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Mike Driver
todays bird
JBB: An Artblog!
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
styofa doing anything
Kiana Khansmith
ojovivo
DEAR READER
tannertan36
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Peter Solarz
blake kathryn
trying on a metaphor
tumblr dot com
d e v o n
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
h
we're not kids anymore.
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seen from Singapore
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from T1
seen from Türkiye
seen from Singapore
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@swatchkaard
Welcome!
Ben | they/them, he/him, uni/unis, digi/digis | 22, white
Our main blog is @banana-roti-cookie, this is merely going to be a hub of all of our art/writing so it’s easier to find and all in one place!
For an easier place to read exclusively our fics, we have an AO3
finished up a super cute doodle comm for @the-heart-revolving !! had a TON of fun working on this <3
hey i think there's something wrong with this barbie movie poster??
Little Lovebug 💕💕
rawr bitch!
Sweet
“ To be kind is the hardest choice of all. “
[CONTENT WARNING FOR EXPLICIT BLOOD/GORE/DEATH. Read with caution.]
I haven't written in a hot minute, but these two possessed me
Waking up felt cold, though you don't know what "cold" means. Your apparent body feels foreign to you, confusing. Nothing felt right, no noise, no warmth.
You aren't sure what was going on. So you open your eyes, awakening to a puddle of something red and sticky. It coated the body that was apparently yours.
A tilt of the head.
Lick of the finger.
Metallic, strange, not the worst thing.
At least you won't starve, you think. Are you even hungry? What is that supposed to even mean?
You're not sure what you're doing here. Or how you got here.
Is there even a you?
Who are you?
You sit up, realizing the body felt lighter on one side. Turning your head, you look around, you only see one limb attached to the body- isn't there supposed to be two?
You don't know how you know that.
You look again, you realize one of the limbs attached to the hip was weird and translucent. The bones floating around in it like it was jelly, you're not sure if you could put weight on it.
Seems this body is busted, sad! Maybe you can get a new one, you think that's how that works.
Well now what?
Looking up, all you see is a dark red tinted sky. The smell was disgustingly sweet, like rotten meat dressed in metallic candy. The nose crinkles, and you aren't sure if you like the smell or not.
You blink. Inspecting your only existing hand closer.
It was clawed, made out of the same gelatinous material as your leg. Weird.
Everything was so quiet.
You weren't sure what to do.
How to do it.
Who you were.
Why were you here.
A curious voice peeks out from around the corner, a white furred face looking nervously at you.
Your head tilts. Unsure what she said.
You raise your hand, jerkily waving it at the other creature. You're pretty sure that's how that goes. You think.
You're not sure how you know that either.
She cautiously approaches, can't say you blame her, and gingerly waves back.
You can see she's a pure white furred creature, soft and fluffy at that you'd bet.
You think she's pretty.
You feel hungry. Your stomach growls. You weren't sure it could do that.
She's concerned for you, asking questions, offering to get you something to eat. You catch her gaze looking to where your missing limb should be.
Truthfully it appears she seems to be trying to look anywhere but at the red sticky puddle you were sitting in. Was the red sticky stuff bad? You didn't think so. It didn't taste bad anyways.
You don't respond to her words. She sighs. Asking if you can even stand.
A shrug.
An offering of a hand up.
You look curiously. You accept.
Swiftly you're hoisted to the body's feet. You wobble on unsteady legs, the structure of the strange leg surprisingly sturdy. You wiggle your toes, giggling only slightly.
It's the most you've said since you woke up.
Do you even know how to speak?
You can understand words at least.
You're not sure.
A guttural grunt, trying to thank her.
You guess not.
She looks confused for a moment, before shrugging it off. Ushering you to follow her, to find something to eat. To get you cleaned up.
Were you dirty? Was the red substance dirty? That's all you were coated in. You look back down at yourself confused.
Well she seems to know more than you do.
You like her. She's kind.
You like it when people are kind to you, you think.
Slowly giving a nod, she takes your hand to slowly lead the way. You amble along, body and limbs seemingly not functioning correctly. They were jerky and erratic, not the smooth clean strides of her.
You didn't get it.
You wanted to be more like her.
She took her time with you, stumbling along, her patience a gift.
The world was a wondrous thing to you. As the two of you wandered along, you couldn't help but look around. Large structures with panes to peer inside, other creatures big and small- all looking so different. You tried to wave at them, but she stops you.
It's not safe, she says.
It's not? You feel safe. She makes you feel safe.
You don't understand, but listen to her anyway.
The deep maroon grass tickles your feet, growing from deep cracks in the hardened flat rock you walk on. Black clouds swirl around, looking like slash marks in the sky.
You see someone leaking the same red sticky liquid as you, stumbling along like you. Clutching at their gut where it poured out like a leaky faucet.
You smile, happy to see someone else like you.
They collapse and you wish them a nice nap like you did- at least in your head. It comes out of your throat as a growl.
She shushes you at that. Telling you not to draw attention to yourself. She tugs on your hand to move faster, you attempt to follow, trying not to trip over your own clunky movements.
Eventually you're tugged down a narrow corridor, led amongst the smell of something burning- it didn't smell good. Your nose crinkles. Ears folding against your head at the sounds of screeching and screaming. What was going on?
She moves faster.
Pushing open a doorway in an alley, near dragging you inside.
The door slams shut, she fiddles with various bits and bobs on the door before letting out a shaky sigh of relief.
She gives you a wary smile and apologizes, you're not sure what for.
She welcomes you to her home, offers it to you until you get back on your feet. Asks for your name. Where you're from. Question after question.
Your head tilts, eyebrows furrowing.
You don't know.
You don't know.
You don't…know.
You should feel frustrated, but you don't. Instead just feeling an empty well building up inside your soul, a piece of you missing- figuratively. You were already missing an arm.
She hums and haws for a minute. Confused as well. She says well you need to have a name!
She thinks for a minute longer.
How about Phi? She clapped her hands together. You thought it was cute. You nod, a smile forming on your face, giving a grunt of approval.
Your name is now Phi. And you wished your voice would work.
Time passes by, you're not sure how fast or how slow. The concept of time to you doesn't really make all that much sense really.
She makes a home for you in hers. You live there. You're thankful.
She treats you so kindly. You wish you could tell her how much you appreciate it.
Appreciate her.
She's so kind. So sweet. So pretty.
She tries to feed you. Many things. You choke them down. You hate how they taste. They don't fill you up.
Your stomach growls often.
She brings more food. You don't have the heart to tell her it's bad.
Do you even have a heart?
You've put a hand on your chest. You don't feel a beat. But you're alive. So you have to have a heart. You think.
That makes sense.
You can't be alive without a heart.
Right?
Time passes on.
And on.
And on.
And on.
And on.
She returns. You're always so happy when she gets home.
She's tired. So tired. It was bad out today she said. The executioners were hunting someone down she said.
Those words meant nothing to you. But you liked listening to her.
She collapses on the couch. Sleeping, wiped out from her apparent exhaustion.
You don't sleep much. You're not sure if you've slept at all since you woke up. You don't mind it. You like watching her sleep.
She's so pretty. You wish you could be more like her.
She's so kind to you. You still don't know why.
Your stomach growls.
She tries her best. You know that.
Your stomach growls.
She's so sweet. So nice.
You're so hungry.
You know she wouldn't mind you taking just a little more. You don't really ever ask for anything.
The red makes her look even more pretty. You're not sure why she started screaming. It was loud. You're startled, you grunt, trying to say it's ok you're just taking a few pieces.
Opened up from the chest outward, your claws sliding through her fur so easily. It was so soft, just like you thought. Peeling it back to drink the red juice that flowed delectably through her body.
You knew it tasted good. From the moment you woke up. Like wine that had been aged to perfection.
You wonder about the meat. The drink would not sustain you. You peel a sliver off. Then another. She wouldn't mind. She doesn't want you to go hungry. She's always so giving.
You eat.
She was so so sweet. You loved it even more now.
Sliding down your throat down to your belly, you felt so full. Tender. Sweet. Delicious. She finally was able to feed you, she must be so happy.
Bones exposed now, she looked so much like you. Still pretty, you thought.
You don't take her heart. As long as she has her heart she's alive. Like you. You have a heart. You're alive.
Your attention shifts. You look at your missing arm. You wonder.
You could be more like her. You know she wouldn't mind.
You ask her anyways, a low guttural sound, juice dripping and spitting from your lips.
She doesn't reply. You take that as a yes. Her eyes looked like glass. She's always so pretty.
Flesh rips like sinewy strings underneath your strength. Bones cracking and popping out of place. She looks like you. You look like her.
You replaced your body. You knew that's how it worked.
You'll have to find a replacement for her.
Such a waste of juice you think. Dripping and puddling all over the floor. You shrug. Throwing a blanket on her while she slept. Closing her eyes for her. It must be uncomfortable to sleep with eyes open. You guess, but you don't know for sure. You hope she rests well.
For now, however, you amble off. Only one goal in mind, to search. Replacement. Replacement.
You'll help her now just like she helped you.
You'll be so kind.
She'll be so thankful.
You'll be just like her.
So sweet. So pretty. So kind.
—
She's supposed to be dead.
Torn apart.
Treated like meat.
A voice cuts through the thoughts, she's confused.
Her eyes open. How are they opening? She has to squint, it's dark and blurry, and she can't make anything out.
She makes out a figure.
Unmistakable, yet they introduce themselves anyways. Mr. Dark, they run this part of town. Of course she knew that already.
She jerks trying to speak but air does not come out of her lungs. She tries to inhale, looking down at her body.
Maybe it was a bad dream.
She's greeted with a harsh reality.
Chest torn open, red glaring against the white fur. Pale bones peeking out from amidst the pulsing flesh as her insides were shown to the world. Blood stains the fur around the open wound, bubbling and dripping onto the floor at a slow rate.
Nauseating.
Horrifying.
A body once whole now seemingly ripped into two. A pristine white coat marred, half of her body now a leather shadowy skin.
Grotesque eyes sprout from the arm that was not hers.
She wanted to vomit.
She wanted to scream.
She could only hang her head. Staring.
And staring.
And staring.
She's alive.
But she should be dead.
She wishes she was dead.
The voice cuts through the darkness creeping into her mind.
Mr. Dark they say, wondering why they have brought her here.
She stares blankly. Unsure if she wants the answer. Unsure if she wants to know.
They answer anyway. There's a clink like a cup being set on a platter. They do not mince words.
She did die. They brought her back. How? By putting a part of them in her.
As if knowingly, the eyes growing from her look towards Mr. Dark.
She feels disgusting.
Why?
They chuckle.
Why her?
What did she do?
She just wanted to live as peacefully as she could in this place. So much pain and suffering, maybe she could have spread a little kindness. Make it a little better.
Didn't she try that already?
Isn't that what got her-
They speak. She listens.
A deal is offered. She will be their eyes, in the literal sense. The light is too painful for them personally. They must live in the shadows. She does not have to.
She gets to exist. To live. She can hardly call this living.
She doesn't really have a choice in the matter. That much is evident to her.
Why?
Because she needs to find someone for them. She likely already knows who.
She finally looks up.
Phi.
The name is uttered, voice found. Distaste on her tongue.
She's not angry. She's betrayed.
Her kindness, abused.
Living peacefully. Having a friend. Love. Happiness. It was a nice life.
It was stolen from her.
Her body was stolen from her.
The empty chest sitting on her body was a testament to her suffering. To the betrayal. To the agony.
Consumed like livestock. After everything she did.
So?
She reaches a white hand towards her innards.
Her kindness was the cause for this. Always so stupid for wearing her heart on her sleeve. Kindness was a naivety that got her killed by the very one she promised to care for.
Does she accept?
She plunges her hand into her chest, fingers wrapping around her no longer beating heart. It squishes against her grip, threatening to be crushed by the weight.
She rips it out.
She supposes, if she wears her heart on her sleeve, it might as well be literal.
The void in her chest feels larger. But welcome. Like a piece of her was lost, but in a way that felt pleasant, opening a path to something supposedly better. Feeling a wretched bitterness creeping into the empty spaces.
She smiles.
They take it as a yes.
Pleasure to be working with you. Surely you have a name as well?
A name. She had a name. But she died. She died because she was too kind. Too sweet.
A soft giggle.
It hurt.
A snort.
It hurt.
A cacophony of laughter bursts from the throat. Echoing in the dark room.
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt.
She was too stupid. Too naive. Too willing to believe this fucked up world could be anything but death and danger.
It's so crazy. So funny. How easy it was for it to happen to her.
A bitter fury swirls inside. Betray or be betrayed. An eye for an eye. Sounded so simple. Easy. Delectable.
They raise an eyebrow. Still waiting for a reply.
It laughs.
(Through the pain)
And laughs.
(Until it doesn't hurt)
And laughs.
(Welcoming the bitter taste)
Insanity, is it?
some funky pokémon fusions
two of a kind
Just a pathetic looking guy
Bad Idea.
some owed art for someone on discord! OCs belong to them <3
Late night business
"On a late night ride, Marcus has some business to attend to."
The image credit
"You there yet?"
The piece in Marcus's ear buzzes with sound with an impatient voice on the other end.
"Not all of us get to stay home and work Marc, it's a bit of a drive." Marcus mutters, voice muffled by the motorcycle helmet he was wearing. It kept his face covered, his entire head really, to which he preferred on these outings.
The moon was high in the sky, the cityline lit up and glowing against the dark sky. The backdrops and buildings flash by in a blur as Marcus revs his motorcycle to run faster, speeding between few cars still out on the roads this late. In a bustling city like Cadenza, there were moments where even it could sleep.
However, while the city slept, the renegades awoke. Soon to disrupt the peaceful slumber.
"I'm almost there, just around the corner. You ready?" Marcus speaks, earpiece chiming again.
"Uugghhhh, It's about damn time! I was growing soooo old waiting for you to arrive, I don't have all night you know."
"Is that a yes I hear in that whining?"
"Yes dumbass."
Marcus chuckles to himself for a moment, silencing himself as he pulls up to an office building. There was nothing super outlandish about it, just another building that blended into the world of Cadenza City. Nothing special, nothing for anyone to be interested in. No, not the building anyways, but who was inside of it.
He puts the bike in park, kicking down the stop and resting it on the curb. Marcus hefts himself off the motorcycle, letting it lean as he meanders casually up towards the large glass entrance doors. He rotates his neck, his muscles letting out a pop.
"Check." Marcus mutters, more serious now, waiting in front of the entrance.
There's a prompt reply, the teasing tone now absent from the voice in Marcus's ear, "Doors unlocked, cameras are down. Already pulled the front guard to check out an alarm on the 3rd floor. Free to go in, but avoid the elevators. Target is on the 6th floor main office."
Marcus pushes open the doors immediately, glancing around the front entryway, making sure the coast was clear.
"Stairs are to your left, second door down the hallway. And make it snappy, I can only keep the firewall down for so long."
Tugging on his gloves, Marcus quickly heads towards the staircase, knocking open the door and looking up at the winding staircase. He sighs to himself, "Why can't I use the elevator this time…?"
Marcus can feel the eyes roll as he sprints up the stairs towards the 6th floor.
"After recon, I noticed that the guard watches them closely, if he spots even just one of them moving he will know something is up. Better safe than sorry."
Sighing, Marcus nods, knowing better than to consistently make verbal responses when stealth was the key. Minutes slowly passed, step by step, until finally he made it to the 6th floor.
"Check." He murmurs again, resting his hand on the door push.
"Guard none the wiser, target still in front office. Cameras down in the hallway and office, straight walk through the cubicles. All doors unlocked. Proceed."
Marcus nods, pushing open the door, glancing around cautiously.
"Be sure to stay silent, I can't control the alarm button, so you must make sure the target does not press it. Do not draw attention to yourself, which I know you love doing."
Marcus wants to snap back, but he knows better than to do that, instead crouching closer to the ground as he weaves through the various cubicles. Occasionally he glances over the walls, peering over towards the main office near the back. He can spot the silhouette of a man behind a desk, the glass windows of the office allowing the owner to peer out over his employees. A constant reminder of always being watched and scrutinized
Marcus's eyes narrow, speeding up, stalking towards the office ever so carefully- wary of drawing attention to not cause the man to set off the alarm. It would be no problem so long as he's able to get the first word in…
His breath barely fogs up the bottom of his mask, sweat beading in his forehead. Marcus kept his eyes locked on the room, until he was at the last cubicle before the door to the office. Just a few more steps.
Waiting for a moment, Marcus peers around the side of the desk just barely, seeing the man intently focused on his work. None the wiser. Marcus bet he could stroll right on through if he was quiet enough.
Hm…
Well, he has to get into the office somehow.
Marcus flexes his fingers, tongue swiping out and licking at his lips. His heart beats loudly in his chest as his body tenses, pushing himself up onto his legs and oh-so casually sauntering over to the door, flinging it open dramatically- finally calling attention to himself.
He only had a few seconds.
"What!? Who the hell are you!?"
The man jumps in his seat, thrown back against it in surprise. He scrambles around, reaching and feeling around the bottom of his desk for the alarm button.
He only needed one.
"You don't want to sound the alarm" Marcus speaks calmly, clearly, "I just want to talk." He takes a few steps forwards, unafraid.
The man hesitates at Marcus's words, the panic subsiding almost immediately as he leans back from the table. The man folds his hands together, glaring at the intruder. Marcus smirks under his mask, checkmate.
"Alright then, talk. Who are you? Why are you here?"
Well…now that he was listening…
"Who I am is unimportant." Marcus states, "I'm more interested in who you are. Why don't you tell me?"
The man swallows, taking a minute before replying, "I'm Jethro Ducker, I own this company. I suppose you already know that though, don't you? So I'll repeat, why the hell are you here?" Jethro's eyes narrow, body tensing as it struggles, internally conflicted, knowing that he should press the alarm button but…
"Right, right, you own this company." Marcus shrugs, rolling his eyes, "So, I suppose you own the damage it's been causing too?"
Jethro looks taken aback, gasping like a fish out of water, "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about-"
Marcus's eye twitches. They always denied it. Trying to save face. It pissed him off.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Marcus slams his hands onto the desk, leaning over it into Jethro's space. Jethro leans back, chair tipping, staring into the darkness of the stranger's helmet.
"I can assure you that we are a reputable company- I have done nothing to warrant this! I suggest you leave now before I call the guards!" Jethro hisses, glancing around nervously, feeling sweaty the more the conversation continues.
Marcus had to laugh, but it was cold, devoid of any humor that it usually held, "Reputable? What's reputable about skimming your employees wages?"
Jethro lets out a gasp of air, but Marcus refuses to let him protest again, the coward's words grating on his ears.
"Ya think no one would notice? Just take a little off the top, nothing no one would miss. But then ya got greedy, your company got bigger, and ya kept taking moooore and moooore." Marcus continues, a growl rumbling in the back of his throat, pressing down into the desk as if trying to break it in two.
Growing more annoyed, Marcus exhales deeply, growing more agitated with the thought of families, people, just everyday persons living paycheck to paycheck while this man lived in luxury off of their work. Their money.
It wasn't fair.
"I-" Jethro stammers, eyes darting around the room, "I don't know what-"
Marcus's fist slams on the table.
"Now you listen to me Jethro," The man snaps to attention, hanging on very lulling word that pours from the stranger's mouth. Almost enchanted.
"Tell me the truth. I know it, you know it, if it's somehow not true then face me like a man and tell me I'm wrong." Marcus knows he isn't, he knows Marcello has years of evidence compiled, evidence of Jethro's misdeeds.
Jethro's gaze snaps back to Marcuss helmet, trying to stare at where he assumed his eyes would be. Only meeting the darkened glass that looked similar like a black void, ready to consume him. Staring deep into it, only catching hints of his reflection, eyes wide and nervous.
"..." He's silent, before sighing, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, "Fine. So what if it's true? It's my word against yours, and I think my words hold more weight than yours." Jethro scoffs, trying to fight back.
Marcus's eyes narrow, bristling at the admittance. He goes quiet for a moment, staring down at the other smug man who thought he had somehow won.
How dare he toy with other people's livelihoods like they don't matter.
Stifling the snarl in his throat, Marcus's voice booms, echoing in the empty office, "You're right, they won't listen to me. They'll listen to you."
A smug, nervous, grin slowly inches across Jethro's face.
"However."
The grin freezes, Jethro's eyes widening as Marcus reaches out and drags him out of his seat by the collar, forcing the other man to face him dead on.
"You will listen to me." Marcus's voice drips with a poisonous honey, addicting to listen to, but every bone in Jethro's body screamed for it to stop- but was unable to tune it out, every word forcing itself into his ears and into his mind.
"You are going to make a phone call. You are going to call the police. Then you are going to confess to your crimes." Marcus leers, "Then after that, you're going to give back everything to the people you stole from." Marcus throws Jethro back into his chair, the man hitting it with an oomph!
"Do I make myself clear?" It's a demanding tone, Marcus's masked face glaring down at Jethro as it's unending void.
Jethro is silent for a minute, blinking slowly, before nodding numbly. "Yes, I understand." His voice echoes, like the answer was forced from his body.
Marcus takes a step back, "Good." He meanders back towards the door while Jethro reaches for the phone, gaze distant.
"Oh and one last thing," Marcus looks over his shoulder as Jethro looks up at him, "I was never here."
"You…were never here." A dull echo.
Marcus waves, there it was, before exiting the office and listening to Jethro dial the number in his phone. A wave of contentedness washes over him, pleased with his work. Knowing that the people would finally get what was rightfully theirs- and this scum would be rotting away in prison.
However it wouldn't take long for the authorities to arrive, and Marcus wanted to be long gone before then. He lifts a hand to the side of his head, calling to Marcello as he races back down the way he came- making sure the guards were out of the way and he could safely make it back outside without tripping any of the security.
As he makes it back outside, he hops back onto his bike, listening to the quiet city slowly fill with the sounds of sirens nearing closer and closer to his location. He revs up his motorcycle, pushing up the stand and bursting back out into the streets. It was like he was never even there, blending back into the night and heading off deeper into the city.
Marcus looked forward to seeing the breaking news in the morning.
ever adopt the creature you accidentally scared into passing out?
I spent too much time on this <3 (for the record my name currently in game is Tagora LOL)
also sum mlp ocs again
yea i still draw sometimes
I can’t stop thinking about him
based on this image!
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