In John Carpenter's Halloween, Michael Myers was played by a rather scrawny 145 lbs, 5'11 tall Nick Castle for most of the movie. Carpenter wanted an actor with an "angelic" face for the unmasking scene to contrast with the slasher's psychopathic actions, and thus Tony Moran was cast for the single scene.
All this to say I think Michael should be a twink lol he can still be stupid strong for no reason but make him cute
I feel like they’d have a very interesting dynamic. They’d probably be somewhat aware of each other’s existence based on rumors from other humans but if they’d actually meet they’d butt heads immediately.
A sort of—- rage baiter vs person who falls for said rage bait
I really wish I could make more. I have a lot of ideas involving these two. But maybe for another time I suppose…
hey i know you’re doing prompts for the month of october but i just wanted to say ive never been so into a story so quickly as i am into winston x reader. im wondering if you’ll continue it at all? :) either way just wanted to share my appreciation for it! happy halloween 🎃
October was a rush! Monstertober was tough but also lots of fun. Happy Halloween to you too! Well, Halloween is long over but the spirit lives on, right? I needed some time to think about what would happen next in this story. I hope this gives everything it's supposed to give <3
Boogeyman x fem reader - Part 2
(Part 1 here)
One night an intruder breaks into your house. It's about two in the morning when you wake up and walk groggily to the kitchen for a glass of water. You hear something shuffle in the dark.
"Winston?" You call out.
Glass in hand, you switch on the kitchen light only to find a burly man with a beanie pulled over his face standing mere feet away from you with a kitchen knife. Your first instinct is to throw the glass at him. Water splashes against his jacket and the glass shatters against the counter.
"Winston–"
A large gloved hand clamps over your mouth.
"Shhh," the man says, his voice grating against the shell of your ear. "M'not gonna hurt you."
Your heart is threatening to tear its way out of your chest and there's a bitter tang of copper on your lips. Why is there blood on his glove? Did he hurt Winston? You squirm fruitlessly and the man grunts and slams your back against the fridge. The air is knocked out of you. As you suck oxygen back into your flattened lungs, you see the shadows behind the man move.
Something about the way your eyes widen has the intruder turning to look. You did call for someone, so he's expecting your partner or maybe a relative, not a form with shaggy fur and horns. Under the kitchen lights Winston looks like a towering smudge of shadows with two red dots for eyes. His long arms are tipped with hooked claws and his body posture is slightly hunched, muscles primed to pounce.
The man sputters, his grip on you loosening. "What the fuck is that–"
Winston growls. The sound is harsh, straight from his chest. Goosebumps rise on your arms as his mouth opens, a seam of pink in all that black. Fangs jut from his upper jaw, festooned with saliva. The man tries to run. Winston watches him scramble away. He waits until the man is a safe distance from you before he leaps at him. The man hits the ground like a sack of potatoes. You see a flash of silver.
"Winston, look out!"
The boogeyman lands heavily on the intruder, his claws screeching against the floor. The knife sinks into his fur and he bites down on the man's arm in retaliation. There's a wet crunch and the man howls. Winston allows him to get up and stalks after him all the way to the door. The man is so terrified that he keeps falling over, clutching his lopsided arm and shrieking with pain.
Winston lets him go, although he continues to stand in the front door, snarling. There's a trail of blood on the floor, as well as spots of a substance dark as ink. You're surprised that no one seems to have been disturbed by all the noise. It's quiet outside except for a dog barking down the street. You shakily call out to Winston, but he doesn't seem to hear, snuffing and growling into the night. You hug him from behind, burying your face in his fur.
"Winston."
Some of the tension drains out of him and he turns, speaking in a voice garbled with low rumbles and growls, rubbing the blunt curve of his claw against your cheek.
"I should've come sooner."
"You came at the right time. He's gone now. I'm okay." You press your hand against his chest and feel how the fur is wet and clumped. "You're hurt!"
He catches your hand and draws it so his face, nuzzling your palm. "I heal fast. Let me clean the floor."
"I'll help."
The door needs a new lock, but that can wait till tomorrow. You're positive the man isn't going to come back. Together you clean up the blood. You're getting your first proper look at him, and you notice how the kitchen lights don't catch on his fur properly. The light seems to seep into him, so he almost appears like a flat shadow. Several times you saw shadows in your bedroom, shaped like a figure. But every time you turned on the light they were gone. Maybe that was him all along.
Once the floor is clean and the broken glass has been taken care of, you pull him into the bathroom. He stands still for you, his head tipped down so he can stare into your eyes. You part his fur and find a tender scar underneath. It really has healed, what a relief. You gently wipe his fur clean with a warm cloth, which quickly turns soot-black from his blood.
"Can I sleep beside you tonight?" Winston asks. "I don't want to leave you alone."
"I'd like that," you say. Now that the adrenaline has worn off you're shaky and cold.
You crawl into the bed and settle down, only to sit up right after. "Why are you on the floor? I thought you said you wanted to sleep beside me?"
His eyes glow softly in the dark. "I meant beside your bed."
"Oh. You can sleep up here."
"I am fine on the floor."
"But I'd like you to sleep on the bed with me. Please?"
He hesitantly agrees and gingerly creeps onto your bed. He wants to perch on the edge, but he's too big for that. You tug him closer.
"Lie down with me. Please?"
"Alright." He finally lies on his side facing you, his breath stirring your hair.
He smells like you and it's a scent you're becoming addicted to. You curl up beside him and despite the fear that you'll be unable to sleep, you're out like a light in a few minutes. You wake up the next morning, thrilled to find your gentle giant still sleeping with you, so big that his legs are dangling off the end of the bed. His fur isn't soaking up the natural light, so he's no longer a sketchy shape. The sunlight glows against his soft body, turning his fur a tawny shade with strawberry red highlights. He's beautiful. You tuck yourself against him, enjoying his body warmth.
"I love you, Winston," you whisper to the sleeping boogeyman.
With your face buried in his fur, you miss the way his eyes pop open in surprise and as you doze off again, you don't notice his heart beginning to beat faster.
The word "boogeyman" has come a long way, and at some point divided off etymologically into both "Bugbear" and "Boggart", which is like a very spicy "Brownie".
Bugbears and Brownies look so different now, but they came from the same boogey woogie ancestor.
