Gay Agenda? Sure What Time Will The Men Be Kissing

cringetober day 6

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

Not so sweet!

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

🧺 — 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.

Masky plush on a dorito in space

dorito rocket (imagine this in color)

i need a tablet or smth to draw with bro

toby is against technology in the way a grandma would be. He watches tv and stuff, but you'll never see him on a laptop using google. Has like a Nokia flip phone or smth

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

Toby and Clockwork were so used to hearing Nina come to them about the most heartbreaking things regarding her relationship with Jeff. Him ignoring her for weeks, calling her names, using her, threatening her. Now that Nina's with Kate, they're secretly so relieved to hear Nina complaining about mundane, normal relationship things now

he's like a chipmunk

This took way to long

NO TOBY STOP!!!!!!!

🌲 — 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.