#twosidedscientist

Send me 👥 and I will draw your muse and my muse

(accepting)

@twosidedscientist

Day.... 26??? Has it been 26 days? With how time moves in this place, it’s hard to even know if its been DAY! Ever since the voices tricked her to maiking that strange art piece, Yvette has been doing her best to survive in this crazy wild world. With the clothes on her back and the bat she had on hand, she was able to survive this long.

Speaking of which, she’s been on the hunt for any turkeys since those stupid birds have been eating her berries!!

[ @twosidedscientist ]

Wes hardly knew what was real anymore...

For so long he’d been trying to remember, but these new memories were ones he begged to forget. Wilson’s eyes... his eyes fading as Wes felt blood pour from his chest... It was burned into the backs of his eyelids, and every time he nodded off he could see it. He was only startled awake by the face that rushed at him from the shadows; that wide grin and multicolored eyes. It was a nightmare he couldn’t stop having...

But had it been real? It was hard to tell... It seemed impossible, but he had his proof. Shoved deep into his pocket was the solid razor he’d salvaged. Proof... Wes took it out often, turning it around and around in his hand. Every time he removed it, he partially hoped his hand would come up empty. As long as he had this thing, it was proof that he’d actually done such a horrible thing...

He’d killed Wilson. His dear, sweet Wilson... The kind man who had helped Wes despite him surely being a burden... Wilson deserved so much better than a friend like him. What sort of friend just...

Wes alternated between crying from mourning and crying from self hatred. It was hard to feel any sort of hope after what had happened, but he clung to his only thread of it. He had come back, right? Maybe Wilson could too. That’s the only thing that kept Wes going... Gripping the razor tight in his wrapped hand, causing the wound to burn with the stretch, Wes promised he wouldn’t give up on finding Wilson. It seemed like a selfish promise, since he was certainly no help for the man. Wes just wanted to know he was alright... Weather it was to ease the burden of knowing he’d killed him, or another reason... he wasn’t sure...

But no matter the reason, Wes wouldn’t stop. He’d find Wilson.. the REAL Wilson this time... And he’d finally banish this dreadful nightmare from his mind... those multicolored eyes... He wanted so badly to escape from them... 

In his attempt at finding Wilson, Wes traveled as far as he could each day. He’d already been weak when he’d found the nightmare of a man from before, and their encounter had left him in no better shape, so he was quick to lose steam these days. He had to stop and rest often... And now was one of those times. He’d found a tree stump, which wasn’t something he saw very often, and decided to sit on it for his little break. Slumped on the makeshift chair, Wes found himself once more removing the razor from his pocket. He shifted it in his hold, lidded eyes watching it dully as light glistened off the metal bits. This object, for reasons he knew as well as reasons he could not remember as clearly, caused such a deep discomfort to form in his stomach.

Send 🐣 for a gif of how my muse would turn out if they were raised by yours

(accepting)

as a slow RPer and not native English speaker I understand what you mean, but I must say I really love your blog ! you seem to be a really nice person!