Oneshots

Toby x Masky/Tim (reup)

Hi!

I just wanna say beforehand that I don't really know a lot about Tim or his character. I did watch MH, but that's been years ago & I barely remember anything, let alone details in terms of personality & stuff. So ig this is just my personal interpretation of him & I apologize if I did him dirty lmao.

About Toby: I'm aware of the whole situation regarding him, but I wasn't really, at least not in detail, when I uploaded this for the first time.
I did inform myself after & if you guys care about my interpretation of the whole thing, Wade cares more about personally being associated with Toby/the fandom and people making money off of Toby, than people just creating their little fanfictions & drawing some pictures.
I mean that's pretty much what they said, so I'm reuploading this.

I have no idea what I'll do with future oneshots including Toby tho. We'll have to see. Of course if Wade decides that they don't want Toby being used at all in any way anymore, there won't be new Oneshots with him coming.

No TWs for this one!

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The sneeze from the living room startles Tim into dropping the cup he was washing into the sink. The cup doesn’t break, but when Tim lifts it up into the light, he notices a new chipped spot around the rim.

He sighs, and puts the cup down.

Toby can have this one.

Tim puts the cup away to dry and washes the other one. In the living room, there’s an explosion of giggles that’s nearly as loud as the sneeze was, and that deteriorates into a series of rapid-fire coughs in no time at all.

Figures.

Still, Tim takes his sweet time washing his own cup and drying his hands on the rag, and takes twice as long as usual to put the kettle on. He’s slow scooping out the honey and cutting the lemon. This apartment’s old, from a time when people didn’t hate walls and preferred to contain their cooking odors- Tim's determined to enjoy the illusion of peace the kitchen affords for as long as he can.

Lord knows he doesn’t get much of it anywhere else in this place these days, save maybe for the bathroom.

And even that’s not a guarantee.

"Timmy!”,Toby calls from the living room. "Hurry up, you’re missing it! You won’t believe what they-”

And there it goes. Tobys voice, rendered thrice as annoying by the flu, gets swallowed up by the disgusting throaty coughs that the whistle of the kettle mercifully drowns. Tim takes refuge in that for as long as he can before he turns off the heat and pours the water.

"You know..",he says, bringing his own cup of tea and Tobys honey-and-lemon over to the coffee table. "Call me crazy, but you might get better faster if you don’t strain your voice all the time.”

Toby, of course, doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at Tim, too engrossed in the old Looney Tunes reruns.

The same ones he’s been watching, on loop, for the last 24 hours.

Still, better this than the soap operas, Tim supposes. Or the game shows. Tim put a firm and indefinite ban on those- they tend to irritate him even more than the other stuff, especially when the contestants display all the sentience and cognitive function of a rotting vegetable.

"Toby.”,he tries. Grudgingly, he nudges the newly chipped cup towards his guest. "Drink this, you imbecile. You can barely speak.”

"What?”,Toby croaks. On the screen, Wile E. Coyote gives a forlorn wave to the audience before plunging to his inevitable cartoonish demise, and Toby cackles, or, more accurately, wheezes in delight.