed myself from his arms and headed towards the door, but before leaving, I turned to him.

The image was painful, it was my man, the one I loved, with his head hung low, defeated, and with the sun embracing him. I let out a gentle sigh, and approached him, stroking his soft hair that was becoming more golden with the sun. Shawn didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around my waist, squeezing tightly as he sobbed.

"Look at me", I said, and he lifted his head, giving me gentle kisses on my stomach and then resting his chin on it, looking at me with a pleading gaze. "I don't want your promise, Shawn, but I'll give you mine", I whispered. "I promise that when you change for yourself, only for yourself, I'll come back for you… and for me".

In that moment, the sun was no longer there, but between his arms, my touch, his hair, and our tears, I felt warmth. I felt that there was still hope, that there was still love. And although the decision was painful, I knew it was necessary. I knew I had to let him go, so he could find his own path, and so I could find mine.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ ~^ྀི ༝༚༝༚ -𝚂𑁤

#shawn michaels #90s #hbk #wwe hbk #fanfic #shawn michaels x reader #shawn michaels x lector #shawn michaels x oc

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cenorii · 11 months ago

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Leaks from 2021 and the truth

So, today we're going to talk about the leaks that happened in 2021 (D.C. Douglas showed Wesker's concept for an unknown game, and also shared details of the script\audition). Here I have tried to collect all the available information at the moment. I will tell you what is true and what is disinformation and fake. Spoiler: no fakes.

We will go in order from the most famous to the incredibly mysterious and rare.

Let's start with a simple one – Wesker's concept. I have already written here that I suspect that this concept was planned for another game, but was eventually added to re4r due to an information leak. When this concept was leaked in 2021, many thought it was fake, but in 2023 everyone found out that exactly the same Wesker design is used in re4r, which makes this concept true and official, but for some reason it has not yet been officially disclosed.

Now let's talk about the dialogue that Douglas also shared in 2021. If it is inconvenient for you to read this, then below I will tell you about what is written here, analyzing this text along the way.

(taken from the @\BewareCreepyVAs from Twitter )

There are trio involved in this dialogue: Yuri (some young guy? maybe a Russian name?), Michael Baxter and Scorpio (some kind of mature woman?). The note says that Michael = Wesker. I suspect it's his nickname, or Wesker changed his name after what happened in re5.

It says here that Wesker was severely injured and his wounds were healed by Yuri, who works for Scorpio. The action takes place in some kind of empty dance hall, which is shrouded in a thick fog (a smoke machine that is used in nightclubs?), and music is playing from an empty stage. Wesker (Michael) and Yuri enter this room to meet with Yuri's boss, a woman nicknamed Scorpio. However, instead of a warm greeting, two goons come out to them, who point their weapons at Wesker. Wesker reacts by instantly moving to one of the goons (Wesker not lose his abilities after re5?) and grabs him by the neck, lifting him into the air. The second goon presses the rifle to Wesker's neck, which tenses him to frown and is already preparing to react, but…

He is interrupted by Scorpio, who, with the words "enough!" stops both Wesker and her guards. She says that Michael (Wesker) is her guest, who should be respected, otherwise she will use her blade. Wesker lets go of the goon, and the other lowers his weapon. Scorpio examines Wesker, analyzing his condition. She calls him a "legend" and says he looks well.

Wesker tells her that he looks so good thanks to the help of Yuri, who patched up Wesker. In response, Yuri perks up and declares that Wesker was such a mess, that he needed five shots of adrenaline. Scorpio raises his finger and asks Yuri to be quiet, stating: "Let the grownuts talk." Scorpio then confesses to Wesker that she wasn't sure if he would be delivered to her safely. Wesker jokingly asks if she was worried about his safety or Yuri's safety? To which Scorpio states that she was worried about Wesker and doubted Yuri's safety.

Yuri declares that he has done a lot, to which Wesker now raises his finger and jokingly says, without taking his eyes off Scorpio, "grownuts are talking." Yuri is sulking, and the two goons are holding back their laughter. Wesker suggests that Scorpio continue their dialogue alone in her office, to which the woman agrees and takes the man backstage. Wesker notices that there is a lot of pink in the interior, mentioning the name of a certain Ralph.

Meanwhile, Yuri was left alone with the goons, he decided to scold them for attacking Wesker at the very beginning. Yuri declares that they are lucky that they didn't get their windpipes broken or "worse," also stating, "you should have seen some of the shit he pulled back there," alluding to Wesker's abilities in the past. End.

Nothing is known about Scorpio, as well as about Yuri, but Douglas told something:

(taken from the @\BewareCreepyVAs from Twitter )

Douglas says that Yuri is a humorous character who resembles a gay and/or androgynous person. Yuri nursed Wesker to health, as I said earlier.

In 2023, in the demo version, as well as in the re4r release version, you can find a model of an unknown character who does not appear in the game. It is signed as "Yuri", which refers us to the dialogues from 2021. I was able to find this model using Noesis, REtool and Blender.

Let's take a closer look at him. According to Douglas, Yuri is an androgynous young man who is supposedly gay. In his appearance, we can observe an earring in his ear and many rings on his fingers, as well as feminine facial features, as well as the name Yuri. Once again, the information told by Douglas turned out to be reliable.

So, at the moment, re4r simultaneously contains several things that were leaked in 2021: Wesker's concept, Yuri's appearance, as well as Wesker's wounded arm, which was not used in the game, but the files with it are present.

Kempy161 posted his mod on the nexus, where he restored the appearance of this hand.

I also want to add that the jacket that Yuri is wearing has been reused for Leon (casual). It has been slightly modified, but the basic design remains the same.

Result: everything that was leaked in 2021 eventually turned out to be true. So you need to take into account the fact that Douglas warned that the game is constantly being rewritten and the dialogues that he showed could have already changed significantly. It is not known which game this material was going to, it could be rev3, or maybe re9. If you believe my theory (read here), this is some kind of game that is currently in development, and it is so important that any information about it is securely hidden and confused.

It was interesting to look for information for this analysis. I have never seen Yuri's model examined in such detail or combined with that scenario. Thank you for paying attention to my theories. I'm looking forward to any of the future RE projects to see what else turns out to be true.

#resident evil #rebhfun #albert wesker #resident evil theory #cenori's long posts about re #resident evil leaks

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ineffable-baker-street · 2 years ago

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i have several things to say about the whole body swap situation:

1. crowley's icecream of choice is vanilla with a flake in it, and that might be my favourite thing ever, because it's such a stereotypical aziraphale thing to like

2. i really enjoyed watching it the second time, and watching how michael and david changed their mannerisms ever so slightly, so much so that it was hardly even noticeable the first time watching, and when I did notice the first time I immediately dismissed the thought

3. i love how when gabriel says "shut your stupid mouth and die already," we see just a flash of crowley's anger that someone would speak to aziraphale like that, but he quickly gets it under control. that was pure rage though, and very well done by michael

4. the flames shooting out of "aziraphale's" mouth. just very fun, and i like that crowley was very slightly more relaxed about how he portrayed aziraphale

5. david's performance of aziraphale being crowley is spot on. the subtleties are PERFECT and he did such an amazing job of it

6. the way they're sitting on the bench afterwards. such a good small detail, and extremely noticeable as soon as the change happens, but you don't even really register it at first

7. just the script in general. they gave "crowley" all the questions aziraphale would normally ask, again only a tiny bit noticeable, and most people would've dismissed it immediately in the first watch

anyway, overall, probably my favourite part of the show, because it's so ingenious

#good omens tv #good omens #crowley and aziraphale #neil gaiman #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #aziraphale is adorable #crowley #aziraphale #crowley my beloved #david tennant #michael sheen

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slasherholic · 3 months ago

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Disclaimer: This is a repost! I deleted then remade my blog (more on that here) and people have requested for me to repost some of my old fics as they have become unavailable due to my deletion. Enjoy :-)

Synopsis: Michael kills again. Luckily (or unluckily) for you, he seems to be saving the best for last.

Contains: graphic depictions of violence and death, Michael being a mean bastard

Note: this is the last chapter! there won't be a continuation to this story. I wrote this back in 2020 and my portrayal of Michael has since changed. I might give this concept a re-write in the near future tho, if people are interested :-)

End of the Line | Michael Myers x Reader | Chapter Three

(part one and two)

Sometime before Wendy’s hysterical wailing stopped and after the stench of bile dissolved into the background, Travis cut Ashley’s body down.

You shouldn’t touch her, Diane had warned him, but Travis insisted on it. He said he didn’t want to look at her eyes anymore.

You hug your knees against your chest and stare over at where Ashley lies face-down in a heap on the floor, a streak of blood mapping out the path where Travis dragged her by the armpits out of the dark red puddle, depositing her on dryer land, and you cannot say you blame him, not at all.

Ashley’s lids are not shut all the way. One of her eyes still peeks out from underneath long eyelashes, glazed-over and sightless, looking at nothing.

I’m sorry, you feel obliged to tell her out of courtesy; but you aren’t entirely sure what you are apologizing for, and the apology feels empty anyhow. Maybe Michael’s heartlessness is contagious.

Or maybe it is because every fiber of your lizard-brain is screaming in hopeful unison, better her than me. Better her than me. Better her than me.

The group sits now in a tight huddle on the floor at one corner of the dusty court. Travis holds Diane in his arms and stares blankly at the nearest basketball hoop. Diane clutches big handfuls of Travis’ shirt in both her slender hands and can’t seem to peel her eyes off of Ashley. Wendy, no longer sobbing, is the only one not sitting—instead she mills around aimlessly in front of the bleachers, pacing back and forth, following alongside the white out-of-bounds line. Sometimes, briefly, you turn and watch her pace.

Then you look away again and return to vigilantly scanning the unlit corners where the flashlights do not reach. You scan for movement; for an out-of-place shadow; for a shape creeping steadily closer.

Michael hasn’t left the room—not after what he did with Ashley’s body.

Like a hunter mounting a prize buck, he has taken meticulous care to display his kill. He knew that you would find it. He meant for you to find it. Now, you’ve given him the pleasure of observing your individual break-downs.

Of listening to Wendy sob and blubber, of seeing Travis clutch at his long hair and swear and punch the bleachers until his knuckles bloodied, of seeing you keel over and wretch on the ground. You are terrified. All of you. Michael knows this—he is lurking somewhere in those reaching shadows, unseen and unnoticed, drinking in that terror like a favored television channel.

You are entertainment.

To your left, Josh lifts his head out of his knees with a little sniffle, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. He licks his chapped lips before speaking.

“Why’d he do that to her?” He asks in a whispery croak, talking to nobody.

You glance at him. Travis and Diane do too.

“Why’d he string her up like that? Why the fuck would he do that man?”

Because he’s playing, comes your internal response, as quickly as if you were reading from a script—because Michael’s actions are play. Because he’s trying to scare you shitless and it’s working. Because it’s fun and he’s getting off on it. Because he’s sick and twisted and evil and just not right; and so are you for needing him.

Diane shifts suddenly in Travis’ lap. She pulls away from his embrace and sits upright.

“It was a pattern in the Haddonfield murders.” She explains softly, absently tracing a pattern with her pointer finger in the dust on the floor.

“The bodies, see, they were all moved around from their places of death, and—and, um, displayed. It’s been happening all around the state, wherever there are mass killings. So that’s why people think Myers is behind all of them.”

She continues to trace her pattern and goes silent. The silence is contagious.

Near the bleachers, Wendy is still pacing. You doubt she even heard Diane’s statement. It’s probably for the best.

“Why don’t you siddown, Wend.” Travis suggests.

You watch Wendy walk over to the bleachers and sit. Then, as if the bench were crawling with ants, she shoots to her feet again—climbing up nine steps—plopping down onto the tenth. She stares at her knees and doesn’t move after that.

“Hey. You.”

You glance over your shoulder at Travis. His eyes are glassy and dull. He’s staring at you.

“So what’s your deal anyway, huh?” He questions, flatly. “Are you, like, some kinda adrenaline junkie? Exploring a place like this alone at night without a flashlight?”

His eyes glint with something bordering on suspicion.

“And you just… ran right into Myers?”

Josh and Diane turn their heads and look at you, too. You glance away from their eyes without meaning to and stare at your shoelaces. Shit; you’ll have to tread carefully here, very carefully; the truth will not keep you in these people’s good graces.

You breathe in deeply, slowly, before speaking.

“Believe me, it wasn’t by choice.” You begin, bundling your arms around your knees, tugging at your shoelace. “It happened so fast—I got home from the store, I got out of my car, I walked up my driveway. The next thing I know, I’m being grabbed and locked in the trunk.”

You shut your mouth quickly. It’s not a lie; it’s just not the whole truth.

There’s another moment of silence. You can’t look the others in the face. For a frightening moment, you can’t tell if they’ve bought it or not.

Then, Josh pipes in.

“How’d you get away from him?”

“I didn’t get away. He let me run. I think he wants a chase, before he…”

Your voice trails off. You glance up from the floor and make eye contact with Josh. His gloomy look tells you that you don’t need to say anything more.

From the bleachers, Wendy murmurs something under her breath.

“We can’t hear you, Wend.” Travis says.

You watch Wendy lift her head from her knees, staring right at you. Her face is an unhealthy color and her cheeks are streaked with tears.

“I said, maybe he just wants her.” She repeats with a sniff. “Maybe if he gets her, he’ll fuck off and leave us alone.”

Your stare-off with her lasts for an uncomfortable time. Wendy sniffs when the snot runs too far down her nose. You pluck agitatedly at your shoelace.

She’s right, in a certain way, your inner-voice chimes in. Michael does want you.

But some bitter part of you wants to tell her, He wants you too. He wants you Wendy, and he is going to get you, and once he’s caught you you’re going to beg him and cry until the tears won’t come out anymore, and guess what Wendy? If you’re lucky he’ll kill you quick��and if you’re not, he’ll do it slowly. If you’re unlucky, Wendy, Michael will kill you over the course of many long months, and it will hurt far worse than that knife would have, because by then you won’t just fear him, Wendy, but you’ll love the sick evil bastard too, he’ll make sure of it—and when your time comes those tears won’t just be terror and fear, Wendy, they will also be the coldest, loneliest heartbreak.

You are so lost in your spiteful fantasy that it takes you a moment to realize the room has gone deathly quiet. As if Wendy’s suggestion is a cool and logical point and not-at-all the desperate petitioning of a girl terrified for her life. As if offering you up to Michael like a sacrificial lamb is a perfectly sane thing to do.

But no, it’s really happening—you can tell by just their stern and guilty faces that the people huddled around you are seriously considering it.

You speak up for yourself before they get to thinking too hard.

“Alright, maybe he does just want me” You tell Wendy. “But what if you’re wrong? What if I die, and he just keeps coming? Wanna know what happens then?”

Wendy sniffles. She makes a face like you’ve kicked her in the stomach. Her eyes scrunch up like she’s about to cry again. You don’t care.

“If I’m dead, and you’re wrong, then you’re gonna be next.”

Wendy makes a choked sound and now she’s crying again. She buries her head in her knees and her body heaves silently.

At your exchange, Diane shakes her head in frustration. She clambers out of Travis’ lap and rises to her feet like there’s a fire beneath her ass.

“Alright, come on, everyone up.”

An awkward moment passes where nobody moves. She snaps her fingers in a huffy way.

“Come on, I’m dead serious! We’re gonna tear out each other’s throats if we stay here. We need a plan to get out.”

You gaze solemnly up at Diane, and some defeatist part of you says that it isn’t even worth trying. Michael will get what he wants. Michael always gets what he wants. It’s in his nature and he’s very good at it.

You clamber to your feet anyway, because Diane is right—wherever Michael is lurking in this vast, empty room, it is only a matter of time before he grows bored of watching.

And no matter how much your rational brain has accepted it, you do not want to die tonight.

One by one the others follow your lead, clambering languidly to their feet. Travis first, then Josh. Only Wendy doesn’t get up—from the bleachers, she murmurs that she can hear just fine from where she is.

You get to planning. It turns out that Travis is some kind of urban explorer, and he’s been to the school before. According to him the only exit (and entrance) that hasn’t been blocked off or boarded up over the years is the one they all came in through. The same exit that Michael drove you in through.

“That’s the way we gotta go.” Travis says to the huddle-up, like a football coach giving a pep-talk before the big game.

“We can get out of here—he’s just one guy right? I mean yeah, this is one sick motherfucker we’re dealing with, but he isn’t some boogeyman. Here, look.”

Travis bends, reaching for his hunting knife where it rests in his ankle holster, drawing it out, holding it in the air to enunciate his point.

“If he finds us, I’ll cut him. And then we just run and we don’t look back. Wend, come on. We can’t stay here.”

In your periphery you watch Wendy slowly untangle herself from her knees, rising off the step as though waking from an unsatisfying nap. She begins descending the steps.

Then she trips.

Her scream is jerked out of her as if yanked by a string. She topples in an instant, falling hard, the sharp clank of her head meeting the bleachers echoing in the vastness of the room.

Every head whips.

For a second it seems as though she’s only lost her balance. Then, every flashlight is trained on her like a spotlight. Your blood runs colder than ice water.

Beneath the bleachers looms a dark and imposing figure. The figure’s white face is ghastly in the harsh yellow beams.

Michael has been lurking beneath Wendy the entire time.

His dangerous hand penetrates the space in the steps, clamping like a vice around Wendy’s ankle, tugging with all his immense strength as Wendy screams and kicks at him, trying to pull her down through the gap. Wendy won’t fit.

She aims another frenzied kick at Michael’s hand. This time, the strong fingers are dislodged.

Wendy is on her feet again incredibly fast, pulling her leg out of the gap. She starts frantically down the bleachers, limping.

“Go!” Travis screams, at her, at everyone.

You go. It is a mad scramble for the far door. Travis half-carries Wendy, the two of them lagging behind.

You burst through the exit doors and Josh and Diane are in your wake. Behind you, Travis screams to hold it open, hold it open.

There is a single moment where you gaze back into the dark court and see The Shape approaching, cutting through the darkness like a ship gliding through water, utterly unstoppable.

Travis and Diane collapse through the doors. Immediately Diane swings them shut. She throws her body up against the wood.

“Hold them! Hold them!”

Everybody braces against the doors. The squeak of Michael’s bootsteps over the court booms thunderously, closer and closer, and then—

He kicks.

Your temple slams against the wood. The doors rattle horribly.

He kicks again. His force is explosive. Monstrous. Unbelievable. He does it again. And again. The onslaught does not stop or slow. Wendy screams. Josh is crying. Your combined weight won’t be enough—with every kick Michael is opening the door a few inches further.

Head whipping around, you scan the dark hallway frantically. When you see your saving grace you can hardly see it—the flashlights all hang in occupied hands—but squinting, you know that it is there and not some figment of your desperate imagination. Against the base of the opposite wall lies a thick slab of wood.

You scramble away from the door. Somewhere behind you Travis yells at you to “get your ass back here.” Plank in hand, you scramble back.

Michael kicks again. This time the doors open a little too wide, wide enough for his vicious hand to shoot through the gap. The hand closes around Josh’s hoodie and yanks him violently upward, sweeping him clean off his feet, into the air, effortless. Josh flails and screams.

Travis cries out and swipes at the hand with his knife.

The hand lets go, bloodied now, retreating through the gap again.

“Just a little longer!” You scream, and jam the plank through the handle bars. A tight fit.

Everybody scrambles away from the door. The thunderous kicking on the other side doesn’t slow—it picks up furiously, the doorframe trembling, the walls shuddering feverishly, and for a moment you are sure that Michael in his hideous strength is going to bring the very building down around you. You hold your breath.

But the plank holds dutifully. And the doors do not open another inch.

All at once, the kicking stops.

Everybody drinks in big gulps of air, and nobody moves for a while. Waiting for the dreadful moment when it all starts up again. Waiting for Michael to kick harder this time and deliver the final blow that will twist the doors clean off their hinges. Wendy makes little pained sounds from her heap against the wall. Josh whimpers and shakes like a leaf. Your hands are balled into white-knuckled fists.

…but the silence prevails. The kicking is over. Michael is gone.

Travis is the first to shake off the thick stupor.

“We have to move.” He says, gripping his knife. “He’s just coming around the back. We have to move.”

Wendy sobs in pain as Travis dips down and scoops her up beneath her armpit, dragging her hastily to her feet.

You run again—not alone this time, you think, but as a herd, a herd of terrified animals, barreling through the blackness as fast as Wendy’s injured ankle will allow.

Josh has a breakdown as you run.

“He was in there that whole time.” He keeps repeating, a skipping record-player. “That whole goddamned time, he was just watching us that whole goddamned time.”

“Stop it.” Travis pants between deep, gasping breaths. “Just stop it. I can’t take that anymore. He can’t catch up. We’re gonna be fine. As long as we just. Keep moving.”

All at once there is no more hallway. You’ve reached the end. You double over in a pant, planting your hands on your knees.

Travis was right—there is a door here. Diane shines her flashlight up at it, illuminating the glass pane, and through it you can see the hallway on the other side. Your eyes go wide in recognition.

There, beyond the door, down the hallway, you can see your car, and the pale moonlight filtering in. Your heart leaps into your throat. You can see the exit. Then, you look a little harder and your heart sinks again.

On the other side of the door a blockade of desks and chairs is piled high, a cruel barricade.

Travis shrugs Wendy onto her own two feet, who grimaces as her ankle grazes the floor. He lunges for the door handle, pulling back and forth savagely, as hard as he can.

There’s no give.

He pounds his flashlight hard against the glass in frustration.

“Fuck!” He shouts, his hot breath fogging over the glass. “Fuck! This wasn’t here last time! Fuck!”

“Are we stuck?” Wendy sobs.

“Most of the classrooms have two entrances, don’t they?” Diane asks. “There are open hallways on the other sides of all these rooms, right? Travis, isn’t that right? We can cross through one! They can’t all be blocked!”

Travis locks his hands together on top of his head, shaking it profusely.

“No, no. Most of the classrooms are locked up.”

“Wait.” Josh’s voice trembles, hoarse from crying. “Wait, I think I saw an open one.” He jerks his thumb into the blackness behind you.

“Back there.”

Josh is right; you saw it too. It was a blur, it happened so fast, but yes, you’re sure of it—one of the classrooms had been wide-open.

“You think?” Travis asks. “Or you know? Because “think” isn’t gonna cut it right now, man!”

“He’s right.” You interject. “I saw it too. It’s maybe three-hundred feet back.”

Travis looks from Josh to you. Then back at Josh.

“You guys are positive? Totally positive?”

Both of you nod.

“Okay. Okay, let’s move.”

Wendy, supporting herself against the wall, utters a thin little cry, as if the thought of that is too unbearable to even imagine.

“No! We can’t go back that way! He’s down that way!”

Travis ignores her as he scoops her up beneath her armpit again.

“Jesus Wendy, look around! We’re trapped if we stay here!”

Wendy blubbers in response, her face a red, snotty mess. But it is enough to get her moving.

Your dash back down the hallway is even madder. The flashlights swing about the hall, strobing in the dimness. Your lizard-brain screams obscenities at you as you run.

Predator this way, danger this way, wrong way, turn around, turn around!

You shove each and every one of them aside. Just run.

“There!” Diane yells, jamming a finger out in front of her. Twenty paces ahead, to the right of the corridor, sure enough, there it is.

One classroom door is wide open.

You reach it. Immediately you notice what you hadn’t in your dash up the corridor: the door isn’t just open, it’s ruined.

The shabby thing hangs uselessly on its hinges. The metal all around its frame is twisted and warped. A dreadful feeling settles like a suffocating blanket.

This isn’t right.

“Woah, careful.” Diane says, shining her flashlight into the room. Peering cautiously inside, you know in an instant that it’s some kind of science classroom. The black lab countertops are covered now in a thick blanket of dust. Chairs and upturned desks are strewn about the ground like warzone debris, their metal legs jutting out like bayonetts at every angle.

“Take it slow.”

Travis shuffles into the room first with Wendy attached at his hip, helping her step carefully around the minefield.

“Travis?” You ask after him in a breathy pant, still hovering at the edge of the room.

“What.” He says flatly, out of breath himself.

“All that shit blocking the door back there, none of that was here last time?”

“No, it wasn’t. Can we focus please?”

You ignore him, the gears in your head cranking.

“Okay, okay. So there’s only one hall that still leads to the exit? And it’s on the other side of this classroom?”

Travis has already crossed half the room. Josh and Diane follow close behind, trailing at his heels like ducklings.

“Yeah,” He calls back over his shoulder. “Look, I’ll tell you all you want about this place as soon as we’re ten goddamn miles away, now are you coming or not?”

No, this isn’t right. None of it is. The barricaded door is not right. The broken lock just isn’t right, dammit, it’s too convenient. Too…

Oh. Oh. Ice water floods your gut.

It’s too deliberate.

The pieces fall into place.

This is Michael’s doing. All of it. He’s been to this building before. He’s been tampering with it.

This classroom is not a lucky break, not even close—it’s a choke-point. An ambush.

It’s a trap.

You open your mouth to scream. Travis and Wendy step through the doorway at the opposite side of the hall.

Out of the shadows, the black shape lunges.

You watch the ambush from the opposite side of the room, a useless, frozen statue.

Michael’s knife catches the beams of the flashlights and the gore there gleams. He swings it in a powerful arc through the air at Wendy. Denim rips harshly.

With a piercing scream Wendy falls forward into the hall. Travis sprawls backwards into the classroom, unbalanced himself, but springs up again like a cat, pulling his knife from his ankle-holster as he stands, lunging at Michael, swinging blindly.

Michael’s hand strikes faster than a cobra. He catches Travis by the wrist and shoves him with ghastly strength. Travis flies backwards, skidding on the floor, his head colliding with the nearest desk in a heavy thud.

Michael’s bloodied hand closes around the doorknob. He yanks down on it savagely. The knob strains for a moment—the metal around it whining and groaning—then snaps clean off. His red fingers grip the side of the door, and with a lunging step back into the hallway, he slams it shut behind him.

On the other side, Wendy screams hideously.

Travis is on his feet again now, scrabbling madly at the door, trying to pry his fingers between the metal frame to wedge it open. It won’t.

He pounds his fist hard on the glass and yells,

“Run Wendy! Just run!”

You watch through the glass as Wendy clambers painfully to her feet, limping away from Michael.

Michael, vanishing back into the blackness, takes the chase.

Travis begins a mad dash back out of the room. He leaps over table legs and pushes past you in a blitz, erupting into the hall.

“This way!” He screams behind him, already sprinting. “Come on!”

Josh and Diane lap at his heels. You follow orders as blindly as a soldier in a warzone.

Travis takes a sudden right, skidding around a corner. Then, windmilling his arms to stop his momentum, you see him screech to a halt. As you catch up, you can see why.

It’s an intersection.

“Which way?” Diane gasps, doubled-over in a pant.

Josh points his flashlight at the floor.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.”

You follow the light of his beam and see the blood, a shuddery trail of heavy droplets. Wendy’s.

Travis flicks his light down the corridor to your left. On the wall is a sign that reads “POOL” in big blue letters.

“Down here!”

Travis is off again, following alongside the bloody trail like a hound. Diane bounds after him.

Josh does not. He stands frozen in place, his chest heaving rapidly with lack of breath, gazing down the hall after the retreating figures. He glances at you. You make eye contact for a split-second.

Josh turns on his heel and starts sprinting away in the direction you just came. His footsteps get fainter. Then they are gone.

In an instant, you are alone again. All alone in the dark. Alone and rooted in place. Your feet won’t move.

Get out, says the lizard-brain. Get out now while he’s distracted, run back to your car, drive away into the night, keep driving for a long time, don’t ever look back, live in a new state, run away from him, survive, survive, survive.

A tightness blossoms in your throat. You feel about to cry again. You can’t leave; you couldn’t even if you wanted to. This place is a labyrinth in the dark and you do not have a flashlight. If you dash back into those barren halls, you will be blind again. Stumbling and helpless again. Easy prey.

Travis knows the building. Travis is your only chance at escape. Travis is your single hope of living to see the sun come up. The lizard-brain considers these possibilities, ignoring the defeatist chanting of your rational brain <no point all over Michael is going to kill you> turning them over and over, before demanding all at once that you un-stick your feet and dash after the lights bobbing down the hall.

Run, now. Before they fade into the black, gone. Run. Go.

You turn on your heel and run like hell.

For every ten limping strides she takes, Wendy’s next step is a stumble.

She sprawls on the floor and skins one knee bloody.

She gets up again, but oh God, her hip is on fire. Ahead of her is swallowing black nothingness and behind her is death. Every gulping wheezing breath sucks stale moldy air into her lungs but she’s too numbly frightened to care.

The pounding footsteps echo behind, and oh, please no, he’s still coming. Her body is strong and her legs are thick and powerful from a lifetime of athletics, but the pain, she can’t take it. The painful thudding in her ankle will not bear weight.

Why is he still walking? Why won’t he just catch up? She’s sure that he could if he wanted to.

Is this another game?

Now she sees a faint light up ahead, seeping through a door. She swerves left across the hall, falling as she leaves the support of the wall, crying sharply as she falls, picking herself up again in a flurry of arms and legs—she pushes through the doors.

Beyond them is a pool. A big bright moon dances on the surface of the stagnant black water. She looks up. There, she sees the stars. The building has a glass roof. She takes a gulp of air and gets a whiff of a dank, sour smell, so much worse than the hallway. Rancid.

Limping forward again, she moves quickly to the nearest door in the wall. Reaching the door, she yanks on the handle and steps through, and—

Oh, why her? What did she ever do to deserve this?

It’s not another room at all. It’s a stairwell.

Behind her, the doors clamor violently open. Her head whips around. At the sight of him, she is nearly frozen in place—that black looming silhouette, the hideous white face—this is a nightmare, Wendy thinks, it must be, because boogeymen aren’t real.

Doesn’t matter, the nightmare is getting closer. She shakes off her daze and begins to climb.

The stairs are steep and she winces hard at every slam of her foot down on the cement steps. Up one flight she goes, around the sharp bend, up another. Her busted ankle knocks against the cement which triggers an explosion of pain up her leg. Her hands are cold and clammy now, just as clammy as the railing. She is pulling herself more than climbing. Below her, she hears his boots on the steps, climbing after her.

She’s reached the top, and here is another door. She collapses through it.

She must have done something really terrible in a past life, she thinks, staring out at the space behind the door. She must have done something downright wicked to deserve this. God must be punishing her for it.

It’s just the stadium seating above the pool. Three meager rows of three bleachers and a rusty metal handrail. No other way down, except over the edge. She’s trapped herself.

Oh, but she has to keep moving. He’s coming up the last flight.

She huddles into the far corner and presses flat against the handrail. Leaning on the cold metal with her hip, it stings her bloodied skin like dry ice. She turns around, eyes rotating wildly, and watches the dark figure stepping out through the door.

Death stares her in the eyes, towering and faceless.

The Shape approaches.

Ten seconds behind Travis and Diane, you erupt into the pool building. Inside they stand fixed in their places, gawking up at some unseen thing.

Joining them, you see what they are gawking at. You gawk too.

Jutting out from the wall above the pool is a platform with rows of seats. Cowering at the far corner of that platform, gripping the railings, dread setting her face like a stiff, pale, gaping corpse, is Wendy.

Michael is closing in fast.

Travis and Diane scream at her to jump. Jump into the pool, they yell, in desperate chorus.

Wendy looks frantically over the railing—the drop must be thirty feet. But they are right; it is her only chance. Michael will be on top of her in seconds.

You watch in cold horror as Wendy scrambles desperately up the side of the railing, rising to a stand on the top bar, preparing to jump—

—she slips. Her foot slips on her own blood. The railing is covered in it.

Her hands fly open and snap shut again, grabbing at the air, scrabbling for purchase at nothing. Diane utters a sharp scream of surprise.

Wendy plummets like a stone; straight down to the cement.

The crack is sickening. You see a piece of bone erupt through her shin. Your jaw is slack and your eyes are round. Her wails are agony. She writhes on the cement and you can’t look away. You wait for Travis to go to her, to do something.

He doesn’t. He’s white as a sheet.

From the stadium above, Michael peers over the railing at Wendy. He watches her for a moment as if inhaling her fear. Devouring it. Then he turns, disappearing back down the stairwell.

He reappears at the bottom of the steps to stalk slowly toward Wendy.

Wendy sobs and screams as he approaches; she tries to crawl away from him, still trying to reach the pool. You can almost hear her fingernails scraping over the cement, the meaty squishing of her ruined leg dragging awkwardly, uselessly behind her.

You are about to see it, you realize all at once—you are about to witness with your own two eyes just what kind of monster Michael is.

Michael reaches Wendy and his shadow consumes her. Stooping down, he seizes Wendy by her hair and sweeps her with ghastly ease to her knees.

The world around you has melded into a dizzy haze and you feel like you are underwater. You can see—but not hear—that Wendy’s mouth is moving, begging and screaming. There is a grotesque moment where Michael lets her scream, and you think that the world has stopped turning and frozen on its axis. It is just Michael and Wendy, now; just the monster you despise and fear <and love and need>;

and the girl he is about to slaughter.

The world starts turning again as Michael plunges the knife through Wendy’s throat.

The steel erupts out her skin on the other side along with a geyser of blood. Wendy gurgles and bubbles, coughing, but not really, it can’t even be called that anymore; it is a wet meaty wheeze, a deathrattle.

The light is gone from her eyes as she falls limp.

Michael pushes the back of her head hard. He shoves her carelessly forward. She slides easily off his knife, collapsing. The red spreads quickly out around her on the cement.

Michael studies his kill. His shoulders rise and fall slowly, inhumanly steadily. Fresh glistening red drips off the tips of his fingers as easily as water.

Suddenly, he turns. His white visage peers across the room. Your heart pumps away in your throat at a hideous speed.

Michael is looking at you. Not at Travis. Not at Diane. You.

The mask is hideously penetrating, devouring. You watch him back and your mind is silent. Your body is paralyzed. You wait for something within you to change—perhaps for the hole in your chest, the hole that needs Michael, to knit suddenly shut. You wait, and drink in the evil staring back at you, the dark shape that looks human, but on some level is not.

There is no change.

With a broken, savage scream, Travis shatters the silence.

Michael’s head turns. When his eyes are gone from you, you start to breathe again. He seems to study Travis intently, observing the outburst as if transfixed, fascinated.

Almost contemplatively, Michael looks back down at Wendy’s body on the floor.

Then, lifting his boot, he wedges it beneath her side.

You look on in stunned silence as Michael kicks Wendy’s lifeless body over. Rolling her closer to the pool.

It is obvious to you what he is doing, bitterly obvious. You’ve been on the receiving end of that behavior more times than you can count. It is sport, yes; play, yes; but it is not just play. What Michael is doing is far, far more heartless, far more deliberately, calculatedly cruel—

—this is taunting.

This is rubbing salt in an open wound. This is pettiness for pettiness’ sake. Michael is taunting Travis like a schoolyard bully.

And Travis takes the bait hook, line and sinker.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING TOUCH HER!”

Deaf to his screams—or more likely saturating himself with them—Michael does it again. He shoves his boot beneath Wendy’s back this time, disgustingly gentle, as if she were a glass figurine, and flips her on her stomach. He flips her again, onto her back. Again, onto her stomach.

He rolls her to the lip of the pool, and Travis only rages harder.

Wendy’s body teeters on the cement ledge. Her arm flops limply down, wrist dangling in the murky water. Michael, planting his boot down on her side, lifts his head again. The awful white mask peers across the way at Travis—screaming, raging Travis—who shreds his voice raw with every spitty syllable.

With a final, lazy flick of his boot, Michael sends Wendy spilling over into the filthy water.

The body lands with a plop and a splash. It bobs for a moment, sinking then, slipping beneath the grime, gone, except for the ripples spreading out, disturbing the stagnant surface.

In Michael’s hideous stare, you can feel his wordless goading.

“Look; she made it.”

Travis collapses to a heap on his knees and beats the cement.

Michael watches intently. A shudder travels the length of your body—even without seeing his eyes, you know that look. It is vicious predatory amusement.

Then, all at once, as if compelled by some invisible force, Michael’s head whips around. Glancing over his shoulder, he goes rigidly still.

Your jaw clenches up tight. He’s heard something. He’s listening, picking up a fresh scent.

As if forgetting about Travis in an instant, Michael turns. You watch the dark figure stalk around the side of the pool, disappearing through the doors at the opposite end. Gone again.

Travis rages. He screams at Michael to come back, because he is going to kill him. He screams all sorts of obscenities and his voice has begun to crack. Diane watches, hugging herself tightly, crying without sound.

Eventually, his screaming peeters out. Travis falls into silence, spent.

Nobody moves for a while. You watch the ripples in the water until they stop. All is still and quiet again.

Diane looks up at you. Her cheeks are streaked with tears. She looks at you longer, and something changes in her eyes, some jarring realization; then, with huge and frightened eyes, she looks past you, out into the hall, and glances all around her.

“Travis?” She says, the panic rising in her voice.

“Where’s Josh?”

#michael myers #michael myers x reader #slashers #writing #horror #fanfiction #slasher x reader #halloween

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michaelscorneroftheinternet · 5 months ago

Note

*i n s e r t. q u e s t i o n. h e r e*

(Ok now seriously)

1: how tf are you SO GOOD AT ART

2: bread •w• (ok no)

3: is there gonna be a chapter 6/7?

This took too long that I don't care that I forgot to add the questions-

I'll just write them before each answer.

1: how tf are you SO GOOD AT ART

2: bread •w• (ok no)

3: is there gonna be a chapter 6/7?

Michael: but this series has a planned sequel/continuation in the future! The title I cannot reveal yet.

But in all seriousness if I were to make an estimate on how many chapters this might end up being I'd probably say around 15 or so. More or less. But thank you for the questions!

#smg4 #smg4 fanart #smg3 #mr puzzles #smg4 mr puzzles #mr. puzzles #smg4 mr.puzzles #mr puzzles fanart #mrpuzzles #smg3 fanart #smg3 smg4 #smg4 smg3 #ask change in script michael #ask change in script #change in script #my art <3 #my artwork #life kept me from finishing this damn ask i swear to the heavens

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teamhawkeye · 9 months ago

Text

Highlights from the Ted Raimi Q&A from GalaxyCon

first off, he commandeered the mic from the panel moderator and went off script for like 15 minutes

he asked how much everyone had to pay for tickets and was AGHAST at hearing the price. he was also asking about how much food and other expenses added onto that and took a poll to see who would be broke after the end of the weekend

he also mentioned that this was the first time he'd ever had fried chicken at breakfast, and his first ever time trying grits! he really enjoyed grits but was confused whether they should be sweet or savory, since he thinks he had them served sweet and most everyone agrees they should be savory instead

because he had the last panel of the last day, he felt that all of us there that came to hear him talk were the "weirdos" of the convention, in the most affectionate way possible

as for actual questions he answered:

across his whole career, he said he thinks The Quarry is the best thing he's ever done,

when asked for some of his favorite endings of The Quarry, he said that Laura and Max reuniting is high up there since those were the characters/actors he spent the most time interacting with and being entrenched in their story. he also said he'd heard of an ending where most of the Hacketts survived and no one else did, and with Travis being a Hackett, he supposed that one was one he could get behind

he mentioned that the prop gun that Travis had during mocap was a rubber band gun, and that he used it to fire rubber bands at Skyler, who in turn would sling them back at him

he got asked about a favorite moment he got to be a part of in the Spider-Man trilogy and said it's from Spider-Man 3, where J. Jonah Jameson is saying "you want a staff job, you want a staff job. doesn't anybody care what I want?" and Hoffman pops his head in to say "I do!" and gets met with "shut up. get out"

he also said that JK Simmons was amazing to work with and that he brought such great energy to set and their scenes

there were a few questions about Xena. he was asked for a favorite episode and he admitted he can't really remember what scenes he filmed went with what episodes and didn't have an answer for that.

he was asked what kind of dog he thought Joxer would be and his first answer was "a kicked one". he then tried to come up with a breed that would essentially be loyal and energetic but dumb as a bag of rocks

he got asked if he still knew the words to Joxer the Mighty (yes) and if he'd be willing to sing it (no)

he was similarly asked if he had a favorite episode of SeaQuest and he likewise answered that he couldn't remember which scenes matched with what episodes, it had been too long for him to keep them straight

he did say that everyone remaining in the SeaQuest cast have remained great friends in the years since it aired, which he stressed was a rarity. they're planning on having a reunion dinner sometime next year out in Cali where they'll all get together to party and celebrate

on top of saying what great people all the surviving cast members are, he made sure to mention just how much he enjoyed filming with Michael Ironside in the final season and what a privilege it was to act alongside him

it was somewhere between Xena and SeaQuest questions that a fan had trouble with getting the microphone adjusted to ask her question and Ted leapt off stage to come adjust it for her before returning back to his seat on stage

when asked about the role of Henrietta and returning to that suit and makeup in Ash vs. Evil Dead, he said that the process was still pretty exhausting and gross as it was 30 years earlier

he got asked a pretty silly question about Robocop (being set in Detroit) and he mentioned having worked with Peter Weller on Odyssey 5 and what a unique experience that was and how he enjoyed filming it

one of the most profound things he said was in regards to a question about the film industry as a whole and its evolution. he mentioned how the best thing that had changed in the film industry since he started was the treatment of women in it, how it's changed for the better, and as it rightfully should have. he also said that he feels like very recently, he'd finally reached a point in his life where he felt he'd hit his stride. that there were years and stretches of time where he was just taking roles to keep his lights on and pay his rent, that there were hard times he had to get through. but that now, in his 50s, he'd felt content with where he was with his career and in his life. and he made sure to stress that sometimes people find their purpose in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, or even later - that there is no right or wrong time to reach that point, that it comes about on its own and that it's never "too late"

i'm very obviously paraphrasing some of this, because at the time i didn't know we'd be allow to record or take photos, so this is all just from memory! i hope that it was taped and ends up available for viewing sometime soon!

#Ted Raimi

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canarybell · 1 year ago

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Is it possible that we'll see the bookshop opening scene in season three?

So, I was reminded about this ask that Neil Gaiman answered last June:

And the specific mention of the cut scene about bookshop opening day is..interesting, at least for me.

It might be (and probably is) a coincidence - Neil just needed an example of a deleted scene, and it was the first scene that came to his mind. And at that point he wasn't working on the script due to strikes anyway (though iirc he wrote the first draft of S3E1 by that point).

But it also might be something more - we saw Gaiman giving us hidden spoilers in a form of weirdly specific information before (37th degree scrivener):

But one thing that I do find interesting is that in its current form (which, of course, will be changed if this scene is in S3, but we'll work with what we have) the cut scene about bookshop opening day from S1 script book seems to have some parallels with the Final Fifteen?

(It's also interesting that in both cases we have some kind of, um, enforced rivalry between Michael and Aziraphale. Surely Michael in 1800 wanted to go on Earth and work in the bookshop no more than Aziraphale wanted to have his promotion and go upstairs. And now, after S2 finale, Aziraphale has been given the position that Michael has considered practically theirs throughout the season….)

Yes, of course this scene, if they return to it in season three, will look very different. But will it look different throughout, or will it still have some of the old elements?

And also - if Neil includes this scene in S3, there probably will be some reason for it. Highlighting these parallels (for whatever purpose) looks like that reason, at least for me.

....Okay, okay. I need the re-do of this scene for one reason, and one reason only:

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens s2 #good omens theory #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #final fifteen #crowley and chocolates #parallels

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sakuratreeleaves · 4 months ago

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One Love One Secret

{Winona Ryder x Michael Keaton}

Michael never looked at Winona properly or spoke to her in any interview. He always kept his distance from her But sometimes when Winona was being talked about, Michael would give sudden reactions and smiles.And everyone slowly started to suspect these situations.Even Tim didn't know what was going on.Winona, on the other hand, kept talking about Michael and smiling at him like she was still 15 and head over heels in love with him.

.....

The shooting of Beetlejuice 3 had slowly begun and the entire cast was ready. Winona was hoping that she would be able to kiss Michael in this movie because she wanted Beetlejuice and Lydia to be together and she also wanted to kiss him But Michael was still cold and kept his distance. Winona didn't like it, but she didn't say anything.

....

Jenna came up to Winona as she read the script. Jenna asked in a curious voice, "Winona, is there a reason for this weird mood between you and Michael?...it was like that in the interviews in the second movie, but this time it's even weirder."Winona spoke in a calm tone "Unfortunately I don't know either...but it hurts me and I care about him very much"Jenna laughed softly. She knew Winona had a "little" crush on Michael.Jenna hugged Winona "Don't worry, I think he cares about you...he has her own reason"Winona smiled and acted as if she was satisfied, although she wasn't satisfied with it. "Maybe."

....

Michael loves Winona very much...he really does, but he's made a lot of relationship mistakes in the past and I don't want to make any of those mistakes with Winona.She is very important to him, he cannot harm her mentally or physically. Staying away from him is destroying him but if he gets closer his feelings will take over him and maybe they will start dating...and maybe they will break up and ruin their relationship...he can't risk that no, never.

....

While talking to Tim about the scenario, he was very distracted and only had Winona on his mind and Tim noticed this. "Michael, are you okay?" Michael suddenly stopped thinking and replied."Yeah" Tim wasn't satisfied "I'll ask you something. Did you have a fight with Noni or something? Why don't you ever talk to her properly? You were like that after the second movie too."Michael didn't want to talk about it, "It's nothing Tim" Tim tried to get some words out of him, but when Michael insisted that nothing was wrong, he had to continue the conversation.

....

As Michael goes to the dressing room He met Catherine and Catherine had a sly smile on her face"You really suck with women, Michael." Michael hadn't expected it, but he quickly replied, "What do you mean?"Catherine said in a calm voice, "You can't solve the problem by running away from Noni. If you have feelings, you shouldn't hold them in."Michael said in a low voice, "There is nothing between me and Noni Also, I'm dating Marni and she's dating Scott so this is not appropriate at all, please don't say things like that." Catherine rolled her eyes slyly and walked past Michael, smiling one last time as she said, "Okay, but don't say I didn't tell you."

....

Michael ran into someone outside the Changing room, it was Winona, and they both looked at each other for a minute.Winona said the first word "Hey Michael " "Hello Noni- I mean Winona," Michael said in a cold voice. OH FUCK DID HE ACCIDENTALLY CALL HER NONI?Winona giggled softly, her eyes looking at Michael's eyes. Michael wanted to get lost in her eyes, and a loving smile appeared on his face."You are so beautiful" OH FUCK HE MADE A MISTAKE AGAIN HOW CAN HE SAY THIS NO NO NO.Winona's face turned red and she smiled and said, half-jokingly, "You're so cool, too, Michael."Then Winona spoke again "I guess we'll have a kissing scene this time huh?.." Michael's biggest fear...what if he gets addicted to her lips while kissing her...Michael kept a straight face. “Yeah,” he said, and quickly walked away. Winona was surprised by his sudden departure. “Where-”Before she could finish her sentence, Michael disappeared.Winona sighed. "You're such a complicated person, Michael."

As soon as Michael walked away, he sat down somewhere and thought about his conversation with Winona and said with a sweet and bitter smile,

"I love you so much Winona... that's why I can't be with you..."

#beetlejuice x lydia #beetlejuice #beetlebabes #beetlelyds #micheal keaton x winona ryder

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 2 years ago

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Maggie interview with Murray Scougall for The Sunday Post, 10.7.2023

Having played a small role in the first season, she made such an impression on Gaiman, whose other work includes The Sandman and Coraline, that he wrote a new, bigger part for her.

“In the middle of lockdown, in the bleakest period when I couldn’t envisage a time when the creative arts would exist again, I received an email from Neil informing me he was writing season two, and that he was writing a part for me and she would be called Maggie, so that there would be no confusion in casting.

“He asked if it was something I would be interested in, and once I stopped crying, I emailed back and said, yes please!”

“The first series was Neil writing a love letter to his pal Terry, and I thought it was finished with after season one since we’d done the book. But he could write whatever he wanted for season two since it was all in his head, and he decided to bring back the people he liked to work with. He said I’d brought joy to the set during the first season.”

Maggie was involved with Good Omens from its inception. Invited to a script read-through for Gaiman and the TV executives during pre-production, she made such a good impression that she was cast as demonic nun, Sister Theresa Garrulous. When she was killed off, Maggie thought it was the end of the adventure, but instead it was only the beginning.

“In the first season, I had no scenes with David or Michael, so to work with their characters in the second season felt like an out-of-body experience. It’s extraordinary what they bring to the parts. And the green room was ridiculous – some days I was looking around, thinking I was the only person there I hadn’t heard of!

“We filmed in Bathgate, where they turned the studio into the streets of Soho. It was incredible. We had electric cars, 350 supporting actors, and every corner, brick and poster on the walls looked phenomenal.”

She hopes her role in Good Omens 2 proves to be a pivotal moment in her career. “I have a beautiful character arc this season and there are some pretty boss moments, which are divine,” she said. “This does feel like a significant moment in my career. Because I’ve never been here before, it’s difficult to see into the future of what it might be, but to get a story arc like this and to do things I’ve never had a chance to do on screen before will, I hope, shift things, because I love working and hope to do more.

“This feels like a weird time because it’s been nearly two years since we received the scripts for the new series and it’s been our little secret, now it’s about to go out and it’s quite a cool moment to see it go free.

“I’m hopeful that people who haven’t seen me before will see me in this. Whatever happens, I’ll keep saying yes to things and try to bring joy wherever I can.”

#good omens #gos2 #season 2 #magazines #maggie #maggie service #maggie interview #interview #sunday post magazine 2023 #bts #fun fact #wahoo!#s2 interview #the sunday post #the sunday post 2023

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captainpikeachu · 8 months ago

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I saw these comments on a post talking about John and I just felt the need to contextualize some stuff because it constantly feels like people don't actually understand John's situation at all.

Because this kid knew Sam had given up the shield and he still took it

John literally doesn't have a choice. He is a soldier, the military gave him a job, it is not a democracy, he can't just decide he doesn't feel like following an order and an assignment that was given to him. An order to be the new Captain America is not an illegal order nor an immoral order, if John had said no, he could literally be discharged for disobeying an order. This wouldn't just affect him but also throw stigma onto his wife as well. People are acting like John just casually took it or was somehow gunning for the job when it is literally stated that John and Lemar were minding their own busines prepping for a mission before he was pulled out of his mission prep to do this Cap job. He didn't ask for it. It was a job and he did his job. Sam and Bucky are soldiers too, they both should know that soldiers can't just decide to do whatever they feel like and sometimes you have to follow orders you don't like.

And that's not even touching upon the very real possibility that John didn't even know what was going on with Sam or what his intentions were for the shield. It's not as if John was watching the news. And it's also not as if Sam sat him down to explain how he never meant for the shield to go to someone else. John is not a mind reader. He can't know what's going on if people don't tell him.

Because this kid was live on national TV calling Steve "his brother"

He didn't call Steve "his brother", he said Steve felt like a brother. I swear this fandom just suddenly loses their collective minds and logical thinking at this line as if it's a heinous crime when it isn't. Soldiers often feel kinship to each other. This is nothing new. No amount of Bucky looking sad/mad is gonna change the fact that this line is not some crime or affront to Bucky personally. John is not attacking Bucky or Sam or stealing Steve from them. Chill the fuck out already.

John's speech/interview would have been rehearsed and checked by a PR team, so he's saying the things that the govt wants him to say. Much like how Steve had to stick to the script when he was doing USO tours back in the 40s. If y'all don't blame Steve for those things, then why blame John for the same.

Not to mention that line about feeling like a brother is likely a nod to John's comics backstory where John's brother saved him from a house fire as a kid, and John imagined that it had been Captain America who had come to save him, thus linking his brother to Steve/Cap in his mind.

Because Sam and Bucky don't know this kid and yet he's talking to them like they're old friends

So it's a problem that because John doesn't know Sam and Bucky then he can't talk to them like they're old friends but it's okay for Bucky who doesn't know John to insult John in his very first words to him, and additionally insult Lemar as well?

Mind you, Bucky's first words to John after John and Lemar risked their lives to help Sam and Bucky, and stopped Sam from getting his head crushed in by super soldiers, was to say John isn't good enough for the shield and then question if he's brave and self sacrificing enough. Neither Bucky nor Sam thanks John and Lemar for their help, not even a tiny thank you, just resentful silence like petty petulant children.

Because apparently if Bucky and Sam are upset, then they can act out towards other people, but god forbid John reacts in turn, then he's evil?

Do you not know how insulting it is for Bucky to even question John with that "jumping on grenade" BS? Would you ask Simone Biles if she can do a flip? Would you ask if Michael Jordan can shoot a hoop? Do you ask Michael Phelps if he can swim? Asking a THREE time Medal of Honor receipient if he's brave and self sacrificing enough is hugely insulting. And the fact that Sam and Bucky are both soldiers and doing this stuff is even more terrible behavior.

They ought to know that the Medal of Honor is not easily given out, that the military is extremely hesitant at giving out these medals that sometimes people don't get them until 30 or 40 years later?? They also ought to know that the Medal of Honor is taken so seriously that if the lowest ranking private got one, even the highest ranking generals would salute that soldier because everyone knows the level of sacrifice and heroism it takes to even just earn one of those medals??

So here is Bucky and Sam knowing all this, knowing that the Medal of Honor citations are public records so John's actions are literally open to public scrutiny because MoHs are very documented, still chose to behave in an insultingly presumptive and condescending manner.

Sam later says "we can't expect others to step up if we don't meet them half way" - yet Sam and Bucky never even tried to meet John half way and they still expected him to step up for them.

Why the hypocrisy? Why are insulting behaviors okay just because it's the protagonists doing it?

Because this kid is stupid enough to say he wants them all to work together because he wants Cap's wing-men by his side as if Sam and Bucky were sidekicks and not full grown adult men and heroes in their own right

The irony of being upset at the wing-man comment when Sam years ago called his own best friend Riley his wingman, yet I don't remember people acting like Riley was a sidekick and not treated like a full grown adult in his own right by Sam?

There seems to be an inability to accept John at his words and making up things he's meaning. What is so wrong to say that John's job would be a lot easier if people saw him supported by Cap's friends? It's a very logical reality. It's no different than if Sam wanted to start a new Avengers team, having the public support of previous Avengers would legitimize his position.

"Walker was an asshole for most of the time"

Except he wasn't.

Sam and Bucky didn't like him not because John said anything to them, but because they were already angry by the time they met due to things that weren't John's fault. They're mad at the government, but guess what? They know they can't take on the government, but John is a much easier target. The easy scapegoat and punching bag for their anger.

Instead of thanking John and Lemar for their help with the Flag Smashers and ensuring that Sam didn't die, Sam and Bucky ignored John and Lemar's attempt to give them a ride back, and then immediately Bucky launches into a tirade about how John didn't deserve that shield and how he's not brave or self sacrificing enough.

Who the fuck talks to someone they just met like that? If someone you had never met said that to you on your first day of work, would you not be looking at a toxic workplace?

And even then, John brushes off the insults and even says that he understands why they're angry, and trying to extend an olive branch, which they wouldn't take.

And yes, Bucky did constantly belittle John, from the very first moment. His first words to John was literally to tell a man he had never even met or spoken to that he wasn't good enough. It's a shitty move no matter how much he thinks he is justified in his anger.

And then he mocks the pressure that John is under. He crosses a line so far that even Sam recognized it and tried to step in to de-escalate.

Are Sam and Bucky responsible for John's actions? No. John is his own person and he made his decisions. But let's not pretend that actions can't be influenced by environment or be a response to something.

Even Sam recognized it enough to say the words that "you can't expect others to step up if you don't meet them half way" in a speech to government leaders and to the world, literally saying that how you treat someone will affect how they react or treat you.

Sure, Sam and Bucky were dealing with their own problems, and losing Steve and then this shield mess made them unwilling to open up and trust. But if we can understand Sam and Bucky's POV and why they behaved as they did, why can't we give the same grace to John?

He didn't ask for the shield. He was given an order, an assignment that that he had to obey. So he did what he was ordered to, and he did it wanting to do his best and do good and help. And from day one he is met with a wall to his face at every turn when he tries to extend a hand. He is constantly met with people telling him that he's not good enough or acting like he's a thief who's committed some crime when all he did was accept an order that both Sam and Bucky would know he can't disobey.

Why should Sam and Bucky expect John be "humble" and accept he's not good enough and swallow their attitude towards him and to step up for them, if Sam and Bucky were never willing to meet John half way and decided they already hated him or they somehow already knew him before they had actually met?

They made a self fulfilling prophecy in the end. And the show emotionally manipulated the audience by knowingly playing into the notion that people would automatically side with characters they already felt emotionally attached to, and of course people fell for it.

#here i am again talking about the hypocrisy of this show lol #john walker #us agent

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