#Laurie strode

[cece693]

Captive (Michael Myers x GN! Reader)

Hello! So I'm trying to get back into writing and this idea came to me instantly. I hope you guys enjoy :)

Summary: You were a witness to one of Michael's killings, however, instead of killing you, he'd taken you as a prisoner. How odd...

tags: captive reader, wrong place wrong time, Michael finds you cute, I guess????

It had started out as an ordinary night in Haddonfield. You’d been walking home from a late shift at the diner, the brisk October air nipping at your cheeks, when you heard the first scream. It was faint but unmistakable—a high-pitched sound of terror that froze you in your tracks. Against every instinct telling you to run the other way, you stepped toward the noise, peering down the shadowy alley.

That’s when you saw him.

A towering figure in a white mask, broad shoulders framed by the dim glow of a flickering streetlight, his hand gripping the handle of a knife still dripping with blood. At his feet lay a crumpled body, lifeless. You couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your lips, and in that split second, his head snapped toward you.

You ran.

Feet pounding against the pavement, lungs burning, you sprinted as fast as you could. But it didn’t matter. He was faster, quieter, and before you knew it, a hand had clamped over your mouth, pulling you into darkness.

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room. The walls were bare, the single window boarded up. The only light came from a dim bulb overhead, casting eerie shadows. You wanted to try the door, but before you could stand, the door clicked open. Michael entered, carrying a tray of food—a bowl of soup, some bread, and a glass of water. The sight was so absurd it almost made you laugh. This was the infamous killer, the Boogeyman of Haddonfield, and he was bringing you dinner like you were some houseguest? You didn’t move as he placed the tray on the small table by the bed. His movements were methodical, deliberate, and he didn’t utter a single word.

Then, he reached out—a calloused hand moving toward your face, his intent unclear. You jerked back instinctively, scooting as far away as the bed would allow. His hand froze mid-air, and his head tilted slightly as if puzzled by your reaction. This was the first of many strange interactions.

Over the following days, his behavior became increasingly bizarre. He never spoke, never even made a sound, but his presence was constant. He would sit in the corner of the room, watching you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. If you tried to engage him, asking why he hadn’t killed you or begging to be let go, he would simply tilt his head, his silence more unnerving than any response could have been.

Once, you woke up to find him standing over you, holding a tattered blanket he must have found somewhere. He draped it over your shoulders like he thought you might be cold. Another time, you caught him fiddling with a small, broken toy—a doll missing an arm—before carefully placing it on your makeshift nightstand, as though it was some kind of gift.

The most unsettling thing, though, was how he seemed fixated on your hair. He would often reach out to touch it, running his fingers through the strands like he was petting some fragile, delicate creature. If you recoiled or tried to stop him, he would pause, head tilting, as though trying to understand why you didn’t like it.

One evening, the absurdity of it all reached a peak. He entered the room holding a scraggly bouquet of flowers—wild ones he must have picked outside. He placed them awkwardly on the tray of food, stepping back to watch your reaction. When you didn’t immediately reach for them, he shifted his weight, almost…impatiently.

You realized then that this wasn’t just captivity. Michael Myers, the man who had slaughtered so many without hesitation, was trying to take care of you. Protect you. Maybe even…keep you.

But why?

You were just some random witness, a bystander who had seen too much. There was no reason for him to spare you, let alone act as though you were something to be nurtured. The absurdity of it all was maddening—his eerie, unspoken obsession transforming your imprisonment into a surreal nightmare. And yet, no matter how gentle his gestures, you couldn’t forget what you’d seen in that alley. The cold efficiency of his kills, the way his knife had gleamed under the streetlight. You were living with a monster who treated you like a cherished pet, and every moment you wondered when—or if—that mask of strange tenderness would slip.

[grumpyoldhag]

So about that headcanon I have for Caleb and Feng… I do believe that after all these long adventures, tough roads, harsh shootouts and bounty hunts, Caleb had this one place he always came back to blow the steam off ang lick his wounds, which was a tiny Chinese quarter somewhere in a slowly growing city. And there was this girl of simple pleasures who waited for him personally and eagerly as he was her favorite guest. She comforted him mentally and physically and he grew a strong attachment to her, even though it wasn't love at all. She gave him something as a sign of admiration (it probably was a beautiful family heirloom, a comb or a pin, cause it was something that she held dearly to her heart and considered he most valuable in a spiritual sense) and he held it until the end of his journey. Once after another hunt he came back and found the quartal to be plundered by raiders and the girl is nowhere to be found. He searched for her tirelessly only to find out that she had to urgently move back to her homeland in a big hurry and leaving no trace. It was one of the greatest losses he experienced and happened years before Caleb himself was transported to the Entity's world. ...

Of course Feng has no interest in him and it's the one-side admiration, but every time he sees her (especially in that traditional outfit of hers) he completely looses his shit, his heart is about to burst out of his chest and he can do nothing but just stare silently and desperately, holding back his pain (and probably tears), because of how many memories these encounters arise inside him.

so… yeah, there's my ted-talk some fresh glass to chew on while scrolling through the dbd content I hope it made more sense than seemed, while I was writing it… and thank you my dear @vitece for all the references you brought me (and I chose one, eheh)♥ this inspired me to finally bring this idea to life! :)

[evilvvithin]

HALLOWEEN john carpenter, 1978

[ghostie-goo]

The previews just ended 🍿🍫

[jesterkard]

My new full portrait pack is coming out soon (next week) but I wanted to post an early-on favorite already.

[kikicolors]

🎃🔪

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Halloween II - art by Paul Mann (2018)

[somecrimsondream]

Animal crossing and Dbd!

[elliot-amy]

Halloween (1978) John Carpenter

[classichorrorblog]

Halloween (1978)

[gracesledomas]

☆ Rin's 1k Horror Celebration ☆ Top 5 Final Girls as voted by my followers ⤷3. Laurie Strode - Halloween (52%)

[theladyeowyn]

LAURIE: All right, the boogeyman can only come out on Halloween night, right? TOMMY: Right. LAURIE: Well, I'm here tonight. I'm not about to let anything happen to you.

Halloween (1978) dir. John Carpenter

[evilvvithin]

HALLOWEEN john carpenter, 1978

[fanofspooky]

Halloween II newspaper ads

[acinematicworld]

Behind the scenes of Halloween (1978)

[kainorigin]

Michael Myers is technically a possum. He has a white face, he is stinky, he appears in your yard out of nowhere and plays dead. Michael Myers is a possum.

(My possum Michael old pieces drew in 2021 and 2022)