#michael myers prompts

[yanderepalace]

Yandere!Michael Myers (1978) Sweets Prompts

warnings: violence, stalking

a/n: hi everyone :,) been a while. hope you enjoy!

♥ KitKat - What do they do to break their Darling?

With Myers always on your tail, you constantly find yourself surrounded by death and violence wherever you go, talking to someone and wondering if this is the last chance you’ll ever see them before he gets to them. If that doesn’t break you all on its own, I don’t know what will.

♥ Mochi - Do they believe in punishing their Darling?

Maybe not you specifically, but Michael does take it out on those around you.. friends, family, strangers. As psychologically distressing as this can be, it might as well be a punishment for you.

♥ Daifuku - Are they predictable for their Darling, or are they able to surprise them with their behavior even after a long time?

This is a very obvious yes; not even the best doctors in the state could get a single glimpse into his mind or motivations, so you don’t have much of a chance. You might as well just hold on for the ride!

♥ Dango - Do they prefer manipulation over a long time, or quick actions?

Quick actions is Myers forte! He’s all about stabs and grabs, baby!

♥ Dorayaki - Any regrets when they look at their Darling, or do they stay focused on their obsession?

He will rarely regret any of his actions. He's very calculated and if he acted out on it, he already knew what he wanted.

♥ Omiyage - Would they consider bribing their Darling into the shape they envision?

Considering how he doesn’t really talk much, there won’t be much “bribing” going on between you two.

♥ Taiyaki - How fast are their intentions revealed to their Darling?

Honestly, to this very day, you have no idea what he really wants with you; all you know is that he’s in your life now.. or at least what’s left of it.

♥ Poki - Would they be more of a one darling-kind of yandere or want/need many at the same time?

The first time he set his eyes on you, he knew he’d never think of someone the same way again— it's either you or nobody.

♥ Warabimochi - What kind of yandere are they? Do they have some sub-types they fit into?

Michael Myers would be your personal stalker for at least a while before he ever came close. Other categories he could fall into are obsessive, and delusional type.

♥ Senbei - How willing are they do share their Darling with someone?

He would take out any rivals before they even thought about it.

♥ Candy Kits - Do they want/plan to build a normal future with their Darling?

Somewhere deep in his twisted mind, he envisions a normal-ish future (to him at least). He thinks about his mom and dad, or even Judy and her boyfriend, and sees you two becoming a couple like them eventually.

♥ Matcha Infused Sweets - Do they forgive escape attempts and ‘tantrums’ or do they stay bitter about it?

He doesn’t feel any particular way. He just sees it as a silly thing you do and just drags you back like it’s the most normal thing.

♥ Manjuu - What matters most to them in their mind when they obsess over their Darling? Love, Protection, Possession?

Not even he knows entirely, maybe it’s love, or maybe his love is possession. All he knows is that it feels good to look at you, to feel you, to have you.

And he’s not letting that get away from him.

a/n: sorry for the super long hiatus but I miss writing so much so here I am! I might make a little post explaining a bit about why I left and the future of this blog. If you’re reading this right now, I really appreciate you for still being here <3

[im-his-druidess]

"It's just...you gotta give me...fuck, please Michael, it's too much," you nearly wailed while clawing at the sheets underneath you.

The man behind you barely even grunted in acknowledgment when he finally bottomed out inside you, breath leaving in a slight huff that you hardly heard over the sounds of your cries, but you did feel his large curious fingers trace the slick seam of your overstretched cunt once you two were finally joined. He poked and prodded as if he couldn't believe he was buried inside such a tight space, even though he made himself fit every single time he fucked you, and you blinked the wetness from your eyes as he removed his hand and instead clamped it back on your hip to hold you in place. As usual, he didn't say a word and he gave you no time to adjust before be began snapping his hips in a brutal rhythm, and you did wail at the feeling of his thick cock mercilessly splitting you open.

"Michael," you sobbed into the sheets, eyes rolling back as pleasure crashed over you like waves in a restless sea and his hands forced your hips back against him over and over again, and his steady even breathing didn't change as you squeezed down on him from the strain of having him inside you.

Any moonlight filtering through your bedroom window was blocked from his broad body completely caging you in, the deceptively soft strands of his long hair tickled across your shoulders in a way that tempted you to turn your head to look at him, but you kept your face buried in the sheets that were damp with your sweat and tears. You remember vividly the last time you tried to look at him while he was inside you and, despite some odd reason he developed a soft spot for you that left you breathing and relatively safe whenever he visited you, he still refused to show you his face. Your stinging backside had bruises that lingered for weeks and the utter humiliation of having being spanked by a serial killer had lasted even longer.

You reach up to clutch at your thudding headboard, desperate to hold on to something stable as Michael continued his punishing pace that left your head spinning, and a few moments later you were shocked out of your stupor by the feeling of a too-warm hand suddenly encompassing yours. It was just as curious as when he prodded at your sex, but it was the most intimate he has been since you felt him take his mask off the first time he fucked you from behind. You whispered his name in question against the material shoved against your face and squeezed your eyes shut when his hips slowed down until he stopped entirely as he started to idly trace your fingers. At that moment it was even more obvious how clearly he could snap you like a twig, not even considering your compromising position, and you slowly picked your head up to look at where his hand was still covering yours. The difference was almost comical, but you soaked in the momentary gentleness of the killer behind you as you stared at your intertwined fingers. His large hand was broad and scarred, rough with callouses with dirt caked underneath the short fingernails, and you were struck at how soft he was being as he explored every nook and cranny of your hand. Eventually, he trailed his fingers over the back of your hand and up your arm and shoulder, before fisting in your hair and shoving your face back into the mattress. You let out an undignified squeak at the unexpected rough treatment and then shrieked as he suddenly pulled out of your dripping cunt and rammed back in.

Your scalp blossomed with pain as he adjusted his grip on your hair and hip to hold you steady before resuming his rough pace and you let your high-pitched sounds be muffled as Michael continued to use you.

[splendidsneb]

Time for more obsessive self indulgent art.

Cross posting a little something something my friends and I have been cooking up.

The first MyLaurie week is almost here!

MyLaurie refers to the ship of Michael Myers x Laurie Strode from the Halloween movie franchise, specifically the DGG timeline. The dates will be from 2024 August 18th - 24th and they are NOT SIBLINGS in this event! See below for prompts.

Prompts: Day 1: Pain Day 2: Bone Day 3: Eating Day 4: Tacos Day 5: Bond Day 6: Dreaming Day 7: Longing

Post your work (Any media: drawing, writing, cosplay…etc.) on any platform & tag them with #MyLaurieWeek!

Let’s celebrate our love for #mylaurie together! #マイロリ #마이로리

[hufflewaffle55]

Oct. 5th

Prompt: Since I’ve been on my D&D kick with Roleslaying with Roman, what would any Halloween- or spooky-themed character be in a D&D world? What would be their race? Their class? Their backstory??

Michael Myers, my beloved, in the world of D&D. His race is unknown and he will be the last person to tell you it. His class is obviously the Rogue and his backstory is as mysterious as his race. But if I would put a little bit thought behind it, he wilo be something like an urban legend.

[jurassicsickfics]

Being a horror fan is wondering how something can make you so relaxed and so nervous at the same time.

[thesightstoshowyou]

🩸BLOODFEST🩸

Week 2

Prompts: Found Footage. Gore. Corruption. Monster

Keywords: Nightmare. Ravenous.

Glass

Michael Myers x GN Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Noncon, breaking and entering, knife “play”, blood, gore, torture, creampie

~~

Misting rain coats your face, clings to your hair in little droplets as you hurry from your car, shopping bags in hand. You shift your groceries onto one arm, fumble with the keys in your pocket. Hunched, eyes squinting against the droplets hanging from your eyelashes, you finally manage to shoulder your way inside.

Your elbow finds the light switch, illuminating the entryway of your darkened home. A quick glance to your feet finds damp foliage clinging to the soles of your boots. You stomp, scrub, wiggle, but the sticky leaves refuse to budge. Groaning in annoyance, you kick off your boots and hurry to the kitchen. Groceries plonk onto the counter and you heave a relieved sigh when your arms are freed of their burden.

Bags rustle as you move about the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers to stow your purchases. As you pass the stove, a jar on the counter catches your eye. Apples in hand, brows furrowing, you pause.

Had you left the peanut butter out?

Maybe, but you’d never leave it sitting on the counter with no lid. Puzzled, you place the apples in the fridge before returning the errant jar—lid now on tight—to the pantry.

The last items—an autumn bouquet of sunflowers, mums, and orange roses—go into a glass vase. You set the arrangement on your dining room table, a quiet think disturbing the hush of your home.

As you fuss with the flowers, a glimmer of light near the back door catches your eye. Again, you frown in confusion. Water speckles the floor here and there, the kitchen lights illuminating each little pool. Wet leaves litter the floor as well, haphazardly trailed inside….

After being brought in on damp boots.

Your heart stutters, then vaults into your throat when you’re suddenly and startlingly seized by the back of the neck and shoved forward. The vase you’re still holding shatters under the force of the push, glass smashing and skittering across the table.

Screams spring from your mouth when the vase shards pierce your hands and forearms. Shifting and thrashing only jars them more, burning pain burrowing into your flesh. You freeze to minimize the agony just as another dirty hand clamps down around your mouth to silence your cries of anguish.

Wildly, you blink away tears and twist your neck, craning to see who pins you to the table. Your eyes grow wide, horror crushing your panting lungs when you spot the dingy mask.

You’d recognize this monster anywhere.

Michael wastes no time. Hand leaving your mouth, he retrieves the blood-soaked knife from his pocket. It’s brought to your face, close enough to see your terrified reflection in ruby-coated steel. You get the message.

Shaking from head to toe, you nod, a silent agreement not to scream. He doesn’t withdraw the knife.

Instead, the hand on the back of your neck slides down your spine, grips hold of the waistband of your jeans and twists. Fabric rips as Michael tears your pants away, the shreds left hanging off your hips, your ass now bared to him. The knife hovering near your face is the only thing preventing you from shrieking in protest, from flailing and pleading.

It wouldn’t do you any good, anyway. Your nightmare is this monster’s nirvana.

Zipping reaches your ears and you clench your eyes shut, flinching when hot, hard flesh brushes your rear. Behind the mask, Michael breathes long and slow, each exhale muffled and distorted. Is he wheezing…?

Pressure at your entrance derails your train of thought and you snap your mouth closed. It’s gonna hurt, it always hurts, brace for it, don’t scream—

Michael surges forward, thick cock parting tense, unprepared muscles and jarring the glass embedded in your limbs. Your anguished cry is choked by your own willpower, the sound barely contained by gritted teeth.

You wince when the knife shifts, but it’s just Michael moving behind you, his free hand returning to your neck, the cheek of the mask coming to rest on the back of your head as he curls over you.

With the Shape now so close, you finally notice the smell: Pungent smoke, like there’s a campfire burning in your kitchen, singed hair, burnt flesh, charred plastic. Your mind buzzes, too many thoughts, too much pain to process before you could even begin to understand why Michael smells like he’d just come from a bonfire.

Then, the fingers on your neck flex and push. You’re not ready for it, not prepared to have your cheek smashed into a pile of glass. You snap your eyes shut on instinct as shards pierce your face. It’s agony, burning, stabbing pain erupting deep in your flesh. Blood fills your mouth, metallic and sharp.

It is by the grace of whatever deity watches over you that you don’t scream. You can’t, shock stilling your lungs, rooting you to the spot in frozen torment. Crimson drips onto the table, pooling under your cheek, aiding in the slide as Michael gives an experimental thrust.

Now, you must clench your teeth again. Movement amplifies your pain, unfreezes your muscles. Your eyelids crack open and your half-formed scream lodges in your throat when you find the knife tip centimeters away from your eye. The Shape bucks his hips, nudges your head with his masked cheek.

Through near blinding agony, you realize it’s a dare: Do it. Scream. My blade is ravenous. I will show you levels of pain you can only imagine.

So begins the quiet battle; Michael ruts into you, shoves your face into glass, jostles the shards in your arms and hands while you muster all your remaining strength to stay quiet. The Shape’s gasping breaths hiss in your ear, fill your head with images of a rasping beast, teeth bared, poised to devour.

Please, please pass out. You can’t take it anymore….

Michael’s hips stutter. He grunts, nails biting into your neck, cock twitching within you. You sob and suck in a breath that reeks of fire and gore as he marks your insides.

Finally, blessedly, he releases you. Michael stands, pushes away. Without his weight, you slip from the table and collapse in a bloody pile, glass raining down around your trembling body. You whimper as quietly as you can manage and cradle your ruined arms to your chest.

Vision blurring, you opt to listen instead. Michael moves around the kitchen, opening cupboards, rustling through your new groceries. More stomping of boots. The hinges of the back door squeal. You jerk and groan when the door slams. Then silence. Merciful silence.

You’re alive. You must convince yourself this is a good thing.

Tumultuous thoughts turn to survival; stop this bleeding. You have to move. Get up. Get up!

Through haggard gasps, sniveling, and uncontrollable quaking, you work your way to your feet. Everything aches, everything burns. You cannot see out of one eye. Slick leaks down your thighs as you stumble, adding insult to injury. Dark pools drip around you with every step.

Staggering into the kitchen, your bleary gaze falls to the counter.

Michael left the peanut butter out again.

[jokeringcutio]

In the upcoming week, I shall be posting a few Halloween-themed Reader-insert Prompt Fills. My ask is still open [ here ] They can be Dark or Romantic. Explicit or Non-explicit. Follow my account so you won't miss these tales ♡

[slashingdisneypasta]

Incorrect Quote

Michael: ... *Signs: Oh no*

Chucky: What is it? What happened? Who fucken died this time?

Michael: ... *I think I just felt an emotion*

Chucky: You have GOT to be kiddin' me.

[tiredsurvivoronmain]

March/April Prompts: CLOSED

I’m opening prompts for March/April. I’ll have them open them for a couple of weeks then I’ll pick a few to do at the end of the month to work on in March-April. :>

What I'll draw:

- Ghostfield - Dwake - Chrisker (drawing Chris is a hit or miss but I’ll try!) - Vittorio/Pyramid Head - Vittorio/Tarhos (without armour) - Ghostface and Michael, Demogorgon or Pyramid Head hanging out - Pyramid Head and The Keeper hanging out - Dwight and Vittorio hanging out - The mains Dwight, Vittorio and Danny being chaotic - The bird soldier (solo or with Vittorio) - Solos of any of the characters above as well as Quentin, Amanda, Frank, Leon and Tarhos (without armour)

SFW prompts only please, however I’m game to do suggestive (for the ships) and creepy/horror/bloody ones too.

[im-his-druidess]

For anybody wondering Smith's Grove Sanitarium is the mental health facility and detainment center for the criminally insane in the film Halloween!

(22. Omega goes to an Alpha and clings on them to get away from another creepy Alpha/Beta. & 24. “My ex-boyfriend is here, please scent me before he tries to do something.”)

"'Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world...,'" you muttered, eyeing the man swaggering around the cafeteria as if he owned it.

It was your ex, someone you never thought you would see again after a tumultuous relationship and an even more volatile breakup, and yet here he was. In the same institute you were currently locked in. You would have laughed in any other circumstance, seeing him incarcerated at Smith’s Grove, but it was hard to find amusement when you were in the same building as him. Also, it was hard to laugh through the sudden surge of sheer panic rushing through you at the sight of him. Clutching your food tray until your knuckles turned white you cast your eyes around wildly. Usually people gravitated towards their own dynamic, Omegas huddled together far away from the group of loudly talking Alphas and the few Betas sprinkled amongst the remaining tables talking normally and without care.

Your ex, an Alpha that liked to puff out his chest to appear bigger than he was and bully those he deemed weaker, was busy stealing food from a smaller Alpha and laughing. Anger burned in the back of your throat at the display, but it was quickly replaced by terror when his eyes met yours from across the room.

His look of shock was quickly replaced by a wide grin full of nothing but malice.

You trembled at the sudden phantom echo of his screaming in your head, his venomous degrading words hurting worse than any slap he ever delivered, and you felt the urge to curl up into a ball. You spun on your heel and began weaving through the lunch crowd when he stood from his seat. There was a guard chatting happily with the lunch lady and you knew he probably wouldn’t do much to protect you if you approached him. Your flitting gaze searched through the sea of issued white scrubs, eyes burning at all the white clothes against the white walls and white tile floors, before landing on a spot of bright orange at the back corner.

Seated alone at a table, chaperoned by a tense guard standing a few feet away, was the Sanitarium’s most known and feared patient. Michael Myers sat with slightly drooped broad shoulders, a paper mâché mask that looked a bit like a jack-o-lantern placed over his face with his long dirty blond hair hanging in front of his masked face like a curtain, and he was eating lazily with his head tilted towards the table. Everyone knew who he was, throwing glances his way and whispering to each other, and you remembered how you nearly fainted from fright the first time the murderous behemoth shuffled past you in the halls. He didn’t say or do anything in particular that frightened you, he didn’t even look at you, but his sheer presence made your inner Omega howl at the feeling of a predator so close.

Not only was the man huge and stacked with muscles that made you gape like a fish out of water, but he was an Alpha.

Even with the mandatory scent suppressants you could still catch the natural spice of an Alpha. Immediately, an idea popped in your head, and you didn’t even give yourself a second to fully think about it before you beelined for his table.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see your ex following you and you all but flung yourself into the empty seat beside Michael Myers. Instantly all the chatter in the room stopped, all eyes swung to you, and the guard nearby paled.

Michael continued to eat.

You felt a small sense of relief wash over you as the man’s body heat seeped into your suddenly freezing body, his spicy scent tingling your nose, and his broad shoulders blocked out most of the stunned crowd. You tried to continue as if this was a perfectly natural thing to do, unraveling your plastic spoon from its napkin before scooping up a helping of mashed potatoes, and you forced your trembling hand to still before you accidently dropped your spoonful. A wave of whispers suddenly rushed through the room and you saw your ex stop and linger a few tables away. You glanced over at the giant man beside you, noting that what you could see of his blue eyes were still trained on his tray in front of him, and you couldn’t help but notice how comically small and fragile his spoon looked in his large hand.

Feeling a need to justify yourself for sitting so close to him you leaned a bit closer to whisper to him in a voice that only he could hear.

“My ex-boyfriend is here, please scent me before he tries to do something,” you said in a rush, shifting nervously in the hard chair at the sight of your ex still too close for comfort, before staring wide-eyed as Michael’s mechanical movements slowed slightly at your words.

You knew that he heard you and you suddenly wondered if you were going to meet a gruesome end by way of plastic utensil. You saw his head tilt minutely, eyes still trained on his food, but you could hear a small huff of breath beneath his mask that you otherwise wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t so close to him. It took you a few moments to realize that he was subtly scenting you. You fought the urge to shiver at the discovery of him breathing you in.

Your eyes dropped to his plate and another idea struck you.

He was picking around his food, avoiding the mushy peas and soggy carrots that was served and focusing on the mashed potatoes and bits of shredded chicken slathered in gravy, and you spotted the pudding container that was served as dessert. The chocolate pudding cup was completely empty, virtually scraped clean, and you came to the amusing realization that he had eaten his dessert first. With a deep breath you grabbed your own pudding cup and placed it near his tray.

A peace offering or a bribe you weren’t entirely sure.

His movements slowed even more and you pretended everything was normal about your interaction with the man by shoving another spoonful of potatoes in your mouth. It tasted like ash and settled in your stomach like lead, but you forced yourself to appear as normal as possible. You spotted your ex taking a few hesitant steps closer, making you subconsciously sink further against Michael until your arm brushed his side, and you nearly leapt out of your skin when a heavy overly warm hand landed on the back of your neck.

In a quick move you didn’t see he had placed his hand on the back of your neck, grip loose and almost lazy, but the possessive hold was as obvious as if he stood and shouted in the now tense cafeteria.

‘Mine’.

The guard fidgeted nervously with the taser on his belt, the crowd falling deathly silent at the uncharacteristic movement of the infamous killer, and you forced yourself not to go absolutely rigid at the unexpected touch. You noticed that your ex had paled, the malice on his face dropping to an expression of fear, before he scampered back towards his original table.

You could perfectly visualize a tail between his legs as he retreated.

Your entire body relaxed at the threat leaving you alone and you swore you felt those long fingers twitch against your neck before they pulled away. He snagged your offered pudding cup and you smiled. Looks like you both had come to an agreement and, despite sitting next to the most dangerous man in the entire building, you felt yourself relax.

[gidianthe]

say what you will about house of 1000 corpses but at least baby firefly is a woman that those slasher x reader blogs will write constant fanfic inserts about

[hufflewaffle55]

Oct. 1st

Prompt: Give me a spooky or Halloween-y figure and how he looks on Sep. 30th (their off-time, go as comical as you’d like) and then how they look Oct. 1st (traditionally how they are known to look!).

[jurassicsickfics]

The Headmistress Has Fallen

A good chunk of the plot for this story was requested by @blueandbetaraptors , but other details were determined via some polls I did a while back. Enjoy!

(Also, for any readers who may be unfamiliar with the Halloween franchise, Keri Tate and Laurie Strode are the same person. Keri Tate is the name Laurie assumed when she went into hiding from Michael Myers and this was the name she was known by in Halloween H20. And due to her boyfriend from that movie winning the caretaker poll, we will be in that setting. Ok, let's get into this)

~Based on Halloween H20~

Spring at Hillcrest Academy may have just been the most mellow time of the year. The weather was getting warm and the shrubbery that decorated the grounds of the prestigious high school began to bloom out again. It was truly beautiful. Of course, springtime also meant that Headmistress Keri Tate had survived another Halloween and a grueling flu season, so she was in a much better mood.

As the sun rose in the California sky, Keri made her way into the kitchen of her small home, where her teenage son John was already waiting for her. "Morning mom!" He greeted her. Keri smiled a weary smile. "Morning sweetheart." She said, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade out of the fridge and taking a swig.

"Want some oatmeal?" John offered. "Oh, no thanks, honey, I've gotta get to work a little early today." She replied.

"Ok, if you say so. In that case I'm gonna take my car and pick up Molly for a quick breakfast, is that ok?" He asked. Keri smiled. "Sure baby, that's fine. Don't be late, though."

As the school day commenced, and Molly and John came barreling into the classroom seconds before the bell, Keri made her way to the front of the room to begin today's history lecture. The Headmistress doubled as the school's history teacher, and occasionally took over the odd literature class when she needed to. Something seemed a little off today, though. The Headmistress looked tired; less enthusiastic about the lesson than she usually was. She stood with her arms crossed over her stomach, swaying back and forth and shifting from one foot to the other as the gave the lecture. John and Molly shared a look, as did Sarah and Charlie. The four kids were all good friends, and considering that Keri is John's mother, they all knew her well, and she was like a second mother to them all. Especially to John's girlfriend, Molly.

The four of them knew that something wasn't right, but they wouldn't dare interrupt the Headmistress mid-lecture to point it out.

The day dragged on and on, and Headmistress Tate seemed more and more off as the hours passed. Charlie had even reported that at one point she'd abruptly excused herself from teaching a class, as if it was urgent. Meanwhile, Sarah said she'd heard what sounded like crying coming from the teacher's bathroom.

Upon her discovery, Sarah had gone to the school's counselor, Will Brennan. As much as they tried to hide it, it was painfully obvious among students and staff alike that Headmistress Tate and Doctor Brennan had a thing for each other. John especially had front row seats to his mother's love for Will, as he was the one standing awkwardly across the room while the couple spoke in code about when and where they'd meet later. His mother's flirtatious smirks in the halls and Will occasionally sneaking a booty slap said all that needed to be said.

Sarah knocked on the door of Will's office. "Mr.Brennan?" She asked. Will looked up. "Oh, afternoon, Sarah. How can I help you?" He asked.

Sarah took a seat across from him and said, "Don't tell her I told you, I don't want her to be embarrassed but...I think something is going on with Miss Tate."

Will raised an eyebrow. "Really? What makes you think that?"

Sarah shrugged. "She's acting strange. She seems tired, agitated, Charlie said she keeps excusing herself from class and...I think I heard her crying. "

The counselor's eyes widened. "Oh dear, ok. Well, thank you for telling me, Sarah, I'll keep an eye on her."

Soon enough the school day was wrapping up, and Will went to Laurie's office to check on her. As he approached her office door and went to knock, he heard coughing coming from inside. "Keri? You ok in there?" He asked. No response, only more coughing.

Will slowly opened the door, and he found Keri, bent down over a trashcan by her desk, throwing up. "Oh no...honey..." Will said, rushing to her side and rubbing her back. "Sweetheart, are you ok?" He asked. Keri turned to him, pulling him in for a hug and crying. "N-no...I'm not ok..." she sobbed. Will hugged her tight, patting her back. "Babe...C'mon, let's get you home." He said.

Will drove her home, and upon arriving she flopped onto the couch, moaning about how bad her tummy was hurting. Will locked the door behind him to make her feel safe, and he sat beside her on the couch. "C'mon, honey, let's get you changed into some pajamas and into bed." He said, trying to coax her up off the couch. Keri reluctantly followed him into her bedroom, and allowed him to help her into her pajamas before crawling into bed. Will put a trashcan by her side of the bed and, after taking off his shoes and work pants, laid down beside her. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" He asked. Keri shrugged. "Ok I guess...ugh, I'm sorry I didn't say anything all day...I just...I didn't want to bother you or look vulnerable...and I didn't want John to worry...you know how protective over me he can be..."

Will nodded. "Yeah baby, I understand. I'm here for you, ok? I'll be right here until you feel better." She sighed.

"But what about Hillcrest? I'm the Headmistress, I can't just..not go to work..."

Will shrugged. "Well...how about I handle it for a day or two, and John or Molly can stay home with you."

Keri nodded. "Ok.. that works, I guess."

Will kissed her forehead. "Don't you worry, sweetheart, we'll get you through this."

[baneswood-sins]

Slasher imagines and flash fic!

Hi! I'm Orion and I'm new to being active in the slasher fandom (though I've been obsessed with slashers since I was little). I write a lot of fic and was wondering if anyone would be interested in submitting prompts for me! SFW or NSFW is fine! x reader or specific ships accepted! The queerer the better for me, so don't be afraid to ask for male readers/trans readers/etc

I will write for almost any slasher or horror character! My only exceptions are that I only write SFW fic about Bubba Sawyer/Thomas Hewitt/Leatherface and I don't really enjoy writing Freddy Kreuger.

A few characters I enjoy writing for: Michael Myers (All versions of him, though I'm obsessed with peepaw rn)

Jason Voorhees

Ghostface (specifically dead by daylight's character)

Harry Warden

Ruben "Ruvik" Victoriano

Nemesis (Resident Evil 3)

[jokeringcutio]

Starting today, a small fanfic will be posted counting down till Halloween.

Prepare yourself for some sweet tales, some dark ones, some erotic and some perfectly safe.

Today is the day!

[angusmcquadeprojects]

No Rules Inktober, Day 11

Fan Art: Ash Vs. Everyone

Originally i was only going to include six famous Slasher Villains in the background, but after becoming a recent fan of Candyman and Hatchet, i thought those two should get some love too