Wow!!
Wow great story!!
Holy shit
Cosimo Galluzzi
One Nice Bug Per Day

JVL
Claire Keane

No title available
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

Love Begins

Janaina Medeiros

tannertan36
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

Kaledo Art
$LAYYYTER
i don't do bad sauce passes
sheepfilms
Show & Tell
dirt enthusiast
we're not kids anymore.

shark vs the universe
d e v o n
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@violetazule
Wow!!
Wow great story!!
Holy shit
What do you mean by That's Not A Deer in the mountains near you????
Anyone who spends decent amount of time in Appalachia knows the Not Deer. If you’ve gone on the Blue Ridge Parkway at night, you’ve probably seen him.Now: keep in mind if you don’t live in an area with a lot of deer, deer are freaky bastards on their own. They’re really big, extremely agile, move surprisingly quietly, and are extremely durable. It’s not unheard of for someone to hit a deer and total their car. Once I heard a story of a man who hit a deer on accident and decided to take it home and least get some good meat out of a bad situation. On the drive home the deer woke up and absolutely shredded the inside of this man’s trunk. They’re very cute but you definitely don’t want to mess with one. Just keep that relationship in the back of your mind. Anyway, the Not Deer is more or less what I’d call a folk cryptid. Everybody has their story about it. They’re all somewhat similar. You’re in a car at night, in a rural, heavily wooded area, and probably a bit lost. It’s not wildly uncommon to see a opossum crossing the road, see blips of little animals with your headlights. You see a deer. So you/your friends go “Oh! Deer!” and slow down in case it leaps in front of you. Then you see it more clearly. There’s just something wrong about it. There’s something about its eyes. You feel your stomach get heavy like a rock, the hair on your neck raise. You sense intelligence that you shouldn’t. It doesn’t move like a deer, it moves like a… oh god, what is that thing? Whatever that thing is, it’s not a deer and we need to leave. You hit the gas and get the hell out of there.A group of my friends got lost on the Parkway once and reemerged with a chilling story. They aren’t the kind of folks to lie or over exaggerate. Among other freaky stuff that happened, the driver claimed she saw a deer in the road. Then she noticed the deer was on two legs.
I have a story about the Not Deer from two summers ago. I lived deep in the Appalachia mountains at the time, unlike the foothills I’m in now. I was wandering in the woods, probably two thirds of a mile from my house at that point, as one does when they live two miles down a twisting dirt road with the nearest town (and therefore things to do) thirty minutes away, when I heard brush moving. I knew it was probably a harmless animal- a possum, or a deer, maybe a particularly destructive rabbit, and I turned to look.
well. hm. it was a deer in the way that a graveyard is a playground. you can treat it as such, I guess, but it won’t feel the same.
it was about thirty feet away from me, staring. wild deer don’t stare at random people to begin with- they just run away. she was breathing hard and making a low rumbling sound. I didn’t really know what to do, and I hadn’t really thought about the dangers of going near wild animals even if they are “harmless” deer, so I went towards her.
I swear to god, this thing’s eyes blanked out and it took a couple jerking steps forward, moving really strangely? and I flinched, because what the hell, and then she ran off to the side while staring at me until she was about fifty feet away. it was deeply unsettling in a way that I can’t explain and I know that that thing was not quite a deer.
I sprinted all the way home.
I’ve seen something like this myself. I would say “The joints went the wrong way” but it was more that there might have been more or less joints than you’d expect? The bends were not where the bends go. And the shape of the face was wrong in a way I’d describe as: You have a friend who only draws wolves. They’re really, really, really good at wolves. You want them to draw a deer. They try their best, and neither of you are exactly pleased with the results. There was also an issue of scale - like you gave a deer the proportions of a moose.
I’ve heard “Deer” comes from “Deor” which just means “beast” or “quadruped” so… it was definitely a Deor, but 100% not a Deer.
I collect spooky stories from other people and a friend once told me about driving back from a “ghost hunt” out in SE Oklahoma, seeing what they described as “like a deer” that stood in the middle of the road, and refused to move. So when one of them got out to go shoo it away by hand they all realized, about the same time… that it was only almost a deer. They described the collective reaction as wildly disproportionate to what they remember having seen - which was just … not quite a deer?
They said there was about fifteen minutes of foot to the floor speeding before they all, right about the same time, felt a change in mood come over them and they began to sob like “little scared kids”. It was only weeks later that they were like “You know… deer don’t look anything like that.”
@theadventurezone @spiritspodcast
strange bog girl makes a friend
Me: I want to write a thing
Friends: So write it
Me:
"Aye'up, Butch! Smooth sailin' from 'ere on out!" The Goblin said as he sat atop the soaking wreckage of his crashed hog. "Nobody in th'way now."
"I mean, what? What's wrong with me, eh? NAWH, what's wrong with HER! Don't wanna be with all o'this!" The Goblin motions over his body, looking then to the Butcher who grasped him by the scruff and heaved upwards, hauling the soaked rat out of the bloody water.
"I mean, come on, eh?! I'm loveable, I'm nice, GREAT parentin' skills, me mum always threw me in a box n'let me cry it out. LOOK HOW GOOD I TURNED OUT!" The rat-man bellowed with a horrendous shriek of a laugh, moving his metallic hand to rub his sore chest with a grimace.
The handlebars had done a number on his ribs. Dark bruising blotched out from the main point of impact, residing over the earlier marking caused by Oshu's fat foot drilling into his stomach.
"Bah, good riddance!" Spizz laughed as his pack churned loudly, sputtering out spurts of steam and reeling loudly.Slowly but surely, the rat was running out of gusto and energy, hanging limp in Butch’s hold as the halfbreed continued to lumber back towards the zepplins. “Why don’t nothin’ go right?!” He honked out, hands smacking over his face and covering his crooked nose and burning eyes.
“Mmnh,” Butch grumbled out, dragging the stilted rat up the steps before tossing the green lump onto the stilled zepplin. “Do you ever shut up?”
“How can I shut up!? She ain’t ever gonna SETTLE! I’LL NEVER BE ON ‘ER SHIELD!” He wailed out louder, causing a horrid scene on the zepplin as he thrashed madly.
As if a match had been lit over his head, the Goblin paused his writhing and stared up at the underside of the balloon. “I could just... ya know.” He waved his hand about in the air, turning his head to Butch with a sickening, curdled grin. “Yeah, me thinks I’mma do it,” he rasped out with a insidious chuckle.
Butch sighed and grumbled, looming over the cretin. “I get half of whatever... comes from this,” he growled, stooping down to grab Spizzin by the scruff of his neck, hoisting the gutter-creature up in the air. The amalgamation of machinery cackled and shrieked, rocking and kicking his legs about in the air as he was toted off. “YESSS! I’MMA DO IT!”
Hi, all 40 of you!
I just want to say, thanks so much for following this teeny blog! I’m surprised there’s 40 real folks here and when I was doing my “spring-bot” cleaning, there was only six pornies!
Hah, well!
Bunch’a love to you all!
Reblog and see what color you get!
[Based on writing styles] White: I’m really shy to talk to you, but I would like to write with you sometime! Yellow: Your writing us great! Keep it up! Orange: I can hear ____’s voice when I read your writing! Pink: I like your writing, it just needs a little tweaking! [Specify] Red: I admire your writing and stories from afar. Just know I always read them. Maroon: Eh, your writing is ok. Magenta: I aspire to write like you. Purple: Your writing needs a little work. Violet: I wish you would write more. Aquamarine: Can you write a drabble between our two characters? Blue: You need to improve your writing Navy: I have a hard time understanding your writing. Gray: You should put more description into your writing. Black: Your writing is terrible. Silver: How are you not famous for your writing? O_O Brown: Your writing seems a little bleak. Would you like some tips or advice from me?
Beatrixin just helping out ( WrA )
Those deceivingly young honey eyes drifted upwards, looking to the man in front of her with an arched brow. “You hurt yourself… how?” She asked, already working her way out of her comfortable state, setting her thin, work book aside in her pouches after putting a marker in it. She laughed softly as he spoke of cutting down lumber and missing his mark, hitting a knot instead of soft wood when splitting a log. The axe, not particularly fond of gnarled wood, took a bad bounce and drove itself straight into the man’s shin. Being the peon he was, he field-dressed it, said a prayer, and returned to his work. When word of a ”medicine woman” started drifting through the small town, he jumped up to find her.
In shorts and a short sleeved t-shirt, he stood before the woman, and then collapsed his rear against a fence. His entire leg was throbbing horribly, and as Trilly pulled back the wrappings, infected tissue clung to the linens and sloughed off, some sticking and tearing up the runny scab that had already been placed. “You should’ve cleaned this, you know that… right?” The woman asked, those sweet eyes now looking dangerous as they glared upwards from a kneeling position. Her hands cradled the underside of his leg, feeling the irritated warmth that radiated from it. He bashfully had nodded his head, muttering something about dirty water, and grimacing as she pulled free the last of the bandages. “How about you take a seat in the grass, friend?” Trilly asked whilst standing up and offering her hand, which he wisely took and maneuvered himself to the grass-side of the fencing, pressing his back to the wood.
“You know, the woods would benefit from the dead trees being taken before the old and living,” the woman said testily. The grass below and around the man writhed faintly, as roots and stems laced around his fingers and ankles, crawling up the fence behind the man as well. When he nervously began to move and pull his hands up, Trilly pat his leg reassuringly.
“Set your hands down. It’s how I work.”
With those words the peon settled back to his spot, watching the tiny roots slowly be encompassed by larger ones. Soon enough, he’d find his hands and extended legs immobile. All the while the woman hummed gently, pulling out a simple scalpel that was questionably clean, and a vial of viscous mahogany-brown liquid. Anxiety was rising for the peon, who squirmed as much as he could. His head was being bound with the roots as well— they pushed through his hair and slowly wound under his jaw and atop his head, slowly winding closed as the man continued to babble about his concerns.
“Ah, finally. Silence,” she hummed to herself, pulling out the last item from her pouches; linens, which were fresh and glistening off-white. She began to hum a jolly, quiet tune as her scalpel brazenly met his flesh and started to scrape and cut. She was abrading the gangrenous, black tissue, carving with her scalpel and wiping it clean on the linens.
Her humming never faltered, even as the man with grit teeth and shaking form screamed out at her through his clenched jowls. His fingers clutched at the dirt, digging deep trenches with his nails. Trilly did not cease the exercise until pink, meaty skin and muscle was shown and bleeding was starting up again. Once her dermabrasion of the gouge was done, the woman uncorked that vile ooze that bubbled and churned, slimy chasms opening and closing. The syrupy material nearly appeared sentient with its excessive movement.
With the peon shaking his head as best he could, the woman upturned the vial and began to spread a very generous and thick layer over his wound. When the ooze found open, bleeding flesh, it bubbled more and more before growing increasingly sticky and more sludge-like. Soon enough, the sappy liquid would harden and grow firm, encasing his wound in a thick bond. “Don’t pick that off until it starts to crack on its own,” Trilly explained while working a roll of linen around his leg. She stood up after putting her items away, brushing off her hands and turning, slinking off down the road and leaving the man to stew and shudder in silent agony. The roots began to pull away as the woman grew far enough away to no longer be seen, a pinprick down the road.
Gron’turok’s Journal
I find myself losing my place and perspective more often than not, these days. With the Legion and all of the other atrocities brewing to plague Azeroth’s skin, it is easy to lose yourself amidst the chaos.
My attempts to spend some more peaceful times with Raine have proved uneventful, of course. We traveled to the Shore briefly, for I had to recover some items and peace of mind at the Grove as well as in the Dream.
It was tiring, yes, but also fulfilling. We downed a goat near Bradensbrook for the both of us to share. Raine found little to no sport in it, so I consoled her and said we’d be hunting something larger, soon.
Even simply murmuring these words made the wilds groan, the trees knotted themselves up and the flora shrunk from my hoof. We had to take down something disrupting the balance, I had corrected.
The wilds eased with my clarification, that of which Raine brushed off without a second thought. If it’s a big kill, she was in for it.
So now we are making the trek to Highmountain. Their beasts can put up a rather gruesome fight. If we find nothing there, I had said to Raine, then we will go to Stormheim and return to Kalimdor with the red hide of a drake!
She seemed much more keen to that idea, of course.
I got knots all up in my chest (Up in my chest, up in my chest)
Just know, I'm trying my best (I'm trying my best)
'Cause when you look (When you look)
When you laugh (When you laugh)
When you smile (When you smile)
I'll bring you back (Bring you back)
And now I'm sad (Now I'm sad)
And I'm a mess (And I'm a mess)
And now we high (Now we high)
That's why I left (Why I left)
That's why I left (Woo)
Will your tongue still remember the taste of my lips?
(My lips, my lips, my lips)
Will your shadow remember the swing of my hips? (My hips, my hips, my hips)
Will your lover caress you the way, that I did? (I did, I did, I did)
Will you notice my charm, if she slips up one bit? (One bit)
'Cause I don't need to know
I just wanna make sure you're okay (Okay)
I don't need to know
I just wanna make sure you're all safe
All safe, all safe
Will she play you those songs just the way that I did? (I did, I did, I did)
Will she play you so strong just the way that I did? (I did)
Will she treat you like shit just the way that I did? (I did, I did, I did)
'Cause I don't blame ya
'Cause I don't need to know
I just want to make sure you're okay (Okay)
I don't need to know
I just want to make sure you're all safe.
Word Vomit!
Alanna cradled her child. It was quiet. She was alone. Her ears wilted and her body curled around the small purple bundle.
Through her tears, she kissed the child’s soft forehead and kept it swaddled to her chest, bringing the curled hood of the blanket over its bare head.
It began to wiggle and thrash a moment, making some kind of noise before the Druid pressed the sweet, small creature to her chest, letting it smell her and hear the rhythm of her slow heartbeat.
She had no open hands to dry her face, so she simply looked up to the stars and the fading moon... praying for assistance in any way, before she looked down upon the tiny bundle, drawing herself around the precious gift she had now, all to herself.
Where had he gone? Was he coming back..?
Someone asked me to do...
C) Which of your OCs is most open to cuddling?
I would have to say probably Ryushi. She’s an adorable and fluffy Pandaren that always has a hug or a cuddle to offer. She’s fluffy and decently fat, which isn’t an insult; it’s just her body type. She’s open to holding strangers in her arms or letting them rest their head on her lap while she itches through their hair. It has, at times, gotten her in trouble, but she usually ends up fine.
Someone asked me to do...
Q) Which of your OC’s is quickest to judge others?
Out of all my little booba’s I think the one that is most judge-oriented would have to be Rexen or Sophie.
Sophie is more of an appearance-based judger, whilst Rexen will make note and criticize/critique people for their actions, mannerisms, looks, job, relationships, and their past.
Definitely Rexen as a finally answer— he’s a people watcher, and makes wild but usually true assumptions about people, and judges the folks he watches on a regular basis. At times, he can even judge himself for doing these kinds of things.
It was only sex. It wasn’t like it had meant anything. Nothing important, not after Val had left. She was gone by morning; out of the house and off to make her rounds again.
But now her blood was caking over Faith’s hands. Her bleak eyes stared up at him, plastered in fear— they pierced his soul. So blue, with that flaming orange hair all tangled about her georgeous, bruised features…
Earlier in that unforgettable morning, he had been awoken by a pounding knock at the door, as if someone was trying to break it down. With a start, he had gotten himself up and stumbled into some pants. No matter the fact that they were backwards, they served their purpose.
He combed back his disheveled hair and snugged his revolver into the back waistband of his pants, shambling towards the door to open it up and stare at the nothingness that greeted him— until he looked down.
On the topmost step was a sack; burlac, simple and unassuming besides the rust-red smear it left on the cobbles as the elf cautiously lifted it off the floor. It was heavier than he thought it to be— smelled of iron and acrid perfume and smoke.
His heart was racing and twanging with pain as he turned and stepped back inside, to the kitchen. His tired eyes were now wide awake as he stared at the sack.
Bile built in the back of his throat as he undid the twine with quivering hands, the satchel unfurling open to allow the elf a peek inside.
Orange. All he saw was matted, clumped and mangy orange strands of hair… He knew what it was, he knew as he pulled the sack apart further and pushed it to the counter— he knew what he would see.
Her makeup was smudged worse than it had been the previous night, when last Faith saw her. Her lips were bruised and had been bleeding, her nose was crooked out of shape… but it was her, it was. Nailed to her forehead was a hastily scribbled note on yellowed parchment;
“You have enough to pay this whore and not us?”
He left the head, the note, and the sac all lying there as he ran back to his room, bloody hands clawing through his bag as he grabbed his own personal comm.
He couldn’t reign in his voice, everything just spilled out as he opened his mouth. “G-Gale— Gale I need— I need you to come here— now. I’m— I’m in deep shit, Gale, deep, eye-high shit…” Before the other man could respond, he clicked off his comm and slunk back towards the kitchen.
He yanked the bag back over her head, hiding those fearful eyes before he moved to start washing his shaking hands in the sink, looking away from the crimson waters.
We’ve Lost A Life. From Bullying on WRA.
There is no way I can title this post without it coming off blunt. Yesterday a former officer of mine, an old friend of the community, and an old friend of mine whom I had a falling out with months ago took his life. The character behind the Kaldorei Rogue, known as Faun committed suicide after months of continuous bullying from a user whose name I received from someone else and whose name I will not be sharing. Before I go into anything about bullying–I just want to take a moment to express that I am utterly sorry to my friends, and others friends of his who are grieving right now. A lot of people are asking me how I am, but I can only answer numb. Considering this is the second death I’ve now experienced this month. I’m personally unsure how to feel. I cannot bring myself to regret the falling out I had with him, for at the time we fought and separated over current issues. However, that will not change the countless hours I’ve spent cracking up with him, or watching his character pick on Olivia, because they had that stupid playful bond. Or calling him my favorite unicorn, or the happiest officer. Fact is, there was a time I loved this man, and I will not allow the end of our friendship tarnish all the amazing memories I had with him. So, if I seem cold to all those who spoke with me–I’m sorry. To those who need to talk, know my inbox is always open, so is my discord if you need to call. My thoughts are sent out to the husband and friends he left behind. That being said. I want to take a moment to mention this community. It..should NEVER..come to this point. Fact is, you can tell people, “If you’re hurting, get offline.” But guess what, when THIS is their only outlet, you’re literally asking them to take away the only thing that brings them comfort. We’re all here because we’re missing something in our real lives that we choose to roleplay. Whether it’s a creative outlet, a social issue–Every fucking roleplayer you see is DAMAGED in some way. We’re attack outcasts just like ourselves, WHY?! Why are we taking advantage of people who are just like us? I’m sorry if I sound so emotional rather than logical–But honestly. At what point can we come together as a community? At what fucking point can we stop playing a popularity contest, and bond over our common interests. Our passion for writing.. At what point does something change? I’ve never been more heartbroken at this community. A life is gone. Not because of a falling out, or simple dislike, but because someone felt entitled enough to harass and bully another for god knows what reason. We don’t have to like each other, but for gods sake, –You don’t throw food against wall when you dislike it, so don’t treat people that way either.
Before you say you’re sorry for anyone’s loss. I’m sorry for YOUR loss WRA. I’m sorry you, we, us as a community lost someone today. I will grieve along side you all, in my own way. ..Please..wake up.
The number of people that have passed away this year from Wyrmrest Accord has become alarming. Whether due to unpreventable causes or otherwise, I feel as though we should start cherishing people more that help create a welcoming a fun atmosphere. Though it’s sad that this has to be said instead of it just being a thing already.
Like I always say to people, no matter what they did and whom they did it to- before you hit that Submit button, or send something extremely nasty to someone.. think about how much better you’d feel fueling that energy into sending someone something positive. Reach out to people that are struggling, and message the people you see hurting others and let them know their actions are not okay.
I am terribly sorry for the loss of someone that, from the words of their friends and others, did nothing but spread love and friendship. When someone decides it’s their time to bully someone else, to stalk and harass and overall create a gross onslaught of unnecessary fixation- they need to realize that it’s not all just fun and games. This is some heavy, serious stuff.
I did not know Faun, and I won’t pretend to share the same hurt and pain as those that were close to him. But god damn, this hits close to home because losing someone on my home server where I know almost everyone- it’s like losing a family member. One I did not get to know yet, and I would have loved to get to know. But there are consequences to despicable actions, and this is why you always just see me post something once or twice about the actions of other people.
This isn’t just some random person on the internet. This is someone special to many people. When 2017 took my best friend Jay from me, he and I never met in person. We’ve only known each other online. But let me tell you, I think about him every day. I cry a few times a month because there is nothing and no one that can supplicate what he gave to me.
The actions of volatile and disgusting people that just don’t know when to stop took this person away from others that feel the same way. And that is unforgivable.
Whoever these “bullies” are, you’re monsters.
Ahhhh... Fuck.
Sometimes, music is the only good way to communicate to people.
You and I… “we’re not who we used to be.”
I only see that “we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me.”
When I look at you and… and you look at me, “we don’t see what we used to see.”
We don’t make each other as happy as we used to, “we’re just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.”
(Harry Styles - Two Ghosts)
You disrespect me when you say I don’t care, but “I’m only a fool for you.”
“And maybe you’re too good for me,” I tell myself, but “I act like I don’t fucking care ‘cause I’m so fuckin’ scared…” when you talk to me, and confront me about the things that you can only talk to me about, and it hurts, “‘cause I have hella feelings for you.”
(blackbear - Idfc )
And, who knows, maybe it’s just because I’m weak that I keep running back to you. Maybe it’s just because the “secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought” when I’ve already shared them with you.
“Maybe I just wanna be yours,” I say to myself, “I just wanna be yours.” I do, but I can’t.
(Arctic Monkeys - I Wanna Be Yours)
I know “there’s some aces up your sleeve,” but “have you no idea that you’re in deep?”
I can’t believe you’d be so blind. “I’ve dreamt about you nearly every night this week,” because “there’s this tune I found that makes me think of you some how and I play it on repeat… until I fall asleep.”
When I wake up I ask myself, “Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways?”
“Baby, we both know… that the nights were mainly made for saying things you can’t say tomorrow day…”
I always end up “crawling back to you.”
(Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know?)
Rexen’s thoughts are unnerving
He snorted as he walked to find the nearest inn or bench, head low and hands in his pockets. He pulled the brim of his hood over his head as well, the lupine silhouette quite fitting for the sly lurker.
She had looked so scared— he had breathed in the ripe scent of fear and ran with it. When her hair stood on end, he continued to advance.
She was such a craven woman! He didn’t pin her to be that way, no, no... pleasant surprise, that was. Staring up at him like a lame rabbit, and he was the hungry wolf, oh yes. When she had displeased him about the drugs... oh, her eyes had widened and her body coiled like a spring...
And all he had to do was smile and she melted into his eyes and his twisted game like putty. For, what white and shiny perfect teeth he had? All the more better to comfort the pretty ladies with, of course...