#maybe ill get into it more one day but for now take this

[aceofdumbass]

Okay, I might be biased, bc 1) psychology is my special interest 2) I study this field 3) I am fucking poor as fuck, and not long ago it was the kind that makes you unsure if you will be able to put food on the table tommorow

BUT

I honest to God can't remember being old enough to know what stress means and not knowing that being poor (or in prolonged stressful situation really) will quicken your death.

Is this really something that most ppl don't realize?

If you pay 50% of your income for place to live (and that usually means your income isn't this high - unless you live in some fancy place, possibly?) that means you have only this remaining half to cover food, medicine and healthcare, cleaning products - and having to possibly skimp on those categories is obviously dangerous.

If you are lower income person, you probably can't afford to take too many sick days - with current economy employers often prefer to fire people they find to be not so important, and, while not always, most low income jobs are ones you don't need to have much education or experience. Maybe to do it well, but who is gonna care if their barista/cashier/storage worker does things properly when faced with thousands of them? CEO of Starbucks? Walmart? Amazon? On the other hand, being absent from work is clear data, no analysis needed. But this is not about job situation now - it's about stability, which is inherently needed for humans to feel secure and safe.

And so, this is also one more point for healthcare being obstructed. I went to work, (in fucking museum reception!!!! In place where I talk to ppl and pass them things constantly!!!) with covid and 38,5°C body temperature right after they took back lockdown in my country bc I really fucking needed that work and my boss thought that wearing mask is enough.

Guess what, got fired anyway. Probably ppl from other desks complained about sick worker...

Point is, no rest for the wicked - or poor in this case. Many ppl will not stop dragging themselves to work unless ambulance has to pick them up. Huge part of those would have to first have a good soul call the ambulance for them after they passed out or something, bc the possibility hospital will tell them to stay for few days (and consequently, not be at work) is not worth it for them. Long live human rights!

Now, imagine it's a family household. Maybe two ppl and a child, a unit every country pushes for to get that sweet sweet "we are not dying out as a nation" marker. Two adults have low income jobs, and kid needs to go to school or preschool or whatever. Now those adults will have to decide, each time more than one of them is sick (or god forbid have more and more normal recently permanent illnesses) if they can afford all the doctors, all the medicine, all the sick days, who takes care of who... - if there is enough for all of it, or maybe they need to cut dow or something. Does their child go to doctor with a fever or maybe the father doesn't take his diabetes medication this month?

Fuck this life, but what can you do? Surely it will get better someday...

And then there are young ppl, who nowadays actually almost always have to borrow money to be able to get a house or flat. If you want to stabilize, not pay extra money for renting out or get rid of crazy landlord - prepare to be eternal slave to some bank, and to be hounded down like a criminal if you are late with few monthly payments. I would know, what with all the loans I took out for my parents as a very stupid 18 years old.

Yeah, getting screwed over by closest ones is a thing too. If you are poor as fuck, chances are, they are too, or you don't keep in touch or you have to observe how much their life is better - or you live with constant knowledge you are going to be forever indebted to them for their kindness. All wonderful situations, and I can mark each of them - what stupid prize will we get for full marks in this test? Ah yes, the top ones include depression (more medical bills), going to jail for desperate measures, and booking it out of here express way - maybe making a headline in newspaper about ppl not managing the pressure in extreme situations (and extreme is not something objective, mind you). Miserable.

Even if you aren't this bad off, jealousy and comparing and feeling inferior (and money is a sign of success right????) doesn't feel fine. Feels fucking awful, in truth.

Not having stability is fucking stressful. Pressure is fucking stressful. Having to make decisions that can hurt your closed ones is stressful! Do you know what our bodies do when we are stressed? NOT VERY MUCH RIGHT. Our hearts beat too fast, and get used up too much too quickly. Our hormonal balance flies into the sky with how much adrenaline we have and how little of serotonin and other good things are produced. We start having problems with being able to absorb vitamins and such. Consequently, the immune system gets weaker, we fall sick easier. Our memory may fail us. Deep sleep is hard to achieve, rest doesn't really "rest" us. Our body tries to switch all resources to get away from danger, at the cost of it's normal functions - but this danger is not what our instincts we made against, so many of those are useless. There are probably other things that happen which I don't know of or don't remember at this moment.

And after some time, our brain gets used to it. Now NOT being stressed is ALSO suspicious, a reason to be stressed about! Congratulations, humanity! Achievement unlocked: Anxiety Disorders! Wheeeey...

That thing five years ago that you sometimes remember and want to self-combust because of? Guess what, it's your body going "we are stressed. Danger. We need to fuck off asap. Quickly, think. Oh, long ago we were also stressed=danger, but we lived! Surely there is a way to avoid this danger too somewhere in this memory!". And now, it's going to happen ALL the fucking time. When you are on a date. When getting to work. When brushing teeth.

You started hyperventilating before job interview and look like unstable mess during? Well, danger, you know. Gotta dash, horta have enough oxygen for that, make that blood flow. Diarrhoea (or the opposite) before meeting with important client? There is a chance your body tried to make you lighter to get away easier, or maybe get the predator to leave, like a skunk. Or possibly, brain figured out it really isn't a time to go to bathroom so we are gonna stop that for next half a week till this sudden random pain makes you wish you were dead when you actually can't physically not go. Might be other reasons, of course, but stress can and sometimes will induce those responses. Ones, which may very well induce even more stress - for whatever you fuck up because of them or for your health (which really can't detonate right now, bc you don't have enough left for doctor visit from this month's paycheck, and no sick days left!).

This fun train is on express course for a crash - and you just saw conductor throwing out the brakes through the window. Delightful. Wanna buy that overpriced chocolate cake or coffee for 20 bucks to eat through the stress?

The long and short of it: little money means stress. Stress means you need to pay more money to be able to live on. Pressure means stress. See the pattern?

And even if you are the chillest person out there, if you break a leg and can't get yourself treated, you might lose job, go hungry, get some infection in it and die way quicker than you would without it. You will just be slightly less bothered about it, I guess.

Welcome to the world, where everything is for money, and you get those through luck (uncertain), slaving away (uncertain) or human life protection (uncertain) or social help (uncertain).

And no shit, did researchers really say that people die quicker if they are rid of half their income? Wow.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Earth Shaker

People call them "Contracts" but few, if any, ever read the fine print.

Maybe it's because of all the media from my first life; the horror stories and tales of deals gone wrong. Yet it seems like I alone, remain cautious. Careful. It feels like I alone, even understand the concept of "a deal with the devil". Though granted... not by that exact wording.

There are no devils here. IS no Christian Heaven or Hell. (As far as I can tell.)

But... but oh, there is so much more. And all of it is dangerous.

There are demons, yes, but they are creature made of malicious Energies. So too, exsist spirits. Minor and major Gods. It is a full and complete fantasy set up. They whole package. A wonderland of world building. And? A horror story to live in.

Those self same demons? Eat people. Attack travelers. Trains. And those Spirits? Fight for dominance in some sort of ever shifting court intrigue, using mortals as power sources and pawns. Are just as, if not more, destructive then the demons!

But, oh. What of the Gods?

What OF them? Do you think they care?

Beneath the glamorous adventures and magical veneer of the Story, this world was a rotten thing. Barely holding together. Yet... yet it was all I had, now. And that terrified me. Because I could not protect... anyone. Could I? Not.. not a single soul.

In the Story, the Protagonist (bless his empty little head) went to a magical academy. Met friends and foes. There was a love story and eventually? He saved the day. Huzzah. Good for him. But... here was the problem. The one which haunted me so.

That Love story? The "girl" he fell in love with? A nice, if proper, young lady from a house far above his station. But, oh! It was a turn of the century magical fantasy! He became famous! Wealthy! Saved her life with his incredible power! Of course her family approved in the end.

I did not want to BE his love story.

He was... a nice young man. Really! But... but it was like talking to, well, a high school student. Which he effectively was. And I? Had already been in college. Damn near graduating! (Not that I was bitter. No. Of course not. Perish the thought!) Only to then? Reincarnate and go on to live over a decade more.

I was at least twice his age.

The day I'd look at him as a romantic prospect? Is the day I'd gouge my own eyes out. That is a CHILD. My whole class is full of children. It's... exhausting. Ha! "Mature one", indeed. "Class mom", indeed! If only they knew.

But now? Now‽ The school wanted us to make Contracts! For a fucking GRADE! It was horrifying. Ill conceived and frankly? A GREAT way to push kids to over reach themselves. Try and Contract with a more powerful Being then they could handle. Get burned up or used.

"Mandatory". Ha! Mandatory my ass. I should refuse. If I was sane, I was refuse. But the problem was?

The school was fronting the Contact materials and safety arrays.

It was the safest chance I'd ever get. Fuck. Damn it.

So I read. I read and I read. Research til my eyes cross. Practice writing until my hands cramp. Splurge on the highest grade calligraphy instruments and inks I can afford. And with my allowance? And years of saving up? I'm literally buying alongside royals.

But it's the CONTRACT that takes the most time. I have to research law. Act under the assumption that I will be faced with some sort of malicious genie. It... gods, it can only end poorly. I know this. Yet? Here I stand.

Doing it anyway.

(I am a fool... aren't I?)

Unlike my fellow students, I don't do a vague Call All. While yes, the odds are higher for a response (due to it being basically an APB), you will have no control over what responds. Better to call for something specific and fail, in my mind. Then at least? You can plan ahead.

Besides, with the sheer quality of the materials I'm using? Someone will answer. They won't be able to resist. It's like leaving a box of diamonds on the sidewalk.

It takes all day, slowly, carefully writing out the hundreds of thousands of sigils and qualifiers. The "if X then Y, except when Z unless AB" of it all. I magically drain myself twice. Have to eat trail mix on the floor then nap in the corner. I rented the hall for the week, but... once begun? Only an IDIOT would open the safety arrays to leave.

Great way for foreign influences to completely fuck up your spell work. Either try to harvest the building Energies or, more likely, sabotage the Contract for a friend or ally, so they get more then they should. Fuckers.

After nearly two days? It's done. Still, I wait. Even as the air nearly burns with power. The scent of Green so over powering it's like someone dumped a cologne aisle on the floor. Wood and moss and old growth. Deep dark, pitch black earth. Petrichor. All humming, Humming, HUMMING like a bow string pulled back as far as it can. Straining, shaking, desperately ready to release the tension and STRIKE.

But I am no fool.

I wait for my energy to refill. Wait for a nap and some food to clear my mind. For all my papers to be nicely in order. I have called upon you, not the other way around. You can wait. (Because, frankly? I haven't even called you yet!)

Contract ready, I step into place. And each step, as it lands, is like the falling of trees and the baying of hounds. Thunderous in the sudden silence. Crashing as they fall. It is not me, whoever does this, the heraldry is both dramatic and not something I've ever even practiced. The scent of Green is thick enough now to choke. I'm genuinely surprised that the scent alone has not inspired plant growth.

My meticulous work surges to life, like it was a beast, only barely holding itself a bay. Like it can no longer. Roots and vines, made of then thousand shades of green-Gold-GREEN light shoot forward and up. Restrictive and choking. I am consumed in seconds.

I have to remind myself not to panic. To keep my feet still. As long as I don't move? I am safe. It is all for show. Like a cat, arching it's back. They can't truely hurt me. Bruise? Yes. But true, actual injury? No. It would hurt THEM too.

"Well, now, what have we here?" Mused a voice beyond comprehension.

It was eons of growth, beneath aliens skies. The cries of animals long lost and longer dead. Things that weren't and have never been, but could have. Growth, growth, GROWTH. Hunting and savagery and Death. Trees so tall the eclipse the heavens. Roots so deep they consume the world. Each leaf a tapestry. Decay. Growth from the rotting.

My... my ears were bleeding.

The vines-roots writhed in agony and pleasure under the weight of those few words. And... and that wasn't right. S-something was wrong. Very, very wrong. A spirit wasn't supposed to be that... that powerful.

I could FEEL the Safety arrays all but screaming under the weight they were trying to hold. Like toothpicks trying to hold up a mountain range. W-what? What was happening? I picked an earth spirit! Statistically, the calmest and mildest out of all available options! So... so why...‽

"Not going to bargain, kid? Plead for power and wealth?" The next sentence was no less agony then the first. Like being slammed by a wall of power. "Or are you here to make demands? Hmmm? I'm curious, honestly, to see where this one goes. It's been a while, after all."

The world had a pink tint. I... I tasted iron. Ha ha... oh god. Shit. I fucked up. I knew I should never have agreed to this stupid fucking-!

Wet dribbled down my face. A wheezing gurgle rattled my lungs. My heart was racing... but... but I could get enough air. I tried to suck in more. But the wet gurgle only got louder, as pink tinted foam worked it's way up my throat. Filled my lungs. I couldn't breathe. Something wet trickled from my ears. I Couldn't Breathe!

"Ah. I forgot about that. Fragile little creatures, aren't you?"

Unhurried steps casually strolled closer. Iron flavored foam clogged my air ways, as muscles spasmed, and creeping tendrils of darkness began to work their way closer, around the edges of my dying eyes. The world was muffled yet I could hear him perfectly. My sense were burning out, yet he imprinted himself beyond that. What had I summoned? Oh god... what had I done? W-what had I-‽

A calloused, treebark colored hand (the shade ever shifting, just ever so slightly) passed through the vines. Rather, the vines parted for it. Sun warm. Glowing as though containing that sunlight itself. Big. It... it was a strong, gardeners hand. A hunter's. Yet at the same time... unmistakable for anyone but that of a powerful man's.

Casual in it's impropriety. Sliding through my hair to grip the top of my head like it was simply his due. His skin... buzzed against me. Was almost too hot. Like standing near a live wire. And...? Then...

Then everything was gone.

My lungs free and clear. My eyes sharper then they'd ever been. Hearing so crisp, the silence of the room around us was nearly vertigo inducing. It was like my body had been reset to factory settings. Upgraded. I shuddered, eyes clenching shut. Because even with the pain gone? The horror was still there. The memory of the taste still lingered in my mouth.

"There we go, good girl. All fixed." There was a condescending lilt to his voice. His hand didn't move. Just tightened lightly and dragged, forcing me to tilt my head up, if I didn't want my hair pulled. Making me look him in the eyes. They were shifting, lazily, between hawk and wolf gold even as I watched. "Now, you were trying to be clever, yes? Had your little plan and every thing. Come on, let's hear it. I'm curious to see where this scheme goes. You always think your so creative, after all. So bold and new."

I wanted to send him back.

Now.

Fuck this. Fuck, grades. To hell with "mandatory". I'd drop out if I had too. Gods damn it, I'd go be puppy boy Protagonist's Love Interest if I had too! This was insane. I... I fucked up so bad. Earth spirits don't glow. Light spirits glow! For obvious reasons. But you know who does‽ Who FUCKING DOES‽‽ Gods.

"Ah, ah~." He chided, all but curling over me as he loomed.

There was laughter threatening to escape his control, hidden in his voice. Mocking amusement in the deliberate non-smile that kept him from baring his teeth in a grin.

"Don't go running now. Not when you've already invited me in." Phrasing. Horrifying phrasing! "You wouldn't want to be rude would you? There are Rules, after all. And you know better. Don't you, little thing?"

I wanted to laugh hysterically. Cry a bit. Fuck. God DAMN IT. FUCK! He's right. Of course he is! He mocking me with it! Shit. Oh god. Fuck, damn it! O-okay... I... I can... I just-!

Fear? Truely is the mind killer. For long moments, I could not move. Could barely bring myself to breathe. My mind, a horrible static. But... like slowly forcing yourself to unclench a white knuckled grip. One finger at a time. I... I made myself focus. Tried to bring my arm up. Miraculously, the vines let me. I held the Contract I had written out.

"Oh? And what's this then? Deman-?"

I could feel the pages leave my hand. Hear the rustle as they were flipped. The ringing silence, as he registered what it was he held. But my eyes were closed. I... I didn't want to see the end coming. Maybe I was a coward for that. But damn it, gods damn it, I was scared!

Ļ̵͎̬̙̲̈̽a̶̡̻͕̐̿̆͜ȕ̵̡̠͕̹̌̎̊̔g̷̡̟̞͓̬̿h̴̦̻̼͌́̚t̶͍̑e̴̹̓̚͠r̶̹̳̺̀̿͊̓

Crashing of horns against horns, the bray of dying beasts. Cracking growing and the fall of mighty trees. Mycelium surging through deep dark soil. Ripping flesh. Hunting cries. Green and grow. GREEN AND DEATH. Green Green Green Green Green Gree-!

"Audacious little pet! Aren't you? Oh, you do think your clever!" Amusement sang like venom and traps yet to be sprung. Dying, dying, DYING-! "Oh dear. Again? My poor thing. Hold still. This 'spiritual partner' will make it all better, hmm?"

The hand was back. Cradling my lolling face. W-when had I? G..Gone limp? I can't feel my legs. Can't feel... can't feel.... c-cant f...feel...

GREEN.

I gasp in air, like a drowning man final breaking the surface. My face is sticky. Blood? Tears? Gore? I am terrified to know. Don't have the strength to lift my own head. My magic is being all but ripped out of me. Faster and faster. Like it's being drained into a bottomless pit.

Something beyond sunlight, beyond growth, is reaching back. The very Concept of nature made manifest. What did I summon? What creature? What GOD?! Did I SUMMON?! Please. Forgive me. I.. I didn't mean too! I swear! Please! P-please!

"You know? It's been far too long, since I've had an excuse. I needed a good vacation. And to think," A second hand comes up to cradle my face, with a terribly deceptive gentleness. Tilting my head this way and that, as though to inspect me. "It comes with a free pet. Oh you're going to be so very amusing, I can already tell."

"But don't worry, pet." He nearly crooned. Clearly warming up to his own idea. "I take care of my things."

"And I can just tell. I am going to adore you."

[noctiva]

(No worries! I was just checking haha diagnosed with OCD and in the process of getting an Autism assessment at the moment)

But could I maybe request how Toby would be with an OCD s/o?

Not necessarily the stereotypical clean freak way but more so a lot of obsessive/intrusive thoughts? For example I have episodes where I'm freaking out over inherenting my dads Schizophrenia and I am just a paranoid WRECK for a good couple days

But then again I know Toby also has neurodivergent issues so maybe he'd just ignore it? Would he make it worse? Haha just maybe your take on how he'd handle that please?

Catharsis

Toby Rogers x GN!Reader

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Thank you for the request lovely!! I hope this is okayyyy 👉👈just some fluffy supportive bf toby i love him sm

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WC: 2.5k

Summary: Toby finds you in the middle of a war within your own mind, and makes you a promise he won’t ever break

CW: mentions of mental illness (schizophrenia specifically), Toby using the phrases ‘crazy’ and ‘having a screw loose’ to allude to it (he has it himself and copes with humour), paranoia and intrusive thoughts, descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks

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You’re not crazy. You’re not crazy.

You don’t know how many times you’ve repeated that phrase to yourself over the past few days. In vain, because it just never seems to stick. Your mind doesn’t want it to. Your mind wanted you to be scared, to be paranoid, because that was the safest option. The best way to protect yourself.

Because… what if you were? What if you were just being ignorant, because of how much you didn’t want it to be true? What if you were already too far gone, your brain transforming from a tool into a weapon within your skull?

You would swear you were already hearing voices. Seeing things out of the corner of your eye that would disappear when you faced them. Surely, your heightened anxiety couldn’t be making things any better, but that wasn’t a fact at the forefront of your mind. All you knew, what that you would swear you could feel it - your mind deteriorating. Everything just felt all wrong.

Stood in the bathroom of you and your boyfriend Toby’s shared home, you stand in front of the mirror - fingers gripping the counter, eyes fixated on your reflection.

Would you be able to see physical changes, if something was wrong with you? Would it manifest in that way? You lean in closer, peering into the frantic eyes that stare right back at you. Were your eye bags always that dark? And were the whites of your eyes bloodshot?

You looked skinnier, right? More gaunt. Sickly even.

(Which - though you weren’t able to come to this conclusion yourself - was definitely because you had been in a state of near paranoid catatonia for the past five days.)

It was hard to function. And it was frustrating because you had been fine. You had been having a good week before this, good month even, and all it took was one little thing to send you spiralling.

One night, while you and Toby sat together on your couch in the living room, you swore you saw something move just out of your line of sight. A flash of something, that disappeared the moment you turned your head to look at it.

Now, it could’ve been a myriad of things. Trick of the light, shadows bouncing from the light of the television, the curtain moving as a breeze floated in through the cracked window.

But those were too safe. Too easily believed. Perfect excuses to brush something worse under the rug.

And with your family’s predisposition to illnesses that would cause such a thing, was it really so wrong to be worried? Or at least… Cautious?

You reach your hands up and press them against your face. They’re trembling, and clammy - smearing sweat against your cheeks when you touch them. And you just can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection. You - that person - in the mirror… It was possible, right? That your mind was deteriorating without you even noticing.

You had done your research. Disorders like schizophrenia didn’t start showing signs until later in life. Late teens to early twenties, specifically, and you were nestled snugly in that age bracket. These thoughts were not unfounded. Maybe it was already happening.

You press your hands down firmer. Was it already happening?

Your eyes dart around the mirror’s reflection, trying to find something - anything - that looked out of place. Wrong. Anything that could prove you right.

It was definitely already happening.

“Th-There you are. Why’d you just g-go and disappear on me?”

The sound of Toby’s voice yanks you out of your focus so harshly that it makes you flinch. You snap your head towards him, immediately pulling your hands away from your face, trying to look completely put together though you know it can’t be working. You’re still shaking, and because you had completely forgotten to shut the door, he had definitely just caught you deep in the throughs of the mental war you were waging.

You watch as it happens, the way his eyes shift from confused to worried the moment your gazes meet. He takes a hesitant step forwards, watching you carefully - eyes flickering down to your trembling fingers every so often. “Are you… Okay?” He asks, voice soft and concerned.

And you hate it. Hate how you’ve worked yourself into such an anxious knot, that he was approaching you like you were a scared animal.

But at the end of the day, was that not what you were?

“I’m fine.” You answer back a little too quickly, a little too harshly. His eyebrows furrow together, a crease forming on the bridge of his freckled nose, and you let out a shaky sigh. “I’m fine, really. Just, uh… Thinking.”

“Uh oh. D-Don’t do that.” Toby jokes softly, but the concern on his face hadn’t dissipated. It was such a him thing to do, that it doesn’t faze you at all when he tries to force humour into the clearly tense situation. When he doesn’t get so much as a sarcastic snort of laughter out of you though, he quickly realizes that this wasn’t just a sour mood he had found you in the middle of.

He takes another step closer, then another, peering down at you with a frown on his face. You watch as his eyes search your expression, roaming over every square inch like he was trying to decode you.

Oh, god. Could he see it too? The changes?

You knew that Toby himself had schizophrenia, along with a slew of other disorders that he dealt with on a day to day basis. If anyone would be able to tell something was wrong with you, it would be him. And as he’s staring down at you, seemingly peering into your soul, you wonder if he sees himself in you.

And though you love him dearly, right now you really hope he doesn’t. “T-Talk to me.” He finally murmurs after a few moments. “Something’s d-definitely wrong.”

You swallow thickly, struggling to maintain his gaze as you shift in front of him. It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to him, it was just the anxiety coming back in to wash another wave over you. What if… What if he thought you were being annoying, and irrational? Or what if he was already growing tired of dealing with you, and this was the final straw?

It was the unknowns that were making your heart pound in your chest.

“I’m…” You shift from one foot to the other, eyes flicking around to avoid him. It was difficult to though, when he was so close - head tilted down to encroach on your space further. He wasn’t trying to make you squirm on purpose, you knew that, and yet your skin was still crawling. “I’m just… Worried.” You mutter, to which he raises an eyebrow.

“Worried?” He asks. “About w-what?” He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning to the side to rest his hip against the bathroom counter. “You’ve d-definitely been off lately. But I d-didn’t want to bring it up…” Your eyes flick upwards, and you watch as he gnaws at his bottom lip - already cracked a raw from this constant habit of his. “Y’know, didn’t wanna m-make things worse, if you were just trying t-to work through it on your own or whatever.”

So he had noticed. You suppose that shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Toby worked often, leaving you at home alone more often than not. You had been hoping that the time away had hidden the shift in your demeanour. Obviously, that hadn’t been the case. “But at the same time, y-you know I don’t like it when you hide stuff ff-from me.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything.” You shoot back immediately, lips twitched down into a frown. Your fingers, still trembling, curl into fists down at your sides. Your eyes catch his, and he looks so damn worried it makes your heart ache. So, you take a shaky breath in, and finally let it out. “I’m worried… That I might be becoming like my dad.”

You whisper the words out, soft and quiet like you’re hoping he may not hear them. You’re kind of hoping he didn’t, so that you could come up with some other excuse and brush all of this off. Figure this all out on your own. Go back to overanalyzing every little instance in your life.

But he did hear you. Of course he did.

“Your d-dad?” His face scrunches up in confusion for a moment, his eyebrows wrinkling together. He watches your face for a few moments while the words sink in, and then realization washes over him like a wave of frigid water. His entire expression melts, bewilderment swapped for a look of pity that made your chest feel tight. “O-Oh… Oh, baby, no.”

He reaches up gently, two calloused palms coming to cup each side of your face. He’s so warm, or are you just that cold? You can’t tell, but the comfort is immediate. His thumb smooths against your cheek, the roughness of his skin a soothing sensation for your brain to latch on to. “You’re not, I p-promise.”

“How would you know?” You ask, voice quivering as you look up at him. You would like to just take his word for it and believe him, but if you couldn’t even convince yourself - it was a lot harder to simply give in to an outside force.

“Law of n-nature?” He hums as he gently strokes your face, his one hand moving back to thread into your hair instead. A soft pressure against the back of your head, cradling you. An anchor. “There c-can’t be two crazies in the household r-right? That just wouldn’t be fair.” You purse your lips at his second attempt to lighten the mood, and he lets out a sheepish little chuckle. “Sorry, ss-sorry. Just joking.”

He draws you in closer, slowly. Permeating through the bubble of dread that had been encasing you, bringing with him a warmth that only he possessed. “Listen to me though, o-okay? You’re alright. You will b-be alright. I’m certain of that.”

The hand cupping your cheek slides down, and then he’s resting two fingers under your chin - lightly tilting it upwards to look at him properly. You frown a little at his words, and open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off. Seemingly knowing you were only going to launch another rebuttal in his direction. “And d-don’t say ‘you can’t know th-that for certain’ because yes I can.” He smiles down at you, even as your bottom lip starts to tremble. “No matter what ha-happens, you’ll be okay, b-because I will make sure of it.”

He tilts his head to the side, before pinching your chin gently. “Didn’t I tell you I’d a-always keep you safe?”

“Well, yeah.” You mutter back to him softly. “But this is different.”

“Maybe.” Toby hums. “But my p-point still stands.” He withdraws his hand minutely, then using it to brush a stray stand of hair out of your eyes. “If - and I said ‘if’,” He meets your eye before continuing, “Something did happen, I’d h-help you through it. I’m puh-pretty well versed on the topic of havin’ a screw loose, y’know.” This time, he actually does get a tiny snort out of you, but it’s enough to have his lips stretching into a grin. “But, I’m like 100% sure that you’re f-fine. I think your brain is just b-bullying you again.”

“Typical.” You mutter, to which Toby hums in agreement.

“H-Happens to the best of us.” He shrugs. “But letting it, is a whole ‘nother i-issue. G-Getting all anxious about it is probably just m-making it worse.”

You let out a reluctant little sigh, shoulders drooping as his words wash over you. You knew he was right, you really did, but it was just so difficult. It wasn’t like you wanted to be a nervous wreck, you just always felt like you didn’t stand a chance against your own mind. How could you? It was your brain, the thing that kept you ticking, was it even possible to fight it?

“I know.” You breathe out, leaning into his hand minutely. He notices this, and smiles softly as he tucks that strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s just hard.”

“Well of c-course it is.” He answers back softly. “But that’s why I’m h-here. To help.” He observes you for a moment, eyes warm and affectionate, before he ducks his head down to press a gentle kiss to the centre of your forehead.

And he had meant that, because that’s all he had ever wanted himself. Help. A shoulder to lean on. Someone to rub his temples when his thoughts got too loud.

He knew what it was like to not have that. To have to wade through the thicket all on your own, shrouded in darkness as your own mind works against you. It was something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, and so he definitely let it happen to you - the love of his life.

His eyes wander over your face, quickly fixating on the dark circles ringing your bloodshot eyes. His smile morphs into a little frown immediately. “Have you b-been sleeping?”

Your eyes flick away from him, before you sheepishly murmur;

“Not really.”

“Eating?” He presses on, his hand moving to trace the curve of your cheekbone before doing the same to your jawline.

“Also… Not really.” You mutter, looking back to him for a moment - which proved to be a mistake. God, he looked so distraught. You feel your stomach twist.

“That’s… An issue.” Toby frowns. You watch as his eyes as a multitude of different thoughts pass through his mind, before he’s reaching down and curling his fingers around your wrist. He gives it a tug as he turns and starts making his way out of the bathroom, bringing you with him. “C’mon. I’m g-gonna cook you somethin’, a-and then we’re going straight to bed.”

“It’s like, five pm.” You chuckle softly, but let him tug you along behind him anyway, working in speedwalk behind him to keep up with his longer strides.

“So w-what? You g-got somethin’ against n-naps?” He counters, turning his head to throw a raised eyebrow back at you. “Haven’t g-gotten to fall asleep with you much this p-past week. All these ss-stupid - tweet! - stupid late night missions.”

You round the corner into your kitchen, where he doesn’t let go of you for one second even as he starts searching through cupboards with his free hand. “W-What do you want? I’ll make you something r-real nice.”

He turns to look at you with a smile, and you feel your heart flutter. A warm, gentle feeling flowing through your veins and relaxing muscles you hadn’t even realized had been tensed.

And you think, he may be right. You’d be alright.

However the cards fell.

—————————————————————————☆

Again, thank you for the request!! It was nice to write something fluffy for once

I feel cleansed ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[merlyybird]

Could I ask for Vector being sick for a writing request?

"You really think it's that bad?" Vector could speak again now that the thermometer was out, but his voice still had a shortness to it due to his stuffy nose. "Come on, Espio. It's just a common cold. You don't need to do all this."

Espio peered at the reading on the thermometer. "Well, you're still running a fever, but it's gone down. That's a good sign." He turned it off and set it on the bedside table. "Another day of rest and I'm sure you'll feel better."

"What??" Vector sat up in bed a little. "No, hang on. Read it again. Maybe it was just a trick of the light or---" He froze in the middle of his sentence with a scrunched-up look on his face. "Ahh...aaahhh---" He reached for a tissue and brought it to his nose. "---CHOO!"  The tissue fluttered as he blew into it. He lowered it and sniffed. "...I feel fine."

"Vector," Espio raised an eyebrow and held out one hand, prompting Vector to lay down again. "Don't debate this with me. You don't need to work right now, you need rest."

Vector sighed and slouched back against his pillow. "...Ah, darn it." He dropped his dirty tissue in the nearby trash can and flopped his arm over his forehead. "Why'd this stupid bug have to get me today? Couldn't it have waited a week?"

"That's not really how illnesses work," said Espio.

"I know that! It's just...we've got such a packed schedule. I was supposed to interview two different clients, do research on our case, go to the grocery store---"

"All of those things will still happen." Espio brought a hand to his chest. "I'll take care of it."

Vector sat up again to stare at him. "Really?" He tilted his head forward. "You sure you can handle it?"

"Of course."

"And you're sure you can keep him outta trouble?"

Vector gestured toward the doorway, where Charmy had just entered, flying, carrying a very full cup of water.

"Here you go!" He rushed forward a little too fast and water sloshed right onto the floor. "Whoops---!"

"Charmy, careful!" Espio ducked as Charmy swooped over him. Some of the water splashed onto his head, and he froze for a second before slowly wiping it from his eyes. He stood up. "...I'm getting some paper towels."

Espio left the room while Charmy set what remained of the water on the bedside table, next to the thermometer. "There." He landed on the floor and looked up at Vector with big eyes.

Vector sighed, smiled, and gave Charmy a pat on the head. "Thanks." He raised a playful eyebrow. "So how come you zoomed in here like that? It's not a race, kiddo. You just made a mess."

"Yeah, but Espio said you needed water right now, so I did it really fast," Charmy beamed proudly, then tilted his head. "Do you need anything else? I can get it!"

"Uhhh, I'm good for now. Thanks, bud."

Espio walked back into the room with a roll of paper towels under his arm. He began to tear them off one by one and drape them over the puddles of spilled water on the floor.

Vector watched Espio with a knowing smile. "Already more than you bargained for, huh?"

Espio gathered up the soaked paper towels in one arm, got to his feet, and seemingly refused to make eye contact with Vector---he was trying a little too hard to seem cool and aloof. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes. "No. This is all very feasible. See? I just solved that problem. I can solve more." He opened his eyes and pointed at Vector. "Don't get up."

"Don't worry, Vector. We're gonna take good care of you." Charmy gave him a pat on the arm, then leaned in and looked at him pointedly. "Are you sure you don't need anything?"

Vector glanced at Espio, who shrugged, then smiled politely back down at Charmy. "Uh...I guess I'm kinda hungry?"

"Oooh, okay! We have a can of noodle soup left, don't we? Don't we??" Charmy took to the air again. "Be right back!"

He zipped past Espio, out the doorway, and had to skid to a halt in the air before turning down the hall.

Espio and Vector both watched him go. Espio waited until he was out of earshot to turn back towards Vector with a concerned expression on his face. He pointed awkwardly back toward the doorway with his thumb. "I should..."

"Yeah, you should go help him," Vector laughed. Espio moved to leave.

"Hey," Vector said, prompting Espio to wait. Vector smiled at him. "...You got this. You're a capable guy, I just...hate to leave you hangin'."

Espio's eyes brightened, and his stance loosened a little---this was how Vector could tell he was happy. "Thank you," muttered Espio, "You deserve a day off." He gave Vector a single nod. "I won't let you down."

With that, he left the room. Vector settled into bed and closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

As much as he hated being down for the count, at least he could rest easy knowing Espio would handle everything, just for a day. Including whatever mess Charmy was about to make in the kitchen.

[note: i used this kinda like a short story/scene warmup prompt! i very much enjoy putting the chaotix in a mundane situation]

[sushisocks]

I would love to hear your angsty macsummers headcanons 👀

YEEEAHHHHHH let's get INTO IIITTTT!!! I wanna say these sort of -- build up a little, maybe :3c I hope you like them!!!

Lenny isn't really one to talk about his feelings - he might have the words, but he still doesn't really know how to, when it comes to the more negative and deep-seated stuff. King of intellectualizing his emotions fr.

The only person who ever really gets him is Sean, who wears his heart on his sleeve.

It's not even that Sean tries very hard to understand Lenny; but he has the ability to get straight to the point where Lenny flounders or gets avoidant.

Similarly, when Sean starts blustering and distancing himself from the truly vulnerable parts of himself, Lenny can see right through it.

What really first drew Lenny to Sean was his openness about his father; the common ground of having lost theirs in such violent ways. It's the first time Lenny tells anyone what he did in retaliation, and how he did it - Sean responds in neither horror nor pity, but with a sense of vicarious satisfaction and maybe just a little jealousy. They share a drink in quiet celebration of the karmic retribution delivered by Lenny's hands, and it's the least complicated anything has been for him in a long time.

Sean's story feels heavy with unfinished business, in comparison; turns sweet liquor sour to hear of a man shot in his bed. Lenny indulges him, lets him talk about his father at length, and feels his own sting of jealousy at how close it seems they were - reminded of his own father's words in the letter he still has from him. He's not sure he ever fully understood the 'more tutor than father' line before meeting Sean.

Nightmares; when Sean isn't blacked out to the world from either drink or exhaustion, he has them. Usually he dreams of waking up to his father's dead body, though that has certainly morphed over the years through the death and injury he's witnessed since. It's not uncommon for him to dream about Lenny being dead, now, and waking up panting and panicked just to see Lenny next to him - Sean usually curls right up against him before trying to get some more sleep.

Conversely, Lenny only has nightmares after experiencing something really bad - Sean usually is woken up by Lenny though, and is there to comfort him after.

When Sean returns from the bounty hunters, he spends the first night drinking, partying, and partially avoiding Lenny. He's overly successful as Lenny is gone for the next couple days with Micah, and then gets taken out to drink with Arthur.

By the time Lenny DOES approach Sean and asks to talk, Sean is on the verge of exploding. He doesn't WANT to talk about it, he wants to move on with his life, but he has been anticipating Lenny's question and barely needs to be prodded before he's spilling his guts out.

He tells Lenny about the haze of pain and confusion, about how he had no idea how much time passed prior to getting out - it could've been days or months as far as he was aware. Sean isn't really sure what all they did for the duration he was there - he just knows he was in pain for the most of it, when he wasn't unconscious, and that the burning and pulling was among the easier things to bear.

Lenny asks Sean if he's thinking of leaving, after all that. Sean says no, and Lenny has no idea why he's vaguely disappointed. They both know something is left unsaid there, but neither can bring themselves to push it or bring it up again.

Lenny does still notice how unsteady Sean is on his feet in the time after, at Horseshoe; he does his best to make sure Sean has somewhere to sit down nearby, if he needs it. He also notices how Sean's struggling to eat, and speaks to Pearson about cutting everything in the stew into smaller pieces for a while - he also makes sure there's softer snacks for Sean in the meantime.

When Sean dies, Lenny shuts down in what ways he can. He has never figured out how to handle grief without vengeance, without anger, and when there is no revenge left to take, he has no idea how to handle it. So he just gets quiet.

He was the same when Jenny died, but with Sean it's worse - Lenny becomes a lot more withdrawn, to the point that people notice.

Several of his friends in the gang try to check up on him, but Lenny brushes them off - doesn't want to talk about it. He keeps up with the day-to-day because he doesn't know what else to do, a sort of distant dissociation carrying him through it.

When he has a moment of quiet, he doesn't even know how to identify what he's feeling, he just feels-- empty.

Where before he was foolhardy now he's reckless - borderline careless - with himself. It's not that he wants to die but the rush of adrenaline is one of the purest feelings he has left, not waterlogged by the reminder of his person not being there anymore.

It doesn't help, in the long run - remembering just hits harder once the thrill fades.

[quirkle2]

no matter how hard i tried i couldn't get this piece to work w full color and lighting so ur just gettin this instead </3 reigen's somewhere off-camera with his head in his hands wondering who FUCKING hurt his kids

[xxplastic-cubexx]

tablet died right when i finished that wanda doodle but i still wanna doodle what if i ended it all

[lemongogo]

college … wasted on the youth (me)

[ratatatastic]

do you write fic on ao3?

unfortunately for everyone involved i do!

[yikes-ajax-thats-sad]

People really think trust issues are just "aww they're scared of love" and it's like bitch no. Trust issues as in I'm deeply in love and the issue is I'm waiting for you break my heart after undergoing periodic abuse in relationships. I'm not scared of love I'm scared of what you'll do with it.

[clowningcrows]

accidentally took a fairly objective step away from myself today and went. oh shit. i’m like REALLY hard on myself aren’t i?

[rainingincale]

.

[show-us-kaidenshenandoah]

me: constantly cracks jokes about how disabled/chronically-ill sickly i am

also me: surprised pikachu face when i get regular-illness-sick ontop of my usual-sick (as if im not suspected to be somewhere on the spectrum of immunocompromised) "this should be illegal"

[risingsunresistance]

damn i kinda dont like it here anymore

[littol-bun]

i love being an age regressor ૮ᴖﻌᴖა ♡⁠ tonight it feels very affirming and comforting. I've kind of always had to look out for myself and be my biggest supporter, and there are a lot of strange ways this feels like a second chilhood at times.

like i regress to being younger, but I'm also a girl now in a completely different place with completely different circumstances/social circles etc. yk?

but when i feel rly small and my reality feels so big, it makes me happy that older me is there for me to make the important decisions and guide us there :3 it's like i am holding my hand through this, i haven't had an adult rly look out for me like this and it's so nice to have one now!!

i don't have to be scared of big changes, I'm doing good and I'm here for me and i can take it easy. i have someone who is helping me ♡⁠ i have someone who is keeping me safe. they work hard so i can be little ^.^ thanks big sis hehe ✌🏾

ouggghh im not little anymore but (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠) ♡⁠ yeah. when i am little i can still like.. function as an adult n talk to ppl n stuff. but it's also like, well like i said before ig 0:

like im smaller but different‚ subtly. still me‚ but someone else since I'm like.. a teen?? that i never was. my childhood was nothing like my adulthood so this rly is a whole new thing little me has needed to learn 2 navigate emotionally/mentally.

but as i become more aware of when I'm in a little headspace and not, the difference in perception stands out to me a lot more. i can't articulate it very well... oughh. this is giving me very specific questions, but on that note — i am happy to feel so safe and looked out for when I'm little 😌💕 i used to feel scared and helpless but it's different now. we're doing this together 👩🏽‍🤝‍👩🏾 i got ya lil sis

[crows-of-buckets]

Sometimes all of my ocs decide they wanna do laps in my head all at the same time so I just end up sitting there like "I want to draw tyrian and Daeran, and Aviae and Morrigan, and Lucio and Anders, and Selene and Sera, and my other Hawkes and my other warden and-" and then none of it happens