Author has written 43 stories for El Tigre, Invader Zim, Powerpuff Girls, Jhonen Vasquez, Edgar Allan Poe, Ninja Turtles, Teen Titans, Hanna is not a Boys Name, Toriko, and Homestuck.
My gender? I'll just say unless you aren't human, I'm not gonna be interested.
My name? . . . it would give the whole game away.
My species? Just call me an evolved human.
My weapon of choice? An axe, it's the best weapon for zombies other that guns and my aim sucks.
My eyes? Nearsighted . . .
My age? Older then I act.
My wish? That when I die, there will be no limits to where I go and what I can do.
My fear? The dark. And zombies. And Heights.
My strength? I'm so manipulative that I can ruin lives.
My weakness? No motivation. At all. AT ALL
Why you should read my stories? I'm trying to make them better and I'm still working on them. Also most of them are porn.
"Is that your heart?"
Can you fell it? The pumping of your heart? The way it flexes and the rush of blood?
Can you? If you can, treasure it! The beating of a heart lets you know that you're alive. but pity those who can't feel it. Because they will never die. They will drag their bodies from their graves and into your homes. They will open your door and let out your light. They live in your blind spot, right behind your back and they use their swollen pale eyes to stare at you when you sleep. They're always waiting, waiting for the moment when you're not looking, or when your attention has wavered far away. They'll reach out a hand, a rotting, broken, hand. And they press it to your chest, alerting you to their presence, so when you look down, you see and arm around your middle, a hand pressed to your heart and a voice, a rotting, rough, whisper of a voice breathes into your ear, "Is that your heart?"
The choir boy
There was once a man that murdered people. But not just any people, he only killed singers. He would kidnap them right off the stage and take them home. He would cut off their arms and legs, and then threaten them with a blow torch to make them sing through their pain, until they could sing no more. When they could no longer utter a sound he burned their mouths shut and through them into a river.
He did this for years until one day he took a young boy from a choir. He cut off the boys arms and legs like all of his past talents, but unlike all the others the young boy needed a few burns to his stomach to finally begin singing and when he did he only sang the same song over and over again.
"If you're happy and you know it clap your hands, If you're happy and you know it stomp your feet, if you're happy and you know it shout hurray, if you're happy and you know it then your face will surely show it, if you're happy and you know it."
He sang the same words over and over for hours. The man began to hear things, when the boy said clap your hands, he could hear the striking of skin, when the boy sang stomp your feet, there came a dull thud, when he crooned shout hurray, he could hear the oddest sound of muffled shouts.
As the boy sang, the louder and louder the sounds became, until the man finally screwed up the courage to look out the window, but he couldn't see anything until the boy sang stomp your feet and a thudding came from right below his line of sight. He looked down and screamed at the sight of dozens of legs, arms and torsos all in various states of decomposition withing on the ground, the man turned toward the boy in fear in time to see the smile stain his lips and sing a final few lines.
"If you're angry and he's to blame, take his hands. If you're angry and he's to blame, take his feet, if you're angry and he's to blame slit his throat, if you're angry let your actions show it."
The last thing to be heard that night was the sound of a lonesome scream in the night, and the giggles of a young boy.
One last thing
I pretty much write porn, with a little fluff and horror
But mostly porn
Don't upset me. I'm running out of places to hide the bodies.
Not a monster, not a bogeyman, understand that it's just a person-not worth devoting any nightmares to.
Touch me. And gain a stump.
27% of the human population has homicidal tendencies. The rest are just victims.
You're not getting out of this world alive, so you might as well.
WEB-COMICS THAT SHOULD BE READ NOW!!!!
Its a webcomic about anthro-pets, inter-species relationships, mystical beings, and way too many D&D references. I love it.
It's about indie twenty-somethings living life with awkward hyjinks, robots with porn, and the strangest and most diverse relationship issues.
A waitress who is want-a-be poet fighting zombies with a hit man, a nurse, and a plumber that knows wayyyy too much history.
Just read it, read it now. It will take like four days but it is amazing once you get to the plot. Its got romance, and hate and fights and trolls and dead people and time shenanigans and its like coated in time paradoxes and sexual tension! DO IT! READ IT NOW.
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