imaginepostingonsideblogs

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Tiptoes in.

Hai Toby

hi icarus!

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what if we kissed 😳😳 and we were both boys 😳😳 and the same person 👀😈

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what if your doppelgänger wasn’t evil it was just a person. what if your doppelgänger wasn’t trying to replace you it was just trying to learn to be a person and you were the best model it had. what if your doppelgänger looked at you with your eyes and said with your voice that it just wanted to be loved. what then.

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the funny thing about playing disco elysium is that it makes me imagine every character from everything ever with a DE-style internal dialogue

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in another life, I would have loved nothing more than to kill people with hammers with you

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@teknikolor-walters

"are you a boy or a girl" i'm literally something beyond your comprehension. also i have sickass wings

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@teknikolor-walters

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Hi honey how was your day at the gaslighting factory?

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i love you im glad you exist im so happy you’re alive

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@teknikolor-walters

underutilized thing in writing is how good dreams can be more devastating than nightmares

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(the hand washing fic. courtesy of @networksupported)

4ccol4de should really ask Ty to cut down on the consolidation's blood.

He knew, consciously, that Ty couldn’t control how much they bled— but he also knew that Ty could control basically everything else, so it didn’t seem that out of place to ask. Still, he couldn’t deny the deep rooted sickness that stirred in his guts and heart and lungs whenever he’d look down at his hands after the slaughter  execution mercy killings. 

Ty seemed to have decided that killing them with his hands or a close-ranged weapon would be a better option than a gun, his hesitations giving more time for the Mike-Eli consolidations to dig into his brain and beg him to keep them alive. Four days, or maybe months? Of hesitations and retraining and torture caused Ty to finally get that. Though it ended the original issue, the blood still stuck. 

Now his hands were wet with it.

He was thankful for the bathrooms being so close to the white rooms, as he could dash— still drenched— towards the sinks and try to avoid the mirrors as he washed the stains of what could have been off of the white sleeves of his shirts and his arms and, god, his hands. They reeked of human, of Cicada, and iron. 

He wished his nails were longer so he could dig out all of the gore underneath them. 

The white porcelain of the sink slowly stained red as he rinsed his hands under freezing cold water, hoping the shock to his system would finally wake him up from this nightmare— hopefully back in bed with his then alive lover. He knew it wouldn’t, but a man could hope. 

Clearly, though, a man could not have a minute of fucking peace.

The bathroom door creaked open, the polished metal of the door not hiding the rust at the hinges, nor the man behind it.

Cas-fucking-Townsend. The most unbearable, beautiful bastard that had ever locked onto 4ccol4de. He smirked. 4ccol4de dragged his eyes away from Cas and back to the mirror, looking into his eyes and then back at his hands. The room felt colder. The water still dripping into and down his hands felt hot. 

He cleared his throat.

“Hey, baby. Fancy seeing you here.”

Silence.

“Seriously? Nothing?”

“It’s really not the fucking time.” 4ccol4de spat, holding his hands together tight under the stream of water. The tips of his fingers wrinkled. He didn’t move them.

“Cute. You always have time for me.” 

The click of the doors lock. The echoing steps as the man approached.

“I mean, really. What do you even do around here? You have all the time in the world.”

4ccol4de pursed his lips. “You know that’s not true.” 

“Do I really? You never talk to me anymore, babes. It’s almost like you’re ignoring me. And that,” Cas says as he stalks behind 4ccol4de and leans his head on his shoulder, “Would just break my heart.” And he reaches around 4ccol4des waist and shuts off the water, causing the room to dip into silence besides uncomfortably close breathing. 

“You’re unbearable.” 4ccol4de whispered, curling in on himself. Cas snickers. 

“You know you love it.” He crooned, pulling 4ccol4de back just enough that he could get himself seated on the sink in front of the man. Though he could’ve technically left, pulled away from Cas and his eyes and his horrible mouth he knew he couldn’t. He was trapped, kept on a lead and pulled right. 

4ccol4de closed his eyes and nodded. It was easier to accept these things than fight them. Cas smiled. 

“Good. Anyways, what happened here? I don’t think I’ve seen you this… out of it, we’ll say, since you last saw Mantis.” 

4ccol4de cringed at the name as it escaped his lips. Just the thought of another Mike-Eli flashed him back into the horrible white room and a man sobbing and his hands. He opened his eyes and looked at Cas’s face. 

“Oh. Ooooh. Ty made you kill another one, yeah? God, you poor dear.” He mocked. 

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not a ‘poor dear.’ I did the job I had to do.” 

“Still, I’m sure it hurt to kill it. You’ve always been such a bitch about killing people— or, things, I should say.” 

“He’s not an it and you know that. Talking about him like he wasn’t a person won’t make me feel any better.”

Cas snickers for a moment before bursting out into laughter, long enough that 4ccol4de looked back down at his own feet, at the least to stop his neck pain from looking up all the time.

“So you did kill it, hm? Sad. I’m sure you had to hurt it pretty bad to get it down this time since Ty banned you from guns— oh, don’t interrupt me. Everyone knows about your little gun problem. You couldn't use a gun even if it would save your life. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

4ccol4de frowned. He didn’t fight it though, not at all. 

“I wonder how it felt. Not for you, of course, we all knew you felt bad, but for it. The Mikeli. Probably horrible, right? I mean, imagine, you’ve just been brought into the world by the worst twink you’ve ever met and then you’re immediately, what, stabbed to death?” He speaks, loosely grabbing the collar of 4ccol4des shirt before pulling him in and continuing.” Imagine that being your whole existence. Imagine being brought to life just to die. Makes you think, yeah?”

The room was silent again as soon as Cas stopped speaking. He was obviously waiting for an answer and, of course, 4ccol4de didn’t want to answer. He could feel his throat closing up with phlegm and tears pricking into the corners of his eyes. Cas shook his head before sighing. 

“You don’t even respect it enough to talk about it? Sad.”

“I don’t—“ 4ccol4de started, cringing as his voice was wetter and shakier than he meant it to be, “I respect it- him, I respect him as much as you can respect a consolidation in this job. Which… which isn’t much. I. I don’t want to think about it, though. I shouldn’t have to. I’m just doing my job.”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night.” Cas said, his voice dripping with disappointment as he drops from the sink and pats 4ccol4de on his chest.

“Just keep telling yourself that, babe. As long as it keeps you without blood on your hands. You can always talk to me though, if you ever end up thinking about this shit. My room is always open to you, just because you’re my favourite.”

And with that, Cas, in all his glory and rage and religion, left.

4ccol4de turned the water back on.

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if you ever write cas just Know i am staring at it autistically over your shoulder

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one of my favorite tumblrisms is how the site pretends to be erroring out when someone has you blocked. It's a great way to avoid conflict on a site that breaks so often in so many ways, plausible deniability and all that.

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tshirts that say shit like "I ❤️ PICKING AT OLD WOUNDS" "I ❤️ REPEATING THE CYCLE" "I ❤️ CHANGING FOR THE WORSE" but instead of a heart there's a snake devouring its own tail

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do you ever look back at your relationship with someone on the internet and just think oh my god i’m so fucking glad i clicked follow they make my life so much better

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your so autismcore anxietypilled scaredwave . can i keep you as my dog thing