#and it feels like lately it's just an every day thing and i'm so fucking tired

[nochepsicodelica]

Bear Boyfriend Toji ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ᕦʕ •`ᴥ•´ʔᕤ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You've been away for three out of the five days you took off work to spend time with your family. Toji stayed behind for work, but never went a day without letting you know how much he misses you and wants you to come home already. He calls and texts plenty, and you do the same, assuring him that you'll be home soon. He's made a habit of calling you at the same time every night. Two in the morning.

One fifty-nine became two, and as if he knows it's his cue, your phone rings and Toji's contact name appears over a picture of him sleeping on the couch, bundled up in blankets.

"Toji," you say, as if you're expecting an explanation for why he's calling so late. "It's two a.m., baby. What's going on?"

"Hey, pretty girl. I was just wondering when you're coming home," he asks, his voice deep and low, fitting for what time it is.

You let out a hushed laugh on the other end of the line. "The same day, Toji. You asked me this last night and the night before. I'll be back in two days."

He groans, frustratedly. Getting days as a response is the worst thing ever for him, right now. "That's forever from now. I'm starting to go nuts over here by myself. Can't you cut it short? For me?"

"Sorry, baby. I'll be home soon, I promise. I won't be leaving your side for a while. At least not because I want to."

He sighs, the sound riddled with his loneliness. "I fucking miss you, doll. I wasn't gonna do this today, but I can't sleep for shit without you next to me. What normally doesn't bug me when you're here, irritates the hell out me, now. Like the wind shaking the windows and my own tossing and turning."

"I'm sorry, love. I feel something similar to that, too. I hear when my parents open their bedroom door to use the bathroom and one of my little cousins is still up playing videos games right now." You smile when you hear Toji yawning obnoxiously. "I miss your suffocating bear hugs. I wish you were here to put me to sleep."

"Yeah? You miss being held tightly in my arms?"

You can practically hear the smile on his face. "I do," you assure, a smile of your own spreading on your lips.

"What else do you miss about me?"

You laugh at the tone he uses to ask the question. He's expecting something dirty, but you won't be giving that to him. "I miss your handsome face. You know those green eyes are one of my greatest weaknesses when it comes to you."

"Yeah? What else about me makes you weak?"

You hum, already knowing the answer. "Your soft morning kisses... the way you draw shapes on my tummy with your fingers when I can't sleep at night."

"Fuck, I really miss doing those things, ma," he mumbles.

The line goes quiet for a second, but his signal isn't choppy and he hasn't dozed off. He's imagining the softness of your skin and the little stars and circles he would be drawing on your tummy if you were there with him. He's thinking about the hushed bouts of laughter that would ensue when your energy and playfulness comes out at the wrong time—when you're supposed to be sleeping. With a sigh, he continues his restless conversation, spurred on by his longing for you to be with him.

"Come home to me, already. Please?" He sighs, heavily. He's never felt more like a child—unable to sleep without the presence of the person who brings him the most comfort. "Sorry. I'm sounding pretty pathetic here, aren't I?" He asks, a low rumble of his chuckle caught on the line.

"No, you don't, my love. I miss you like crazy, too. It's the longest we've been apart in a while and it seems like we're both going through withdrawals," you say, unable to hold back a small laugh. "Sorry, saying it out loud sounds kinda funny. Makes it sound like we're addicts out of context."

"Well, I'm addicted to you. Miss everything about you."

"Yeah? Like what?" You ask, fully prepared to hear him slip some of his dirty thoughts into it.

"Mm... I miss the way you sleepily kiss the scar on my lips, before you fully wake up in the morning, and the way you run your fingers through my hair when I lay my head on your chest after a shit day at work. And... of course i'm missing the pretty sounds you make when I get between your thighs."

"Toji," you chide, with a giggle.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, through a chuckle. "Just really miss you, doll. Call me dramatic, already."

"No. For what? Not everyone has a partner that would act this way after being apart for only three days. I'm just lucky like that. You love me?"

"You know I do. So fucking much. I miss your body against mine. Not even trying to be a horndog, I swear. Just want your warmth and your kisses back."

"I know, baby. When I get back, we'll cozy up together and take a nice, long nap, and when we wake up, we can do anything you want. Anything, okay?"

"Yeah, alright, doll."

"It'll be okay," you promise. "You tired?"

"Yeah, I'll leave you be so you can get some rest. Just wanted to hear your voice."

"We can stay on the phone," you offer. "'Fall asleep together, if you want. Or is that stupid?" You ask, with a soft laugh.

"Nah, nah, nah, that sounds good, ma. I'd like that a lot," Toji responds, encouragingly. He sets his phone down next to his pillow and puts you on the lowest volume of speaker. Your voice is more audible, but still only meant for him to hear. "You there, doll?" He asks, once he's settled into his comfortable position.

"Yeah. Ready to go to sleep?"

"Mhm. Love you, gorgeous. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Love you, baby. Goodnight."

Toji credits you for the way he was snoring within minutes. Your presence comforted him, even if the physical aspect of it wasn't with him. He spent a couple minutes just staring at the ceiling, but as time went by, his eyelids started feeling heavier, and there was no way he was going to fight it when that was what he needed help with all along.

[strawberryflavoredvenum]

TicciJack fanfic. Light angst but a happy ending

Toby has trouble deciphering what's real sometimes. Jack is concerned for him.

Thank you @reddetur for the prompt! I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I have experienced hallucinations but I'm not schizophrenic. I do not have the experience to give a 100% accurate depiction of schizophrenia. Schizophrenia also isn't just hallucinations. I am studying psychology and mental disorders in college and care very deeply about not making creepypasta into stigmatizing mentally ill people. Sorry if setting a disclaimer seems excessive, I just care about it a lot.

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Toby doesn't flinch much at shadows anymore.

There comes a point in someone's life where they see the same thing over and over again and it no longer affects them. Sure, certain hallucinations still get to him. The random touches or sudden loud noises. But not so much these ones. The shadowy figures that creep around in the corner of his vision. They never make any noise or touch him. Once he got used to it, they just became a nuisance. Well.. during the day at least.

The introduction of demons, killers, and paranormal entities into his life has made it a little harder to recognize whether something is real or not. Before everything happened, he could rely on other people's ideas of reality. That is, if he wasn't having an episode. Now that he lived in the mansion he couldn't tell himself that the ghosts, shadow people, insane psycho killers weren't real.

Something that keeps him at ease is the reaction of others. He can always look to the people around him to gage whether he should be worried or not. If no one else is looking at it then he shouldn't either. But that strategy can only go so far. It doesn't help when none of his peers are with him.

But honestly nothing could have prepared him for tonight. It's not like these things sprung up on him or anything. He could feel himself slowly getting worse. His motivation to care for himself plummeted and he became disorganized. Then came the intrusive thoughts and the increased hallucinations. He knew staying up all night wouldn't help but there was no way to fall asleep with everything going on. He was too paranoid and every time he got close to sleep, a loud sound would go off or he would feel like he was falling.

He was downstairs in the kitchen bar preparing his late night guilty pleasure. Four slices of bread with butter. He was looking out to the living room, watching all the figures and random colors dance around. He would be lying if he said he wasn't about to run back upstairs with his bread so the shadow people don't get him. His motions were slower, as if trying not to draw attention to himself. He felt like there was a spotlight on him. He could tell himself that nothing he's seeing was real. That they weren't even approaching him. Just walking around and watching. But nothing was going to convince his subconscious that he wasn't in danger.

He sandwiched the slices together and wrapped them in a paper towel to make transport easier and started walking to the stares when a figure came closer. He flinched but ignored it-That was until it fucking grabbed him. Toby let out a scream slightly too high pitched to be a man's and punched the figure in the jaw. He was met with a solid object that made a grunt and quickly backed up and grabbed their face.

Toby took a moment to step back and catch his breath before flicking the kitchen light on and seeing Jack. He was holding the side of his face and glaring at toby. "Jesus tobes I was just trying to see what you were doing. It's 2 in the fucking morning!" Toby caught his breath and looked a bit sheepishly at Jack. "......I thought you were someone else?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "Who the hell would be down here that you would want to punch?"

Toby looked away. To the discarded slices of bread on the floor. He had dropped them when he sucker punched Jack. "No one in particular." Toby hoped that Jack would drop it. Jack wasn't stupid. Hallucinations are not uncommon in the mansion. He's even had them a time or two during sleepless nights or when missions went on for too long.

He sighed and helped toby pick up the remains of his food. "Out of all things you could have ventured out into the dark to grab, four slices of buttered bread was what you chose?" Jack questioned. Toby looked up at Jack. "Well what were YOU down here for?" Jack shrugged. "To smoke." He said, gesturing towards the front door.

Jack threw the bread away and shook his head. Half a loaf wasted. He returned to toby. Toby didn't look well. He looked tired but his eyes were wide open, looking into the distance. Jack took him by the shoulder and started leading him to his room. "C'mon. You don't need food, you need sleep. Staying up is only making things worse." Toby followed but looked conflicted. "Weren't you going to smoke?" Jack shrugged again. I lost the urge. My jaw hurts too much. He teased lightly. Toby looked away. "I didn't mean to." That was Toby's way of apologizing without actually saying sorry. Jack just nodded and kept walking.

They made it to Toby's cluttered room. It got like that when he let his mental health slip. Jack took it all in but made no reaction that toby could discern. He pushed toby into bed and firmly told him to lay down. Toby raised an eyebrow but was too exhausted to really care. He laid down and sighed.

"so what now?" Toby asked. Jack sat on the side of Toby's bed. "You sleep and I watch over you." Jack's tail had made its way to Toby's hip. The weight of it was comforting in a way. Toby gave a bit of mumbled words salad that Jack pretended to follow and had a few more bad moments before finally falling asleep.

Jack looked around Toby's room. It was hard to gage how Toby's doing sometimes. He never outright said anything. There was a look in his eye that he sometimes had but the biggest indicator of his well-being was his room. With nothing better to do, Jack started sorting through his friends stuff, putting things where they belong and putting his laundry downstairs.

Jack watched over him the rest of the night. He returned to his room just before sunrise so no one else would know he spent the night in Toby's room. Toby woke up sometime that afternoon. His body was sore from sleeping for so long but his head felt a bit less cluttered. It wasn't fixed but it was better than before he slept. He saw his clean room and blushed deeply. He couldn't believe he let Jack see him like that. Jack didn't actually mind Toby's mess at all. He was more concerned with helping his friend(crush).

[deadly-diminuendo]

WIP Wednesday

Time to share another snippet! And it's actually happening on a Wednesday this time! The lovely @amoremagnificentbastard tagged me this time, so thank you! 💖

I've unfortunately had a bunch of things getting in the way of my writing time lately, but here is yet another piece of the upcoming third chapter of A Fitting Reunion. And we're starting to move into NSFW territory, so check it out under the cut!

"Let me state the obvious because it seems obvious is what you need: I love you." How new to your ears those words still are and yet you already think the sound of them sweeter than any song. You beam at him, because of course you do, and he beams right back, because of course he does, because this, this togetherness, is what you both want, what you both need, what you both deserve. That look, so full of adoration, beckons you forward, and so you move in slowly, kiss him softly, hold him sweetly. He does the same, at first, an arm wrapping around your back, the opposite hand snaking its way down to cup your backside. Not that you resist. Nor do you resist when, unexpectedly, he pulls you hard against him, laughter bubbling out of you from the surprise and the clumsiness of it. And yet, here you are in his lap, and here he is guiding your legs to straddle him, and it dawns upon you just how suggestive this new position is. Even the slightest roll of your hips might have… well, quite the arousing effect. Oh, he knows exactly what he's doing, the sneak. And, if this is how he wants you, then that must mean— "And," he says before you can finish the thought, "I'm willing to explore anything and everything that loving you means." Anything. Everything. Never have those two words sounded so sublime, his voice like velvet, his implication indisputable. Your imagination runs rampant, unlimited and unsuppressed, your mind opening itself fully to passion and possibility. And you hope imagination will blossom into beautiful reality. Astarion buries his face into your neck, peppering it with little kisses—maddeningly where you know he knows it tickles—revelling in every giggle he draws out of you. Vexing though it is, yes, the levity of it amuses you, calms your nerves. You did, back in those early days, feel most ease with him whenever you would let yourselves be silly. You remember it well. Perhaps so does he. And then—when tension fades, when you are limp and pliable in his arms—the mood shifts. Then, he kisses you where it doesn't tickle. Then, those sounds spilling out of you are decidedly not laughter. His mouth moves to meet yours. A heady mixture of love and lust swirls about in your mind, and you succumb to it, to him, to every brush of his tongue and graze of his teeth. Almost embarrassing how little it takes to make you squirm about in his lap—but his body answers yours just as readily, the twitch of him against you leaving no doubt to his burgeoning desire. This is really going to happen, isn't it? "And"—you mourn the loss of his lips—"if all of this is somehow not obvious enough"—but his husky tone has you enraptured—"then let me be clear: I will not be satisfied tonight unless and until I've fucked you thoroughly."

No pressure tags (and my apologies to anyone who has been tagged recently already!): @strixamans, @denesmera, @goodgirlgonebard, @verbenaa, @larvasmoon, @vividiana, @inkymoonbunny @dramatiquechipmunk, @khywren, @roguishcat, @larvasmoon + anyone else who wants to share something! ❤️

[mangionebabymama]

the vibe in this community has been so strange lately :( hope things slowly go back to normal in the coming days. thanks for keeping your stuff soft and kind <3

Fuck, I know. 🥺 I anticipated that last Friday was going to be a lot for us, but I didn’t imagine that the aftermath of it would transpire into all of this that has happened, and continue to happen. I know that seeing Luigi in custody, in imprisonment—literally and figuratively—was going to hit hard for all of us, and that regardless, we were all going to stand in support together for him. Yet, it tore a lot of people apart within this community and had people putting up against each other.

I understand there's gonna be opposing viewpoints about things, and most likely in the end, nobody will ever be satisfied, and there can be valid judgments within good reason and accountability to help teach one another and look out for each other in being the best sources of support for Luigi, but I'm still really caught up about literal death threats that blogs were sent on here—and how many have scared them off of here and made people delete their blogs and/or then reevaluate their content completely. Of course, it's always up for individual discretion with how you want to do with your blog in the end, but it's like it was forced upon in some ways that nobody expected it to be. Now, I'm not gonna flame anybody for telling them what kind of content they wish and not wish to see on their Tumblr, as you have your full autonomy to consume the kind of content you wish to see, but if you don't like something—don't engage with it. I don't spend my time on here going after people who believe Luigi is guilty because it's not worth my time, and that's not what my blog space is designated for. However, to send people death threats over the kind of content they post on their Tumblr because it's not your preferred method of expressing your interests and cultivating your brand because you don't agree with it is fucking crazy work—and it is undoubtedly so when you're saying this, as you're in support of a man who's ultimately facing the death penalty and extreme federal charges, and you're rallying and mobilizing online that he gets his right to a fair trial. As much as you may be unlike those people that post content you don't like, you're just as alike as them in supporting the same cause. At the end of the day, we were all placed in the same room, categorized for being just supporters, we're all in the exact same that we're there for the same reason, that being supportive of Luigi, and that's that. 

I hope things go slowly back to the way they were, too, because I still feel the effects reeling in, and it’s almost been a week now. I know that, for myself, I’ve shifted slightly from what I would usually post for many reasons, but for one, I still want to post and interact because I love being on here and I want to make my best efforts possible in continuing to talk about Luigi. I’ve also shifted a bit for the reason of protecting my peace and trying to avoid all and any backlash that so many blogs—including many of these involving my friends and people I’ve made great connections with—were undeservedly bombarded wwith. Of course, I could still be prone to these morality police officers, as they could dive deep into my blog and look at all the content I’ve posted. Even if I would delete something, I’ve been here long enough. People know what kind of blog I’ve made on here these last two months.

I’m not gonna lie. Seeing Luigi last Friday hurt me, and seeing him again in court and being villainized, criminalized, and shackled hit home, because we hadn’t seen him in so long and there, once again, he’s being paraded and politicized in ways and in living color that he doesn’t deserve to be—and it’s wrong that it’s happening like this. It’s really in our hands that we keep talking about him and spreading awareness about his rights and this case for however long he’s in imprisonment. Every little bit matters, and that little bit can do great impact—no matter how big or small.

I hope you’ve been holding up okay, and I appreciate your kind words. We’re here for each other, and everyone else. 🤍

[libraford]

There was just so much "I'm glad they're out, but I'm not going to hold their hand and welcome them into our spaces."

Which is like... the first part of that is what I was suggesting. I wasn't even asking people to be nice beyond acknowledgement that them leaving was a good thing. And I did over-react a little bit because it was somewhat obvious that it was a lot of bad faith reads, but you know... I just don't react well to being called a nazi apologist.

And part of this is that I'm coming fresh out of doing research for the conversion therapy ban, where I had to hear so many strawman and slippery slope arguments as to why parents should be allowed to enroll their gay children into a program that has a less than 1% success rate and a 40% increase in suicide and is mostly characterized by literal torture.

And I saw both supporters and opponents of the ban say things that completely missed the point because they didn't read thoroughly or critically. But the important thing, I guess, was that they were angry.

While researching, I came across the oldie-but-goodie: Westboro Baptist Church- which I hadn't thought about since we were still in college.

But Fred Phelps just straight up hated everything. Like damn. That man really had unearthly amounts of hate in him. And he'd put ideas in people's heads and they'd rotate it around for awhile and they'd end up hating a version of events that barely resembled reality and... well, sometimes people get caught up in hating something so much that they don't read through.

And I think that things like anger, fear, hatred... they can be addicting to some people. I know that I have to limit my intake of The Horrors to digestible things written in plain language, and that I have to do it around the same time every day, or I'll just keep looking for more. And there haven't been very many resolutions to things, so its kind of like a cat chasing a laser pointer.

But I had a positive outcome with the conversion therapy ban. It made me feel good. Even if some of the people who were on my side of the issue somewhat missed the point, it felt good to celebrate a win. So I saw the exit group as another win, even if it was a small one.

I understanding wanting an Acceptable Target. The more I read about conversion therapy, the more I fucking hated Gary Cooper and Michael Bussee. Like I want to throw rocks at these people who left a legacy of hatred and a trail of bodies.

Finding out that they both left Exodus International to (1979 equivalent of) marry each other kind of took the breath out of that. That so many of the leaders and faces of the movement spoke out and said 'I was wrong and I am sorry for the damage I've done' gave me mixed feelings. As late as 2013, decades after the founders of the movement left, still dealing with the fallout and only just now in 2025 are people starting to get with the program on banning the practice of literal torture.

Having an Acceptable Target didn't make all of it not happen. And them apologizing didn't stop the movement. Even with a ban in place, I think that the change will be slower than I would like.

So its like... why am I putting this much energy into wanting them to feel pain when one of them already died of AIDS and the other one has been an outspoken opponent of the movement he started? Its not... its not gonna change where we are.

I'm trying to look more into the concept of what I'm doing instead of the person who is doing it. Like don't get me wrong: I want Elon Musk, Donald Trump, JD Vance, and Mike Pence to all have really ironic deaths. I think it would be satisfying to read in the 1-hour I set aside for easily-digestible news reports. I think that's a human thing to want.

Not gonna fix the problems. The problems are bigger and less easily solved than the richest man in the world falling into a vat of acid (oh god please it would be so funny.) They're concepts. They're isolationism and Rugged Individualism and Corporate Greed. Its racism and xenophobia and misogyny and transphobia and ableism. And the people who think that they cannot, will not, and could never be guilty of those things is disturbingly susceptible to propaganda.

Acceptable Targets are satisfying. Sometimes it can be productive, like when you punch a Nazi and they stop spreading their shit! But punching a Nazi doesn't end Nazism all at once. You have to keep punching them. And you also have to understand why there are Nazis. And you also have to learn why they recruit who they recruit. And this means finding empathy for your enemy, which is hard to do. And the work is long! And sometimes its boring! And sometimes its thankless! And sometimes its fucking impossible!

So I see why some people would prefer Acceptable Targets. We all do it. Which is why I believe in patience in lieu of forgiveness. The work is long. Lives are short.

Not to dwell on the subject, but somewhere along the line the word 'cheer' got misinterpreted to mean 'take an active role in a person's healing process and forgive them wholesale of their actions, shield them from the consequences, and vote for them when they run for senator.'

[wardensantoineandevka]

genuinely SO demoralizing to actually check the ages of fairly middle achieving people in fields I want to work in, like not even the major household name types, like, people who are fairly successful, and learning so many of them are +/-3 years of my own age and they got in three or four years ago is just...

I know we all say that one's age isn't ACTUALLY a road block for anything and you can be successful or break into anything at any age, but y'know, still, it's a fact that is incredibly demoralizing and everything seems impossible all the time

yes, yes, i know checking these facts and dwelling on it is NOT helpful, but also y'know, I already know too much of the state of the industries so

[pardonmydelays]

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[insufferablemod]

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[eschynite]

Maybe I'm projecting and being hopeful but I mentioned to M that I don't even get to shit by myself in peace lmao and I feel like something clicked for him. Bc I was like hey, at least you get private bathroom breaks at work (noncombative). And since then he's been a lot more acquiescent when I ask if I can nap and stuff

[guruguruguruguru]

the longer i sit with it the more it really gets me how nobody ever really mentions obito and rin before obito's reveal in shippuden. kakashi vaguely mentions his old friends and i think other characters allude to the tragedy of kakashi's past but rin and obito themselves are lost to time. something about that is so fucking haunting and so gutting. you would think it would be a pretty big deal that two kids from the same class died within a year of each other, but the nine tails attack probably wiped so much clean that nobody could really carry the grief... still, when we see their class in flashbacks, we recognise almost everyone else, so... there's something really sad and hopeless about their absence...

there's a lot a LOT to say about it from a lot of different angles and i don't really feel like going into meta posting territory i just have big feelings about it you know? and to me i guess obito encapsulates a lot of the anger. for the people who get left behind and forgotten. and that can mean a lot of things

[pikachu-deluxe]

really sucks when you can't enjoy things you like bc doing them makes you feel guilty and like you're a piece of shit

[ionlycareaboutyou]

it's so funny i can have a relatively good week and be in a good mood but then i start thinking about food too hard and i'm like well time to end it all

[potatoesandsunshine]

sad about waypoint hours :(

[theprincessandthepie]

im so sad they wrote joanna out of the show. and then they never let laurel have any friends of her own again T_T