games of cat and mouse

low activity halloween 1978 / dead by daylight michael myers ask/rp blog

[playwithhisfood]

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Important stuff:

Michael is a huge bastard. He is not a good person. He will hurt your muse. Any sort of relationship that can be made with him will be very unhealthy and one-sided.

Related to the above, this blog will contain death, gore, violence, manipulation, non-con and more. I’ll tag everything as best I can but some things may slip through the cracks.

This blog follows the Halloween 1978 / 2018 canon, aka Michael and Laurie are not siblings.

Michael is aromantic bisexual with a preference for women.

Michael CAN speak but almost always chooses not to.

Mun is a 21-year-old hopeless Michael simp. </3

[rxdpyramidthxng]

michael is curious about many things. the other ‘hunters’ are not excluded from his interest. to him, they are simply stronger, more dangerous prey. and they can catch his attention just like any other of the prey. he is now watching the creature from a distance, the one with a great pyramid atop its body. michael wonders what is underneath it. for now, he merely watches. (hope this is all right!). - @playwithhisfood

@playwithhisfood

Believing that the Executioner was prey was a mistake that might lead to him getting eaten.

At the moment he stands vigil, still as a statue. He’s already aware of being watched, it’s only a matter of who and where. He finally moves to lift the end of the helmet to sniff the air, catching the scent of the watcher, and slowly turns his head toward the source.

It’s another killer, one he has only heard off and seen only once from a distance, The...Shape he believed the survivors called him. The smell of rubber came from the mask on his head, but it didn’t cover the fact he was human.

He wasn’t sure what to make of him though nor did he know why he was watching him, but it was beginning to annoy him. The beast gives a loud growl of warning, the only one Michael would get.

[playwithhisfood]

he waits until it notices him, turns its metal head covering towards him. already, it growls at him. michael is amused. he knows it is a warning and he does not care. why should he? even if he should lose the inevitable battle, the spider—or whatever she is—will bring him back to hunt again. michael does not enjoy pain. but he will risk it for the sake of his curiosity.

slowly, he approaches, walking leisurely. the only indication that michael had even heard the growl is a slight tilting of his head. mocking the other creature? perhaps.

[playwithhisfood]

he rarely recalls the past. what has already happened means very little. the excitement, the enjoyment of the moment is gone. many of the faces he sees mean nothing to him.

but he does have his favorites. the ones he seeks after again and again. he remembers them, and how entertaining they were, and how they will entertain him again.

and they always do.

[playwithhisfood]

(feeling like i might start posting here again.)

[playwithhisfood]

it would be hard to say that Michael is proud of many things. everything he does, it simply is. there is no reason to gloat, or regret.

however.

he is quite satisfied with his ability to manipulate the prey.

[strode-realty-key-deactivated20]

he stares ahead. watching the figure in front of him. by the posture, the way he holds himself. he knows without a doubt that it is /him/. but it is not him. there can be no other him. and yet there is. he does not understand it. he also does not know if the other him is a threat. if he will take interest in the Obsession as he has. he will find out. - @playwithhisfood

@playwithhisfood

There had been no precise moment when this Michael had noticed the other one among the trees. There had always been that mutual awareness, that inevitable draw to the other man. The slow drag but precise drag of his attention, the sharp focus. The feeling wasn’t quite like how he felt with his prey, or the one who avidly captured his attention during the hunt. No, this was different. A deeper subconscious pull, a resonating notion inside of him.

He narrowed his eyes, assessed the other man - the other Myers. Much like the other, the realization had been quick and sure. Michael also knew the truth of it by the way the other breathed and in the pop of his knuckles, how he held his shoulders.

It was not a mirror, not an exact copy of himself, he suspected. There were slight, minor signs, things a few shades off from being /him/ but close enough that it couldn’t be anyone else. There’s a dim flicker of curiosity; Michael wondered how far the similarities ran and where the differences began. If they were truly the same person underneath it all.

Despite that, Michael could assert that one thing hadn’t changed: the threat, the danger. Even now, he could feel it pool off of the other. The fact that the other Myers hadn’t approached yet was enough of a sign. Not of innocence or hesitance but of curiosity. Knowing himself as well as he did, it likely wouldn’t last long. Which amounted to only one course of action.Michael tilted his head and angled his shoulder back. It had been an invitation but not one borne out of politeness or friendliness. Michael had been curious about him, about what he would do and how far he would go.

[playwithhisfood]

the other him sees. he feels his stare, or his presence. the other turns, inspects him much like he has done with the other. they know each other. the other him is looking for something. but michael does not care what he is looking for. he is concerned only with one thing; has the other him chased the Obsession? touched them? used what is his? his property? if so, he refuses to accept it. anger boils in his chest at the thought. another must not touch the Obsession, they are his only. he approaches the other him. looks down. he is slightly smaller. michael has the advantage. he comes closer, looking down. his narrowed eyes threatening. his grip tight on the knife. there is a small hesitance, a decision made slowly. then he opens his mouth. “Obsession,” he growls. the word burns in his throat. but he knows the other him will understand.

if he is like him at all, then he will understand. understand the possessiveness. know that he is not making idle threats. if the other has touched his property, he will become prey like any other. but he waits. waits and watches for an answer.

[playwithhisfood]

(In case you all haven’t noticed, this blog has been pretty inactive lately. I’m still around, just haven’t had the muse for Michael lately. I’ll try to get some stuff out soon. Thank you for your patience.)

[stabbyhandsmcmike]

i like to think michael got really excited when escaping. like as he's driving away in the stolen car he just thinks " ohhhhgghh time to be a public menace oohohohooouuuuu "

[a-cool-entity-deactivated202204]

Which killer do you think will come after you first? and I wish you luck in surviving

“If I’m being completely honest here.. I think it might be Freddy or Michael. I can’t believe it. I’m actually kinda fearing for my life right now! Woo, what an adrenaline rush”

[playwithhisfood]

“...”

[strode-realty-key-deactivated20]

Will delete later

((Not sure if I’ll colour this. Might adjust his hair style still.

But here, a maskless Michael. Enjoy.))

[playwithhisfood]

what would Entity Michael do if a killer displeased him??

(This is a very interesting question and I mulled over it lot while I was working my shift. Basically I think Entity!Michael’s MO depends heavily on the answer to one question: can an Entity directly create its own sustenance?

If Michael could do this, I don’t think he would bother with a middleman. Why have killers when you can be the killer? There would be no killers and survivors, only prey and the one predator. But keeping the current killer/survivor dynamic wouldn’t be pleasant either. Failing to kill any survivors would be akin to denying a hungry lion a meal—you know he’s gonna maul you for it. And by maul, I mean most likely sucked into a void and tortured until your psyche is totally broken. Survivors wouldn’t be safe from this either—at a whim Michael could just as easily grab a survivor and mentally destroy them. Not because it feeds him—he needs the Trials for that. No, purely because it’s fun. And there are plenty of other souls he can drag in if necessary, so why bother trying to keep their minds intact? Most of his victims will break and be thrown away.

Tl;dr: thank your lucky stars you have regular Entity and not Michael.)

[spam-bunny-dweet]

he stands over the man with the bunny outfit as he works on the generator. unknowing. he considers grabbing him, killing him now. but instead he shifts. makes a noise. waits for him to notice. - @playwithyourfood

(@playwithhisfood )

Dwight is slow to realize, but when he does, he draws in a deep, fast breath out of fear. He stands up and backs away, his body refusing to run for reasons unknown. He backs off until he's pressed against a wall, gritting his teeth as he thinks about how the hell he's going to get out of this one. His teeth chatter. He hated going up against Michael. It was always a game filled with jumpscares and rather painful deaths. He'd had his lower back broken, and had been forced to crawl away from Michael in order to survive (he didn't.) He'd been strangled, left to bleed out, drowned in a kitchen sink, and gutted with a single well placed slash of Michael's sharp knife. Any way that Michael could watch the life drain from his eyes had happened, and to others as well. Dwight's mind was racing. He knew that Myers liked to make him-and the other Survivors- suffer. Just how would he die this time?

[playwithhisfood]

he studies the shaking survivor. the one with bunny ears. he is always fun to play with. is scared easily. michael often makes an effort to seek him out. purely from amusement. he has no other purpose.

he moves forward. pins the prey against the wall by his neck. but he does not squeeze, not yet. instead, his eyes roam over the prey’s form, searching for something of interest. his gaze alights on the wiry object perched on his nose—glasses. he has never needed glasses. the shape has always had perfect sight. but he knows that some of the prey need them simply to see. that they are blind without them.

curiousity sparks, and his hand darts forward, snatching the glasses off the prey’s face.

[playwithhisfood]

Alright, since you can’t seem to understand an order. Allow me to educate you, first hand.

he hears the spider, but he does not look. does not care. he does not take orders. he focuses back in on the Obsession. watching their form near the campfire.

[a-cool-entity-deactivated202204]

Something flares within the spider almost as if he didn’t hear what they had said. It wouldn’t matter, they had foreseen this anyways. Talking to Michael was a lot like talking to a brick wall, only the brick wall was better company than what Myers could ever be. It wastes no time at all in grabbing the killer by the shoulder and forcing him to turn around to look them in the eyes. Even if Michael was taller than them.

No words could form as they decide to show what they feel through action instead. Their fist curls tightly in their palms, one connecting to the pale mask in a forceful jab. The Entity’s eyes are wide and burning an opaque Amber for every second that Myers refuses to abide by their laws. The second punch is thrown without a sound, only anger that radiates off of their body at the thought of what he COULD’VE done.

[playwithhisfood]

the spider hits him. he barely flinches. the pain is inconsequential. he does not care what it does. he will not obey another. he will do as he pleases. the spider may attack him if it wants. he does not care.

...but. if it interrupts him. if it keeps him from the Obsession.

his hand darts forward to grab it by the neck.

[a-cool-entity-deactivated202204]

Raq doesn’t choke as they’re grabbed by the Shape. The rage is only just starting to flood back. Their power isn’t strong, but it’s good enough for this little burst. This little burst is all they’ll need for the justice right now. Their claws ripen with haste as they bare their teeth like a mad dog before the killer that chooses to defy them. That chooses to do as he pleases because there isn’t another in these parts that would dare to try and stop him. That’s why they’re here. That’s why they’ve been called upon by their peers.

The claws scrape into his arm, tearing through the skin with ease. The smell of blood hits their nose and they feel it coming back to them. The primal urge to feed, the lust for blood. Araqnid can feel his veins snapping at the tips of their fingers, the muscles being this tough rubbery thing that separates the Entity from disconnecting the joint from the arm.

“Ghh...”, they hiss, resisting the urge to do just that.

A part of them wants to. Wants to let loose.

[playwithhisfood]

he feels the pain as his arm is cut, begins to bleed. frustration boils in his chest. he squeezes the spider’s neck. curious if it will choke and die like the others.

he is not so foolish as to think the spider will die easily. but he will try.

[a-cool-entity-deactivated202204]

He applies more pressure, as predicted, so it wouldn’t be so bad if they cut his arm out and severed the connection between the forearm and the elbow. It might just save their life, despite not really having one to begin with. The Entity does not just keel over and die. It wouldn’t be that easy, but it was worth a shot. 

Araqnid tilts their head down to bite at the hand that chokes them, sinking their teeth into the gap between his thumb and index finger. They rip and tear like a wild animal, they aren’t given much choice with that one. Thrashing wildly, struggling like a weak mortal while they still could. The trump card, waiting in morbid excitement.  

[playwithhisfood]

the spider struggles like prey. he watches, fascinated, as it bites and thrashes in his grip. he is not concerned with the pain, but he tightens his grip on the neck. normal prey would not be able to breathe. the spider is not normal, however. still, his mind is fixated on one thing: what would it take to kill the spider?

[a-cool-entity-deactivated202204]

And with more pressure, comes the lack of being able to get air in. The Entity grows tired of this, because he thinks that he’ll be able to kill them. Might make a game out of it to entertain himself with. Araqnid strikes with their hand then, attacking Myers’s face. The claws cut through the rubber mask and taste skin, not that they already have. The blood from his hand has well soaked into their throat by now. The copper tasting liquid gave them strength where the despair did not. With their other hand, they’re able to start prying Michael’s hand off. 

[playwithhisfood]

he feels the mask tear. feels parts of his face, one of his eyes, exposed. he does not like it. he squeezes the spider harder. it is winning. it is not normal.

it frustrates him. but there is nothing to do but fight until one of them is dead. any instinct to flee, to beg for mercy, it is not present in the shape. only the urge to fight.

[ladyfowlfarmer]

@playwithhisfood (Continued from here)

he watches her struggle with amused detachment. how pointless it is. and still they always try. she begs him for mercy. it makes the heat swell and his heartbeat quicken. he wants more. he will get more. he yanks the girl back by her hair before shoving her onto the ground. he plants his boot on her sternum, pushing, teasing. makes her realize how easily he could crush her ribcage, impale her heart. and he waits.

The rubber band holding her hair up snapped, and she wheezed at the sudden pressure on her chest. Melanie still wiggled and squirmed, trying to push him off with whatever strength she had, but her vision was flickering, growing dark. The survivor was on the verge of fainting, but still, she desperately tried to stay awake. It didn’t take her long to get the hint he was a bit more of a “picky eater” compared to other killers she’s met, and the wiggling eventually stopped. 

She tried to catch her breath and come back to reality, even though passing out might be a better option for her at this point. Fight or flight was screaming at her to stay awake, push him off, and get the hell out of there, but Michael was twice as big and ten times stronger. All she could do was look up to the blank expression of his mask and shed tears as she struggled to breathe and tried to remain awake and aware.

[playwithhisfood]

the prey tries to fight him. tries to push him away. it doesn’t matter. her struggles are nothing to him. but he enjoys seeing it. the thrill of forcing down the prey while it is struggling, it makes the heat swell and his heart race.

too soon, the prey gives up. she does not struggle, only cries. he is disappointed. he wants more. wants to see her on the edge of death, fighting for life. he leans more of his weight onto her ribcage until there is a crack. now she will struggle again. the prey always do.

[ladyfowlfarmer]

The cracking of bones and shock of pain sends her into a spiral, breathing heavily and squeezing her eyes shut tight, feeling the urge to scream with agony, but nothing would come out… Just whimpering and more tears… The feather-boning of her corset started to snap under the pressure as well. Finally, out of desperation for it all to end, Melanie again tried to push him off, the torture of it all started to become unbearable. 

She knew she was more likely to die, but it didn’t stop her from trying again, even if it was just because she wished the torment would be over. If she were to get away, the hatch and gates were still an option as far as she knew, but it seemed so hopeless. No ‘perks’ could get her out of this situation now, not even some of the little tips other survivors gave her. Maybe carrying around a glass shard would have been smart after all. Oh, she should have listened to Laurie’s warnings about The Shape.

“Wh– Ah–! What are you waiting for, M-Michael?” She hissed in pain, crimson no longer dripping from her broken nose, “Are you going t-to– agh–! end my suffering or j-just stare at m-me–?” She wasn’t trying to taunt, it was a genuine question. Why torment when she’s already pinned like a mouse under a lion’s paw? Some things she might never understand…

[playwithhisfood]

she struggles again, and he is satisfied, letting up on the pressure. he does not want to kill the prey too fast. he has been suffering from an acute case of boredom. and toying with a squirming victim is always entertaining. he lifts his foot and steps back, letting her writhe, ribs broken. she is too injured to escape now.

he tilts his head slightly at the question. it is a foolish question for the prey to ask. as if they think they control whether they live or die. they do not. only he does. he is waiting for the moment when he is satisfied with her torment. and only then will he kill her.

[killers-kitten]

the shape does not speak. only stares. only reaches his hand out. he wraps it around the brunette girl's neck. he squeezes, but he doesn't crush her neck, not yet. he will see her squirm first. ~ @playwithhisfood

(Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason @playwithhisfood.)

Mary’s vision blurred as Myers grabbed her neck and squeezed. She was really regretting getting lost in his area. Why the hell didn’t she get out of the way? Her lungs felt like they were on fire from lack of oxygen as she grabbed his wrist in a vain attempt to make him loosen his grip.

Well at least it was better than being hooked, right?

[killers-kitten]

playwithhisfood​:

he does not care about pain. he has taken bullets, been stabbed with knives, fallen off rooftops. they did not stop him.

but somehow, the sudden pain in his arm. it is enough for his grip to loosen. for the prey to slip out.

Mary dropped to the floor again and started running. She was somewhat confused about what had just happened but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She never really understood that phrase but it was the only one that really fit. Maybe it had something to do with the horse biting. Who knows? Not her, that’s for sure. She kept running and heard the final generator start in the distance. Yes! The gate would open soon! She could leave!

[playwithhisfood]

he turns. watches her run. she will reach the gate before him. chasing this prey is a waste of his time. it does not matter. there will be more trials. the frustration eases as quickly as it came.

he moves on to another target. one that does not run so fast.

[playwithhisfood]

Nicolette was simply minding her own business, scouring the area for offerings or add one of any sort. It took her a moment of forcefully ignoring the tall man staring at her to finally look up at him with a monotonous look. Like she had dealt with him too many times before. “... what. Why are you just—“ She tilted her head in confusion at the statue Michael. “Do... you have any plans on moving? Or does the Shape simply come and go as he pleases. Because you’re kind of blocking the way.”

he was simply stalking the fog, but now he stares down at the girl. at the prey. he has seen her in trials before. killed her before. she wants him to move. his expression is blank, but his eyes are challenging: Go around me, if you dare.

[mademoiselle-historienne]

Out of all killers, why had they chosen this guy to roam the Fog at the exact same time she was scavenging. It was a bit intimidating being face to face with Michael and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. But it was no matter. This wasn’t a trial, and he couldn’t kill her. There was nothing to fear. Her eyes took a small glance at either side and concluded that no, she could not move forwards without him moving. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “I seriously can’t move around you. I have to get back to the campfire, Michael.” Nicolette has taken one step forwards but then stopped again. She preferred to keep her distance like a deer attempting to avoid the eyes of a starving wolf.

“For fuck’s sake…” The girl muttered under her breath, not knowing how to make him move without physical contact. Nicolette racked her brain for ideas. “What do you want from me? Why are you too stubborn to move out of the way?”

[playwithhisfood]

it is almost amusing, the idea that he wants anything from the prey that he cannot simply take from her. she is not the Obsession. she has no use besides for him to toy with and then kill her. her frustration amuses him, though. he will keep playing for now. he gives no indication that he hears her, does nothing at all besides stand in her way and breathe. he is curious how the prey will react. will she try to push him?

[mademoiselle-historienne]

By this point the deafening silence had gotten on her nerves to no end. However, Nicolette was a woman of extraordinary patience– especially when it came to unstable, unpredictable killers such as Michael. One single fuck up and she’d probably get strangled, stabbed, crushed to death, or all three in that exact order. She wasn’t dumb enough to get that enraged. Conversing with the Shape is like conversing with a brick wall, so she had little to no room in getting mad at his lack of response.

Instead, she took a deep breath to calm herself. Getting too mad would result in someone getting slashed. “So you’re going to play coy, aren’t you.” Nicolette sighed, crossing her arms. “That’s alright. Fine by me. But I’m not giving you a grand show or anything, Michael. I’m not the toy that’s going to instigate a fight, since I know how fragile your temper is and how deep that knife can cut. I’ll just sit here, and wait for you to do something myself.”

So she decided to stare back up at him as dully as he did to her. Nothing more than a spiteful, childish way to get back at him. Nicolette was immovable, her hand clutching at the handle of small weaved basket full of offerings. Her eyes began to scan for the eyes under his pale white mask just so she could have a chance at seeing his reaction.

[playwithhisfood]

the prey is defiant. says she will not give him a show. it amuses him. she thinks he will not harm her. thinks he cares about the spider’s rules. his fingers curl. he itches to kill her now. to watch the life fade from her spiteful eyes.

but he can be patient. fifteen years he spent in that room. watching. waiting. this is nothing to him. he looks back at her, gaze completely empty. he lets no emotion show. he waits.

the prey needs to get back to the campfire. but he has all the time in the world. and so he stares. and waits for her to crack.

[mademoiselle-historienne]

What seemed like eternities were spent watching Michael, observing every minuscule move he made and always being ready to fight back given the chance. But after a while that seething anger withers away, and instead what was left was a question. Her head tilts slightly to the side in confusion. What is it that he wants from her?

It wasn’t even rage that fueled her anymore; it was sheer curiosity as to why she was being held up like this. Nicolette’s expression softened ever so slightly. “Why keep me held up? Do you need something from me? Like, supplies for an offering, or… or a sedative to your murderous urges? I…” Her throat caught on the last part of her statement. Sedative to his murderous urges. That would make sense. Maybe she was so unlucky as to be caught in Michael’s ravenous jaws by circumstance. It didn’t make sense, though. He couldn’t kill out of trials.

“Michael, are you trying to harm me?” She spoke lowly as if she were being told a secret. A vile, despicable secret that would most likely end up with her pulse being squeezed out of her by his own hand.

[playwithhisfood]

he stares back at the prey. showing nothing. watching as her anger dies down and she is confused. uncomfortable. he enjoys the look on her face. again, the idea that he needs anything from the prey is amusing to him. she is merely here for him to toy with. kill.

his face remains empty. she realizes. she knows. she knows he will hurt her. his fingers twitch again. he craves a chase. if the prey runs he will catch her.

but also, he craves betrayal.

he tilts his head slightly to the side. as if he is unsure. he is not unsure. he is never unsure. but the goal is sympathy. some connection. sometimes the prey think they can understand him. that they can help him. they do not understand him. and he does not need help.

but he will pretend.

he angles his chin at the basket. pretending to find interest in the flowers. like he wants them. 

[mademoiselle-historienne]

Nicolette gives a small confused hum at his stare before looking down at the wicker backet. “The flowers?” She asked, holding up the basket with her spare hand as the other fumbles around for something. Her hand stumbles upon a tiny bouquet of blue primroses, looking up to him. Was this what he wanted? There was no way he could use it for an offering like she could, but maybe they interested him or something.

“Anna lets me roam her realm once in a while to look for flowers,” Nicolette admires the vibrant blue shade the flowers still held. Her fingers delicately move the petals to search for imperfections– as if the flower could have withered away at any point. “They’re really easy to find since they stand out so much.” Nicolette wouldn’t tell Michael, but somehow they reminded her of his blue coveralls if they weren’t so filthy with dirt, grime, and blood stains. She smiles weakly and holds them up to Michael, in either fear or genuine kindness. “Are you wanting these?”

[playwithhisfood]

his gaze catches on the flowers. there is a moment of interest. he has not seen these before. then it is gone. he thinks about the prey again. he reaches out. takes the flowers. he is not looking at the flowers. he is looking at how his hand is larger than the prey’s. how it would be easy to crush the fingers, break the arm… he feels heat. but he is still deciding what he wants.

he pauses. deliberates. then steps to the side. opening a path. giving the prey an escape.

he will grab the prey when she walks through. but she does not know that.

[mademoiselle-historienne]

Her head tilts as him before giving a soft laugh. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Nicolette remarks, taking interest in the way he observed the flowers in her hand. In a strange way, it was endearing to her. But her trust isn’t automatically won over by his adorable actions. One too many jumpings and assaults in her past life have taught her not to easily trust men of his stature, strength, and height. She’s not stupid, and knows he’s planning something.

Nevertheless, Nick didn’t falter one bit in her facial expression and movement. She takes a small pace backwards and motions to the opening he just made. “No, please. You should go first.” Nicolette smiles kindly. “France is known for their overwhelming politeness, and I have to uphold that good reputation. I don’t mind if I’m a little late to my next trial, either.”

[playwithhisfood]

he watches the prey closely. there is a battle of wills between them. she knows he will harm her. it does not matter. he will still win. the prey has somewhere to go. he does not. so he simply angles his chin at the opening, not moving towards it himself. and he waits for her to make a decision.

[playwithhisfood]

(It is hopefully time to catch up on my replies...)