Bite Me

I LOVE DRAWING TICCI TOBYYY

Quick sketch of ticcijeff until later

In the distance, I hear someone calling my name, bringing me back to earth. It sounds like Masky, but I hear someone with him, maybe he brought Hoodie. Regardless, I can’t let them find me up here. I crumple the sloppily written suicide note before climbing back down the side of the abandoned building, looking up one last time before running off toward Masky's voice.

Looking in the mirror, I see my reflection, but it’s not me. It has my hair, my eyes, my clothes, but it’s not me. I don’t feel like myself; I don’t feel like this is me. Staring at the blade in my hand, I imagine dragging it across my skin once again to see the blood flowing down my arm, to see the flesh, to know I’m human; to know I’m still alive. But why? Why do I do this despite not being able to feel it? I want some control. Working for him, I have nothing; not my own thoughts, not my privacy, not myself.

Working on trying a new art style

Working for him is hell, always feeling watched, constant nose bleeds. I can’t remember when I last felt like myself.

When everything goes wrong we still have each other

I love drawing this hatchet swinging maniac, any other Creepypastas or ANY ships you guys would like to see?

A beautiful day out is rare for these two, hopefully it lasts long.

It’s not smart to test slenders limits yet Theres someone who can help themselves