I Want To See Nina Kissing Kate’s Face All Over With Lipsticks On Her Black Or Red Plus Love Your Art

🌾 — Battle Fields

ticciwork short story

- a boy lay silent atop the bright autumn meadow of the countryside. farmstead and forest still waiting, but the woods of the darkened world no longer lure him in, and horrify him with its dreadful kingdom.

- silently, he wishes to a god who is not listening to remain lying under the warm sunlight, breathing along to the birds song and humming symphony of crickets.

- here in the endless wilderness, he was removed from the world of man, and creature. he never saw so clearly the wide blue spread of heaven coated by soft white cloud.

- his back met the grassland that cradled him as dandelion weeds sat messily in his brunette hair. tired, ladened eyes found a semblance of strength in the sky as he stared up. strange country surrounded him, nevertheless the forest brook spoke to the young man.

- a deep inhale of the reek of the wartorn fields caused the boy to tremble with the wounds of a hundred dying and sick. time has long slipped past him, and he knows only that somewhere in the distance, a battle is being fought.

- brown, earthly eyes grow heavy and darken the world around him for a moment. slowly, he begins to slip away. he, too, will return to what he was. he will once again become a soldier. and he will once again know, that the sweet breath of peace, the precious possession of heartbeat, is only a loan.

- a soft kick to his side fluttered him awake, the small boyish frame hurriedly taking a seated position and faced the leg which had touched him. he looked up, and his gaze met with a familiar, tall and brunette girl.

- “what’re you doing out here?” she spoke.

- “what do you care?” he replied.

- the rolling chirp of a northern cardinal was heard in the distance, singing from the tall trees of orange and yellow. in this torturous year, autumn had come early.

- without another word, the girl had taken a seat beside the boy whose thick brow was now furrowed in disregard. with his eyes, he promised friendship, and they were so young. the winds come and go, the clock that sat itself inside her left eye ticked on, and yet she stayed. sat for a time by his side. she stayed in silence.

- the last warmth of the fall catered itself onto their skin, and the wide meadow enveloped the pair. the mighty sun falls kindly onto their foreheads, and jackets. breathing in, they shared a sense of an upcoming winter.

- “maybe some day you will come back from the war, and take a walk with me one evening.” the clock-eyed girl spoke, her slender arms draped casually around her long legs as to hug them. the boy only stared at her in reply. he had forgotten for a moment what he was, and where he was supposed to be.

- “give me your hand then, i still have a long way to go.” a reply was spoken in a low mutter, a boyhood fear of making the companion beside him run off as one frightened deer might. he was a soldier running away from the battlefield, and she was beautiful.

- “you know nothing of time. you will remain in those woods until it kills you,” her eyes gazed forward into the edge of the dark, tall forest that beckoned, “you will never free yourself wholly like this. the puppet strings remain attached.”

- the girls long thin fingers calloused with years of creation, and destruction, wrapped neatly around the boys blood-stained hand. they interlocked as though they were never meant to be apart in the first place, as if a puzzle piece was being put into its proper place.

- “i need to make my way back now. the sun is beginning to set,” he spoke softly, there was a hint of melancholy that hitched his speech. only in reply did the girl stare out to the orange and red rusted skies as the two watched the sun lay to rest.

- “its going to kill you some day, toby.”

- “that is knowledge i can live with.”

- “take me with you to your grave, then, stubborn boy.”

- a low chuckle escaped his mouth at the oh too familiar scold of his closest friend. he nodded in agreement, joining her in a peaceful gaze at the beautiful view ahead of them. when he made a glance over to her, he saw a hint of deep sorrow make its way into the cracks of her time-ridden face as her brow creased and her lips folded into a frown.

- it seemed that no matter the exchange of words, the boy had an unfortunate habit of upsetting his intimate other. shaking his hand from her comfortable grasp, he stood up from his bedding within the vast golden green fields and stretched his tired body. the sweet breath of life shook sorrowfully from his overworked limbs and a quick goodbye was exchanged before he made his way back into the distant woods.

- for the boy, always a dim picture of a legend. war will remain, and heavy are the recent days. he has no place in the peaceful meadows outside the bounds of the battlefield.

he's like a chipmunk

This took way to long

NO TOBY STOP!!!!!!!

toby with a tinder profile

he's got like a photo of him holding a fish and his bios some really bad pick up line. There's like one uncanny picture on there and that's it. Also swipes right on everybody

i think toby would have a flip phone and he dramatically slams it shut when he ends a call

omfg. mean girl toby. he's so annoying . prob throws his phone when he's mad too.

i’ll be back before you can say blueberry pie

Creepypasta wallpapers 🤸‍♀️

Top 3 fav creepypasta characters of mine 😋

Edit: Y’all can use these. You have my permission.

P. S. The B. E. N. one can be used like an upside down wallpaper since I intended for it to be that way

‼️NO REPOSTS‼️

Working on a new Clockwork Natalie illustration for tonight, this version of the character isn't human by any means. She's technology from the red world shoved into the brain socket of a dead woman's body given life by the Tyrant.

🪓 — Teenagers. Ticci Toby

“you’re never gonna fit in much kid” / “make ‘em pay for the things that they did”

- toby rogers was an angry boy. angry at the world, at everyone. his rage was violent and loud, like his fathers was. it moved him.

- there was a biblical righteousness in his wrath, his calloused hands pridefully gripping the bloody axe as he stands tall over his pretty victim. what a mess he made. this was a typical scene for the boy, it was his desperate attempt at finding a sliver of control in his powerless life.

- one evening, he found himself mingling in a sketchy, broken down apartment with two familiar men he knew as tim wright and brian thomas, alongside some other faces he never cared to remember. it was the type of place heavy with past of brutality and crime. the type of place most normal people would be too scared to go near, fearing they would only become a victim to guys like him.

- though he was typically ignored in conversation, the rough boy forced himself into the world that constantly rejected him, intruding on any space he could. there was a loud, but subtle, desperate attempt to be something bigger than himself.

- volatility run coarse through him. for one moment he was sitting on a raggedy, stained old couch in the dank apartment living room chatting with his colleagues as they talked over beers, and the next he was storming angrily out of the building at a comment someone had made.

- he was always the runt of the group, the butt of a joke. the people around him would pick on him like predator to prey, and laughed as they watched him squirm between their teeth.

- when he left, slamming the front door behind him, the conversations and dark chatter continued on as normal. it was if he was never there, and nobody cared. there was a cruel indifference to the boys suffering, as god turns a blind eye.

- not until he returned with a metal baseball bat in his hand did they understand the extent of his rage. one look into his darkened eyes and they knew better than to try to restrain a rabid dog.

- with quick motion, he raised the bat up high and began smashing every bottle, window, tv screen and table in the room. he ignored the angry shouts for him to ‘calm the fuck down’ and to ‘put the fucking bat away’. he hit the weapon furiously at anything he could. “you think its fucking funny now?”

- sharp exhales escaped his grimacing mouth as his chest raised and fell in an attempt to catch his breath. he stood victorious amongst the destruction he had caused, shards of glass and splintered wood cluttered the dirty carpeted floor. through gritted teeth, he muttered “do not fuck with me”.

- the metal bat clattered to the ground as he let out a final frustrated sigh before taking his leave. he didn’t say another word. he had done enough.

chat i got from a toby bot

toby rogers is so video game what remains of edith finch coded