Slasher76 With His Slasherseventytits

ah, yes, the only posts i see on my dash are gay, gay, gayer, and cats

occasional posts from users

Person A: Why do I hear police sirens behind us?

Person B, holding up bags of money: I accidentally robbed a bank

Person A, having a stroke: HOW DO YOU ACCIDENTALLY ROB A BANK-

literally named this "blackmail.jpg"

YOU CAN NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE—

@dead-deadashell can't socialize for shit, pass it on

she communicates solely through combat and would rather dropkick a dude than ask someone for a napkin

totally not referencing myself—

dude my pfp is a bisexual witch

i'm having the time of my fucking life

You're getting married to your Tumblr pfp how fucked are u

thank you

I was once in a place where no one could hear my screams. My screams were loud once, loud and demanding and begging to be set free.

But they grew weak, growing weaker as my hope to be heard was lost. I was trapped, I didn't know where I was, time did not exist, and I was alone.

My children... my little twins... would they even remember me?

...

There is a small crack beneath my fingers. It feels rough, the first texture I've felt in so long. There is no feeling in the darkness, nothing to cling onto, nothing to cry into.

The crack grows and grows. I see flashes of violet and swirls of red-orange that highlight my palms, the first light in hundreds, thousands of years maybe.

The crack becomes so large that it breaks and two hands reach out in the darkness as the familiar burn of lightning and flames crackle on my skin, illuminating the shadows.

I take them and my screams are released; a small, weary, liberated cry is among them:

"Thank you."

you could hear the creaking, bloodthirsty voice, calling out to you by name. you could hear his yellow smile, tongue licking his lips at the thought of finally getting to the main course.

your friends? simple appetizers. not as filling but the slasher ached for more and he was ready to enjoy his meal.

oh, how naive he is.

a dark grin slides across your face, eyes red with hunger and teeth gnashing with delight. did he not know? did he not know what a real monster is, how a real monster would hunt?

poor, poor man.

oh, what a shame it will be to tear his throat out, cut open his gut, and feast on his intestines, becoming drunk on his blood and the flesh of his lungs.

oh, what a shame it will be.

you slowly open the closet door, your stomach growling in impatience.

it was time for the hunt to begin.

It started as a spur of the moment trip with your friends. Despite your best efforts you are the only one left alive and the slasher is closing in on your position. While you lament the loss of your friends now that you are alone… Now you can show the slasher what a REAL monster looks like.

egg: uncooked

steak: rare

milk: 1%

alcohol: straight up liquor

warm drink: black coffee

Kass, Alexios, and Evie would like to know your location

sacrifice jacob what the hell is he contributing anyway

No.

me at 6 years old

my brain: what the fudge

my eyes: huh

my brain: aren't you supposed to be crying

my eyes: for what, candy?

my brain: no your finger

my eyes:

my brain: your baby finger is backward

my eyes:

my brain: it's broken

my eyes:

my brains: it's not supposed to look like that

my eyes:

my eyes: *SWEAT GLANDS ACTIVATE*

am I allowed to kill you then

Pissing ass and killing rats. Happy Saturday baby