Michael Knows Best

I hope we can evolve as a species where there are no longer book clubs alone, but fanfiction clubs as well. Just a bunch of nerds reading well-made fan fictions from their favorite fandoms on a weekly basis.

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What do you think about your mun’s sense of humor?

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Is your mun a nice person?

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Do you get jealous if your mun has other muses? (asked by @tesla-survivor as well!)

The silence continued, not daring to speak as he pulled her along. Cautious eyes took in the surroundings, making note of what she could see within the maze-like institution. Admittedly the corridors still had yet to be memorized, and the constant shifting really did not help with that. What he was planning was still a mystery to her, the idea of him just dragging her along well he murdered was the main assumption despite how flawed the idea was.

Upon entering the room she looked back to him, questions reflecting within her own eyes as she met his stare. She stiffened from the shift of contact, letting him guide her towards the corner obediently. The close proximity of the knife to her neck was… unnerving to say the least, a reminder of the danger involved in her situation as if she could forget. She followed his unspoken direction of crouching as she felt the pressure, eye contact remaining unbroken. A nod followed at his gesture to remain quiet, something she could do very well.

She watched him leave, body completely still even after he was out of view. The lack of heartbeat in tier one was nothing new but to not have it at all… her heart was pounding viciously at the thought. If she dared her altruism, she would have no idea he was around even if he was practically touching her; well, the heavy breathing may give it away. She pushed the thoughts back, gulping as she listened to what was either a faint generator or just general ambience.

The longer the silence went the more dread filled her, dread most certainly caused by her current inability to do anything. The thought was killing her inside as she shuffled in her position, she had to do something.

Standing despite her better judgement,  she cautiously made her way towards the door. Peering out steadily for any sign of movement or living being. It felt like forever between each of her movements and positions, deciding what to do taking longer than it should. It felt like forever since she had felt this way, the memories of her first trials coming back to haunt her. Hopefully, this would have a better outcome.

She pushed herself from the doorway, keeping herself small to avoid detection as she snuck down the halls. The usual instincts coming back as she stayed close to hiding places, her need for alert eyes heightened. Nea’s scream from the hook grabbed her attention instantly, cursing slightly at the lack of notification. Another downside to not technically being apart of the trial.

At least she knew the direction, heading towards it with both swift and mindful steps. If she wasn’t apart of the trial he couldn’t see her scratch marks… right? Just needed to make sure not to vault quickly, not wishing for the sound to be heard as she approached the hook. Reaching up she pulled the punk off the cursed thing, whispering for her to run before parting ways.

The lingering desire to heal the other was there as she hid nearby, but the risk was too great with her current status. Now she just needed to avoid Myers, praying he’d come back to check before seeing that she had disappeared. Then she could sneak back and pretend she never left… it was a weak plan but it was all she had.

Coming towards the small room where he had hidden the botanist the masked man considered how to keep the woman in check. Given her skittish nature it was possible that she wouldn’t stray too far from her instructions; however, knowing her habit of being overly self-sacrificing he could not be too sure. What would drive her more, a sense of self-preservation or a sense of heroism?

One look at the empty space where the knowledgeable survivor should have been gave him a good indication of the more dominant trait. The sight of the punkish survivor being pulled off the hook with no real indication that she was removed confirmed his suspicions. How frustrating, it seemed as though he would have to remind his captive how imperative it was that she listen to his instructions, lest she’d have to learn in more life-threatening ways.

With an internal sigh, he began walking back to the location where he had hooked the other female survivor, using the abilities granted to him with the scratched mirror to find her healing with ease. Discovering the most optimal way to get to her without him being in sight for the longest time he walked towards her and knocked her down before she could finish patching herself up. The masked man could not help but feel frustrated that he would not be able to find the botanist in the same way given the fact that she was not actually a part of the trial. Instead, he would have to listen out for footsteps of the woman he could not view when he was stalking. It was silly in the worst way that the Entity was not granting him the chance to view the botanist as well with his mirror. In fact, it seemed intentional, almost as if the being was taunting him and his plan.

A pained scream echoed throughout the hallways once again, as the sneaky survivor cried out for the second time on the hook. She did not have much time to vocalize her anguish, however, as the Entity’s spider-like tendrils descended upon her quickly; the limbs were attempting to stab the very life out of her while she struggled. Michael tilted his head as he stared the woman down for a few moments, amused by her fight against her inevitable demise. However, there was no time to dwell on the future kill; he still had three more survivors and a disobedient botanist to find. Honestly, he was perfectly discovering either first.

Walking away from the woman, the Shape narrowed his eyes as he began to stalk, noticing the presence of another behind where had just hooked the sneaky survivor. How pleasant it was to see the veteran so placid and ready to be sacrificed. Relaxing from his stalking state Michael made his way over to the male, only to bump into the little botanist on his way there. A minor fury gripped him, but he held off from hurting her then and there.

‘I see you have been busy.’ His signing was curt and choppy, an indication of him being irritated. ‘I suggest you go back to where I put you, little botanist, before I make sure that you don’t interfere again.’ The signal that the veteran had freed the female survivor and the sound of two generators being completed during his lecture only caused him to become more irate. ‘Return to your room and hide, I have more pressing matters to attend to.’ Walking past the woman he did not spare her another passing glance. While a proper punishment was a possibility that had crossed his mind he no longer had any time to waste on her. Three generators and two hooks? It was beginning to look like a loss for the young killer.

[If you drink tea too late you’ll end up being awake all night just contemplating life.

‘You know, lying isn’t going to help you... You’re also really bad at it.’

Approaching his fellow slasher Michael’s eyes narrowed, the shadow from his form engulfing the other’s body and casting it into darkness. There were various thoughts running through the masked man’s head over the mere idea of this relationship. Unfortunately, none of them were good and most of them were dangerous. ‘I’m actually very curious as to what the thought process was when approaching my sister in hopes of a romantic relationship. Did you believe I’d be fine with this? Or maybe that I would never find out? Perhaps you thought that I would just want her to be happy?’ The grip on his knife tightened as he rose it to the man’s face, the tip of the blade only centimeters away from Billy’s nose. ‘Did you even think anything through?’

It was frustrating enough to see one of himself fraternizing with a survivor, Quentin of all people. Yet he felt enraged by Billy’s audacity to consider this with his sister. In the past Judith was already a lost cause, having fallen into love with a male she hardly knew making her weak and vulnerable. Despite his irritation with his sister, he knew that Laurie actually showed promise. Her determination to live and quick wit was what made her survive even his pursuits. However, with this, it could all easily crumble.

‘Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.’

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Do you like your mun?

Taking some time to consider the question the masked man rested his head onto his hand, this was honestly a hard question. ‘Well, without her I would not exist, so there’s that. I appreciate when she allows me to kill people. Anything other than that though is trivial, so we’ll just say she’s decent enough.’

What’s your favorite thing about your mun?

Another one he has to think more about, being positive is hard. ‘I can respect that fact that she enjoys taking charge of a situation and doing things her way. She also lets me be as brutal as I want, nothing is more cathartic than killing people mercilessly.’

What do you think of your mun’s style?

‘I’m not the best when it comes to style, but I’m pretty sure just wearing a huge collection of sweaters and leggings when it’s cold is not stylish. In fact, why does she even buy new clothes?’

What is something you think your mun could change about themselves?

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What’s your least favorite thing about your mun?

Tapping his chin the younger killer signed, ‘Where do I begin? She’s far too talkative, doesn’t do what she’s supposed to, and she psychoanalyzes me with her headcanons. If I wanted another Loomis I’d go back to Smiths Grove.’ Leaning back Michael shook his head, ‘Want more? I have a list.’

What’s your mun’s favorite thread?

Michael was perplexed, what threads? ‘There are actually organized threads in this mass of confusion? From what I’ve learned it’s hard for her to pick one, she just formulates insane “future plans” for her to stick me and the other unfortunate soul into.’

What was the last movie your mun watched and did you like it?

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Do you like your mun?

Tightly gripping his knife the serial killer narrowed his eyes. ‘Maybe she’d be bearable if she’d take things more seriously. Not everything can be solved with references, song lyrics, and memes. Sometimes a good stab to someone’s stomach is a better solution, preferably Quentin’s stomach.’

What do you think about your mun’s music?

Crossing his arms Michael shook his head disapprovingly, ‘I don’t get it. One minute someone is screaming into some ruined mic, the next minute someone is talking way too fast for anyone to understand them. And if I hear that High School Musical music one more time, I may actually lose my mind again.’

What do you think about your mun’s sense of humor?

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What do you think about your mun’s shopping habits?