Latest Posts by coolandepic - Page 2

toby with a tinder profile

he's got like a photo of him holding a fish and his bios some really bad pick up line. There's like one uncanny picture on there and that's it. Also swipes right on everybody

for the ask thing-

toby do you know i love you and how i would do anything to put you in a blender crunch you up and drink you like a smoothie

BEHAVE YOURSELVES

You can only REBLOG THIS TODAY

Finally, a willing audience.

🧺 — Laundry And Taxes

chapter 1. // (prologue)

“Oh darling, please believe me~”

Toby’s dark eyes fluttered open as he jolted up, his hand pressing over his chest as he caught his breath. He could hear The Beatles blaring from an old boombox stereo in the room next to him. He could hear a familiar voice humming alongside in a pretty tune.

“I’ll never do you no harm~”

The soft sun shone through the bedroom window as his hands dropped and gripped the sheets of the bed he sat on. The boy eyed his surroundings, a sick feeling bubbling up in his stomach as he nearly threw up.

What was he doing in his childhood room?

He raised a shaking hand up to his face and let his fingers run over the gash that once scarred his cheek, quickly noticing it was no longer there. He was now once again seventeen years old, and everything was fine.

A million thoughts raced through his mind, paralyzing the boy's trembling body as he struggled to breathe. The warm rays of sunshine danced on his pale skin, and the chirping birds outside accompanied the muffled music. The same records his sister would always play.

His sister.

Toby suddenly threw his body out of his bed and scampered down the hall, almost breaking down the door as he forced himself into his sister's room.

“Lyra-”

“What are you doing?” The girl scolded her little brother, she had been cleaning her room while singing along to her favorite album.

Hesitantly, Toby collided his body against his sisters, gripping mindlessly onto her as though he was desperately seeking confirmation she was real, and not another hallucination. She smelt like peach juice and beach. She felt warm, and alive. Her arms cradled the boy who was overcome by dizziness, he felt as if he was about to faint. As he stared into her familiar green eyes, he ignored her confused gaze. She was as beautiful as he remembered. It took everything in him to fight back a sob, to collapse into her arms and weep. All he could do was stare, take in her entire presence that had been so cruelly taken from him all those years ago. He was here, and so was she, and for now, everything was fine. For once in his tortured life, he seemed to be having a good dream.

“Seriously, what's wrong with you?” Lyra grumbled, pushing off her clingy brother, “are you going to get out of my room now? I’m sort of busy here, nutjob.”

He couldn’t move, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t muster up the courage to look away. A part of him was terrified that if he did, she would disappear again. In response to her brother's difficult attitude, she shouted out, “Mooom, Toby won't leave me alone!”

A faint voice from the kitchen called out in response, “Toby, stop bothering your sister.”

His mothers voice, he recognized. It sounded almost angelic. For a moment, he thought he must have died in that godless forest and ended up in heaven. He scoffed to himself at the idea as he made his way to the kitchen to see his mother as well. Toby knew better than to entertain the idea of being freed from his sin, he knew he would never see the pearly gates when he died. Not all dogs go to heaven.

He first noticed how lively his mother looked as she scrubbed away at the dishes, compared to all those years he witnessed her carrying such heavy grief in her bones as she moved. Toby only watched from a distance, lingering quietly at the entrance of the kitchen.

“Do you need something?” Connie called out to her son. Her awareness of his presence took the boy off guard, he stammered for a moment. She never noticed him watching all the times he had done it before. Back when everyone told her that Toby had died in that forest fire long ago.

Toby made his way cautiously to his mothers side and embraced her in a tight hug, causing her to let out a surprised gasp at the sudden affection of her troubled boy.

“I’m sorry mom,” he dug his face into the nape of her neck, “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh- Toby, it’s not a big deal,” she hushed as she ran her overworked fingers through the messy, chestnut hair of her son. As Toby pulled away, he allowed himself to get a good look at her face. She looked healthy, happy. Better than he remembered.

As a proxy, he would occasionally check in on his mother, from a distance. Or drop off flowers for mothers day in the dead of night. Only tragedy had gotten this close to her in years. Only tragedy. He inhaled the sun and sound from the nostalgic world around him as though he were living in a mere memory. He breathed in his mothers perfume.

“Why don’t you go clean up your room while I finish making dinner, sweetheart,” Connie suggested, pinching his cheek. His hands, no longer scarred, lingered over hers before he let out a deep breath and made his way back to his childhood room.

Toby sat down on his creaky, small, old bed and embraced the afternoon environment for a moment. His sister was still blasting her music from her room, his room still smelt like teenage musk and a summer long lost. He was years away from the battlefield, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling like something bad was going to happen. The boy grew frustrated at the hopeless situation, to be thrown into a happy memory only to realize he must have to be stolen back from it soon. To wake up on the ground of that dreadful forest.

Standing up, he peered over at the family portrait perched on his tiny dresser. The photo of his family he knew, with his sister, his mother, him, and his father. To his shock, it was now replaced with a new photo which no longer included his dear old dad. Only Toby, Lyra, and their mother. They looked happier, Toby’s smile was more genuine, Lyra was beaming, Connie looked peaceful. They looked like a normal family.

A few hours had passed before Connie called her children to the dinner table, bringing spaghetti and meatballs to their plates. This was the same table where he would so often sit across from his father who would spend the evening ranting and raving, berating his son for being a useless burden. A haunting feeling creeped up behind him, smothering him, stealing his breath. Toby picked at his food, trying to choke down the anger at the idea that his father could still be alive. All of that fight, that effort, went to waste. He had gotten his family back, but he couldn’t shake the idea that he must have gotten that monster back as well. It burnt holes in his gut when he thought about it.

“When's dad coming home?” He spoke up, breaking the soft silence.

As soon as he finished his question, it was as if a wave of tension choked up his family. Lyra glanced worriedly over to Connie, her body sitting still, waiting for her mother to speak up. Connie looked up quickly at her boy, shock and a hint of guilt mingled on the cracks of her face, dancing in her green-blue eyes.

“I’ve promised you this, Toby, he isn’t coming back.” She smiled as she continued to work at the food on her plate, but anyone could see she was fighting back a sorrow too heavy for one woman to carry.

Toby’s heart dropped, he felt uneasy for a moment. And then he felt relieved, and then angry. In what world did his mother gain the courage to kick that man out? In what world did everything turn out fine? That was when the realization drowned him, suffocated him. Toby wasn’t sent back in time. He was in an entirely different world. One where things work out for the best. One with no war.

Memories from before he woke up in this place flooded his mind like a wave pool. Crimson skies, the shrieks, the desperate attempts to flee. His desperate attempts to find that girl. If he ended up in this strange world, he wondered who else wound up here as well. His tired brown eyes glanced down to his hands. They had no callous, no scar. Innocent. He curled his clean fingers into a fist and squeezed. It was far too quiet, far too peaceful.

That night, Toby laid in bed and stared up at his ceiling decorated with dinosaur-shaped glow in the dark stickers that had long worn out. He thought back to how small he was when they had first stuck them there, his father had to lift him up so he could reach. Everytime Toby thought about his dad, he felt a burning sensation consume him. He gritted his teeth down to metal and ash, he clenched his fists so tight they whitened. Toby sat up in bed, he couldn’t sleep. His brow furrowed as he tried to control the rage that took him over. There was something unfed within him, begging to devour like a hungry dog.

His gaze turned towards his bedroom window to meet the trees wrapping around the flickering street lamp illuminating the night outside. Something about that sight overtook him, and he couldn’t help but stare out into the endless void of the midnight hour. Call it desperation, frustration. As his body fell back onto his bed with an irritated groan escaping his mouth, Toby let himself fall into a deep slumber, hoping he would wake up back into the world he knew. Back where he knew himself. Back where he knew he didn’t have to feel as powerless as he did confined in the walls of his childhood home.

Toby softly awoke as he took in a deep breath of morning sunshine and August breeze. He rubbed his tired eyes and examined the area around him, heart beating fast as it typically did when he woke up, readying itself for tragedy. There was a bed underneath him, carpet under that, and a horribly familiar house that surrounded. To his complicated feelings of dismay, he was still in his childhood home. He sniffled to himself as he sat up and let his feet hit the ground. The boy thought back to all the times he would wake up in strange, unknown places with no recollection of what he had been doing before. He thought back to the times he would wake up with blood on his hands, and how he never knew if it was his or not.

The lanky boy, still in his pajamas, shuffled out of his room and down the hallway which led to the living room. His hands traced over the walls he grew up with, gliding over patched holes in the wall, listening to his sister talk to one of her friends on the phone in her room. As Toby made his way to the blaring TV, he stared at the infomercial for a long while, waiting for the image to turn to static, or to distort as it typically did where he was from. The longer he waited for something to happen, the more he realized it never would. Like awaiting the arrival of a friend who he hadn’t met yet. Everything was normal.

Toby made his way out of the house and into the outdoors. The boy had no regard for his appearance, no shame. He had the belief that he shouldn’t waste his breath trying to please a world that endlessly rejected him. The summer heat embraced his body as he eyed his surroundings. Toby made note of every car, house, neighbor mowing their lawn. He twitched and turned to every bird flying, tree swaying. Every stranger he passed as he walked down the sidewalk of the neighborhood he had walked a thousand times made his fist clench in preparation. His hand would make its way down to his side, ready to grab a hatchet that no longer resided on the belt he was no longer wearing.

As he looked at the large, overbearing forest that he was approaching at the end of the street, Toby could only think back to the last time he had witnessed it in all its mightiness and size. When he entered the woods, all he thought about was the fire. The heat that scorched him, the ash that choked him, the smoke that scraped at his lungs. The blood of his father that he wore like a glove on his hands. Compared to the night Toby Rogers died, the now once again seventeen year old boy felt odd standing alongside the tall trees he had once burnt to ash. The boy looked out at the vastness of the wide green forest, taking it all in, as he did last time he was there. This time, there was no fire, no blood, no tragedy. There was no static. No faceless entity.

“Are you listening?” Toby called out to the endless nothingness. In reply, there was a harmony of birds chirping. A warm summer breeze danced past him. He stood silently, eagerly awaiting a response from the eldritch being who tortured him for years. A masochistic desperation for a sign that he wasn’t left behind. He felt healthy, clean. A cleanliness that drove him mad. It stripped him from all he was. Toby was left bare and small standing directionless in the midst of the woods. He choked back his frustration and turned to make his way back home. There was nothing there for him.

i'm so normal about them

Ninakate on top‼️‼️

Cute guy

cringetober day 30

another one i wanna redo cause i rushed it too much

was feeling too unmotivated to draw so here's one doodle of toby as a pony for day 24 of cringetober

shut up and drive~

(DO NOT CLAIM/TRACE, pfp & edit use is okay WITH CREDIT)

honestly not that happy with how this one came out but i might as well post it :3

🌲 — TicciWork Headcanons

partners in crime

- a rough love. they’ve been through cycle after cycle of love and hate, and given the ways they grew up, their relationship was toxic in the beginning. its all they knew, the way they saw their parents interact, the childhood image of what “loving someone” wasn’t anything stable.

- their fights were like war. screaming matches, hits to the ego, things being broken, storming out. a perfect mirror of their past.

- but theyre stubborn, and nobody else could stomach them like they could. and so again, and again, they’d come back to each other

- slowly, they would grow beyond what their parents were. they would push past those cycles. and they’d realize it was them against the world. and that they didn’t want to hurt each other

- clockwork would help toby manage his emotions, and toby would help bring clockwork out of her shell. the two gritted their teeth and refused to continue losing each other, because they both silently feared one day there would be no reuniting

- its the type of relationship where they’d help each other grow, and hold each other accountable. they don’t just have fun together, they care for each other, they burn for each other.

- both of them have similar pasts, and once they reach that point of opening up, their connection only deepens from such a painful understanding of what it was like growing up. a “im sorry i wasnt there for you as a kid, i wouldve iced the bruises on your back” type of understanding

- it takes them a very long time to realize their feelings for each other. they wouldn’t realize why they care so much, or why they feel so sappy and soft. or why they love to hold hands so much

- an unspoken love between two best friends who understand its till death do them part

- they have personal laws and secret history that no outsider could understand. their relationship is incomprehensible to anyone but them. like two awkward youth who were never loved trying to make it up as they go

- but everyone could see it. everyone but them.

- how much clockwork laughed and fought back a smile at tobys dumb jokes, how she scolded him for being a reckless idiot, because everyone but her knew she was worried about him

- and how toby followed her around like a dog, how he listened to no one but her, it was insufferable but god it was endearing to see how that boy was in love

- in a horrible, cruel, terrible world, love prevails. and it shows in the sparks between the two when they shove each other to the ground, or when their fingers tenderly interlock, or when they linger in each others presence a bit too long. their love prevails, against all odds.

crahses into ur inbox what kind of music do u thrink toby would listen 2

I JUST LISTED A WHOLE 20+ ARTIST LIST WITH LINKS AND EVERYTHING AND THEN MY PHONE JUST EXITED OUT OF THE APP WITHOUT SAVING???????

i gibe up. you get my midwest emo daily mix cause that was the answrr anyways.

give me more 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

i think toby would have a flip phone and he dramatically slams it shut when he ends a call

omfg. mean girl toby. he's so annoying . prob throws his phone when he's mad too.

i feel like,,, possibly,,, lulu and jack would get along splendidly

i totally see it. i talk under the cut !

so, again, in my au lulu was killed in a hazing. she was buried in the slender forest, and some demonic entity brought her back, taking her eyes as payment. (still debating on if its zalgo still)

she found herself hanging around the abandoned hospital because thats where fog was, and thats the only place she could 'see'. if she feels the fog, she can feel where all the other particles are at, therefore making out shapes etc etc.

some days the fog reels back, and usually ann will keep her around, or the proxies will find her and scare her back where she's supposed to be. but eventually, they were busy, she got lost and kept walking and walking and walking and bumped into jack

jack died in a sacrifice after joining a university 'club'. his eyes were taken from him as part of the ritual. he sees through echolocation and thermal vision(?).

they'd kinda awkwardly talk and he can just Tell that lulu is one of the new cryptids the proxies keep in like guard dogs, something something demonic 6th sense , and it'd kinda take them both a minute to realize theyre both blind(mostly)

lulu is in a CONSTANT daze, all the fucking time she is in a fucking fog (get it..) . her last few weeks alive were spent drunk, barely managing to get to her lectures and absolutely not understanding shit, so she spends a good bit of time just thinking shes supposed to be in class. she's very fucking lost . and it breaks jacks heart

jack probably sees himself in lulu a lot, since they have oddly similar 'origin stories' in this au, and he'd gently guide her back to the hospital (once figuring out where she's supposed to be)

after finding out who she is, i could see him trying to go visit her more often. anns weird but she's not really attached to lulus hip so she's not always bugging them. there have been times where jack would bring his little radio and tapes and play audio books for her. lulus not really an academic person, she was only in university to appease her parents, but it's pleasant. she eventually gets him to start bringing other things, like music and clay and stuff.

i could see them getting close enough(or jack getting fond enough) to ask the proxies if lulu can visit his cabin, rather than the other way. toby and kate dont care, brians iffy, and tim is very against it (cuz lulu is a little unpredictable) . so soemtimes toby will bring lulu(for "supervision" lmfao) and they'll just kinda hang out. she doesnt need to eat but jack would make some food and it'd be nice

midwest toby sure i am all for it HOWEVER . consider oklahoman toby

i love nina

*It's been a while, huh?

*Fourth strip!

*Previous strip *First strip

don't u love it when ur girl can peel an orange

half joke anyways hi guys headcanon that toby can't peel oranges or like do anything that requires using his nails because he bites them all the time, MEANWHILE nina is the complete opposite she takes much care of her appearance and does daily spa days with jane and sally so her nails are long enough so she peels tobys oranges and helps him like...with whatever else!!

cringetober day 13

and happy creepypasta day :3

Masky plush on a dorito in space

dorito rocket (imagine this in color)

i need a tablet or smth to draw with bro

🌙 — Late Nights

midnight laundry run

- the melodic jingle of a bell flowed through the atmosphere of the empty laundromat as the glass front door swung open.

- a tall, slim woman made her way into the world of detergent and garment as she squinted up at the buzzing fluorescent lights upon entry. a stark contrast from the darkness of the midnight streets outside. the bright blue-green hues from the bulbs reflected off her clock eye, and the deep red that soaked her clothes.

- she dug her hands into her forest green jacket, accessorized by dirty fur on the hood, and pulled out the contents in her pockets. lint, a switchblade, pack of cigarettes, lighter, and various coins.

- the change clattered onto the metal washing machine as she emptied the items and began to remove her blood-stained, mud-crusted coat.

- silently, the hum of the lights overhead buzzed through her cold ears red with frost. as she sniffled back snot, clockwork caught a scent of warmth and cleanliness. her long, calloused hands made their way to her white tank top as pulled it off over her head, revealing black bra and defined scarred abdomen.

- her long, messy caramel brown hair fell recklessly on her slender shoulders freckled with sun and stars. clockwork wiped her dirty, red painted hands off on her black skinny jeans torn with age and adventure, and began to slide those off as well.

- as the girl stripped down to nothing but underwear, she was utterly indifferent to shame or curtesy. slipping a cigarette out of her pack, she placed one in her mouth, deeply inhaling the rough tobacco smoke as though she were breathing in life.

- with the cigarette held between her lips, she placed her soiled clothing into the washing machine and inserted the coins into the slot. as time ticked on, she leaned against the rumbling appliance and hugged her arm around her waist, bringing her other up to grip the smoke loosely between her two fingers.

- for a moment, all was calm. the warm air of the laundromat danced on her bare skin, opposite to the cold tingle of the washing machine on her back. clockwork allowed the atmosphere around her to take hold, closing her one good eye for a moment.

- she felt as though everything around her crumbled away, only listening to the buzz of the lights creating a symphony of errand with the thundering clatter of her clothes being tossed and turned. it was quiet, and peacefully alone.

- in that moment, it was if the girl wasn’t feral with blood splattered onto her coarse body ripe with war. in that moment, she was as clean as she could be with mud on her sneakers ripped to shreds and victim flesh under her chewed nails.

- that is, until the sound of the bell on the front door made her eye shoot open. a ruthless glare dug daggers at the intruder of her peaceful night as she stared at the entrance.

- to her dismay, it was a familiar face.

- shaggy, messy tuft of chestnut hair and obnoxious orange goggles hiding the boys desensitized dark eyes. it appears he had been on a job. his clothes were even more tattered with red soaked stains and earth grime than the girls.

- “oh clocky have you no shame?” the boy joked, inviting himself to stride over to her side.

- “not one bit. got nothing to lose anyways.” clockwork replied, staring past the annoyance who she knew as toby.

- without second word or warning, the other began to pull off his sweater, and unbuttoned his jeans mudded with graveyard dirt. his hands were rough, but quick, as he removed every article but his boxers.

- toby was smaller by a couple of inches in comparison to the tall girl when she straightened her posture to reveal her full height. like the girls, his body was littered with scars. some old, some new.

- he slid some of clockwork’s coins off the top of an unoccupied machine and roughly shoved his bundle of wardrobe into it, easing the change into the slot.

- still leaning against her appliance, facing forward, clockwork glanced over to the side with aloofness plastered on her time-kissed face, to watch the boy fight with the cleaning instrument.

- “you’re an idiot,” she muttered as she tried to fight off an amused smile creeping on to the corners of her mouth.

- toby huffed and turned away from the sputtering laundry, now looking at clockwork in her brutal entirety. the undressed woman was certainly tough to swallow, she wasn’t exactly easy on any casual eyes.

- “you’re hot” the boy blurted out, rivalling her disregard for shame or consequence.

- clockworks head quickly turned to match her gaze, now staring directly at toby with furrowed brow and wide eye. she froze for a moment at the unexpected comment before shaking her head and smiling into her glare, huffing a confused chuckle in response.

- she couldn’t say she was surprised. toby was as loud-mouthed and crude as she was.

- “yeah, well, wish i could say the same about you” the girl teased back, taking another long drag of her cigarette.

- for the next endless two hours until the laundry had completed its cycle, the pair continued their banter and casual chatter. the occasional passerby on the street glancing in to the laundromat from the large window, to see two blood-splattered youths in nothing but underwear and crooked smile, sharing a smoke with sparks in their eyes.

- everyone could see it but them. the fire between them could burn that town down.

toby rogers is so video game what remains of edith finch coded

cringetober day 6

the way is draw is consistently changing i can't make up my brain

the cringetober prompts are so silly this is the day 4 one i did and thought actually looked good

tim masky as tobys dad is my favorite headcanon ,,,

IDEA FROM @cupid-la-beaux LAWL

i love her she's so girl power

I am a terminal Nina enjoyer can I just ask for like,, general headcanons about her? It's ok if not!

Have A lovely rest of your day!

nina general hcs👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

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A/N: my babygirl. no jeff mentions cause its GIRL TIME!!!!!!!!''!!!!

CW: mentions of someone eating her pet cat (this is so funny out of context wait)

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-nina is a total girly girls girl. constantly tries to rally up the girls in the manor to hang out together (has been hissed at by kate). offers to paint nails, help with makeup, gives out period products with 0 embarrassment.

-knows literally every braiding style ever. this bitch is every girl scouts dream.

-is constantly giggling about anything and everything and literally NO ONE can figure out what this bitch is up to.

-keeps trying to befriend toby. constantly asks him if he's free to hang out or what he's doing later. doesn't seem to get that his wordless empty gaze back means "literally get the fuck away from me". in her pov she thinks they're best friends. toby literally cannot remember her name.

-10000000% delirious. i love her but she absolutely thinks super highly of herself. she thinks everyone has a crush on her, that she has a shot with anyone, that she can do no wrong, etc.

-SO. LOUD. everything about her is loud. from her music volume to her actual voice to the colors she wears. you hear her before you see her.

-ayesha erotica defender and stan. im so sorry.

-bounces when she walks. ray of sunshine.

-doesn't kill, but is quite obviously deranged. says just the most out of pocket shit sometimes it'll even have L. jack looking at her weird.

-CAT PERSON!!!!! nina is fucking obsessed with cats. on multiple occasions has tried to keep a pet cat... it usually ends up as someones snack cause she picks the LOUDEST and most OBNOXIOUS cats to bring in.

-i don't usually categorize any characters by race cause anyone can think whatever- but- hispanic 🫡🫡🫡 can't speak spanish for SHIT though.

-nina has the cutest little dimples in the world!!!! most people are too busy getting distracted by the literal gouges in her cheeks but they're there!!

-5'2 and has big huge brown eyes so she constantly looks like this

------------------------------------------------------------

i have homosexual feelings for her

toby says the most homophobic stuff ever, will laugh and ridicule gay people but listens to weezer

🌾 — Battle Fields

ticciwork short story

- a boy lay silent atop the bright autumn meadow of the countryside. farmstead and forest still waiting, but the woods of the darkened world no longer lure him in, and horrify him with its dreadful kingdom.

- silently, he wishes to a god who is not listening to remain lying under the warm sunlight, breathing along to the birds song and humming symphony of crickets.

- here in the endless wilderness, he was removed from the world of man, and creature. he never saw so clearly the wide blue spread of heaven coated by soft white cloud.

- his back met the grassland that cradled him as dandelion weeds sat messily in his brunette hair. tired, ladened eyes found a semblance of strength in the sky as he stared up. strange country surrounded him, nevertheless the forest brook spoke to the young man.

- a deep inhale of the reek of the wartorn fields caused the boy to tremble with the wounds of a hundred dying and sick. time has long slipped past him, and he knows only that somewhere in the distance, a battle is being fought.

- brown, earthly eyes grow heavy and darken the world around him for a moment. slowly, he begins to slip away. he, too, will return to what he was. he will once again become a soldier. and he will once again know, that the sweet breath of peace, the precious possession of heartbeat, is only a loan.

- a soft kick to his side fluttered him awake, the small boyish frame hurriedly taking a seated position and faced the leg which had touched him. he looked up, and his gaze met with a familiar, tall and brunette girl.

- “what’re you doing out here?” she spoke.

- “what do you care?” he replied.

- the rolling chirp of a northern cardinal was heard in the distance, singing from the tall trees of orange and yellow. in this torturous year, autumn had come early.

- without another word, the girl had taken a seat beside the boy whose thick brow was now furrowed in disregard. with his eyes, he promised friendship, and they were so young. the winds come and go, the clock that sat itself inside her left eye ticked on, and yet she stayed. sat for a time by his side. she stayed in silence.

- the last warmth of the fall catered itself onto their skin, and the wide meadow enveloped the pair. the mighty sun falls kindly onto their foreheads, and jackets. breathing in, they shared a sense of an upcoming winter.

- “maybe some day you will come back from the war, and take a walk with me one evening.” the clock-eyed girl spoke, her slender arms draped casually around her long legs as to hug them. the boy only stared at her in reply. he had forgotten for a moment what he was, and where he was supposed to be.

- “give me your hand then, i still have a long way to go.” a reply was spoken in a low mutter, a boyhood fear of making the companion beside him run off as one frightened deer might. he was a soldier running away from the battlefield, and she was beautiful.

- “you know nothing of time. you will remain in those woods until it kills you,” her eyes gazed forward into the edge of the dark, tall forest that beckoned, “you will never free yourself wholly like this. the puppet strings remain attached.”

- the girls long thin fingers calloused with years of creation, and destruction, wrapped neatly around the boys blood-stained hand. they interlocked as though they were never meant to be apart in the first place, as if a puzzle piece was being put into its proper place.

- “i need to make my way back now. the sun is beginning to set,” he spoke softly, there was a hint of melancholy that hitched his speech. only in reply did the girl stare out to the orange and red rusted skies as the two watched the sun lay to rest.

- “its going to kill you some day, toby.”

- “that is knowledge i can live with.”

- “take me with you to your grave, then, stubborn boy.”

- a low chuckle escaped his mouth at the oh too familiar scold of his closest friend. he nodded in agreement, joining her in a peaceful gaze at the beautiful view ahead of them. when he made a glance over to her, he saw a hint of deep sorrow make its way into the cracks of her time-ridden face as her brow creased and her lips folded into a frown.

- it seemed that no matter the exchange of words, the boy had an unfortunate habit of upsetting his intimate other. shaking his hand from her comfortable grasp, he stood up from his bedding within the vast golden green fields and stretched his tired body. the sweet breath of life shook sorrowfully from his overworked limbs and a quick goodbye was exchanged before he made his way back into the distant woods.

- for the boy, always a dim picture of a legend. war will remain, and heavy are the recent days. he has no place in the peaceful meadows outside the bounds of the battlefield.

another one from inpatient lolz. couldn't have drawing stuff so i used a pen. I have so much drawings I wanna post but i'm too nervous

throwback to when i was in inpatient and drew the most atrocities hoodie

🪓 — Heart to Unbeating Heart

a boy who lost everything sits in the pews of an abandoned church with a beast who feasts on man.

- jack sat silently in the pews of an abandoned church he would visit on a particularly hard day. he remained still as the cool air was only accompanied by the soft pattering of the rain outside. the shower leaked its way through the rotting rooftop and onto the decaying wooden floors.

- the occasional roar of thunder bellowed out across the dark late evening skies, causing jack to hold his breath for a moment in fear that god had found him. he knew he had no place in a holy house of the father, he had been stripped of that right when he had lost his humanity.

- with another crack of thunder, the beast heard the sound of the church doors slamming open. yet still, he remained. an unfortunately familiar voice echoed through the nave, characteristically loud and intrusive.

- “ive been looking for you, you sneaky fucker.”

- a frustrated sigh escaped through the sharp teeth of the demonic once-man as he stood up and faced the noise. though his sight had long been replaced with thick black tar, his sharp senses allowed him to see in many other ways. the boy at the entrance smelt of death and ash, a perfect example of the person he was. it seemed everything he touched turned to char and all he knew was how to burn down everything around him. all he knew was that when the world got rough, he had to get rougher to match.

- “its toby, blind fuck.” the boy spoke in a strained, harsh tone, as if he were injured. jack knew this to be true as the putrid smell of blood overcame the calming scent of wet wood and divinity of the church.

- “i know.” jack replied, not moving from where he stood. “well then help me out here! fuck!” toby snapped and limped his weak, nearly mangled body towards the larger being who was known for his impressive anatomical knowledge. on occasion, jack would do medical check-ins for the reckless boy who endured a condition that wouldn’t let him feel, or understand injurious pain responses.

- toby pushed past jack and threw himself onto the pew, his frame was significantly smaller and lankier than the beasts, but jack knew he was no match in combat with the experienced younger. in the house of god, during the storm, he had no choice but to assist in patching his wounds.

- as the grey-tinted claws of his made their way around the open wounds, he came to realize how severe the injuries truly were. multiple deep cuts that desperately needed stitches were etched into tobys arm and torso, as if he was mauled. hearing a bag unzipping, he felt medical supplies being placed into his once-hands.

- “this… this is all i got, can you work with it?” toby spoke through a hitched breath, and jack heard the strength escape the lively boy with the blood he was losing.

- “needle and thread…? and…” he took a deep breath in, “homebrew.”

- “listen, if you cant help me… ill go fu.. fucking find someone else.”

- hostility was second nature to the human. toby had war tearing through his teeth and he wore his anger like a badge of honour. this was in contrast to jack who was a rather passive being. the two had their differences.

-“no, i can work with this. sit still.”

- his sharp, thick once-hands steadily stuck the piece of thread through the sewing needle, and placed it to the side. he then opened the bottle of liquor which immediately filled the cold, rainy air with a strong almost sour smell. jacks sensitive nose scrunched as he poured the alcohol onto tobys open wounds to clean them as much as it could.

- as the creature worked at the injuries beside the boy joining him in the pews, toby stared up at a decaying crucifix statue up at the collapsing altar ahead. he took a deep breath in as all time escaped his perception. in this moment, it was him and a demon in a place they shouldn’t have been in, all long forgotten by civilization.

- jack noticed the unusual silence in the boy, and made awkward conversation.

- “what happened to you..?”

- “you know me, always disobeying. got into a fight, thats all.”

- “with masky?”

- “with brian.”

- a sudden twitch from the tourettes ridden juvenile stopped jack for a moment as he allowed the other to collect himself again. to hear he had been fighting with brian thomas of all people, a man he thought toby had at least a semblance of respect for, was a small surprise. or possibly no surprise at all.

- the wounded continued, breaking the heavy silence. “i did what i had to do.” the air began to grow suffocating.

- “no, toby. there are lines you shouldn’t cross,” the beast scolded softly.

-“there are lines i cross to survive. you know all ‘bout that don’t you?” toby spoke lowly.

-“you seem to have lost your humanity, then.”

- toby silently mouthed off, knowing jack couldn't see the mocking expressions he made. a whisper of frustration escaped the elders mouth for a moment as he scrambled to patch up a reopened wound that was now gushing blood.

- in attempts to distract, jack continued. “have you ever heard the story of icarus?”

- “what? the fucking idiot who flew too close to the sun?”

- “they say that on his way down, he was cheering and hollering. died with hunger in his eyes.” jack worked his stitches tighter this time, learning from his mistake. he never once looked up to meet the boys gaze as he spoke.

- “and your point is?”

- “have you ever tried praying?”

- toby scoffed at the question, turning his head away from looking at jack to glare at the statue ahead. “i have. but no matter what forgiveness i get for the shit i do, i know ill do it again.” the younger spoke, quietly this time. he did not break his stare at christ.

- there was a long pause of silence that lingered for a moment, and the conversation between the two stood still in the doorway as though it did not want to make its leave yet. as jack worked on the deep gashes, and toby looked up at the son of god, both of them kept their thoughts to themselves for the moment. only the rain filled the room, and the smell of blood.

- finally, toby spoke.

- “i wonder if jesus ever hated his father.”

- the sudden change in tone from a harsh one, to one that was soft, meaningful, made jacks unbeating heart sink for a moment.

- “jesus was not human enough for that.” jack responded.

- toby smirked at the irony, eyeing the demonic figure patching him up.

- “thats a rich judgment coming from you,” he teased.

- “call it an educated guess.”

- “do you ever miss your father?” toby spoke softly once again. he looked at the scars and blood that littered his body. some of which existed long before he had became a proxy.

- “no, i dont think of those things anymore,” jack paused for a moment before continuing, “… do you?”

- another pause.

- “i do. i do, and i dont know why,” the wounded replied.

- the beast questioned him, “do you miss your father, or do you need a father?”

- toby stared up again in the eyes of jesus and thought about it for a moment.

- “i want to be something great, something so biblical theres statues of me up in buildings made in my honour,” the boy painted a picture of virtuous suffering, “i want to be so great i dont need a father.”

- “even christ needed a father.”

- “so then what will become of me?” toby questioned with soft concern.

- jack let out a low chuckle to himself as he poked another needle through the pale skin of the bleeding boy.

- “icarus.”

- toby stared for a second, taken aback by the witty reply.

- “youre too smart for your own good jack.”

- “you sound like my mother”

- the sound of the two mens chuckling escaped their smile-twisted mouths like an intertwined dance of companionship and further beneath, a mutual understanding.

- passing casual chatter that opened the weight of the air came to a close as the medic creature finished the last of the stitches. he instructed toby to sit still for awhile and allow himself to recover, knowing fully well the boy wasn’t going to listen. to his surprise, though, toby remained seated. he had a slight smile on his face as he looked forward.

- “never thought i’d catch myself in one of these places,” he spoke with a hint of nostalgia for what could’ve been on his tongue.

- “i used to frequent church, until my transformation. i have long stopped going since i have done what ive done,” jack opened up, sitting still beside the other.

- “god doesn’t care what you have done.”

- “i do. i care.”

- the church was silent. the tall, crumbling statue of jesus stood before the two men.

- “you know you need to be more careful. you throw yourself around recklessly and get others to clean up your mess. what if one day nobody comes to save you?” the tar-eyed once-man spoke in a lecture that coated concern.

- “thats fine. i know im going to end up dying like a dog. ive known this for awhile now.”

- “and you think fighting for your place in this world will make you any more deserving? you act as if you need to earn your right to exist.”

- “you know nothing of war,” toby sneered.

- “you know nothing of mercy,” jack replied.

- “who needs mercy?”

- “you do, toby.”

- toby fiddled with his thumbs, he swallowed, but never did he break his stare from that forsaken statue.

- “god knows what you’ve done, and he still loves you,” jack reassured, speaking words only known to him in his religious past. he knew nothing better than to speak words of faith, its all the tragic creature had left of his humanity.

- “is that supposed to make shit better? he’s still god, and i’m still a killer. his love wont scrub the blood from my hands.”

- “you’re only human.”

- the words that escaped jacks mouth made toby turn his head to face the beast. for a moment, he had forgotten him and the demon weren’t one in the same. he stared.

- “you know, i always seem to forget that. i was just a boy once, before i became this”

- jack stared back through black sockets.

- “you still are. just a boy, i mean.”

- a deep sigh escaped toby, and he noticed the rain had stopped. the night was young and his wounds were patched. he was done here, and it was time to make his leave.

- steadily, he stood up and began to repack his bag as jack stood and watched through his black, dripping sockets. toby weakenly lifted his hatchet from the floor and dragged it behind him as he made his way to the church doors, stepping through the blood-mixed water puddles on the damaged floors.

- “your kind, the proxies. you have always treated me as if i wasnt an abomination. ive always appreciated that,” jack confessed, stopping the leaving boy in his tracks. distance between them was now large, but after tonight, they knew the connection they developed would stay.

- “well, we know another human being when we see one.”

- toby swung his dragging hatchet over his shoulder and made his leave out of the decaying church doors, pushing his limping body.

- jack stood in silence for a moment before he turned around to face that familiar crucifix statue of jesus that stared down at him in disdain. he reached down and picked up a piece of rubble off of the ground, reeling his arm back and chucking it at the head of christ.

- despite everything, jack was still alive. and despite god, he held humanity in his veins.