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taylor price

oozey mess
noise dept.

Kaledo Art
AnasAbdin

Andulka
Claire Keane
Not today Justin

JBB: An Artblog!
YOU ARE THE REASON

Discoholic 🪩
Game of Thrones Daily
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

Love Begins

titsay
hello vonnie
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art blog(derogatory)
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@immawritert
okay, so the sonic 06 fandub is great and all but it can’t top the best moment in cinematic history
Smh
Bruh haven't been on this account in 5ever this shiet superfragilistic
.-.
Yes, I've been writing fanfiction on a different tumblr account why u ask
I love how all of the Batman villains are like “ah he’s not at the manor, it’s defenseless! and then alfred just racks an AK-47 and is like pull up bitch
Batman’s Villains: The butler will be easy prey!
He’s just an old man...he doesn’t have any of the Batman’s gadgets or training or fighting skills!
Alfred: Oh my you’re right
There’s something else of Master Bruce’s I don’t have as well
(Cocks a shotgun) A CODE AGAINST KILLING
Batman’s Villains: Wayne isn’t here to save you old man!
Alfred:
Alfred is the original “Call an ambulance --- but not for me”
@dragonpuppies I spent way too long on this
I love that the only thing that keeps Alfred from killing people is the fact that he would have to clean up the blood.
Monster Hunter Sour Man
Views: Harris
Walking through the dark streets I patrol, whistling a soft tune. Killing monsters is what I do, and they tend to be out at night more often. The creeps probably think it’ll be easier since humans can’t see in the dark well.
I hear this rustling, though. Coming from an alley in between a restaurant and a music shop. I raise an eyebrow, and sigh. I walk to the alleyway, making sure I have my machete at my side. When I come upon a trashcan, overflowed with garbage and bags piled up on each other, I see something- no, someone, lying behind them.
He was beautiful. Bright red hair, fluffy and covering his eyes. He was pale, with light freckles across his cheeks and nose. Upon his head were fox ears, twitching slightly. He wore a sweater, and light green pants. A large coat kept him warm, and four small fox tails could be seen.
I knew I should have been scared, maybe even ready to kill him. But from the moment I saw him, his light eyes, bright and kind, looking weakly at me, I couldn’t help but blush, and my heart rate quickened.
“P-please don’t kill me..I just barely got away from a different hunter..Th-the wounds will kill me soon. So please just leave..” He spoke softly, fear and acceptance in his voice. I sheathed my machete, and rushed to move the trash bags from in front of him to take a closer look at his wounds. I long slice across his abdomen, seemingly not healing as quickly as wounds usually do on monsters. In a panic I carefully picked him up, cradling him in my arms and nervously racing out of the alley.
“What are you doing! Put me down- you’ll get yourself in trouble!” He said loudly, and I shushed him. “Er..Look guy, there’ll only be trouble if ya be so loud..So hang in there” I raced across the empty street, to my RV, which was parked in a Wally Will parking lot. I opened the door, carrying him in and quickly setting him down onto one of the chairs, him grunting quietly in pain.
“O-ouch…Thanks sir..” He smiled, and I blushed, shaking my hands. “N-nah bud its fine ya don’t gotta thank me. I gotta stitch ya up though..” I pulled a first aid kit out of a drawer, and got a sterilized needle and some thread from the kit, going to raise his sweater up. “Ah- wait you don’t have to-” He nervously scrambled back, and I held him in place, concernedly. “Look bud ya need to be sewn up..Obviously, ya got cut with an enchanted blade. None of your powers’re gonna help ya with that wound. So, relax, and this’ll be done soon, alright?” I smiled comfortingly, and he pulled up his sweater, revealing a nasty wound.
I cleaned it, and began stitching the wound up. He winced in pain a bit, and I asked him a few questions to keep his mind off it.
“So, what’s your name?” I was stitching up the first part of the wound. He twitched his eye a bit, “Uh..Dixon. My name’s Dixon.” I smiled. “Nice name! So, how’d you get into that alley?” I was halfway done at this point. Dixon chuckled nervously, “Heh. It was another hunter- really hellbent on killing me haha. So I hid behind some trashbags” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and I was nearly done stitching him up.
“..Are ya dangerous?” I ask, finishing sewing Dixon’s wound closed. He pulls his sweater back down, wincing a bit as he moves to pull his knees to his chest. “..I don’t know, ha. I um…Don’t know” Dixon looks sad, and I pout. “Uh- Well ya seem sweet enough to me, so- there’s that” I say, going to my small fridge and pulling out two juice boxes. I sit at the small table across from him, sliding a juice box to him.
“My name’s Harris. I think we can be pals.”
I did @writing-prompt-s monster prompt! ‘tis only the beginning, however!!!
Monster Hunter Sour Man
Views: Harris
Walking through the dark streets I patrol, whistling a soft tune. Killing monsters is what I do, and they tend to be out at night more often. The creeps probably think it’ll be easier since humans can’t see in the dark well.
I hear this rustling, though. Coming from an alley in between a restaurant and a music shop. I raise an eyebrow, and sigh. I walk to the alleyway, making sure I have my machete at my side. When I come upon a trashcan, overflowed with garbage and bags piled up on each other, I see something- no, someone, lying behind them.
He was beautiful. Bright red hair, fluffy and covering his eyes. He was pale, with light freckles across his cheeks and nose. Upon his head were fox ears, twitching slightly. He wore a sweater, and light green pants. A large coat kept him warm, and four small fox tails could be seen.
I knew I should have been scared, maybe even ready to kill him. But from the moment I saw him, his light eyes, bright and kind, looking weakly at me, I couldn’t help but blush, and my heart rate quickened.
“P-please don’t kill me..I just barely got away from a different hunter..Th-the wounds will kill me soon. So please just leave..” He spoke softly, fear and acceptance in his voice. I sheathed my machete, and rushed to move the trash bags from in front of him to take a closer look at his wounds. I long slice across his abdomen, seemingly not healing as quickly as wounds usually do on monsters. In a panic I carefully picked him up, cradling him in my arms and nervously racing out of the alley.
“What are you doing! Put me down- you’ll get yourself in trouble!” He said loudly, and I shushed him. “Er..Look guy, there’ll only be trouble if ya be so loud..So hang in there” I raced across the empty street, to my RV, which was parked in a Wally Will parking lot. I opened the door, carrying him in and quickly setting him down onto one of the chairs, him grunting quietly in pain.
“O-ouch...Thanks sir..” He smiled, and I blushed, shaking my hands. “N-nah bud its fine ya don’t gotta thank me. I gotta stitch ya up though..” I pulled a first aid kit out of a drawer, and got a sterilized needle and some thread from the kit, going to raise his sweater up. “Ah- wait you don’t have to-” He nervously scrambled back, and I held him in place, concernedly. “Look bud ya need to be sewn up..Obviously, ya got cut with an enchanted blade. None of your powers’re gonna help ya with that wound. So, relax, and this’ll be done soon, alright?” I smiled comfortingly, and he pulled up his sweater, revealing a nasty wound.
I cleaned it, and began stitching the wound up. He winced in pain a bit, and I asked him a few questions to keep his mind off it.
“So, what’s your name?” I was stitching up the first part of the wound. He twitched his eye a bit, “Uh..Dixon. My name’s Dixon.” I smiled. “Nice name! So, how’d you get into that alley?” I was halfway done at this point. Dixon chuckled nervously, “Heh. It was another hunter- really hellbent on killing me haha. So I hid behind some trashbags” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and I was nearly done stitching him up.
“..Are ya dangerous?” I ask, finishing sewing Dixon’s wound closed. He pulls his sweater back down, wincing a bit as he moves to pull his knees to his chest. “..I don’t know, ha. I um...Don’t know” Dixon looks sad, and I pout. “Uh- Well ya seem sweet enough to me, so- there’s that” I say, going to my small fridge and pulling out two juice boxes. I sit at the small table across from him, sliding a juice box to him.
“My name’s Harris. I think we can be pals.”
Monsters are real and roam the earth, and so do monster hunters. A hunter has fallen in love with a monster and must find a way to keep his boyfriend safe from the other hunters while also trying to not be labeled as a traitor to humanity.
...IMMA DO DIS
Pipes
When hearing someone flush a toilet, and hearing the water crash and travel through the pipes, you would most likely imagine an unpleasant medley of human excrement- but as something clinks a bit differently against those pipes, you are not hearing that.
You could possibly be hearing the light, rushing clink of human bone and flesh. Specifically, the hand of your upstairs neighbor, a young college girl with dirty blonde hair and light skin. Her eyes bright with dreams, and her mouth smart with knowledge.
However sweet your neighbor was, there were people-no, there was a person who disliked her. A tall, and stocky man, with an unkempt face and balding head. His eyes were dim, and lustful-not for body, but for blood. He was called Henry.
You see, as you sit in your apartment, reading your book and listening to tunes, he would sneak into your “secure building”, through the access of a ditsy old woman politely holding the door open for Henry. He would pass by your door on the first floor, heading for the elevator with one intention;
To take a life.
Going up to the second floor, and walking through the halls in his decade old Nike’s, Henry would stop at the door of your upstairs neighbor’s apartment-whose name was Alisha- and knock loudly. As you look up at the ceiling, smiling and shaking your head at the sound of her frantically thumping across the floor, completely unknowledgeable of what was about to happen to her.
Upon opening the door, Alisha would see Henry. His dim, lustful eyes. She saw his hand gripped tightly around a dull butcher’s knife which he found in the drawer of his mom’s old home. Alisha would stumble back, and run, tripping across her floor and screaming.
You would hear this, but you wouldn’t worry. Alisha often watched scary things, and often screamed. She often fell off her couch and to the floor. So, there was nothing to worry about... At least, for you.
For Alisha on the other hand, she would be attempting to fight 300 pound Henry off of her. Shielding her face with her arms as he swings down the knife, causing cuts across her arms and blood to splatter across Henry’s grey sweater, and across Alisha’s face. She would scream again, but you just smile, roll your eyes, and put your headphones on.
“Another night of horror movies for Alisha. What a shame for the rest of us” You would think, but again, you were wrong.
Because Henry would move Alisha’s arms and begin stabbing, and chopping away at her face. Her beautiful, dream-filled eyes, her smart, knowledgeable mouth. Torn and ripped apart by a dull knife used to make delicious meals for a happy family, now being used to stop a possible future.
Alisha would cry, and gurgle. None would hear, because Henry had the door slammed and locked shut. He would stab into her abdomen, her arms, her legs, anger filling him. “She deserves this. She steals. She cheats. She must bleed” Henry convinces himself over and over, the last shreds of his morals seeping through the cracks of this act, as Alisha’s blood seeps into the floor boards.
Long after Alisha is dead, Henry is still stabbing. He is breathless, and only stops once his eyes clear of the brilliant rush of taking a life. He stands, looking at his hands. At the knife. He begins to panic. He only planned the death- he didn’t know what to do with a body.
Henry would drag Alisha across the apartment floor, and into the bathroom. He would rush back out to grab the knife, and he would hack away at pieces of Alisha. He would hack her hand off, flushing it down into the toilet, the water rushing through the pipes and the hand clinking against them.
You would hear it. You would wonder what kind of things someone was eating for the pipes to have such a noisy thing rush through them.
But no one was eating anything strange. And no one had gone to the bathroom.
It was just Henry, flushing pieces of Alisha down the toilet.
Toast
The smell of toast in the morning, drifting up the stairs and into your bedroom is an experience unlike any other. The welcoming smell of the melted butter seeping into the bread, and the thought that once you go downstairs they’ll be your loved ones, eating breakfast and making toast.
Of course, this smell does show up when you live alone. The comforting smell of the freshly toasted bread reaching your nostrils, and reminding you of those days when the people who cared about you called you down the stairs to have breakfast. But, alas, when alone this smell either means you really really want toast so you’re smelling it, or that a stranger broke into your home with the sole purpose of making some toast.
Now, this could be entirely horrifying to most, the thought of a stranger in your home as you sleep in bed. But, in my opinion, I would be a bit happy someone looked at my apartment window and thought, “This person could be calm and welcoming enough that they wouldn’t mind me breaking in to make toast.” And this stranger would be right, because I certainly don’t mind the smell of toast.
I would hope they’d greet me happily when I exited my room, and stumbled upon them. I’d be even more hopeful for them to offer me some toast, because freshly toasted bread with butter is a fine, delectable thing, that I would forgive most for breaking into my home to make and eat with me. To the someone out there who wishes to break into homes with the sole motive of making toast, I welcome you. I’d love to sit and chat about how wonderful toast is with you, and perhaps even discuss much less toast related topics.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaa
Okay so I was super excited about being her upgraded friend but now I am scared aHahA. Like, what if I don’t like her enough to be girlfriends one day or or I am fucking up and it’s all crazy and goddamn I wanna cry.
What if I am a monster for liking her? Do I like her? Am- am I lying to myself?
I just....I am glad we’re only upgraded friends. So it’s not as scary.
FUCKITYFUCCKERS
WELP.
Almost two years ago now, maybe three, my best friend confessed to me. Some shit got fucked up and I ghosted her for a year. We met up again, and avoided talking about the whole situation for a while.
I talked about it with her yesterday, and sort of confessed to her. Kind of like;
Me: “I still kinda like you”
Her: “I still kinda like you too”
Me: “A?”
Her: “?”
Me: “...I like you a lot”
AND FRACKLE WE SORT OF AGREED TO BE UPGRADED FRIENDS THAT SEND HEART MEMES AND HOLD HANDS SOMETIMES.
Math_1
Informeus sits in his chair, comfortable and waiting for a new person to teach.
And then something-someone- appears. They were tall and thin, lacking in any facial features but a singular zero upon the center of what would be their face.
“Hello, god of knowledge, I am Zeroxen. But you can call me Oxen” The someone, Oxen, bowed to Informeus, as he blinked and then laughed. He jumped off of the chair and onto the floor in front of Oxen.
“No one has called me a ‘god’ in a long time! Call me Informeus!” He held out his hand, waiting for Oxen to shake it. Oxen slowly reached out their hand, and carefully grasped Informeus’
“Nice to meet you, Informeus” Oxen tilted their head, no change in the zero upon their face, but their voice sounded happy.
“Likewise, Sir Oxen”
broke: ancient demon falls in love with 17-year-old girl
woke: ancient demon falls in love with 79-year-old grandma, who has seen enough of the world to laugh at his cryptic bullshit and bonk him on the head with her cane when he’s being needlessly ominous
AAAAA WHY DO YOU KILLS ME WITH THIS FAQQ THE INSPIRATION I AM SO- AAAAA
Do you ever?
Do you ever feel great when you walk into a place, and you see a sign saying, "Best place to work when you're LGBT!" And you feel great that people accept you, but you're also like, "Bro, if you that desperate for employees just put up a help wanted sign"
I’m Done
Loud crashing reverberated around the small room, shaking the fragile walls. I had found these walls to be perfect, protective. Purple painted across the walls and jokes about knives and being a psychopath scattered across the floor. The perfected personas I made for Daniel to realize my worth clawing at the boxes i had put them in. Huggy Zombie Stephen, Mafia Stephen, all of them... Not enough for Daniel to even so much as think about my worth.
“Nothing. You’re just an Employee” Those words crashed and lashed against the walls. Just an employee? Just an employee?!
“Fuck you Daniel!” I stood up, screaming. “I did everything I could! Why was I not enough for you?” Tears rushed down my face.
Memories flooded me..Hosuh..The beginning of Danplan.. All of them clashing with my thoughts. Memories of happy times with Daniel clashing with my anger, and Hosuh in the back of my mind, like a little voice screaming, “Everything will be alright! It’s okay!”
But it wouldn’t, it isn’t, and it will never be alright. I saw how hard Hosuh tried, and I saw that Daniel thought nothing of me.
A white paint bucket was next to me. I dipped my hands in it and crossed out the purple scattering the walls, covering up the bits of influential green that was mixed in.
Only grey and white remained once I was done. I was tired. My eyes, red and irritated from months of tears..
“I’m done. I’m sorry”
Arthur_2
I spend time in sunny places. I open doors in warm and sunny mountains, and walk through them into quaint and boundless valleys. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m in the restricted World Five, Earth, or in Fluvia..But I don’t mind. Because though the things I was born with, and the purpose my blood gives me, I’m calm. Because Lizza is with me in these sunny places, laughing on the beaches of Florida and quietly watching the Lupucam graze the grassy hills of south Ceruela... She’s with me, and I feel alright.
Tonight I sleep under the two moons of Fluvia, Lizza cuddled against me in the sleeping bag we share. Sure, some lost souls creep on the corners of my vision but..Duties can wait. Because my love is sleeping, and I need to be still.