#asktheboogeyman

[feralverndari]

@ask-the-boogeyman continued from [x]

He's not...sure how it even happened nor when it happened. West didn't remember anyone pissing him off or someone trying to kill him outside of a fight. All that's known now is the fact there's a dead body in front of both him and Michael, blood on his hands, and...some of it in his mouth, he realizes with horror. The survivor's hands shake as it settles in what he did and the fact he didn't have control over it. It's this fact alone that bothers him more than anything. After all, Death was not an escape.

And he was fairly certain it didn't seem to matter much in this realm anymore.

Right...he steadies his nerves as much as he can, simply realizing that it's a mess that he's made and on the killer's territory no less. Guilt and a rising panic are the first to rise in West, but he smothers it down, trying to get into a more logical mindset, a more calm one and less feral. Less monstrous. There is only an awkward silence as he looks up at the killer once more, taking in a deep breath as he puts on a cracking mask of barely managed calm, the terror and self disgust peaking through those openings.

"...Sorry," he manages after a minute or two, taking in a deep breath to try and steady himself as unsteady hands attempt to pick up the body that was very much mutilated. Did he even know this person...?

"I'll...clean up th' mess."

[mxlevolence]

❝ how much of the rumors about you are true? ❞ (reversed) @ask-the-boogeyman​ / accepting !

The shroud’s Stygian eyes were met with torso. Michael’s stature, a behemoth, towered like a skyscraper. And yet wholly unperturbed was the Ghostface. Instead, curiosity edged his movements. First, the tilt back of his masked head to look up at Michael’s own bone-white visage. A notable difference: there was no mesh to conceal the taller’s eyes. Second, a lift as Ghostface pushed himself up onto the balls of his booted feet, using this small increase in height to try and peer into Michael’s eyes. What he expected to find there was hard to say. Perhaps this was all merely a display of his indifference to the killer. Not out of disrespect, mind you. Be it far from the little slasher to dare to disrespect a fellow murderer; no, it was, if anything, a mark of his own carelessness, fueled by a distinct lack of fear. The worst Michael could do was hurt him, and pain and death were hardly the sort of things Ghostface shied from.

“How much of the rumors about you are true?” He asked as if the renowned Boogeyman could provide a verbal answer. “You’re certainly as tall as they say.“

[wanderingsongbird]

@ask-the-boogeyman asked:

Someone is watching the young woman outside of the trial, seemingly intrigued by her after sending that letter out. Perhaps the kind gestures have made an impression.

Kate could feel that shiver that went down her spine for a while now. She had been on her way to one of the trees she had kept some of her things in. Funny that she could find her way back to those instead of the past campfires she knew, but perhaps things moved where people did not. The songbird had long since stopped questioning the strange things in this Fog.

Though she did pause, looking around for whatever caused that spine tingle. "Someone out there?" Though she called quietly, it seemed as if it echoed loudly in these woods.

[loomiskiller]

It's midnight when the mishap happens, that the fates have brought a literal movie character into Billy's reality. Older, more grizzled, and wielding a halligan at his side? The Shape begins to walk through the yard he has found himself in, noting how the porchlight has come on. A fresh victim? Or possible ally... who's to say.

@ask-the-boogeyman

Billy being up at this hour was not uncommon. He has always had a hard time sleeping. Tonight is no different. Sam lays curled up on the couch beside him, slumbering away after falling asleep hours ago. She had fallen asleep in her own bed first, but, she woke up from a nightmare. She wandered into the living room to where her father was up going over designs and other paperwork for his job. Hocus Po.cus played as background noise for him at this point due to her falling asleep.

He hears scratching at the backdoor. Fuck. He forgot to let Cujo back in. Sighing, the design he was working on is shoved onto the coffee table. He gently moves Sam's head as to not wake her as he stands up. He grabs one of the throw pillows and he uses it as a replacement for his leg. Once he is sure she does not wake, he walks off to the backdoor. He looks out the window to see the canine he adopted shortly after Christina walked out of his life. The german shepard immediately runs into the house once he opens the door. The dog acts fearful, like something scared him. Odd.

He turns to the open door. His paranoia gets the better of him and he moves to grab one of the knives from the kitchen block. He tucks it in his belt for safe keeping. Best to have something to defend himself with if there was someone out in his yard. He flicks the porch the light on, closing the door behind him. Something just felt off. He does not ask who's there. He's smarter than that. He begins walking

"If you're some fucking prankster again, I'm going to kick your goddamn ass. Stay out of my backyard. I don't care if you're fan of Stab. You people need to learn how to---" He pauses when he sees Michael. This confuses him. "Halloween isn't for another month. I'll give you points for the costume. Looks accurate enough." Almost too accurate. And was....that weapon real? Billy could not tell even with the light of the full moon above them.

[mxlevolence]

@ask-the-boogeyman You know what Danny deserves to have? A very bloody and injured Michael making his way through the other's realm. As a treat.

What a sight to behold. From his perch on the low-hanging branch of a tree, one of the boundaries that encircled his outdoor hermit hovel, Michael's imposing form was impossible to miss.

"What the hell happened to you?" The irony of asking a mute man questions was not lost on him. Indeed, it was purposeful. Ghostface never expected an answer.

He landed deftly on his booted feet. A cursory glance at Michael's form from this vantage point revealed injuries he had not initially noticed. Interesting. Was the source a survivor, infuriated by the Boogeyman's brutality in a trial, or was it another killer? Or, more possibly, the Entity. Ghostface felt himself bristling at either idea.

"Sit down, old man. We gotta get you patched up." He gestured idly to his hovel proper, where a collection of knickknacks were scattered: killers' weapons, a guitar, one of Sadako's televisions, a mattress, a rickety table, a chair, and more. The chair was conveniently angled in invitation. "Did She do this?"

[silvcrignis]

@ask-the-boogeyman liked this post for a starter (bc the porn clogged my feed)

The twitch of her nose & flick of her ear was barely perceivable, but her immediate turn around was. Considering she was BIOLOGICALLY wired to have quick senses & reactions it was more of a DRAMATIC whip around & from WHERE her height ended, of COURSE she had to crane her head BACK some to look at him, like almost EVERYONE else here.

"..."

Two blinks of green eyes that always GLOWED like a cat's in the scant light before her head tilted.

She wasn't silent or not really moving out of any sense of FEAR she just really didn't know what to SAY to him more often than not. At least not anything STUPID & fangirly. Big shocker the Devil was a horror movie fan, stop the PRESSES!

"... Did you need something or..?" she finally settled on a silvery eyebrow raising. He didn't really SEEM like the social type so she wasn't really sure why he was in the bat caves where her blood drinking part time assistants resided... Maybe he just really liked bats?

[mxlevolence]

Cont. [ x ] / @ask-the-boogeyman

Ghostface sauntered into the kitchen as if he owned the place (or, at the very least, was a welcomed guest), stilling feet away from the Shape. Michael's half-nakedness was strangely less of a surprise than his injuries. And despite the obvious glower aimed in his direction, Ghostface appeared relatively unperturbed.

"There were some hooligans on your lawn." A thumb jabbed behind him to gesture toward the relative area of the front door. However, Danny's interest was pivoting from unwanted visitors to Michael's wet fingers struggling to remove debris from an open injury. The questions that begged to be asked weighed heavy on his tongue: a blow from a survivor or from a killer? Was it an accident? Did the Entity do this? By sheer determination--of which he had well in reserve--he was able to swallow them down. Curiosity was his lifeblood, and yet it could also just as easily be his downfall. With a being like Michael, so roughened and difficult, Ghostface found that nonchalance was his best ally. The less of a reaction he had, the better.

"You want help?" He peeled a glove off and flexed his bare fingers. "I do enough fine stitching to be able to pull stuff out of wounds."