23 he/they call me Kayle/Milo/any kind of goofy ass nickname you can come up with minors DNI occasionally NSFW slasher account https://ko-fi.com/miloadler99
Howdy! The name’s Milo or Kayle, and this here is my little patch of tumblr that I’ve (almost) entirely dedicated to horror films and the villains within them. I’ve got the odd fanfiction or two posted on here, and one day I’ll wrangle them all up into a proper masterlist. For now, though, I’m going to focus on other stuff! like actually writing and posting my little horror fanfictions.
So! Feel free to sift through my blog and see if anything catches your eye. I’ve got a handful of big projects in the works that I’m very excited for. I hope you’ll stick around to see them when they come out! Until then, adios! Also I highly encourage spam liking/reblogging. Seriously. I love seeing people keyboard smash and scream and rant in the tags and in the replies to my posts. Go buckwild.
Also if you’re under the age of 18 stay far far away from me. Do not like my posts, do not reblog my posts, do not follow me, do not perceive me whatsoever. I’m sick and tired of having to block CHILDREN on my sexy fictional murderer blog. kindly go away!
Alright!
1. A Man Without Love - Engelbert Humperdinck
2. GO! (feat. Karen O) - Santigold
3. Better Days (And the Bottom Drops Out) - Citizen King
4. Two Princes - Spin Doctors
5. Sanctuary (Opening) - Hikaru Utada
(feel free to reblog if you want^^)
@toad-in-a-trenchcoat @feralwaff1e
@chillypeper @misvryn
@inkteresting-art
the first michael cenric fic that i have written !! based on some not very original takes about what the shape is exactly. divider by @/fireflygraphics. WARNING for mentions of murder, child abuse, medical abuse, mental illness and other such angst.
By the time his parents arrive home, the Shape had retreated back into the snug little recess of Michael's mind that it usually dwelled in. Only then, with the warm fog lifted from him, did Michael feel the bitter chill of the October breeze on his skin, cheeks flushed rosy and nose starting to run with the cold. His hands are sticky and his fingers, barely able to wrap around the hilt, clench tighter.
There are strong hands shaking his shoulder and he can hear his mother scream inside the house.
Smith's Grove say they want to help him. Loomis wants to expunge whatever it is that is inside him. His parents stop visiting and he doesn't know why.
Loomis, exasperated as always, talks to Michael in a one sided conversation. "Why?" he asks. Over and over. Michael doesn't know why, not yet anyway, the Shape hasn't told him yet. The Shape keeps a lot of secrets, but Michael doesn't mind. The Shape will tell him when it's good and ready to, Michael thinks. The shape always seems to know what it's doing; Michael decides he doesn't want to know yet.
An echo chamber encapsulates them, and it's all Loomis' doing.
The Shape told him to stop talking, because Loomis wasn't listening anyway. He hears the shape more than he sees it. He only catches glimpses of it, usually, in the corner of his eye. He's learnt not to react, because people don't take that very well, but he likes knowing the Shape is there. It makes things easier. Slowly, Michael stops speaking and soon enough he stops listening because its not like Loomis ever said anything important anyway. Michael withdraws himself enough that the Shape can get a better view. Enough that the Shape can take over for him sometimes, when the meds are far too strong or he's been in his cell for far too long and he's so cold and he can't stop his hands shaking and --
The Shape catches him.
Ten years go by and the Shape starts to show itself more clearly to him. Now it's always close by. Michael can feel it and, more importantly, he can see it, in the windows beyond the bars and in the cold, chrome fixtures of Smith's Grove. It still hasn't answered the question - it would answer, Michael thinks, if he asked. But Michael cares less and less about the why these days.
Five more years and Loomis tells him he's being re-tried. Tells him if there's any justice in the world they'll be sending him to Litchfield and Loomis can finally wash his hands of him because by god he'd tried, hadn't he?
The Shape doesn't approve of that; the Shape says, Let's go home and then devours him, submerges him in that soft, safe warmth he yearns for on the worst nights, and guides him all the way back to Lampkin Lane.
Michal is home. The haze of longing covers up the battered window shutters and the film of dust on each and every window pane, even to Michael's long since disillusioned eyes.
Michael lets the Shape do this for him. Because the Shape is all Michael's ever had. It's not the devil, not like Loomis always told him. Loomis never knew what he was talking about. No, the Shape wasn't the devil at all. It's not even evil. It's a part of Michael, the part of him that whispers in his ear and looks after him when no one else does.
It grew and grew until Michael couldn't quite tell where he stopped and the Shape started.
The front door is locked but there's a window around the side of the house that never did latch properly. Inside, every room is empty. Confusion washes over Michael as he stands in the living room of his desolate home. Upstairs is empty too; his bed is gone, so is his sister's vanity table. Haddonfield stretches out beyond the window, identical houses and identical lives and Michael can't pull himself away even as the sun starts to rise and the golden glow of it hurts his eyes after so long in the dark.
Before the exhaustion of 100 miles travelled can overwhelm him, he sees the Shape behind him in his reflection, it push him back into the darkness. Just for now, it promises.
He wakes again with blood on his lips and a sickness in his stomach.
So long has passed and Michael finds his way home, like he always does. Watches intently and tells himself, repeats over and over, that he is really there. Him.
Haddonfield never wanted him, but he is there. He'll find his way home and no one can stop it.
With a knife against his neck, Michael can't see the Shape at all. Can't hear it. Can't even feel it and for the first time in a long, long, long time, Michael is scared.
When Laurie's fingertips, dripping with his blood, brush against his, he can't help but try, as useless as it is, to hold onto her.
Endless nights and twitching limbs and comfort that no one else would give him --
Your time spent enjoying the creative process is infinitely more valuable that any final project you create. So stop putting yourself down for never finishing or posting those WIPs because every moment you spent creating something you loved is a moment not wasted. Your progress and talent is measured by your passion not your number of posts.
well. Ya bitch has COVID, a week off from work, and an ungodly amount of medication to take for the next 7 days. at least it’s three paycheck month so I won’t be terribly gutted financially speaking
Do not vote on this poll. Restrain yourself. Hold back your curiosity. Tamp down your defiant streak. Feel free to interact with the post in other ways — but whatever you do, do NOT vote.<br><br>Check back in a week to find out how good Tumblr users are at delayed gratification.
I have zero self-restraint and voted the very first time I saw this post
I restrained myself the first time I saw this, but eventually I caved
Voting ended onMar 9, 2023
Reblog for a larger sample size for no sample size at all, because obviously nobody will vote
Seriously though, to any 13/14 year olds, you're a child. You might still be in middle school. Please don't worry about what position you like in sex. Worry about passing your tests
In the same token though, you are not wrong or bad or dirty or gross for wondering about these things. But please be extremely careful exploring these topics. In the same way you have to be critical of the sources you might cite when writing a paper for school, be critical of the sources where you’re finding out about sex and sexuality. There’s nothing wrong with being curious. But there’s a lot of people confidently spouting inaccurate and dangerous information.
Thank you for treating teenagers like teenagers. I see so many things directed towards "teens" and they are invariably written like they're for 5 year olds, 12 year olds, or adults. Let teens be teens
#and seriously. dont join nsfw communities #i know it feels patronising and annoying and you feel like its ok but seriously dont #its really unhealthy and will affect u later on
