#shapecopy

even with his mask on?  so,  corey thinks he’s nice to look at with it off?  strange...  he’s a strange boy,  indeed.  michael has never been fond of his appearance,  has never cared for it either,  but even he knows the years have not been kind to him.  his face is littered with burn scars and exhaustion weighs under his eyes,  but corey doesn’t seem to mind.  he’s...  so different,  and yet so similar to michael.  it’s why the Shape decided to leave him alive;  why he allowed him to leave the sewers after their first meeting.  there’s a curious,  almost amused head tilt from the taller,  massive hand reaching down,  scarred fingers touching the bruises left on corey’s neck.

Dark eyes moved toward the other man, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "Yeah," he grumbled as he finally raised the cigarette to his lips. "They usually have a couple more stragglers that they kick out before they throw me out." Robert considered the other for a long moment, gauging. "They'll probably go for you first."

there is not a sound from the older,  bigger killer as he watches corey,  watches as he plunges his knife through his victim,  over and over until blood stains him all over,  splattered on the walls and floor as well.  he ran off to do this without telling michael,  something the Shape is clearly confused about.  it’s why he decided to track him down until he got here,  to a nice,  big house in the rich part of haddonfield.  corey was far too easy to track down.  he waits until the younger notices he’s being watched.  //  @shapecopy​

❝ ah shit! ❞ Well that had been sharper than it looked, metal slicing a shallow cut at the tip of his index finger. That was just fucking great. Just what he needed. He’d just been about to bring it up to lips to clean it when the other had caught his wrist, licking it clean himself. That, he had not expected, and he wasn’t sure whether to find it weird or concerning. ❝ Um... thanks? You can uh... you can let go now. ❞

The distant scream sent a chill down his spine and with the baseball bat gripped tightly in hands, he carefully ventured closer to where it had come from. Mind screams at him to just turn around and get the hell out of here but if someone was in trouble, he wasn’t just going to abandon them. Nudging the ajar door open with the bat, he dared venture in, horror and disgust forming on features at the sight he’s met with. ❝ Stop what you’re doing, right now! ❞ Bat held higher, a threat of swinging it at them if they refused to listen.

What does a sane logical person do in a situation like this? They fish out their mobile and call the police and though he absolutely wants to do just that, limbs are frozen in shock. What in the fuck had happened here? All he can see is blood, it’s everywhere, and Corey stood amongst it. Yes, there were mental problems he was treating him for but he never thought... fuck, he feels sick to the stomach. ❝ What did you do...? ❞ It’s soft, quiet, as if he almost didn’t want to know.