#Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog

[ask-the-boogeyman]

This is an official plotting call post, liking this and interacting with this post shows me that you are interested in writing. I'll send you memes, asks, we can plot out threads, etc.

I really want to know who is interested in the Boogeyman. Please specify the verse in which you want to write in as it makes things a lot easier. If you specifically want to ship? We can discuss that as well, it just can't touch the following verses: [[Clawed Skies of ferality]] [DBDm.v] [[Spiders Venomous webbings]] [DBDm.v]

#( ☠┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈✁┆ ‣ It Rots and Festers Until Youre Nothing ╱RP Prompts.❫ #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog #Verse;; Evil Dies Never #Verse;; Rot and Decay Upon the Masses #Verse;; White Walls and Static Laced Lies #︶꒦꒷☠꒷꒦︶ : ̗̀➛ {{Beating Hearts & Coursing Brains;; Experiment Verse/Resident Evil}} #Crossover #Halloween Kills x House RP (Paging Dr. House and the Medical Mystery) #Franchise Original Night - RP (Blood drowned eyes and venomous scowls) #ooc;; mun speaks souls are spared

[ask-the-boogeyman]

@manufactoredxbyxdesign cont;;

One does not simply explore Haddonfield and leave in one piece. It does not matter how strong you are, what you are, or what your intentions are. The Shape has no mercy and no qualms in disposing anyone who steps foot that he has not allowed to come into his domain. The brutal slam that he addresses the leather-clad man with is not merely a warning. He does not intend to stop. He has been called many things, a monster, a devil, a child in some odd manner... The list goes on, an imbecile is just another that gets added to the pile of his mind, quietly tucked away.

He is far from stupid, he has learned how to drive the moment he got behind a wheel. He has learned how to react to certain stimuli, to think ahead, and plan ahead well into the decades. He is vastly intelligent despite the lack of school teaching and that does not falter merely due to his violent outbursting.

The halligan tool remains in his grip, white-knuckled and vice-locked like a life line. as he is pushed back, he notes the man's strength. It's not often he can be pushed back after putting a large crack into a wall with someone's body. Interesting.

Momentary surprise aside, cruel, mismatched eyes coldly take in the man before adjusting his posture and weapon. Leaving implies that you can leave after trespassing.

That is not going to be an option, unless you can back it up with strength or cunning.

#manufactoredxbyxdesign #ic reply #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog #hope this is okay

[ask-the-boogeyman]

@lettherebemonsters cont;;

The charred mask continues to stare, the ears on top silvery and pinned down for the time being. the chocolate is gripped tighter as he finally looks off in another direction, the thought of delivering the chocolates still on his mind. But this is far more important. Aggravation clearly shows in his posture as he turns back towards his house and sets the bag of treats by the pumpkin before he unclips the halligan from the loop on his coveralls.

Part of him hates Loomis, the man who made him into what he is, but there is also something else. While he can't readily identify it, the man's mind teeters between the Shape's brutality and Michael's apprehension. Gripping the weapon tightly, he finally makes a few steps towards the 'dear' doctor, eventually standing a few feet properly away, the differences clear in his attire. The bullets holes, burns, stab wounds, and it appears he's missing fingers as well. Far from what one would expect really in comparison to where he just was.

The belled charm had jingled with each step and he tries his best to tuck his chin and mask in a way to hide it... He hates the damn collar.

#lettherebemonsters #ic reply #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog #verse;; Valentines and Halloween collide #M!A Collared #M!A Cat Ears! #[[Valloween]] HarryxMichael [DBD.v]

[ask-the-boogeyman]

@the-game-warden ask cont;;

There is no hesitation as he practically barrels after Jake. Now, from a distance his mask looks stark white but as he gets closer? One should note that he is not the typical young Michael Myers. The Shape bore bullet wounds, burn marks, and his mask was in a charred state of disrepair. As he keeps up his pace, he watches the man bolt toward the trees but he does not care.

He is not going to stop this pursuit, no matter how long it takes. The messages between him and Danny made it very clear that this was the Jake that caused him to break his leg. Not only that, but he also broke into his house. Normally, he wouldn't care about what happens to others. Frank and Danny both had managed to get a side out of him that no one had managed to do in his sixty-one years of living on the horrible planet known as earth. No one else had managed to get under his skin like those two do.

So he is going to go after the annoying coward and make sure he understands that what he did? Will not be tolerated. He's not going to kill him, he's actually restraining himself as he chases the other man down, remembering how Frank wanted to get involved as well. So not only does Jake have Michael to worry about, he has a very pissy Legion member to deal with as well.

You really shouldn't have broke into his home, Jake Park.

#thegamewarden #ic reply #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog #[MichaelxFrank----ship] Bastardstandard #[MichaelxDanny----Ship] Insidiousjournalist

[ask-the-boogeyman]

vigil4nted asked:

" I know you're capable of making sound. " The idol hums out, leaning over the counter separating the two. " You just seem... Hm. Disinclined ? Perhaps that's the word. " A hum as Jiwoon tilts his head back and forth, making a show of pondering. " What would it take to get to hear you, hm ? I could make something amazing from your voice, you know. You should let me. "

The counter is what saves this pop star from the mangling claws of The Shape. Others have pleaded, raved, ranted, and threatened to get him to SPEAK and ALL have F A I L E D. The halligan remains at his side, the vacant holes of the charred mask resembling skeletal sockets more than where EYES should be boring into the young man.

Fools to the SLAUGHTER, all of them. There is little hesitation now, his arm moving with surprising speed as he goes to yank the other by his necklaces, aiming to bring him CLOSER.

Closer to kill… Closer to MAIM.

#vigil4nted #ic reply #answered ask #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog

[ask-the-boogeyman]

He's been focused on himself ever since the encounter, and a subsequent secondary visit from Frank. He's allowed it, and he's not sure just as to why. If anyone bothers him right now, however, it may not be as violent as normal. How odd. He really must be going through a mental loop right now.

#ic opener #open #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog

[ask-the-boogeyman]

Magic Anon!

Mikey is now wearing a black leather collar with spikes and an orange pumpkin charm 🎃

The immediate recoiling of having something against his neck is clear as day, hands going up to try and rip the thing off. After several attempts, getting poked by the spikes... He realizes that it isn't coming off anytime soon. Frustration hangs on his shoulders, as well as something else. He felt... Embarrassed? There's no hiding the collar, the spikes make it impossible to do so. Settling down into his chair, his arms fold as his head partially hangs with irritation, the collar jutting against his chin and the pumpkin charm dangling cutely against his collarbone.

He is going to kill you anon.

#answeres asks #ic reply #M!A Collared! #Applies to most verses #[[Spiders Venomous webbings]] [DBDm.v] #[[Laced Hearts]] DannyxMichael [DBDm.v] #[[Clawed Skies of ferality]] [DBDm.v] #[[Rabid hearts]] FrankxMichael [DBDm.v] #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog #Verse;; Evil Dies Never #Verse;; Rot and Decay Upon the Masses #Verse;; White Walls and Static Laced Lies #︶꒦꒷☠꒷꒦︶ : ̗̀➛ {{Beating Hearts & Coursing Brains;; Experiment Verse/Resident Evil}}

[ask-the-boogeyman]

@pseudodead asked for a starter

The last encounter had been one that involved photographs and apprehension. A matter of repayment having gone unanswered between the both of them. What stands before the stygian gaze now was the visage of injury dripping in crimson. A stiff posture, rigid stancing that yielded no informative tells of how the larger killer felt in regards to this bleeding man's presence. The near silent treading of boots against the old, wooden slabs of flooring are the only give away that he is near, watching the man seemingly rummage about his kitchen like a mouse looking for cheese.

The Shape does not stop the man, not yet, as he keeps a cold gaze on him and his apparent search for something. It isn't until he sees how frustrated the other looks by way of sluggish movements and an unsteady stance.

He does not move, he does not give away the fact he is watching until the man turns. Only then does the old, worn killer spring into action, stepping closer with a more definitive, louder step as his breathing turns to short huffs. The halligan remains at his side, clipped to his coveralls, but the knife? The knife is in his hand, tight as a vice and white-knuckled.

The only sense of brief mercy, is the fascination with the fact the other felt the need to go into the Myers house and rummage around for what he assumes is some form of medical aid. It is a suicidal option, one laced with screams of agony and blood normally.

Normally, is the key word.

The only thing he now offers is the small tilt of his head, the faint dim light of the room showcasing a hint of his narrowed, wary eyes as if to ask 'Why are you here.'

#pseudodead #ic reply #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog

[ask-the-boogeyman]

🔙   //   push  my  muse  against  a  wall .

Is it the day of trying one's luck? The Shape has already slaughtered nearly everyone aside from the short-haired little medic and this boulder of a man. She was on the ground, her guts nothing but a pin-cushion, and as he goes to grab her to end it all? A rough shoulder is slammed into his form and messes up his footing. His form collides into the barrel, knocking over the metal and letting loose the debris of fire kindle. Rebeca, as she coughs out the last of her breaths, her soft and innocent eyes watch as the two collide before passing from this world.

His eye, icy and cold remains on the current threat as the man attempts to push him into the wall nearest to them. He can see the rage, the taught jaw, clenched teeth, and snarl of a man who has just lost a friend. The Shape does not care. He does not care for any of the man's reactions as indifference remains strong in the mind of the killer even as he takes hold and manages to shove Chris into the wall instead.

With the man subdued, he places himself closer as a hand goes towards his thick throat the other threatens the knife against his guts.

#biosurvive #ic reply #answered asks #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog

[ask-the-boogeyman]

[[Open]]

Pain radiates through every facet of his body, viscous red seeps and clots with each unsteady step forward. The halligan hangs limp against the ground, posture hunched and slouched with each staggering breath. Those creatures brought forth grave injuries, their claws ripping through his body like a shredder. They were inhuman and vast, ripping into the unsuspecting Killer until they got their FILL. The Shape violently dispatched them one by ONE, fighting with gritted teeth and hatred growling deep in his core.

Despite the victory within this darkness, his body feels heavy, his stepping growing more and more uneven up until he finds the emptiness he currently walks to alter into grass and dirt. His knees finally buckle, sending him crashing against the nearest bush and tree that twists out of the earth, growing with its own strength within this eternity-bound hellscape.

Gouges of flesh and cloth showcase the severity of his injuries, blood flowing free from his arms, his torso, his stomach, and even his throat. It isn't often that he is brought to his knees, the bloodless coupled with the feeling of muscle and organs being somewhat exposed to the stale, cold air bringing a mass of discomfort that he is unused to. The killer is used to violence, it hangs with every breath and every movement, but he can only take so much.

Having succumbed to the fatigue, his head lulls forward, his breathing labored as he vaguely stares at the dirt beneath him. Rest is not an option, not in an open area such as this, but he doubts he can make it back to his home and that is an exhausting, stressful thought.

With a deeper breath, trailing to a grunted sigh; The Shape grows still, unable to do much but process the pain and injuries. Will this finally kill him, or just make him sleep for a certain amount of time?

He's never died before.

Part of him wonders what it truly feels like, in this lulled state, his vision dotting to darkness and fog.

He's so tired...

#open starter #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog #M!A Young Again

[ask-the-boogeyman]

@malevxxlence cont;;

He is being followed by this Ghostface, the one he's previously allowed to stab him to sate his curiosity... And despite this? The Shape does not find an issue with his little tag-along. Each step is taken without care, the heavy footfalls barely making a sound despite the fact he is such a large man. When they come across the mangled remains of what looks to be a survivor, he stops and stares. Art, in a way. The Boogeyman often finds himself appreciating another's kill, as much as his own.

They are all meat but they can be turned into something interesting at the very least. That can be said about this poor soul, mangled beyond recognition and laid out for all to see. The words sound like buzzing until he focuses on them, registering the topic of Fate and breathing out a faint, almost non-existent scoff. Fate is nothing, none of this matters. Another corpse for the Entity to feed on, another thing growing lifeless and cold... Similar to how he feels.

Bad luck, fate, all of it just sounds like something to put the blame on. The reality of it all? People do terrible things, it isn't about luck, it isn't about fate. It just happens. Another breath and he turns to look at the Ghost, cold eyes of mixed colors boring into him as coldly as the steel that he kills with. There is no malice, merely an answer being provided by the way he stares.

Fate and luck are stupid.

#malevxxlence #ic reply #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog

[ask-the-boogeyman]

@ubcs cont;;

This was supposed to be a normal trial, one set with agony, horror, and four hooks drenched in blood. Well, they'd be drenched, but they wouldn't be the killing blow. No, the Shape is far from an obedient little killer, often disobeying the Entity, punishment be damned. The Entity can not punish what it can not teach to fear. So when he is already perched and ready to dispatch them one by one… Something unexpected happens.

He darts after David, the one he is soon to be mistaken for, though rather than take where the lockers are, the bulky man darts over a window and ran into the trees. Hoping to cut him off, the Shape goes the path about the lockers, uncaring if anyone 'jumps' out. He's seen Jane do it, has fallen to the trick before- But it only ensures them all of a more painful demise.

When he is grabbed, however, his eyes snap in that direction before he is PULLED into the locker with whoever was stupid enough to pull such a tactic. Pressing against Carlos, he can vaguely see the features, the curly hair, the military-based outfit… His eyes watch him in the dark, malice slowly being replaced by curiosity as his head tilts and he slowly shifts against the man. The heartbeat was this terror radius he had, an annoyance of these trials he wanted rid of. Breathing out deeply, Michael eventually moves his hand with the halligan clicking it against the metal to give way to who he actually is.

Surely the other will realize he is chest to chest with the 'monster' he is so wary of? Most would scream and that makes him wonder… Will you scream, Carlos?

#ubcs #ic reply #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog

[ask-the-boogeyman]

As the cake seemed to be well-received, some time later another gift is left on the Myers’ porch. It’s a small wooden pumpkin that looks like it was hand-carved. Michael probably shouldn’t eat this one, but maybe it would make a decent decoration. Or he could just chuck it out of the realm like garbage. Either way, someone’s surely watching to see how he feels about it…

A pumpkin, made of wood? The Shape watches this time more intently as the person in question delivers it. He could not make out the details of their face, but he does see the offering. When they leave, that is when he steps outside of his home and dwelling to retrieve the gift. Picking it up in his rough grip, the object is examined and looked over before he finally decides to place it by the Jack-O-Lantern that remains lit and unwavering on his porch.

It fits there and looks good. There is no sign of gratitude other than the lack of destroying it. A sign that he enjoys gifts, of offerings in general. It does not take him long until he returns inside to his home, noting the presence of another but tolerating it at a distance. This time.

#answered asks #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog

[ask-the-boogeyman]

👀   //   grab  my  muse’s  jaw   &   direct  their  gaze  towards  yours

@wanderingsongbird

It's not often that someone approaches but he remembers her. The times he has followed her after the gala and the times she has shown that odd kindness. She is a survivor, a breathing annoyance as with most of humanity... And yet she has continuously shown that she would rather show him humanity rather than fear. It baffled Michael, and so when she touches the jaw of the burnt latex? He bristles for only a moment until he sees that she is directing his gaze to stare into hers.

Touch has always been fickle with the older killer, most of it being a mere precursor to violence. There is no violence in her actions, no tense grip or anger. His good eye watches her, narrowing briefly before he finally sighs out a small huff and lets her stare. If she wished to see the eyes of evil, so be it.

Most are afraid, what will you do, Kate?

#answeres asks #ic reply #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog

[ask-the-boogeyman]

👀   //   grab  my  muse’s  jaw   &   direct  their  gaze  towards  yours .

Dwight, you are the only one stupid enough or ballsy enough to attempt this without any proper build-up or trust being earned. His head snaps into the direction, ears flicked back with immediate irritation and the collar jingles in the process. Malice radiates off of his form as he grabs the man's shirt, lifting him up without a care. You wanted his attention, you DARED to touch his face and make him stare at you. You've got his attention now, even as he goes to slam your body against the wall.

Leaning in, his eyes can be seen, one a deep blue with spots of brown and the other glazed with cataracts and scarring. You have three seconds, possibly, before the Shape kills you.

Make it count.

#thatsaldwight #ic reply #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog #M!A Collared #M!A Cat ears! #well thats one way to get his attention

[ask-the-boogeyman]

@ubcs cont;;

A fool's goal, for any involved in the trial of the one and only Shape; The Boogeyman of Haddonfield. They scurried about like rats, only to be caught in the subsequent traps laid out by the killer. Each one is given a hard pill to swallow, taking the hook, or suffering on the ground, bleeding out like the waste of flesh that they are. It isn't long until the pieces are all where the Shape desires them to be, downing the mercenary cruelly with a careless slice of his large knife.

The man is easy enough to grab up, uncaringly grabbing whatever he can to lift him up and eventually slam him onto the hook. Everything goes according to plan until he notes the fact the area around him hasn't closed off yet. Turning his head as he looks at the now broken hook, his masked eyes linger for a moment before settling on the bleeding man. His plea was a gallows plight, a joke, surely, as everyone knows this particular killer was not known for mercy.

His head tilts curiously, however, taking a step to block the path entirely before he lifts the blade, running a thumb across the blood that still drips and clots against the steel. There are many ways this could go, all very, very painful but the Shape doesn't move. He does not move away from the spot even as the ground continues to crack and fall away into bleeding reds and embers. Eventually, he moves and reaches out with a firm grip to grab the man up, attempting to get ahold of him.

What was the end goal of this, however? Could it be... mercy?

#ubcs #ic post #Verse;; Spiders web and bloodied fog