blueybell

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I love the whole idea of Phil being as old as time but what about new immortal Phil who was only born 60 or so years ago but stopped aging at 30. But everyone keeps thinking he's been alive since the dawn of time.

Techno: how many empires have you watched fall and rebuild itself only to fall once more?

Phil: idk mate I'm not much older than pizza rolls

Ranboo: is it exhausting outliving everyone you love?

Phil: not sure but I'm still hot as fuck while that bastard Christopher just died last week. serves him right.

Wilbur: Did you ever meet King George III?

Phil: No but I did see Queen perform at live aid once, that was poggers.

Tommy: Did you ever accidentally become an urban legend or something?

Phil: Does being an extra for Grease count?

Tubbo: did you ever see real dinosaurs?

Phil: I was at the premier of Jurassic park, movie tickets were still pretty cheap back then though and Netflix still wasn't really a thing.

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This is about goodbye…

Short story about grief, I wanted to try something slightly different. Maybe someone out there needs to see this.

(Sorry for the huge watermarks, but people keep removing my signature from my pages and I’m trying to protect my work somehow .___. )

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It warms my heart that Robert Irwin is the same goofball his father was

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Reposting some old concept of BBHS AU from almost 2 years ago (Because dumb anxious me deleted everything lol)

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🐻

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[...???...]

So you guys were saying human taxidermy is a bad thing?! ...Heh...

This was a rather large piece, so I’ve included thumbnails to click and zoom on for details!

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Time to rethink that strategy, Deceit. 

(But don’t worry: there’s a bonus!)

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☀️

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SUNSET

h2ovanoss fic . no warnings . 1736 words .

a/n- heres something small! it was originally planned to be the first part of a multi-chapter story but im going to post it now as just a oneshot. 

if you guys want me to write more for this, i will be happy to. but for now its just on its own and im just going to be looking at the responses i get from it

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The sunset was beautiful. 

Pinks. Purples. Blues. Streaks of orange and yellow dancing across the sky. The last sliver of rich gold fell beneath the horizon, reflecting colour across the clouds and placing a layer of shine along the water’s surface. 

Evan sat on the beach, sand between his toes where he buried his bare feet. His undivided attention remained on the sky. Colour painted back and forth, a piece of art worth millions. Colours Evan had never seen before, colours Evan wanted to steal for himself. 

Without pulling his eyes from the sky, he drew his phone from his pocket and flicked open his camera. It felt childish to take photos of the scene, catching the figures of other individuals walking along the wet sand, all eyes on the sky. No photo would be able to recreate the raw beauty of the sunset, but God knew he’d try. 

“Come on, Evan, I have to get home soon. I gotta pay the babysitter and get dinner going.” Brock sat in the sand beside him, soft-spoken. Evan knew he could feel it too; how the evening was almost ethereal, how speaking too loud might shatter the serenity. 

With reluctance, Evan nodded his head, but before he could open his mouth to respond, another voice cut in. 

“Ex- Excuse me!” Two people were walking quickly across the sand, both sets of eyes on Brock and Evan. The woman was barely keeping up with her partner, a man with a disarray of dark hair and a frown lined with worry. Despite being forced to rush to keep up with him, the woman held a small amused smile, showing none of the panic that he did.  

Brock was on his feet in seconds, helping Evan up as the pair reached them. “Is there something wrong?” he asked, concern glimmering in his eyes like the mother duck he was. Evan wasn’t surprised. His best friend was someone who spent most of his time helping others and doing favours. He had the kindest heart of anyone Evan had ever met and there was no doubt that, if asked, he would spend the next hour scouring this beach for a pair of lost glasses or a wedding ring. 

“Yes!” the stranger said, his left hand opening and closing as if trying to control his panic. Evan felt worry rise in his own heart for the man who wore his distress on his sleeve. “Well- not- not really, I just- can I- I need to borrow a phone!” The man took a desperate step forward with his words, but his brilliant blue eyes showed his hopefulness, not expectancy.

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grilled cheese

terrormoo fic . no warnings . 1348 words .

a/n- based off that one text post

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He knew Tyler was home.

He could hear his roommate clunking around downstairs. Their walls were thin and if he could hear Tyler opening cupboards and making a mess, Tyler could sure as hell hear him.

But the fucker wasn’t even answering him.

With a big sigh, he let his head fall back. “Grill me a cheese!” he shouted, hearing the water run through the plumbing as it did when the kitchen tap was on. “I know you’re in the kitchen! Grill me a damn cheese!”

He’d first called out to his roommate twenty minutes ago. The front door had opened and closed and the heavy thump of bags being dropped to the floor in the main room notified the Irishman of his roommate’s return. Brian had realised that he must have been making something up with how long the guy was spending pottering around in the kitchen so he’d pulled off his headphones and called out to him, yelling: “Yo! Make me a grilled cheese!”

Since then, he’d shouted several times to his roommate, demanding a grilled cheese and getting more and more frustrated at the lack of response. Tyler, the dickhead he was, was probably laughing to himself at the cost of Brian’s suffering. He resorted quickly to digging his phone out from beneath the mess of papers on his desk and flicking open Tyler’s contact. Three calls left unanswered; he resorted to sending a number of angry texts to the man downstairs, grumbling as he continued to be ignored.

With a loud groan of frustration, he smacked the device down. “Tyler, for fuck’s sake, grill me. A fuckin’. Cheese!” He heard nothing downstairs. It was silent. Yet he didn’t get the chance to think about why as his phone buzzed angrily on the table.

Tyler’s messages shot through with a realistic level of aggression, shouting capital words of: “I WAS IN A MEETING DICKHEAD” and “GRILL YOUR OWN DAMN CHEESE”.

Brian stared at his phone. The blood drained from his face as realisation washed over him. Tyler wasn’t supposed to be home until five that afternoon. This meant that the person banging around in his kitchen wasn’t Tyler.

As fear pooled in his chest, he shook his mouse against the desk to wake up his computer. An image of mountains opened up on the screen with the time and day. His heart dropped.

Shit.

It was Thursday; the day that the plumber was due to come in and fix their sink tap.

He dropped his phone in horror.

He’d been yelling at the damn plumber, for thirty minutes, demanding for him to make him lunch.

“Oh my fuckin’ God,” he muttered, but a soft knock on his bedroom door drew his attention. “Oh fuck.”

But before he could throw himself into his closet and hide in his humiliation, the door was easing open and a man Brian didn’t know was looking inside.

Brian couldn’t help but stare, cheeks pale in his embarrassment. “Oh my god,” he said again. “Are you-” He didn’t even know what to say as the stranger stepped inside. He was a little shorter than Brian and his soft cheeks were pink in embarrassment. But his rich brown eyes drew the Irishman in, because; of course, the man he’d just humiliated himself in front of had to be extremely attractive.

It wasn’t until those brown eyes looked down to the plate the plumber was holding that Brian noticed it too. A little white plate holding a grilled cheese sandwich.

The smell of melted cheese reached Brian and his mouth watered in hunger. He swallowed the urge back and covered his face with his hands. “I t’ought my roommate was home,” he blurted out, shaking his head in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t slept since- and I-”

“It’s okay!” the man gushed, shaking his head. “I had a feeling you weren’t aware that I was a stranger.” A small smile twisted at his lips as he lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Sounded like you really wanted this though so I thought I’d make you one while I finished up.”

“Ye did not have to do that,” Brian muttered, cheeks flushing pink as he motioned the guy into his room. He leaned across his desk and flicked on the light, revealing his messy room. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, feeling even more flustered at the state that his room was in. “Did ye make one for yourself?”

The plumber shook his head, crossing the room carefully as to not step on anything, and handed Brian the plate. “I’m about to head out and get lunch with my sister anyway.” He ducked his head and blushed, shuffling back as Brian set the plate down on his desk. He scratched at the back of his neck.

Brian couldn’t pull his eyes away and words built up beneath his tongue. The urge to do something to really apologise to the man, but also the will to see him again. He would kick himself if he chickened out with this cute guy in his bedroom, looking terribly awkward. Who would know how to handle this situation? “God, okay, this is… this is weird but can I take you out for coffee later? To- to apologise for shoutin’ at ye the whole time you were here.” The words flowed out like water and he felt his cheeks darken from pink to red. He watched as the man’s eyes widened in surprise and felt panic lift in his lungs. “Ye don’t have to,” Brian rushed, “if ye don’t want to, or- or if you’re unavailable which is… likely- Fuck, I’m sorry.” He clamped his mouth shut in his shame.

“I’m… not unavailable,” he mumbled and the admission had pink flushing his neck. He opened his mouth again but decidedly pursed his lips again.

Brian felt like a teenager, blushing and stuttering. “Well- Well, are ye free tomorrow?”

A slow nod. “Before noon, yes.”

“Okay,” Brian said, spinning on his chair and tearing off a pit of paper. He scribbled down his number before turning and holding it out to the other. “Text me your address an’ I’ll come pick ye up tomorrow at ten.”

The man took the slip of paper, looking numb as he blinked back up at Brian. “I don’t even know your name,” he said and Brian ducked his head in embarrassment.

“It’s Brian,” he said, carding his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

A smile broke out on the man’s lips and he took a timid step forward. Brian watched as he stuck his hand out, a small laugh slipping from his mouth. “I’m Brock, it’s nice to meet you, Brian.” The Irishman took Brock’s hand and shook it firmly, that contagious smile crawling onto his own lips. “I’ll text you this afternoon.”

“Okay,” Brian laughed, feeling breathless at the ridiculousness of this whole situation. “Thank you,” he said, before adding: “For t’e plumbing, and t’e sandwich.”

Brock laughed, skin creasing either side of his eyes. Brian felt his heart swell at the picture, wanting to hear that laugh more and more. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from trying to get Brock to laugh over coffee and the reality of spending part of his morning with the plumber started to sink in.

“You’re very welcome,” Brock said, stepping back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I hope so,” Brian said and watched helplessly as Brock turned and slipped out of the room. His bedroom door clicked shut and he listened as the plumber returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later, the front door was clicking shut and Brian was flopping onto his desk. “Idiot,” he muttered to himself, sitting up and rubbing his face.

When he looked down at his desk, he found the sandwich, cut perfectly into two rectangles and dripping with melted cheese. One bite in; he couldn’t stop his groan.

He knew that if he could swindle Brock into making more of these sandwiches for him, there was no way he was letting that plumber get away.

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Basic sketching tips

IG: @mitchleeuwe

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mafia au // “battered bloody boy”

this is a longer story for @merdiee‘s mafia au. apologies for it not being one of my own. go check them out, they’re great.

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   It was late.

   A soft, chilly breeze swept over the large city. Civilians decorated themselves in long winter coats and scarves, preparing themselves for the inevitable snow that will soon fall over the sidewalks and roads. Neon lights, from different stores and fast food areas, littered the tall buildings that overlooked the city. Not many people were out during this harsh cold; most were hailing cabs or heading home from a late shift.

   A tall man, no later than in his twenties, fixed the hem of his suit as he walked briskly out of a thin alleyway, his hair lazily tied back into a low ponytail. Despite this, the suit he had worn was an expensive brand; not something any man would’ve owned.

   He turned right at the corner, bringing him into the parking lot of a small convenience store. He sighed, his breath a puff of clouds, as he hastily unlocked the door of his slick, black car. Stepping in, he began to dial a number on his near perfect condition phone, as he started the vehicle. The man tapped his shoe against the floor impatiently, scowling at the wheel.

   Finally, after three rings, the person on the other line picked up.

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