#memory care Colorado

[gardenscareseniorliving]

Key Facts About Aging In Colorado

Whether you’re seeking comfortable and engaging housing options for independent seniors or specialized Alzheimer’s and dementia care facilities, Gardens Care is here to help. Our team is dedicated to delivering personalized care that prioritizes dignity, respect, and overall well-being. Read more...

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[steviescrystals]

there is no feeling worse in the world than missing your grandma :/

[alien-magnolia]

You Saved Me

Tw: logan howlett x fem!reader, domestics, description of childbirth/pregnancy, breeding knk, fem/mutant! reader, domestics, Logan being so caring <3 18+ MDNI

A/n: please support your creators and reblog if you love this content <3 xoxo, Liz

——-

You never believed in being absolutely crushed, enamored with someone just from one instance of meeting. Just from one glance. That never fell to be true. Until you met Logan.

He saved you from Striker’s Island, saved you from life in a cage, life as an experiment, carrying you off the grounds of the facility because you had a broken leg. He was so caring, so gentle, with you that day.

You sobbed as the bone in your leg bulged out, itching to relieve itself in the fresh air, away from the mess that was your thigh. “I know it hurts. Just hold on to me, yeah? Won’t let anything happen to you,” he consoles, his gruff voice and warm, heaving chest a comfort to you as the pain from your leg was asinine — slowly killing you.

He was gentle on the night you eloped, as well. The two of you fell enamored with each other in only a span of a few months. You needed each other to heal. The two of you spend some time away from the X-mansion, back in the outskirts of the Colorado mountains.

“Let me carry you over these rocks, bub. Don’t want you to strain yourself,” he chided at you, and once again, those strong, hairy arms you loved so much, picked you up as if you weighed nothing, and carried you to the edge of the cliff. “It’s beautiful here, Logan,” you exclaim in quiet awe. “It’s nice. Private,” he replies, a large hand coming to cup your face. “You saved me, bub. After losing my brother, having all these god-fuckin’ awful memories. Had so much pain,” he sighs. “I know. You’re safe now, Lo,” your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him into a slow and chaste kiss.

—-

“Can’t! Can’t take it anymore — Lo!!,” you squealed, as his broad chest pressed up against your back, all the chest hair leaving marks on your back. His large hands cradling your front, occasionally squeezing at your plush tits, his grunts animalistic. “Doing so well, sweetheart. Taking me so well. Give me one more squeeze bub, I know you can,” he reassures, as you feel like you’re about to explode from his thick, eight inch cock ramming into you, over and over.

You’re in complete bliss as you feel his seed seeping into you. You were fertile. You were his. His claws come out as he finishes, almost touching your neck. He pulled them back quickly, checking if you were okay. “Love you so much, sweetheart. You’re my moon, I’m your Wolverine,” he whispers, as he rolls you over onto your back, wiping you with a towel. He lays down next to you, cradling you on his big chest, in an almost paternal way.

You were safe, you were loved.

He continued being the softest, gentle, man that he could be, with you. Even when the both of you returned to the Mansion. He would constantly check in on you if you were teaching class, advising the students of how you gained control of your telepathy. He would always make sure you went to bed at a reasonable time, and that you wouldn’t over exert yourself while teaching.

His love and care for you was innately fierce, and it grew even more fervorous when you told him you were pregnant. You’ve never seen the man so happy.

He was insanely protective over you. He was your shadow, always around where you were. If another at the mansion even so simply looked at you, he would get defensive. “We got a problem here?,” he would ask, claws slowly inching out. They would shake their head quickly and walk away.

He would hold back your hair as you had morning sickness, constantly ill. He would tell you everything would be okay, as you gained a bit of weight, as your hormones raged out of control.

“What do you need, bub? Water? I can make you somethin’ to eat too, don’t hold out on me, now,” he asks, as he walks into your kitchen after a long day of working with Charles on a new project. You sniffle, “I never knew pregnancy would be this hard, Lo. I’m losing it.” “Hey. You’re still my moon, y’ know. You saved me, sweetheart. Still love ya just the same, even if you’re all heavy with my kid. It’s a new life we made,” he reassures, bringing you in to the safe haven of his chest again. You smile warmly, as he continues to hold you.

He was there with you for the birth. You were in so much pain, and he held you — every step of the way. When the infant was finally out, the three of you spent hours just laying together, having skin to skin contact. “My moon. Did so well f’me, sweetheart,” he tells you, as you have your infant laying on his chest, and your fingers gently touch his beard.

He saved you, after all.

A/n: I want this man in a very bad way, a very, very, very, very bad way. Screaming. References here are from original X men movie and X men origins: Wolverine.

[ultravi0lence14]

I HATE SUGAR

DEAN WINCHESTER X BIMBO!READER

WARNINGS: angst!!!, heavy pining, forced proximity, szn one

SUMMARY: dean winchester is everywhere, and now that you’re joining him and sam on their hunt for monsters, you have to be around the older brother without wanting to rip his head off.

WC: 2k

HEARTBREAK HISTORY

twelve hours.

that is how long it took for sam to utilize the combination of numbers you’d given him.

his voice was broken, a rough cadence that had you shooting up in your bed. he’d told you about what had happened; his girlfriend succumbing to the same fate as his mother by the same demon. he asked for you to meet him and his brother in a small town in virginia, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to want to leave your small cabin.

after your breakup with dean, you moved into your families cabin that had been left dormant in the dense forests of colorado. it was a bit of a fixer upper, but it was nice to do something that got your mind off of the crippling heartbreak.

the home had been a sanctuary for you, a space where you could truly wind down and not have to show off a mask for other people. you wanted to help sam badly, be there for him after this tragic event, but you just couldn’t see dean again.

his presence, the looming atmosphere of broken hearts and crushed memories was too much. it didn’t make it any easier that dean seemed to not even care. his joking and cocky attitude sent knives into your heart, and as much as you sent jabs and quips back at him, each had their own hidden message behind them.

what happened to us?

was it something i did?

please dean, i think i still love you!

you didn’t want to still love him, but the seven years spent together sent a testament to the furled love that was clutching tight to your heart. dean was always going to have his own room in your soul, and you learned that you just had to live with that dull ache.

but that was before you saw him again. and now, you didn’t know if you were ready to see him more frequently. he was your first love and your first heartbreak, the wound was always going to sting.

though sam needed comfort, someone who has been through heartbreak before. obviously, yours wasn’t as gut wrenching and deeply rooted as sam’s was, but you still wanted to be there for him. you knew the kid since he was fifteen, saw that light and comfort in him that he carried around like a shield. you did not want that to be taken away from him.

that’s how you ended up in a motel parking lot in virginia, pulling up beside the infamous chevy impala and recounting the room number sam and dean were in.

you were here for sam. that was what kept running through your mind as you drove to the boys. even now, as you walked up to their motel room, it replayed and replayed in your head, making you remember that seeing dean was inevitable, but engaging with him wasn’t necessary.

though of course, your luck had run thin, dying as soon as you pulled into the motel parking lot. instead of being greeted by sam winchester’s clearly forced smile, you were greeted with a joking smile from his asshat of a brother.

“well, well, well,” he drawled out, leaning against the door and smirking down at you. “you here for a booty call?”

his words had a scoff leaving your lips, shoulder aggressively bumping against his as you shoved your body into the room. “i’m here for sam, you dick. ya know, the one who just tragically lost his girlfriend? or is your head too far shoved up your ass to remember?”

dean’s body swiveled against the door, his smirk all the evident as you stood tense in the middle of the motel room. his stare was piercing, and you hated how he still looked at you as he did when you were together. a fire that burned behind his eyes and didn’t dim as long as you were in the room.

“you just missed him.” he smiled, pushing off the door frame and walking over to your rigid body. “went on a walk. so, if you were really thinkin’ about fuckin’ me, now’s your chance.”

his body was too close to yours. a harrowing smell of oak and something so dean slipping into your nose. it was just like old times, when he’d hold you close like you were the only one in the world, allowing you to bury your head in his chest and take in his scent. but now, this wasn’t the dean you fell in love with; this was a cruel, shell of a man who you wanted nothing to do with.

a loud smack was heard throughout the room as your hand ricocheted off of dean’s cheek. his head snapped to the side, a gnarly red mark indicating where you had hit him. “don’t you fucking talk to me like that, you pig.” you seethed out, pointer finger moving to jab him in the chest. “you broke up with me, not the other way around. so don’t go around thinking i’m going to fall back into your arms. cause news flash, dean winchester, that went away when you ruined our relationship.”

dean turned his head back to face you, hell burning in his gaze as he stared you down. “and i obviously had my reasons, sugar.” his words came out razor sharp, piercing your heart like a blade. if only you knew that it pierced dean’s all the same just to say it.

a slew of remarks were on the tip of your tongue, begging to hit dean in his bones as he did to you. but before you could even utter a word, the motel room door creaked open and you were greeted with a somber and blotchy faced sam winchester.

“oh sam,” you breathed out, completely ignoring dean as you moved away from his body heat. your hands went upwards to go around sam’s neck, bringing him down into a bone crushing hug. “i am so sorry.” you breathed out, feeling as the younger man’s head went into your neck.

the man just held you close, breathing in the comfort that he so desperately needed. dean was doing his best, he truly was, but you were always such a sweet and comforting soul, someone who sam found himself going to for trivial high school problems. you and dean were his rocks, and right now, he needed you both.

bad terms or not; this was all for sam.

dean just stood in the same spot you’d left him in, watching as his brother clutched onto you like a lifeline. it was one of the reasons he fell in love with you; why he was still in love with you. the aura of love and respect you brought to any relationship you were in was a breath of fresh air, and dean was starting to miss it.

he had to remind himself that this was for your own good, that he was keeping you safe like this. it was a terrible thing to think about, but with what just happened to sam, he felt that his reasons for the lies he spewed to you were valid.

so for now, for what he assumed to be the rest of his life, he hated you.

dean winchester hated his sugar.

he didn’t even hear sam say that you were taking him to a diner for some food, and that the two of you would be back. all that registered in dean’s mind was the motel door slamming, and the sound of your red beetle peeling out of the parking lot.

now, dean was truly alone. just what he intended when he left you all those months ago.

but why did that loneliness feel hallow without you?

the bright lights of the small town diner were blinding, casting glows and shadows off of sam’s grief stricken face. his food had not been touched, his nimble fingers working the fork around his meal. you could tell he wasn’t hungry, who could blame him, but you just wished he would try and put some fuel in his system. sam was running on fumes, and you wanted the best for him.

“i know this is a stupid question,” your words broke the tense silence, sam’s fork halting as he looked up at you expectantly. “but how are you sam, really?”

the fork clattered as it dropped against the table, sam’s hands going to run down his face. “i feel like my heart has been completely ripped out of my chest. like someone just took the one girl i ever truly loved and let in, like the piece of her i held in my heart was viciously ripped out.” his words had a lilt of sadness in the background, a shattering death that ripped at his soul.

your hands reached across the table, encompassing sam’s hands in yours. the firm hold of your hands on his grounded sam, bringing him back to earth. “i somewhat know how you feel.” you admitted, watching as sam looked at you with curious eyes. “obviously not to your severity, but when dean broke up with me, discarded our relationship like it was nothing, i felt hallow, like there was nothing i could live for anymore.” your words were raw, honest, and it was exactly what sam needed.

“but here’s the thing,” you continued, a breath of a smile crossing your face. “i realized that the only thing i need to live for is me, and that dean’s decision does not define me.”

sam’s eyes watered, a lone tear falling that neither of you wiped away. “i want her to define me though,” he choked out, breath growing ragged as he tried to hold in his tears. “i won’t allow myself to forget her, to lose the memory of what it was like to be loved by her.”

the raw emotion in sam’s voice was heartbreaking, a testament to the trauma and life altering experience he just went through. but you didn’t back down, you just gripped his hands tighter, looking him in the eyes with a soft, gentle smile.

“you won’t,” you stated, leaning in closer so you could get your point across. “jess will always have a place in your heart, like dean will always have one in mine.” your heart broke at your statement, but you knew it was true, and sam also knew it to be true as well.

the next words out of sam’s mouth stunned you, leaving you a speechless fool as his statement struck you harder then you would like to admit.

“do you still love my brother?”

did you? that was something you grappled with for a while. he broke your heart in the worst way possible; called you all of your worst fears and walked out on you like it was nothing. even now when you see him again, he’s cold and cocky, nowhere near the man that you fell in love with all those years ago.

“i love the man he used to be.” you finally admitted, pulling away from sam and leaning against the back of the booth. “he’s changed since we started dating. and that’s fair, we were nineteen. but the man who walked out on me is not the man i fell in love with, and i hope that he is somewhere deep down.”

all sam could do was nod, picking his fork back up and going back to messing around with the food on his plate. everything was so messy, and you just wished they could go back to how they were eight months ago. when dean still loved you, and sam didn’t have his heart completely ripped out of his chest.

it was all so confusing, but now you knew that you had to stay; for sam, for all the grief he was going to feel. none of it was for dean. that love disappeared when he did, and you will not be letting him back in again.

not in a thousand years.

TAGS: @starzify @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @bluemerakis @haunteres @foolinthera1n @figthoughts @vaiieydoii @taurus-0-queenie-33 @misatxox @milkb0nny @youdontknowe @woaheasytig3r @angelblqde @whyyouegg @mimiimmii @ln4author @goblynnrockz @emisworldd @kaz-2y5-spn @dolliristel @ninii-winchester @mochminnie @piertomaximoffsgirl @aquaalanah

NAT BABBLES: yeah these two DO NOT like each other rn😭but trust the hate sex is going to go crazy!!

[covenofagatha]

All that's left to burn (Part 1)

Sequel to A dance with death (and her wife)

Your first few days on the run with Agatha and Rio aren't exactly what you thought they'd be like

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: murder, masturbation, oral sex

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly

It’s been just over twenty-four hours since you burned down every last part of your former life and went on the run with two notorious serial killers.

Two days since you chose them over everything you ever knew, two women who were practically strangers – you’d only really known them for less than a few months, but something inside you knows that you’ve been waiting for them. 

Maybe ever since that day in the woods. 

The memory still shocks you a little, killing that woman in the woods for no real good reason, but it changed something in your brain, even if you didn’t recognize that until you got the lost memory back.

And here you are now. 

After burning your house down in Miami, you, Agatha, and Rio had driven almost the entire night and made it just across the Florida-Georgia border when the sun started to break through the clouds. 

Agatha was exhausted from driving and decided to find a cheap motel to spend the day in. You hadn’t been able to sleep the entire car ride; your leg bounced with adrenaline the whole way, but the moment the three of you laid down in the queen bed, you passed out for hours. 

It was after you had all woken up that you decided it would be safer to travel by night, less traffic and less police. You were still too close to Miami, as far as any of you were concerned, and you needed to get out west fast. 

To the public, you and The Witch and Lady Death were dead. You saw this on the news, and you felt immense relief that your plan had worked. However, this meant that you needed to be incredibly careful going out in public, so you stocked up on vending machine food and drinks and got in the car the second night of being on the run, and Agatha pulled out of the Valdosta motel parking lot. 

The goal is to make it to Mississippi tonight. 

“Can you pass me some M&Ms?” Rio asks from the front seat, and you shovel a handful into your mouth before passing the bag to her. 

While on the drive last night, you were awake and exhilarated, now you’re just bored. 

You stare out the window at the dark expanse of the road and try to count street lights just so you’ll have something to do. 

“Are we almost there yet?” You ask absentmindedly, tracing your finger over the handle of the car. Has it been five minutes or five hours since you left the motel? All you know is that it seems like you’ve been on this road forever. And you can’t use the toll roads without fear of being caught on camera, so it’ll take even longer. 

Agatha snorts. “It’s been an hour, superstar. Pass me a coke?” You reach into the plastic bag of soft drinks and press a can into her hand. She brings it to her mouth and uses her teeth to pop open the pull tab. 

There’s a flicker of heat in your stomach. 

You shift around in your seat so you’re able to prop your legs up across the back. “So where are we trying to get to?” 

“Colorado, maybe?” Rio suggests. “Anywhere sort of in the middle that doesn’t have a ton of people. We just need to sort of lay low.” 

There’s a fly in the car and it buzzes in front of your face. You swat at it before asking, “For how long? Just a few months or something?” 

Agatha peeks back at you over her shoulder. “For forever, honey. You killed the director of an FBI branch. We’ve killed over ten people in Westview. We’re supposed to be dead. We’re going to have mundane, simple jobs, and rent a small house. Nothing that could draw attention to ourselves.”

“So…” You trail off with a frown. It’s hard to figure out how to ask what you’re really wondering. “Like, I know that The Witch and Lady Death can’t ever kill again, but–” 

“You’ve got a taste for blood now, hm?” Rio jokes but it makes your cheeks heat up. It sounds bad when she says it like that, but there’s still something in your mind that reminds you how good it felt to kill Tony. 

Agatha’s hands tighten on the steering wheel and you can see her white knuckles even in the night. “No more death. We killed to get you, and you killed to get us. There’s no need for any of it anymore. Especially now.” 

The fly bites your hand and you jump. It immediately starts to sting and you furiously itch at it. 

Both of them crane their necks to look at you because you haven’t answered. “No more death?” Rio asks, but you know it’s not really a question. 

“Yeah,” you agree. This is good. You don’t need it, you have them. The two women who make you feel more than anything ever has. A quiet life in Colorado is exactly what you need. You were certainly overworked before, so having a much more relaxing job will be so good. 

Maybe you could work at a bookstore or a library. Spend the day reading, and then come home to your little cottage in the woods and cuddle with Agatha and Rio by the fireplace. You can go hiking and fishing and mountain-climbing – you can have a normal life. 

You also think about everything in the cabin that the three of you could get up to and you feel wetness collecting in your underwear. Rio eating you out. Your fingers in Agatha’s pussy. Rio sitting on your face. Agatha’s strap thrusting into you. 

The fantasies last you another hour or so before you’re back to being bored. You make a game out of throwing chips up into the air and trying to catch them in your mouth. It doesn’t go very well and soon there’s crumbs littering the floor. 

Finally, about four hours into the drive, Agatha stops for gas. You get out with the two of them to stretch your legs and go inside to use the bathroom. Rio passes you a twenty dollar bill to get some food and you pick out three slices of pizza. 

The television behind the cash register is on the news channel and you can hear hints of it as you browse the candy aisle. 

“The search has continued on the house of former FBI agent Y/N Y/L/N in Miami, Florida. It was burned down two nights ago and police seem to think that New Jersey serial killers ‘The Witch’ and ‘Lady Death’ were involved. Former agent Y/L/N was in Westview working on their case, but was brought back to her home state by the director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark.��� 

You close your eyes briefly at his name, knowing what's coming next, and pull your jacket hood up over your head. The man behind the register seems none-the-wiser and you can see in the reflection of his computer screen in the mirror behind him that he’s on an online gambling site. 

“...was killed in his home last week by the same methods as were used in the murders in Westview. The theory remains that ‘The Witch’ and ‘Lady Death’ followed the agent and the director back to Miami and while trying to get rid of them, met their ends in a house fire. It is unclear how that fire started, and there has been no trace of any human remains thus far, but the search will continue and any further updates will be provided here.” 

Heart pounding in your chest, you pick up a pack of powdered donuts and walk up to the register with your eyes peeled to the ground. The man rings it up and tells you the total, but before he can get a good look at you, you drop the bill on the counter and hurry back out to the car. 

Agatha and Rio are talking in hushed voices, but quickly stop when you get to them, breathing fast. 

“We’re on the news,” you say rushedly. “They’re going through my house, they put the pieces together like we wanted, but they haven’t found any remains. What happens when they don’t find any? What if they figure out we’re still alive?” Your voice gets high and shrill as you keep talking and Rio takes the food from your hands while Agatha puts her hands on your shoulders. 

“Honey, you need to calm down,” she soothes, rubbing gently. She breathes in and out slowly, forcing you to follow. “It’s going to be okay. They’ll think our bodies burned in the fire. They won’t be able to find us.” 

“What happened to your hand?” Rio asks, pointing at the skin you’ve scratched raw. 

You instinctively pull your sleeve over it. “I got a bug bite. It was itching.” And as you say it, the bite starts to tingle. You scrape your nails around it some more.

They give you a weird look but don’t say anything. “Well, we’re about three hours from Jackson,” Agatha says. “Think we can make it?” 

Rio and you both nod and you’re back in the car. It’s a little past midnight, so you try and lay your head against the window to get some sleep, but it doesn’t come. You’re too antsy, too restless, but you don’t know why. 

The itch in your hand is only getting worse, too. It feels like it runs below the surface, connected to something deeper inside you. No matter how hard you scratch, it isn’t satisfied. 

“You really don’t think they’ll figure out we’re still alive?” You ask quietly. 

There isn’t an answer for a while and you wonder if either of them heard you. You think Rio might be asleep. Finally, Agatha says, “I think we’ll be okay, sweetheart. Is that what’s got you so worked up?” She turns back to look at you and there’s a twinkle in your eyes that takes your mind off the pain in your hand. 

“I think so,” you guess, but it doesn’t feel right to your brain. “I don’t know, it just feels like there’s something else. Like, in my head.” 

Agatha smirks. “You know what would help clear your mind?” 

It makes your jaw fall open a bit and heat courses through you at the suggestion. “Wait – really?” 

“Yeah, superstar,” she says and flexes her long, veiny fingers against the steering wheel. The sight of them makes your mouth run dry. “Why don’t you touch yourself?”

That’s all it takes to convince you. Rio’s heavy breathing and lolled head on her seatbelt confirms that she is asleep, but you have never been more wide awake. You position one leg up on the seat and the other on the ground and slide your hand into your pants. 

You’re wet and the brush of your fingertips against your clit makes your hips jump. It feels good and you spend a few minutes rubbing it and getting yourself more turned on. 

Agatha keeps looking back every now and then to smile at you, eyes flicking from your face down to your crotch and then back to the road. You press harder against your clit, but something is missing. 

“Agatha,” you gasp out, needing more. You can remember the ache that you felt when you’re around both of them, the way your body needs to be filled, but the pleasure you feel now isn’t even half of that. 

“What’s wrong, baby girl? Wish those were my fingers?” She taunts and your hips buck. There we go. A particularly good swipe against your clit pulls a small moan from your lips. 

You nod before realizing she can’t see you. “Yes,” you breathe. 

She sighs wistfully. “I do, too. I love the way your pussy feels around me, how tight and wet and warm you are. I love how responsive you get for me, how just the lightest touch is enough to make you clench around me.” 

You slide a finger into yourself and start to move it, grunting with the effort. “Yeah, fuck,” you say, trying to force yourself to get into it. Why are you struggling right now? There’s almost a disconnect between your brain and the hand between your legs. 

Everything feels so muted. 

Doubling-down on the circles around your clit, you try to lose yourself in a fantasy. Agatha and Rio fucking you, you fucking them, blood– a spark jumps in your veins. 

“I love when you cum around my fingers,” Agatha continues, jolting you out of your thoughts. Thankfully, because what was that? “You look so pretty when you do, baby.” 

But if you had even anything resembling an orgasm building, it’s gone now. You frustratedly keep fucking yourself, trying to jump-start those feelings again, but you might as well be rubbing your leg with the amount of pleasure you’re getting. 

You give up and pull your hand out of your pants with a groan and Agatha looks back in surprise. “Already?” she asks, sounding kind of smug and you nod sheepishly with an awkward chuckle. 

You’re not sure you could explain what just happened so it's easier to just lie. You were feeling into it, you were turned on, but then it all just…fizzled out.  

After wiping your hand on a napkin, you attempt to find a comfortable position to settle in and lay your head on the window to try and get some sleep. 

But it doesn’t come and you spend the next two and a half hours staring at nothing, wondering what the hell is wrong with you. 

The motel in Jackson, Mississippi is nothing short of a dump. The buildings are graffitied and look dilapidated, beer bottles and Monster energy cans litter the walkways, and there’s confederate flags on the inside of windows in some of the rooms. The walkways are dimly lit, looking ominous and eerie in the dark morning, and half the motel sign is broken. 

The perfect place if you’re trying to blend in and not be found. As if anyone would ever come looking at this place. 

“Think we can just break into one of the rooms and avoid having to talk to whoever runs this place?” Rio asks, having woken up when Agatha parked. 

You scratch your hand before realizing the skin doesn’t even itch anymore. 

The three of you stare in silence at where you’ll be spending the next twelve hours or so, before there’s a ding that makes you jump and Agatha swears. 

The oil light is on. 

“You know, when those things turn on, you really have a while before you actually have to get it changed,” you volunteer helpfully. 

The look on Rio’s face when she turns around to face you tells you that you shouldn’t have said anything. “Yeah, let’s take that chance and break down on the side of the road halfway to Colorado.” 

You almost snap back, a flash of annoyance streaking through you, but decide to let it go. The logical part in your brain knows that you’re just irritated because you’ve spent half of the last forty-eight hours cooped up in a car. 

The itch is back. 

“How about I go to a store and get whatever we need for an oil change? I’ll come back and get it done,” Rio offers. “Easier than going someplace for it and spending that kind of money and risk being recognized.” You want to point out that both of those consequences are also true at the grocery store, but you bite your lip. 

Although, the thought of Rio with grease smudges definitely piques your interest. Maybe that’ll be enough to get you off. 

Agatha looks back at you. “Let’s get the stuff from the back and check in.” 

‘The stuff from the back’ includes three small suitcases of all the belongings the three of you have left, and whatever else you may have bought on the way. The three of you walk into the office. 

The floor in the lobby – if you could even call it that, with the two chairs, a table, and leaking coffee machine – is sticky with something that you don’t even want to know, and the harsh bioluminescent light hurts your eyes after being outside in the dark. There’s a woman loudly snapping her gum behind the front desk and she gives you a nasty look. 

“What?” She snarls bluntly in a thick Southern drawl, and you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to slit her throat. 

No, you don’t do that anymore. You can’t keep thinking like that. Since when did you turn into that kind of person?

Your hand itches again and you scratch it a few times. 

“Hi,” Agatha says politely. “We’d like to get a room, please.” 

The woman’s eyes narrow and look back and forth between the three of you. You almost groan. “Just one room?” She asks suspiciously. 

“Yes?” Agatha says a bit rougher this time, like she’s daring her to keep asking questions. You kind of hope she does, just so you can watch Agatha lose her temper. 

But she doesn’t, instead she just types something into her computer and hands over a key to Agatha. “Room thirteen. Two beds, of course. And there should be a pullout.” Like the thought of more than one woman in a bed is scandalous. 

This time you overtly snort and you can see the woman’s cheek twitch. Agatha thanks her and you and Rio follow her back outside and down the winding sidewalk. Rio heads to the car to get the stuff for the oil change. 

There’s a door open to one of the rooms with an older man sitting inside in a tank top and boxers watching television. He smirks – or at least that’s what you think he’s trying to do, it’s hard to tell – and wiggles his eyebrows before letting out a low whistle. You stiffen and walk faster. 

The room looks exactly like you thought it would. Something that looks suspiciously like mold is on the peeling wallpaper, it’s dank and dusty, and the light doesn’t turn on when you flip the switch. 

“Are those stains on the bed?” Agatha asks with disgust, moving cautiously closer to inspect them, and you feel red hot-blooded rage boil in your veins. 

This isn’t what you imagined when you ran away with them. Although, you’re not sure what you were expecting. Were you really such a fool to think that it would be paradise? 

No, but you didn’t think you’d have to spend a day in a place like this. You furiously scratch at your hand until Agatha notices and comes back over to you. 

“Hey,” she murmurs gently. You know how brutal she can be, you’ve seen it first hand, and yet she is also so kind. It tugs at your heart. Is it weird to remember how nice she was to you when you met her in that clearing at the age of ten? “I know this isn’t…ideal.” You bark out a laugh. “It’s just for the day. Maybe tomorrow we find a bit nicer of a place, maybe spend a bit longer there. I know it’s been a lot. But you’ve been so good for us, honey. And it’ll get better.Thank you.” 

She pulls you into a hug and you melt into her arms, feeling the anger subside a little. 

Agatha presses a kiss into your hair. “And, without killing people, we won’t have to be on the lookout constantly. Just hang in there a bit longer.” 

Your body tenses ever just the slightest unconsciously as you nod. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut – why does that make you feel so shitty? And why does it feel like your itch has spread all over your skin. 

“Yeah, okay,” you agree. 

Her hands start to stroke up and down your back, trying to ignite heat inside you. “In the meantime though, want to try out these beds? Two options to choose from.” Her tone is light and joking, and her attempt to flirt should be working, you really do try to be affected. 

There’s no reaction in your body. Fuck. 

You pull back and force a smile. “I think I’m going to go see if the vending machine has any Chex-mix. I’ve been craving some.” If she’s disappointed, she doesn’t show it. 

Agatha just laughs and pats your ass and you grab a few dollar bills and Rio’s knife from the table and slide them into your pocket. You’ve become a little paranoid and would rather not be caught unaware. 

The overhead lights flicker as you walk underneath them to the machines tucked around the corner that you passed on your way to the room. Saying a little prayer that they actually work, you press the button for a Sprite and, much to your dismay, they don’t have Chex-mix so you choose a bag of Doritos. 

The graffiti next to you on the walls draws you in. On one panel, there’s what looks like a sword and then a circle with a five-point star drawn inside it. All in red. 

You frown. Does it mean something? 

“Hey, pretty girl,” someone says behind you and you whirl around to find the man from the room with the open door standing there. Now that he’s a few feet away from you, you can practically smell the stench oozing off him in waves, his teeth yellow and cracked, and a few bushy chest hairs peeking out from under his  wrinkled white wife-beater. 

Heart beating fast in your chest, you back up until you hit the vending machine. “Um,” you stammer. Should you call for help? Agatha would probably be able to hear you if you screamed. 

So would everyone else. And the last thing you need is for the entire motel to hear you. 

“You know,” he says, tapping a dirty fingernail to his lips. “When I first saw you, I thought you looked familiar. Thought maybe I’d seen you in some video or something.” 

Your nose wrinkles at the implication. 

“But then, as I was watching the news, it hit me.” He jabs his finger in your direction. “You’re that agent whose house got burned down.” 

Your heart starts thumping so loud you can hear it. Can he hear it? “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say quickly. All your senses have become heightened, it’s like you’re on high alert. The itch inside you has grown, completely taken over you, and you scratch at the bug bite like it’s going to do a single damn thing. 

His grin is putrid. “Yeah, you are. They’ve got a nice reward for anyone who can offer information about it. Although, think I might just keep you for myself.” He lunges forward and before you can think about it, you’ve drawn the knife from your pocket and stabbed it into his gut. His eyes go wide with shock and he makes  a small noise. 

And when you take it roughly and he falls to the floor, you gasp as heat floods through your body. 

This – this is what you’ve been missing. The exhilaration and the way it makes you feel alive, how could you ever live without it now? You’ve tasted it, you’re too far gone, this is who you are now. 

And the ache between your legs is back with a vengeance. Kicking the man for good measure as he bleeds out on the ground, you walk back to your room, where Agatha is perched carefully on the side of the bed. 

Your body is vibrating. The itch has become something more, a physical manifestation of your need. 

“Did you get anything?” Agatha asks, looking at your empty hands – you forgot to get your snacks, but you don’t care. 

You don’t say anything, just walk over to her and push her onto her back on the bed. She makes a sound and picks her head up, but you quickly kick off your pants and underwear over your shoes and move to straddle her body, the bloody knife in your pocket making a thud when it hits the floor. You reach down between your legs and swipe, gathering your wetness and keening at how good it feels. 

You’re already closer than you were in the car, by a mile. 

Holding your glistening fingertips to Agatha’s lips, she gives you a wicked grin before enveloping them into your mouth. Your hips jerk and a ragged breath leaves your mouth. 

“Look at you, thinking you’re in charge,” she says and you huff. You know you don’t have a lot of time, anyone could find the man now – he might not even be dead! – and you don’t know if there were cameras. 

Everything could be at risk, but you couldn’t care less, because you need this too bad. Your skin is burning with a heat you haven’t felt since they came back for you after you killed Tony for them. 

So you crawl the rest of the way and sink your fingers into Agatha’s long dark hair, looking down at her and finding her looking just as excited as you are, and lower your sopping pussy onto her face. 

She licks through your folds with her flat tongue, moaning at how wet you are, and you whimper, slowly rolling your hips. Agatha’s hands grab onto your ass and dig her nails in so she can help you start to grind as she devours you, and fuck, it feels too good. 

“Agatha, oh my god,” you moan when her tongue swirls around your clit and then sucks on it, your body spasming on top of her. She lets out a muffled sound against you and the vibrations travel through your body. 

Your head falls back in pleasure, fully riding her mouth now, and your hands push up under your shirt to tug on your nipples through your bra. Your hips stutter and your rhythm falters and she knows that you’re close, can feel your clit throbbing in her mouth, and she doubles her efforts, lapping and sucking and licking, her hot tongue on your wet pussy and fuck–

She roughly lashes her tongue and you pinch your nipples and the heat inside you is getting worse, it’s building up, you can’t take it, Agatha scrapes her teeth against your clit, and you cum all over her face with a loud moan. 

Agatha guides you through the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, cleaning up the mess that’s still between your legs, and you fall back so you’re sitting on her chest. 

The itch, both on your hand and inside you, is completely gone. 

Agatha rubs her hands up and down your thighs while chuckling. “What was that, honey?” 

You bite your lip guiltily, about to tell her everything, when the door gets thrown open. You jump and scramble to get off Agatha, worried that maybe it’s the homophobic receptionist, but it’s Rio. 

And she looks…weird. “There’s a man who’s been stabbed out by the vending machine,” she says calmly, looking between you and Agatha with an eyebrow raised. “You two know anything about that?” 

Agatha’s attention turns from her wife to you, and you squirm under both of their scrutinizing gazes. 

“We might need to leave a little earlier than expected,” you say apologetically. 

Agatha and Rio just sigh.  

[sailorholly]

Between Us Pt. 3

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Pregnancy.

See my Masterlist Here

Part Two

The stomach bug you had caught was so strange. You would be perfectly fine, eating whatever you wanted for hours. Then a certain smell would hit you like a ton of bricks, sending you running to the nearest bathroom or trash can.

It had been two weeks and you were still puking your guts up randomly. You made an appointment with your doctor at the end of the week to make sure nothing was seriously wrong with you.

You and the team had to fly out to Colorado for a case. You were so exhausted, you could barely keep your eyes open on the trip there. Penelope texted you for the fiftieth time today checking on you. You insisted you were fine, you just couldn’t get rid of whatever illness you had.

Spencer and Ashley sat across from you, her hands playing with his unruly curls like you used to. When he looked at you, concern written all over his face after you puked in the bathroom, she grabbed his face, pressing a kiss to his lips. That act alone made your stomach turn. Thankfully, Hotch cleared his throat, shooting them a warning glance.

When you finally landed, you were alone with Spencer. Hotch paired you up often because you worked well together. “Are you okay? I’ve been worried about you. You vomited six times yesterday. You’re having trouble holding down anything but crackers and ginger ale. You took a nap on the way here. You’ve never done that.”

“I’m fine, Spencer. Don’t worry about me. You should be worrying about your little girlfriend getting you in trouble for PDA.” He scrunches up his nose. “Are you jealous?” You laugh at that. “No, I’m not. I feel like death, and I don’t want to argue with you. I just don’t want to see you sucking face right in front of me when I’m nauseous anyways. I want to solve this case so I can go home and lay down.” He tried not to bother you with frivolous questions the rest of the day.

The next morning, you felt great. Your skin was glowing, you took time to style your hair and do your makeup. When you walked in the local police station to start work, everyone complimented you. Everyone except for Ashley, who rolled her eyes and seemed annoyed that you didn’t have your hair in a rat’s nest pooled on top of your head with dark circles under your eyes.

You ate all three meals with the team without needing to vomit. You couldn’t believe it was finally over. You decided to call your doctor first thing in the morning to cancel your appointment.

Your joy was short lived, when the next morning you felt awful again. Luckily, you hadn’t called your doctor yet. The day went by quickly. Rossi came up with the information you needed to find the unsub. You slept the whole way home.

You check into the doctor’s office filling out form after form. When the nurse calls you back, she gives you a cup and sends you into the bathroom. You wait in the small room for the doctor. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest while you wait for her to come in.

When she finally arrives, she checks your vitals, writing them down on your chart. “How long do I have?” You ask, only kind of joking. She smiles, placing her stethoscope around her neck. “You’re not dying. You’re pregnant! Congratulations! According to the information you gave us, it looks like you’re about six weeks. We will schedule an ultra sound for another time to give you a more accurate prediction.”

You start to tune her out as she continues speaking. Pregnant? How could this happen? You and Spencer were always so careful except… Your mind flashes with memories of that night. How his feverish hands were all over you. How he couldn’t wait to have you so he took you against the wall. How beautiful he thought you looked with his cum dripping out of you. Now those actions had consequences. How were you going to tell him?

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @134340ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lover-of-books-and-tea @maybe-not-this @drewsandsebastianswife @lamentis-10 @lizzyk137 @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @rosylnsworld @amortencjja @ah-blossom

[fandoms--fluff]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a Damon x teenage reader but the reader sees Damon as a sorta father figure

Enough

Female teen Gilbert reader x Damon Salvatore

Warnings: bullying, ed, cutting, I think that's all

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're sat on his bathroom floor, thinking. Just two weeks ago you got back from Denver. Being compelled to move there because of your big sister, Elena, is one of the worst things that's ever happened to you. You were miserable there. The empty feeling after being forced to leave Mystic Falls never went away for those long months your and Jeremy were there for.

Your anxiety went through the roof, not being familiar with the place. And having to make new friends and meet new people.

But the worst was the bullying.

The kids at the high school there were cruel. They took one look at you on your first day and by lunch there were horrible rumors about you going around. Which you obviously hadn't told Jeremy about, not wanting him to worry about you or bother him with something as stupid as that.

The boys would come up to you, pretending to be interested, but then burst out laughing with their friends who were behind them when you looked even mildly interested in them.

The girls were the worst yet. Especially the one friend group of nine. They would come up to you in the hallway, during classes, during lunch, and even after school. They'd harass you, talk about your dead parents that has somehow gotten out, pretend to feel pity towards you, basically anything to make you rethink your existence.

They even made fun of your weight for a straight week, and the body you once loved, became something you hate. You hadn't consumed anything but water and maybe an apple here and there, just so no one would question anything. It wasn't until Jeremy brought up how pale you looked and started watching you more carefully at meal times did you start to eat more consistently.

But only a bit. Not enough a fifteen year old girl should eat per day.

Damon had fed you some of his blood yesterday. You had gotten hurt from one of the last remaining hybrids. The hybrid tried to suck you dry, but Damon had showed up in time to get you out of there and healed the bite mark and bruises on you.

You looked down at your wrists where there were cuts just a second ago before they healed, a razor laying on the ground in front of you. The blade littered with your blood and a couple drops on the floor underneath. 

The blood must've been still on your system.

Again you picked the razor up and slid it across your wrist and fore arm causing a deep scratch releasing some blood. You kept on repeating this action before switching to the other wrist. 

You had started cutting your wrists when you had gotten back, not knowing what to feel, and what to think is true or not. Always gave those girls and kids voices in your head. And not knowing how to act around Damon since you've learned he was the one to compel you. Someone who you trusted countless times before. You just don't know what to say or how to act around him. You've just done your best to avoid him.

Which had gotten kind of hard, considering you lived with him and his brother. Safer there than at your actual home. At least at the boarding house you didn't have the lingering memory of your parents.

Everyone thinks you're fine, you responded exactly how you knew they would want you to when they asked if you were okay. No one suspecting a thing. Except for Damon, yes he hasn't been the best person in the world, though he does care for you a lot, he can't tell exactly why, but he does. That's why it was so hard for Famon to compel not just Jeremy, but you as well to leave Mystic Falls to go to Colorado.

You had grown close to Damon after he came to town. You met him when Elena and Stefan brought you over to the boarding house to keep you safe for a couple of days while Jeremy was staying with Alaric. He immediately took a liking to you. You would just sit in the library reading one of the many old books for hours and when you weren't doing that you would be hanging out with him. You and gotten close fast.

Stefan and Elena didn't like it at much in the beginning, but came fonder of you guys having a friendship as the weeks went on. Damon had sort of mellowed out because of you. Not a lot, but some.

Damon can tell when there’s something going on with you and all he has to do is figure out why. Surely it can’t be about the trip. You'd say something to someone, or come to him or at least to talk to him about it a little right? 

Damon is sitting on one of the couches in the main room with a glass of bourbon in his hand and the tv on playing re-runs of old sitcoms from the 70′s. He was carefully thinking of a way that he could get you to open up, in the end he came up with nothing before going into a daze.

It was getting later and you finally stopped cutting yourself feeling somewhat a little better. There are some littered left over cuts that hadn’t healed but you paid no attention to them. You took deep breathes before falling asleep, hoping to not have any nightmares tonight cause you don't think you can hold in the screams so Damon can’t hear you anymore like you had been holding them the past weeks. Before that you grasped one of his pillows bringing it towards your chest, hugging it tightly.

You've been having horrible nightmares about the school and the bullying and the others finding everything out and callig you a bay for how you reacted to the kids there. The nightmares have been taunting you and they won't go away, they've gotten worse every night.

Damon quickly jolted awake hearing screams coming from inside the house. At first he looks at his surroundings, the living room...he must of fallen asleep here. Then he listened and soon realized that those screams were coming from you.

Stefan isn't here tonight, and he hadn't told you at least where he was going to be.

Worried, Damon vamp sped upstairs to your room, surprised that your door is unlocked. He got closer to your screaming and squirming form, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/n....come on wake up. It's just a dream.......Y/n?" Damon slightly shook you.

That only caused you to swing around to face him, still asleep but now hyperventilating. Damon started to shake you more cautiously now, who knew how hard it would be to wake you up from a nightmare. He'd never witnessed you having one before.

“Y/n/n Wake up!” After more shaking and talking to you, you finally sprung up, awake.

While you're trying to calm your breathing down, Damon twisted to his side and turned on the lap that’s placed on the nightstand. 

“Damon? W-what are you doing in here?” you asked the vampire, confused as to why he was in his room. 

“I heard you screaming because of a nightmare and I needed to know you were alright” Damon said softly and gently pushed you back down so you were lying down again. 

“No, no y-you don’t care I-if I’m alright or not” you said looking away from him. Not having anyone beside Jeremy and maybe a few times Elena comfort you after a nightmare. And this was the worst possible one for Damon to be there for.

Damon had a hurt look on his face, but hid it before reaching his hand out and placing it on your shoulder. The action making you face him with dried tear streaks down your cheeks. 

“Baby, of course I care about you. Yes, I may not have said it, but I do” Damon said gently and wiped the tear residue off your face.

“You do?” you mumbled with a tiny pout on your face from your dream and everything going on around you right now. 

Damon nodded and pulled you into his arms, you immediately climbed into his lap and started to sob into his chest.

Damon ran his fingers up and down your back soothingly. He was surprised how fast you broke and hugged you closer to his chest, wanting you to feel safe.

After some time, you pulled back to look at him with teary eyes and your hands shaking. Damon gently grasped your hands to stop the shaking and looked down to see an angry red patch on your wrist. Bringing your wrists up closer to see, he rolled up the sleeves of your hoodie to show all of the unhealed scratches on you wrists and forearms. 

“Y/n? Why would you?” Damon was at a loss of words.

You looked at him in the eyes, mouth parting, wanting to explain but just can't and not knowing how to.

"Y/n/n, you need to tell me what made you do this. Is it from Denver?" Damon asked more gently this time.

You nodded slowly with tears running down his cheeks.

"It w-was bad. K-kids made f-fun of me. St-starved myself. C-cutting myself helps t-take pain away fr-from me" you explained, whispering.

He quickly wrapped his arms around you again. You relaxed a little into the vampire, nuzzling your head into his chest before you started talking.

"Why don't you think I'm pathetic? You can be honest, we both know the answer is yes" You mumbled.

"Y/n, you are not pathetic, don't ever call yourself that again. You're enough, you're an amazing person, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If anyone ever calls you pathetic again, you tell me and I'll make sure to raise hell on them." Damon explained and placed a kiss on top of your head which he's never done before.

That brought a small smile to your face and you mumbled out an 'okay'.

Damon is about to get up but you quickly wrapped his arms and legs around him tighter making sure he won't leave you alone.

"Don't worry baby, I wasn't going to leave I was just going to get into the bed so we can get a bit more comfortable than on the chair" Damon reassured you. You nodded, understanding and got off Damon, climbing into the bed. You moved over a bit so he could also get in. When Damon laid down, right away you cuddled into him, using a strong grip.

"Baby, promise me you won't ever cut yourself again and if you do have those thoughts just come to me and we can talk about it" Damon kissed the top of your head.

You looked up at him and nodded, "I promise" you mumbled and Damon smiled hearing your small words while you started to doze off on his chest.

"I love you Dee" You said right before falling into a deep sleep.

"I love you too, Baby" Damon responded, knowing full well that you couldn't hear him.

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Title: Sleepless Wildflowers

Warning(s) mentions of sexual abuse/rape. Strong language, violence. If things triggering to you in any way, please do not interact. MDNI. No smut, but strong topic.

Characters: Joel Miller, F!Reader, Ellie, David and his band of cannibals.

Dialogue prompt is used at the very end, it’s in bold. Credit goes to @ elixir-prompts

Flashbacks are italicized!

Jackson, Wyoming. New home, new people, new environment. A community filled with happiness and hope, despite the coldness, the grayness, and the current state of the world. Joel was happy. He was finally happy.

The nightmares still kept him awake at night. He laid on his side facing you; you were underneath the warmth of the quilt sound asleep.

Joel couldn’t help but to watch you— your hair was splayed against the pillow and you were sleeping in a near fetal position. Back then, scholars had said if you slept in a fetal position, you body was responding to stress or that you were protecting yourself.

The first time you and Joel had slept in the same bed, you slept in a full fetal position. Your knees were up against your chest, your back was arched, and you slept with your hands close to your body. But now that Joel was here, you had felt safe, and he felt needed.

Seeing you finally sleep peacefully was something he was proud of. It was finally something good he was doing— his presence made you feel safe.

Your face was still bruised, and a dark hand print on your neck made Joel angry. A strand of hair was stuck to your face and he brought his fingers to your cheek. He gently pushed the strand behind your ear, careful to not put any pressure on the bruised skin.

Then Joel was lost in memory of what caused those bruises and the hand print.

You had insisted on going with him to take Ellie to Salt Lake. However, he insisted on you staying put in Jackson, but you were headstrong.

“Joel, you need someone to have your back.” You stated, and Joel shook his head. “No, you need to stay here. You’ll be safe. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

This was the first time he ever seen you tear up, you were a force to be reckoned with. You were mentally strong despite everything life had put you through. Physically you were tough as a nail.

But this was the first time you were ever vulnerable with him. “Joel, I can’t… I can’t be away from you.”

He pulled you into his body, and he didn’t make you stay, but he wished to God he did. After the three of you had left Jackson, bad luck was instant and inevitable.

Joel had gotten stabbed at Eastern Colorado University, and you and Ellie had to care for him. He was dying, he knew that. The pain in his stomach was severe, the fever and infection was taking over his body. Joel could’ve sworn he felt his soul left his body more than once, but he couldn’t let go.

How could he just die when the two of you were in danger? Sure you could hold and aim a gun, and Ellie was more than capable of fighting, but mentally, it would’ve destroyed the two of you.

Especially you. He heard your sobs, pleads, and prayers. But you only broke down when Ellie wasn’t around. She had went to tend to the horse, and you held Joel’s hand in yours.

“Joel, please… open your eyes.” Your hand rested on his clammy forehead, pushing his hair back. He couldn’t open his eyes, but he heard your voice. Your hand started to shake, and then the rest of your body followed in suit.

Sobs broke from your lips, and your hand pulled away from his. “God, please not him. Not Joel.” You choked on your sobs. “Joel, please, I need you. I can’t—I can’t leave you. You can’t leave me. Damnit you can’t leave me or El.” You whispered through your tears.

“I….” You paused as you wiped your tears away, and tried to regain your composure. “Joel, I love you. I don’t think I can go on without you.”

Another string of sobs left your lips, and you laid down next to him on the cold concrete floor. “I feel safe with you. Ellie needs you. I need you.” You nestled your face into his neck, and he leaned his head against yours.

• • •

He didn’t know how long the three of you were in that basement living off scraps. Joel heard bits and pieces of conversations- until one day it got silent. Which was odd, because you and Ellie were arguing the night before about penicillin and men. But he couldn’t do or say anything; he was lucky enough to open his eyes for five seconds.

Footsteps pounded against the creaky old staircase, and Ellie was in a clear state of panic. He heard you cock your gun, “Ellie, you stay here with Joel. I will lead them away from you two, okay?” You said- he could tell you were hiding the shakiness in your voice.

“You can’t go alone!” Ellie cried out. Joel said we shouldn’t separate from one another.” Wow. Ellie did in fact hear Joel’s words.

“I’ll go with you! It’s our best shot to lead them away from Joel.”

It was silent and Joel heard you fumble with a pocket full of bullets. “You listen to me, if shit hits the fan you go! I don’t care what you see or what you hear. I’ll distract them for as long as I can.” You said and through his blurred vision, he seen you walk up to Ellie and hold her face in between your hands. “No matter what, you keep going. Do you understand?”

Ellie clutched onto you. “Yes. I understand.” She complied. You let go of her and loaded her small pistol, and Ellie forced a knife in Joel’s hand. She patted his face,

“Okay… okay, look at me. There are men coming, okay? I’m gonna lead them away from you, but if anybody makes it down here, you fucking kill them. You got it?” Ellie snapped her fingers, “Joel. Joel, do not fall asleep!” She said before looking at you.

You ran over and pressed a kiss to Joel’s head. “I love you.” Your hand cupped his face and your thumb traced over his skin. With a final kiss to his lips, you and Ellie bounded up the stairs.

He couldn’t protest, his eyes were so tired, but Ellie’s words played again and again in his mind; distorted words.

“Do not fall asleep!”

“Joel!”

“Fucking kill them!”

“Joel, I love you.”

“God, please not Joel.”

Then there you were— right in front of him, running through a field of wildflowers. He chased after you as the sun wrapped around you like a blanket.

Your hair bounced as you ran and you looked back at him, “C’mon Joel!”

He listened to you laugh as he chased you, “I’m so tired, Y/N.” Joel stopped and bent over to catch his breath.

In slow motion, you turned to him. Your hair had finally found rest on your shoulders, and you were still smiling.

“You have to keep going, Joel. Or else we’ll die.” The words were grim, and Joel looked you in the eyes. He was confused, what the hell were you saying?

Your face that was bright and full of life just a few moments ago, was grey and dark circles took place under your eyes.

“What?” It was all he could manage to get out and you pointed over his shoulder. In whatever the fuck this was- a dream, a nightmare, a fever dream? He couldn’t turn his head fast enough, but behind him stood a soldier dressed in black, and a gun in his hands.

Joel had seen this before, and his heart completely stopped. “Y/N, GET DOWN!” He screamed bloody murder and you didn’t move, you just stood there, staring at him.

The sound of a bullet exiting the barrel of the gun got Joel’s frozen feet to race over to you, but it was too late. It hit you in the stomach, and Joel grabbed your body before you hit the ground.

He cradled you closely to him, “No! Fuck, Y/N!” Joel lifted your shirt and blood started to spill from the open wound. His hands shook violently as he tried to apply pressure- terrified to hurt you.

Your face was still and empty, no expression, just dead eyes staring into his, “Fucking kill them!” You said and Joel was confused, “Baby- stop moving you’ll bl..bleed out faster.”

“Fucking kill them, Joel.” You said again, and then your face had contorted into Ellie’s. Joel was staring down at the girl he was supposed to protect; someone who had a far greater purpose than either of you. “FUCKING KILL THEM, JOEL! DON’T FALL ASLEEP!” The words screamed in his ear.

Whatever trance Joel was stuck in, he was pulled back to reality. A gasp allowed air to rush back into his lungs- it burned until he laid there and forced himself to breathe in and out.

The handle of the knife Ellie pressed into Joel’s hand was still there. The loud sound of footsteps above him jerked his eyes opened. Something was kicked over.

The footsteps were far to heavy to be Ellie’s or yours. Then he could hear the cabinet you and Ellie had pushed in front of the door, being moved against the old creaking floor board.

Joel forced himself to get up. Quietly, he hid and took a deep breath as whoever it was, slowly came down the stairs. The pain made Joel want to hurl- he clutched the knife until his knuckles turned white. When he had finally caught a glimpse of the intruder, he grimaced. The man was breathing heavily- he was scared. Good.

Without a second thought, Joel came up behind the man and shoved the blade deep into his neck, and had him in a choke hold. He had to keep the intruder quiet; he didn’t know how many men would follow, or how many were searching for you and Ellie.

He was exhausted- he fell with the man to the floor, and pain shot through Joel’s entire body. With a choke and blood began spewing from the man’s mouth, he took his last breath. Joel took a deep breath. He was pissed. Angry. Angry at himself for getting stabbed in the first place. Joel pushed himself up off the ground and picked up his rifle and pack; his footsteps were wobbly and he had to lean on the railing to get back up the stairs.

With every step, his body cried out in pain, but he ignored it. He had to find Ellie. He had to find you.

• • •

Everything happened so fast, it was a blur, and all he knew is now he was punching a man over and over again. He was exhausting himself out, but he continued, “Leave him alone.” The man in the back said, and Joel said in a calm voice, “You’re next.”

With a lift of the knife, he plunged it into the mans knee. “Jesus!” The man in the back cried out as he watched Joel beat the shit out of buddy. “He can’t help you. You focus right here, or I’ll pop your fuckin’ knee cap off.” Joel held the man’s head up by his hair.

“She’s alive.” The man cried out and Joel pushed his head back. “Which one? I want to know where they both are.” He said as he twisted the knife.

“The small one- she’s in town but I, I don’t know where the woman is… David didn’t want her. He let the other men decide. They might have taken her to town too, but I swear— I SWEAR I don’t know!”

“What town!?

“It’s not a town, it’s a resort!”

Joel shoved the handle of the knife in the man’s mouth and made him point to where Ellie was, then he stabbed him in the chest. The guy in the back screamed, “Why the fuck did you do that? He told you what you wanted!”

Anger filled every ounce of Joel’s being, and he picked up a pipe off a chair and walked towards the man that was screaming. “Fuck you! I ain’t telling you shit!”

With a shaky breath Joel stood over the man, “It’s okay. I believe him.” His voice remained calm and he too, killed that man. Truly, it was a blood bath. The thing Joel was most ashamed of, was helpful. He dropped the pipe to the ground, and tried his best to race out the front door. Joel knew where to find Ellie, but where the hell were you?

There was a blood in the middle of the road, and something was dragged from in front of the house all the way into the road. Horse tracks went the opposite direction, and knowing you, you made Ellie get on the horse. So he followed the drag marks into a house that was two streets over from where he was.

Screams alerted Joel and his heart raced. His eyes frantically scanned for any sign of you, and the sound of a gun made him race towards the entrance of the house. Quietly and slowly, he opened the wooden door and he could hear someone choking.

On the floor next to the entryway, a body was bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the head. “You stupid bitch. All you had to do what lay there and take it.”

His hand was wrapped around your throat, and you kicked your legs up at him. But the man positioned himself on top of your body; your flannel was unbuttoned and your shirt was above your belly button.

Pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, and a long cut above your navel oozed blood. Your face was bruised, and you laid there, the color drained from your face.

Rage overtook Joel’s body, and your eyes caught a glimpse of him. Just by seeing Joel, your body relaxed, “See? That’s all you had to do sweetheart. I’m gonna take you back to the village, and you’ll be my wife. David can have the little girl, and I’ll take you.” He whispered as he pressed a kiss to your trembling, blue lips.

His hand was still wrapped around your throat, and when he released it, Joel slammed the end of his rifle into the man’s head.

The man rolled off your body and screamed, “You motherfucker!”

You desperately tried to gasp for air, and Joel was on top of the man in a matter of seconds. His fists were slamming into the guys face, and then he ended the man’s life by slamming the end of rifle into his head.

Joel’s hands were covered in blood, and he looked over at you. You began to sob, and Joel pulled you into his body. He cradled you close, and pulled down your shirt. His fingers shakily worked on zipping and buttoning up your pants. “I got you doll. It’s gonna be okay.” He said and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you. I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.”

“I thought you were dead. And then they— they tried to—” it was like your tears had dried up almost instantly, and you wiped your face. But then realization washed over your face, “Ellie! We need to find her before that monster does something to her!”

Despite the cut on your stomach, you stood up and picked up the shotgun the man had with him. Joel had never seen this side of you, you were always calm, but anger overtook you just as it did him. “Let’s go get our girl.” You said and Joel pulled himself off the floor and followed you.

• • •

By the time the three of you had gotten back to Jackson, Joel made you swear to not tell Ellie was had actually happened at the hospital.

You kept his secret, but now you knew the side Joel had tried desperately to hide- the part of him the was dangerous and deadly. The side of him he was ashamed of.

Regardless, you loved him, because that day too, you fought alongside Joel. To this day, the memories plagued Joel’s mind.

Tears ran down his face and hit the pillow as he laid there watching you. You began to stir in your sleep, and he quickly wiped the tears from his face.

When your eyes fluttered open and landed on Joel, you instantly smiled at him. “What were ya dreaming about?” He asked and you yawned, “You.” You replied quietly and he gave you a small smile.

“There must be better things to dream of than me.” He said and you moved closer to Joel’s body. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around you.

“If I had to dream of one thing for the rest of my life, it would be you, Joel Miller.” You whispered and Joel’s heart skipped a beat. “My life would be perfect, because I’d see you when I wake up, and again when I fall asleep. I’d never feel scared… I’d feel protected.”

Words were failing to come out of his mouth, so instead, he pressed his lips against yours. Your noses brushed together, and he deepened the kiss- he couldn’t show you enough how much he loved you.

Words always failed him, but in his actions he would prove he was capable of loving another. You were now sitting on top of him, pressing a loving kiss to his lips, and when you pulled away, words did not fail him this time.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your eyes lit up at his words; it wasn’t the first time he told them to you, but anytime he said them, you would beam with joy.

“I love you too.” You responded, and his hand cupped your head, combing through your hair. “Marry me.” Joel stated and your eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Y/N, I want to marry you. But do you- would you want to marry me?” He asked, and a big smile broke out across your face.

“You want to marry me?” You asked as tears brimmed your eyes.

“If you married me, my life would be perfect. I’d wake up next to you in the mornin’, go to sleep with you every night. I’d be able to live out the rest of my days with someone I love, and I can’t live without you.” He said as he cupped your cheek. “You say you feel protected when I’m with you. Well, when I’m around you I feel loved. I don’t feel judged for all the bad shit I’ve done. You don’t make me feel like a monster.” Now tears brimmed his eyes, and you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Then let’s get married, Joel.” You said against his lips, and he flipped you down on the mattress. His heart was overjoyed, and he could finally live a happy life.

————-

I hope you guys enjoyed this one! ❤️ reblog, comments, and likes are always appreciated!

Xoxo

[fatehbaz]

Dozens of bison from a mountain park outside Denver were transferred Wednesday to several tribes from across the Great Plains [...].

About a half-dozen of the animals from Colorado will form the nucleus of a new herd for the Yuchi people south of Tulsa, Oklahoma, said Richard Grounds with the Yuchi Language Project. [...] The herd will be expanded over time, [...] Grounds said. He compared the burly animals’ return to reviving the Yuchi’s language [...].Bison were “the original caretakers” of that land, he said. “We’ve lost that connection to the buffalo, that physical connection, as part of the colonial assault,” Grounds said. [...]

The transfers also included 17 bison to the Northern Arapaho Tribe and 12 to the Eastern Shoshone Tribe — both of Wyoming — and one animal to the Tall Bull Memorial Council, which has members from various tribes, city officials said. [...]

American bison, also known as buffalo, have bounced back from near-extinction in the 1880s but remain absent from most of the grasslands they once occupied.

Across the U.S., 82 tribes now have more than 20,000 bison, and the number of herds on tribal lands have grown in recent years. [...]

The animals transferred to the tribes Wednesday descend from the last remnants of the great herds. They were under care of the Denver Zoo and kept in a city park before being moved to foothills west of Denver in 1914. Surplus animals from the city’s herd were for many years auctioned off, but in recent years city officials began transferring them to tribes instead [...]. To date, 85 bison from Denver have been transferred to tribes and tribal organizations.

---

Headline, image, caption, and text by: Matthew Brown and Thomas Peipert, of The Associated Press. “US tribes get bison as they seek to restore bond with animal.” As published at The Seattle Times. 15 March 2023.

[puhpink]

I am an American

Trump has won the 2024 election: so what now? It's not over until we say it is. We're not going back. Like all presidents, Trump is not god. It is time to begin fighting. Project 2025 is real and it is on the horizon, but I'll be damned before I allow my country to be ripped from me.

I am more American than Trump will ever be. In my viens are the calloused hands of my ancestors who fed America. In my blood are the memories of the people before the US. I'm more than Trump ever will be, and so are you.

Trump will not win the soul of America, and here's why: Missouri voters have written abortion rights into their state consitution, aiming to allow abortion up until viability. Many may remember that Missouri had given their electoral votes to Trump: it is important to remember that not all those who voted for Trump agree with all his policies. As KOMU news reports, even religious organizations have voted on Amendment 3, to protect the freedoms of Missouri voters. (Click here to read more, it's really fascinating!) Arizona passed Prop. 139, which enshired abortion rights until viability, rewritting the previous 15 week abortion ban that was in place after the overturning of Roe v Wade. The proposition offers an amendment to Arizona's state consitution protecting the rights to abortion, after the efforts and shared expirences of many hard-working women. (Click here to read more, Ashley Ortiz's shared expirence was heartbreaking.) New York has voted to place Equal Rights within their consitution as well: updating language to possibly include protections for transgender women and minors looking for gender affirming care without parental approval. It also explictly protects abortion rights, stating that pregnancy and pregnancy outcomes cannot be discriminated against. (Click here to read more, though, it doesn't go as far in depth as other articles.) Colorado has passed Amendment 79, which not only strengthens abortion rights, but allows for public spending to be spent on abortion medical costs. This means that Medicaid and government insurances will be able to pay for abortions. (Click here to read more, which includes a brief history of abortion in Colorado.) Montana voters approved a ballot to change the state's consitution to protect and uphold abortion laws, no matter what changes the state's future governments may want to enshrine. This does only hold until viability, however. (Click here to read more, which includes a link to an article that gives information on other states that included abortion right on their ballots.) All is not lost. They cannot get rid of us. Be loud, be angry, do not sit by and despair. This is our fucking country, and they cannot and will not take that away from us.

[gardenscareseniorliving]

What Is Memory Care And Who Can Benefit From It?

By Trusted Colorado Senior Living

Memory care is specialized support for individuals with memory-related conditions like Alzheimer’s or dementia. It provides a safe environment, structured activities, and personalized care to enhance quality of life. Discover who can benefit and how memory care helps families and loved ones. Read more...

[eugenedebs1920]

Beyond that lab in Wuhan, long before the COVID 19 virus crested the shores of the United States a pandemic had begun to infect the American populous.

In 1999 I was a sophomore in high school. I would skateboard to school, listening to NIN pretty hate machine or Ministry’s Filth Pig album on my Walkman, whatever rock, or metal album I had recorded to cassette. I Wore Jnco pipes halfway down my ass, and usually some mildly offensive tshirt. One could say I was a dirty stoner f*ck.

So holding true to my pothead principles, when 4/20 comes around, you’re ditching school and getting high.

As a Colorado native (although well before weed was legalized there) we take our cannabis holidays seriously. So following tradition, on April 20th, 1999 myself and a few of my dirtbag friends went over to a buddy’s house to blaze.

As blunts and joints, bongs and pipes were shared between friends, jokes and laughter drowned out the volume of the tv, rendering it basically background noise. I remember being perplexed to see the banner on tv stating that a shooting was taking place in a school in Littleton Colorado. Littleton was no more than 5 miles from the school district I attended.

Apparently Columbine High School was under attack. I didn’t have any friends there, but I did play against them in football (they beat us handedly). Despite the copious amounts of cannabis smoked, it was a sobering moment. To think, just a stones throw away, a couple kids, my age, had taken a school hostage and there were suspected victims.

Harris and Klebold would kill 15 people in that shooting, injuring many others. The contusions went beyond students and staff present that day. The entire state of Colorado, the United States, perhaps the civilized world hadn’t seen anything quite like it. Unbeknownst to all, this would only be the beginning.

Youth goes by so fast. One day your skateboarding to class, listening to your Walkman, the next you’re in your work truck barreling to a jobsite, taking in a favorite podcast.

The Columbine shooting was one that stuck in my memory, I can also recall one in Boulder Colorado at a grocery store. There’s the Parkland shooting that comes to mind and the horrific scene at Sandy Hook elementary. Otherwise there’s been so many it’s hard to keep track.

Unlike a large proportion of liberals such as myself, I have a predication for firearms. I don’t jerk off to them like maga. Nor am I delusional enough to think that I could make my stand against the United States military. It’s just that, if redneck Bob has an AR15, I want one too. If he has a bazooka, I want one too. Heck! If he had a tank, I want one too! You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight and you don’t exchange 556 rounds with a .22 or even 9mm.

Again, unlike like much of the left, I don’t think the source of these massacres are due to the gun soaked culture America condones. Although access may make it easier, the cause is not the gun, it’s the person holding it.

I have a significant amount of firearms and not once have I thought to myself, ‘Hey! Why not go slaughter a bunch of unsuspecting innocent people?”. There are numerous reasons for this, and even not being the stablest of stable individuals, I don’t suffer from homicidal ideation. That, and I’m not a psychopath.

There has never been a moment of rage, a despair so low, a lapse of reason to where murdering civilians in mass was given space as an option. Alas, to far too many it has.

I often can put myself in someone’s position. Not empathetic, but see a situation through the eyes of someone. Feel the fear or anger, the desperation or righteousness, can see the frustration and feeling of abandonment.

To get to a point where a mass shooting is appealing, appropriate, or justified, is a mental arrangement based on confusion, revenge, spite, or indignation, extreme sadness.

A healthy individual would process these emotions, internalize and rationalize them, coming to the conclusion that this act is wrong. Find and isolate the trauma or root cause that would raise such hostilities from themselves. A healthy individual would certainly not act upon such inclinations. A healthy person would reach out for help to resolve the growing conflict festering in their minds from friends, or either a mental health professional.

Regardless what part of this country you reside in, rural, urban, upscale or skid row, we have all seen some fellow citizens struggling with mental health. This could be as obvious as someone with schizophrenia screaming to a void of humanity. This could take shape in the loneliness epidemic that is affecting our aging male (and female) population. This can manifest through aggression and crime.

America psyche is not well. Addiction, loneliness, depression, anger, racism, despair and delusions of grandeur run rampant across it. From my perspective as a male citizen, we are taught to ignore these issues. To see it as sissy or lacking masculinity. To hide our pain that we carry with us from the world around us.

Women carry their own burdens, their own set of obligations and fears, body dismorphia and stress. Although it is more socially accepted to seek help and/or share troubles, it is not always apparent, nor does it hold any less relevance or suffering than the male experience.

Mental health is as important, if not more important to a persons overall health than physical health. Yet there seems to be a stigma around mental health. The notion that it serves either as a luxury for over privileged snowflakes with first world problems, or that therapy shows a lack of personal strength, or as if seeking it is to confess your insanity.

None of these cases resemble factuality.

As individual beings we all have a story, we’ve all lived a life. What one considers commonplace, the other may see as absurd, what hurts one may have no affect to another.

Trauma is real. Trauma is not only that which may have happened to you, but also that which did not. As children we are vulnerable and dependent, malleable yet fragile, able to adapt and protect ourselves without our knowledge.

In this we build traits we may not even be aware of, coping mechanisms installed long ago as a way of dealing with the uncertainty and emotions we but just began to cultivate. Our child mind will forever impact our adult self, forging and shaping who we are today, and unbeknownst to ourselves we harbor defense mechanisms and coping skills we were unaware existed.

Recent studies suggest that biologically our minds can’t keep pace with the technological and social advances in the present. In terms of biological and human existence, the last 200 years have transformed the way in which we survive, life itself.

It wasn’t that long ago where the only means of mass transportation was ships. It wasn’t that long ago where the only means for long distance communication was parchment carried by a messenger on foot or horseback. It wasn’t long ago the only means for food was hunting with spear or bows. It wasn’t long ago humanity wasn’t much more than nomadic tribes bartering goods. Heck! It was less than 250 ago colonists with black powder muskets fought off the Red Coats to enshrine this nation with liberty.

Needless to say, in an evolutionary standpoint the human mind was not developed to process the information and societal systems that our world has become.

Anxiety is a survival skill, pumping adrenaline and heightening senses in the cause of self preservation. All mammals, as well as other species, have this instinctual protective feature in which to stay alive, to avoid becoming a predators next meal.

As humans our rise to the pinnacle of apex predator has outpaced our instincts for survival. To the point where now we don’t worry about becoming a snack for a beast of equivalent predatory capabilities, but that instinct to survive, that internal fear of avoiding one’s demise, is very much embedded into our subconscious.

This has led to increased hyper vigilance and stress conducting itself in ways that don’t suit our status on the food chain. Rather than worrying about becoming food, we worry about obtaining food. Rather than worrying about fighting off a larger species, we worry about competing with our social standing within our species. Our basic instincts are very much apart of our human brain, yet aren’t up to date with the rate in which our advances have emanated through our experience

Now this once imperative and essential survival skill is no longer relevant in the way in which we live, yet very much ingrained in our thoughts. Stress and anxiety is just our minds trying to keep us safe in a world where it is unnecessary for it to do so.

I am not a mental health expert, nor am I a scientist, I’m just some idiot with a phone and apparently expendable time in hopes to communicate my thoughts with others.

What I’m trying to pass along is your mental health is important to your overall wellbeing. That these feelings of anxiety, stress and depression are natural and just basic survival mechanisms adapting to the vastly different environment we live in today than what we did less than a millennium ago. That you are not alone in your experiences and difficulties navigating this life.

It does not show weakness to ask for help, to open up to a friend or confidant about how and what you’re feeling, your struggles, your thoughts. Don’t allow these things to consume you, to overrule your better judgment.

The actions that these mass shooters have engaged in, even actions such as suicide, are permanent solutions to temporary problems. If you’re experiencing difficulties realize you’re not alone, that this too shall pass, that it won’t always be dark. Life isn’t easy, and if someone told you it would be they were pulling your chain. That doesn’t ease the burden of being human but hopefully can console you in the idea that we all go through this, that pain is natural, that there are no problems where there isn’t a solution.

Take care of yourself. Reach out if needed. Understand your wellbeing overall is greatly impacted by taking care of the mind as much as the body. That we are all in this together and we all are doing the best we can.

[pyrondeeznutz]

Ticci Toby Headcanons

PT.01

Toby Rogers past, upbringing, pre-proxy headcanons. See proxy era headcanons here ⬇️

CW: Slight mentions of animal abuse, domestic violence, psychosis, bullying, car crash, gore

<NOTE> Im a psychology nerd so I tried to make it as realistic as possible. This is my first time doing anything like this but I have a lot of thoughts about Tobys character. Its not proofread so ignore any typos or grammatical errors. Also… its very long… I have… so many thoughts…

BIOGRAPHY .

PATIENT NAME: Tobias (Toby) Erin Rogers

BIRTHDATE: April 28th, 1994

AGE: Currently 19 years old

HC/EC: Brown hair, brown eyes

ETHNICITY: White American

BIRTHPLACE: Denver, Colorado

FAMILY: Connie Rogers (mother), Dan Rogers (Father), Lyra Rogers (sister)

DIAGNOSIS: Congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis (CIPA), Tourettes Syndrome, Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), Bipolar Disorder (Type 1, psychotic)

THE GURNEY .

Toby was in and out of hospitals from a very young age due to his wide range of physical and mental health concerns

His earliest memory was when, at age 4, he hit his head after falling onto cement and didn’t cry, scream, or even really acknowledge that he was hurt

After seeing the bloody mess her young child was in, Connie ran Toby to the hospital where tests were ran to determine what caused his lack of pain response

Finally at age 8, Toby was diagnosed with CIPA. This condition not only prevented his brain from generating a pain response but also responses to extreme temperatures (frostbite, heat burn, etc)

Due to these dangerous health issues, and his neurotic mother, Toby was put in homeschooling from a very early age. Connie was too protective of her son to allow him to go out on his own at his age

His earliest memories revolved around roaming hospital halls, his parents fighting over medical bills, being talked to by social workers and doctors, having tests done, minor surgeries, etc.

DEAR OLD DAD .

Dan Rogers was a difficult man. He never admitted he was wrong, he spent his evenings drinking on the couch, and always had something to complain about. The best words to describe this man was angry, bitter, and reckless

He wasn’t a father by any means. To Toby, the man was more of a nuisance than anything. An alcoholic manchild who stood in his way

The boy never got along with Dan. His father would see him as a burden, bringer of unnecessary medical costs. He severely emotionally and physically neglected his children from their birth. Dan never wanted to be a father.

Due to the costs of Tobys medical problems, Dan would continuously attempt to “prove he was faking” his CIPA, and yell at the boy for his strange twitches due to Tourettes. On one occasion, Dan put his sons hand in a pot of boiling water to try and elicit a pain response that never came.

As Toby got older and more independent from his mother, he would often mouth off to his father, talk back, or straight up ignore him. There was never a moment of peace between those two

Being the money maker in the house, Dan was usually very overworked and stressed. He turned to alcohol to relieve this, and his bad temper got worse when he drank. Often to the point his outbursts would lead to physical violence against his family

It was like walking in a minefield for Toby and his family. And since the supposed “man of the house” was a drunken mean old man, Toby took it upon himself to protect his family from his fathers wrath.

He would purposely act up to direct Dans fist towards him. The boy couldn’t feel it anyways, and being hit, pushed, grabbed, was better than having his sister or mother be hit or yelled at.

The young boy spent his childhood in a rage, he was powerless against his father.

MOTHER DEAREST .

Unlike her husband, Connie was a quiet woman who cared deeply for her children

She was well-mannered, motherly, and kept to herself. And while she was a good woman, she had her fair share of flaws

You would catch her dead before you ever caught her losing control over her emotions. Connie grew up quick and that stuck with her. From a young age she took care of her manchild of a husband

She couldn’t afford to lose herself to silly things like emotions. She had a family to care for, a house to clean, meals to cook. Her priorities lied on appearance over her health

This was one of the many reasons she couldn’t leave her husband despite the years of abuse

Despite all the violence, berating, assault. This life was her own and it was just another thing she had to live with

Toby loved his mother, he really did. He knew she did the best given the circumstances. Connie kept her children fed, clothed and housed. Thats all he could really ask for

But he despised from the depths of his soul how she could just sit by and let the abuse happen. How she never left Dan. How she never cared enough to leave despite not knowing what lied in store for them beyond that house

To her, Dan was a safety net. He provided money, insurance, he paid the bills, put food on the table. Connie quit her job in order to homeschool her son. There was no choice

To Toby, his mother was a coward who never stuck up for herself. And god forbid he ever turn into that

So Toby fought the battles his mother couldn’t. He said the words his mother didn’t dare to speak. He took the beatings and his mother did nothing but ask her husband to stop

SOUL SISTER .

In the chaos of that household, Lyra was something of fresh air for Toby

While the two did fight as any siblings do, they had a mutual care and understanding for each other

Lyra would keep a makeshift first aid kit under her bed for whenever Toby got into minor accidents or if their father went too far some nights

Like her little brother, Lyra had a lot of anger in her. She would always try to stop Dan from going too far and she was good at talking Toby and their father down from ripping each others throats out

She would channel this anger and frustration into sports like boxing, soccer, rugby. It was easier to express her feelings through physical means than ever talking about it. The girl was a perfect mix of her parents

When he was younger, Toby had a very bad and hostile relationship with Lyra. He was young and didn’t have any clue how to handle his emotions and would often threaten or physically hurt his sister

But as he grew up, and they bonded over the related abuse, and they would be there for each other, Toby developed tender care for his older sister. If she got a boyfriend, he would be ready to attack at any sign of disrespect. If she brought over friends, he would stay in his room not to embarrass her.

Just as he was with his mother, he was very protective over Lyra. She did so much for him, and he wanted to keep her safe. It was a tangled, messy relationship but they made it work despite her attitude and his anger

CONDUCT .

Toby grew up completely isolated from other kids, families, etc. The most socialization he got was going to family events or being dragged to the grocery store with his mother.

All he knew growing up was violence. And so when he was around other people, he would project everything he learnt from his father onto other kids

From a very early age he was made to feel small and insignificant in his own home by the people that were supposed to take care of him. And so whenever something challenged him out of the house, he would do whatever he needed to do to put them below him

Sometimes Toby would project this violence onto small animals, occasionally moving onto bigger animals such as cats. The feeling of killing something smaller than himself with his own hands gave him a sense of power and control he never had

Due to his untreated ADHD, the boy would often be loud, hyperactive and intrusive. He would have temper tantrums and outbursts as well, and his mother never knew how to handle it

He was a problem child from birth. Not only causing problems for himself, but for everyone around him

Toby would talk back, curse, say strange and vulgar things, refuse to apologize or admit he was wrong, and would run away from home occasionally.

But despite these behavioural issues, Toby always refused to touch alcohol. Despite all the anger, dread and frustration he felt he swore he’d never become the kind of man his father was

BULLY .

Around 12 years old, Toby’s parents decided it would be best for him to get properly socialized and placed him in a public school

He was now old enough to recognize that bleeding is bad and how to check for injuries despite his CIPA, which allowed Connie to calm down tremendously when it came to her anxiety surrounding her boys health and safety

Despite his mothers insistence that he would love public school, he’d make so many friends there, and that everything would be fine, Toby knew damn well he wouldn’t do well there. He was already bullied by his own father, imagine how other kids would react. He’s seen the movies.

And of course Toby was right. Due to his Tourettes, his tics would often confuse, scare and gross other kids out. They would either straight up treat him like a diseases rat or ruthlessly bully him

The boy was called every name in the book, from “twitchy freak” to “ticci Toby”

Alongside the ostracism and harassment from his peers, his tics and behavioural issues would cause him issues with his teachers. They would often scold him for being a disturbance in class

Making and keeping friends was near impossible for the boy. Talking to a “creepy loser” like him was practically social suicide. He was weird, strange, and given his history of fighting the other kids he was probably dangerous too. No kid wanted to be around that.

On occasion, the other boys would get physical with him and he would always hit back, leading him to get in more trouble with the school staff

Toby would be beat down at school and go home to have it done to him all again by his father

Eventually the school year came to an end and Toby was put back in homeschooling

Even though the torment in middle school came to an end, that didn’t mean the bullying stopped. He was now a known freak and the perfect target for kids who were a bit too much like him. They would harass him online until they got bored, and god forbid he saw any of them in public

It made the angry, powerless boy feel even worse in his own world. There wasn’t a night that went by where he didn’t think of going off and getting his revenge. Make them pay for ever fucking with him.

THE CRASH .

When Toby turned 17, he had finally got himself medicated for his recently diagnosed Bipolar Disorder which caused manic / depressive episodes

He was put on antipsychotics and stimulant medication for his ADHD

While he was being treated, his sister got a job and so did his mother. Outside of all the familiar instability and violence his father caused, life was good

Toby was going to be 18 soon and his sister promised that when he became a legal adult, she would take him to move out with her

He didn’t have any friends, he didn’t really have any plans for his life, but he had a life ahead of him regardless and that was enough

The boy was working through pain too great to imagine, he was carrying 17 years of fear and dread, he was so young holding on to so much

But he had a way out. He was going to get a job and move out with his dear older sister and maybe even go to college. He was going to overcome this

That was his views at least up until the crash

Lyra was driving Toby back home from a doctors appointment when it happened

His tics were acting up, it was rather distracting

He was so caught up in his own little world and trying to get through the frustrating twitches that he didn’t even have a second to process what happened

The next thing Toby knew, the car was swerving right into a lamppost and the air bags were deployed

And the next thing Toby saw was his sisters mangled, bloody body. The force of the steering wheel crushing her bones and shards of glass piercing her skin. The physical trauma near shattered her ribs

And the next thing Toby heard was the pained groans and wheezing from his dying sister

Thats the last thing he remembered before he woke up in a hospital bed with his broken arm being patched up. The doctors wouldn’t even let him see his sister who was under surgery in the emergency room

He didn’t get to be there by her side when she died

He didn’t get a goodbye

And while he was surrounded by family, his aunt Lori was even there to support his mother, Tobys father was nowhere to be seen

Dan was too drunk to drive, and too lazy to call a cab. He didn’t care about Toby and he didn’t care that his daughter just died. One less burden.

In one afternoon Tobys entire life slipped through the cracks of his hands

HIM .

The grief was sickening. It was heavier than the weight of the world. The silence that flooded his once loud house from his sister blaring her Beatles albums was deafening

These were the kinds of things that only happened in movies. People didn’t really lose their family members, and these things didn’t happen to people like him

It wasn’t fair

The one good thing in his miserable life, the moment things were finally getting better. There was no hope anymore, Toby was hopeless

He thought of ending his life every night as he stared at the ceiling, not getting a wink of sleep. But he couldn’t do that to his mom. She never showed it, but it showed clearly from the weight in her steps, the tired look in her eyes. He knew she was carrying a burden too great to bear

He couldn’t take away both of her children

So he would lie there night after night hoping to wake up from the gutwrenching dream just to hear her laugh, sing, blast her shitty music. He never really liked The Beatles, but she did. But she did.

It was all too much for him. From the moment Toby stepped out of the hospital he hadn’t felt real. The boy was living two steps away from reality like there was a sheet of plastic in between him and the world

Days would go by where he would forget to take his medication, or where he would simply just sleep the entire day away

On the days he was awake, Toby would feel like he was going insane. He wouldn’t feel real, he would see things out of the corner of his eye

Sometimes he’d swear he saw something outside his window at night

A strange creature standing under the streetlights

And it only got worse from here. Toby would almost always refuse to leave the house, he stopped sleeping, he felt like something was watching him

The boy would spend hours staring outside his bedroom window. The forest in his backyard had eyes and they were watching him

A wave of sickness overtook Toby. He would wake up with bloody noses sometime and no medicine would get rid of his strange cough. Sometimes he would sleepwalk and end up waking up on the edge of the forest behind his house, cold and alone in the dark of the night

It all added up. It was too much. The anger, the fear, the paranoia. The little voice in the back of his head telling him to just do it. Get revenge. Make him pay.

ABLAZE .

The years and years of abuse. Everything his father had done. He wasn’t there. He was never there.

Why should a man like that deserve to live? 17 fucking years of making Toby feel small and insignificant

Not today. And not anymore. The world was in the boys hands now, and so was a knife. And that night was the night Toby Rogers killed his own father.

No words could describe the feeling of adrenaline and rage that overtook the boy that night. There was no other option, this was the way it was always going to happen

Everything Toby has ever been through has led up to this. It was his own divine prophecy

And God showed no mercy that night

23 stab wounds drilled into his fathers chest, his face bloody, beaten and unrecognizable. Toby smashed his tiny bruised fists ruthlessly into his fathers now deceased body.

The only thing that stopped him was the scream of his mother. It was something primal, something deep from the pain in her gut.

Toby ran into the garage and grabbed two axes that belonged to his father, one old one new. Alongside that he grabbed gasoline and matches. He was going to do what he knew best. He was going to destroy everything.

And so the boy ran down the street of his neighborhood pouring the gasoline along his way and dousing the rest over the trees as he stood at the edge of the forest

Striking a match, the dry grass and trees caught on fire and immediately exploded into flames. The heat and blaze engulfed the boy and soon it began catching onto the rest of the forest

This was the end, he thought. Strangely enough, even though his heart was beating in his throat and his body was shaking, he felt calm. He had no regrets and he was fine with this being his ending.

His mind went blank, everything felt like a static screen, he could feel himself getting dizzy and there was a loud ringing in his ears

The last thing he saw was a tall, faceless creature in the midst of the smoke and fire as he collapsed to the ground.

And that was the death of Tobias Erin Rogers.

[katz-chow]

This is so Phillip Graves coded....thoughts? Also love your work♡^^

bang bang

a/n: STOP NO I LOVE THIS SONG. you're so right babyboo this is so graves coded. how much of life passed by him because of how much time he dedicated to his work. let me show you. angst, good ending, gn! reader, not how i normally write graves, him being an ass, slight suicidal themes, one religious bit, ignoring mw3

Phillip hadn't meant to leave you all alone all those years ago. Memories of weeping willows and tall grass in the scorching summer heat before school started to flood his mind as he drove through sun-bleached roads in the Hill Country. He was finally going home, back to the place where he could finally retire. Sure, he hasn't been back here in 5 years, but he was working and doing important missions within the military, you knew that.

He made sure you knew that when he left for the cold plains of Colorado to start up the Shadow Company. "It's dangerous work, Sweetheart." He said as he held your hand close to his chest. You were crying, begging to come with him, the shiny new ring on her your finger gleamed in the airport lighting.

"No. it's too dangerous, I don't want them coming after you..." He said when you called him a few weeks later after he informed you that he was going overseas. Again, you begged to be able to call him, to have any grasp of him and who he belonged to. And again, he denied it.

You suggested letters on a call a few months later, after he had gotten back from that first mission. He seemed more on edge, hardened...not your Phillip. He cursed and groaned, "When will you understand how dangerous everything is?! Use your brain and think will you? If I send back letters, they'll know where to find you. If you send back letters, they'll know where to find me. Hell, they can probably trace this call right back to you at this very moment and I can't do shit about that!"

You ended the call, frustrated tears rolling down your cheeks. You threw the sheets off of you and screamed into the pillows. You missed him and, of course, he just wanted you to be safe.

Soon, his signal got weaker and weaker. Letters were out of the option except for a rare one-pager or a post card sent from him. Mexico...seemed like a nice place to be, while you're stuck here in Texas, without your husband.

One month turned into two, and then 4 years, and then...he was dead. One of his old military buddies showed up to your door along with a shadow you've never seen before, a flag in hand.

You didn't cry during the funeral, there was no body. You didn't cry when you were handed the flag. You didn't cry on the drive home. You didn't cry until the sun went down and the normally empty house seemed colder, the last smoldering coal cooling down. That was when you couldn't take it anymore. Your knees sank down and hit the hardwood in your living room, framed pictures of the two of you hiking in California glimmered with the faint kitchen light that seemed so, so far away.

You felt the surge of guilt roll over you he was right, he was only keeping you safe from the mess of the world while you got to stay at home. But instead of admiring him and his care, you screamed and cursed and kicked and...cried. You cried out to him and he had no choice but to swallow the stinging in his chest whenever you asked when he was coming home. You couldn't see it at the time. Funny how these things work, it takes death to make you see it.

“If God teaches in this way, by weakening you into a vulnerable thing in order to beg for mercy, he is not a kind god. If this is the case, kill me too. If it’s cowardly than I accept being a coward, if it means I can be with him again.”

His death wrecks you. You don’t come out of the house anymore, not even to get groceries. You order things at your doorstep. You only open the door for people to send their condolences, but never allow them to go in nor do you want to go out. The house is no longer pristine and ready for him to come home at any minute anymore, because you know he won’t.

So imagine the sound of an engine cutting off in front of your house. Then the sound of a large car door closing. And then the keys turning the lock open. You don’t move from your nest of a bed, you figure you had forgotten to eat and the hallucinations are coming in. So you stare at the window blinds, bright sun outside causing a slight glow in your bedroom. You sigh. A lovely day gone to waste again, shame…

“Honey? I know you’re here, your car’s parked out…” His voice chirps as you hear heavy footsteps make its way around the small house. Then the sound of the door opening, your back facing it. You keep your eyes ahead, preparing for the part where everything fades to black and you fall asleep. You start to see the familiar figure in your peripheral and then his face knelt down to meet yours on the bed. You look at him, tiredly and sadden, dismissing the vision as you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Baby…” His knuckles brush against your cheekbones and your eyes dart open and wide, looking up at him.

“Phillip…?”

His hand caress your face as yours reach out to him, fingers pinching and pulling at his face. He smiled softly. “It’s just me, again…Hi..”

Tears formed in your eyes as you sat up in bed, scrambling into his arms as you both sit on the floor. You screamed and sobbed and hit him as he held you close. “I thought you were fucking dead for almost a year, a whole fucking year, you asshole!”

Phillip didn’t seem fazed with your words nor your fists weakly hitting his back as you buried your face into him. “I know I’m sorry…I’m here now. I’m real, it’s okay, we’re okay.”

Your Phillip was home, safe and in your arms. He knew you would react in some way, but somehow he didn’t know it equate to you physically hitting him. He held you as tight in his arms as you would let him as you cried and screamed.

You succeeded in pulling away from him, tears turning into sniffles and a furrowed brown.

"I miss you."

A harsh pain whipped onto the side of his face, hard enough to pull his gaze from you to the bookshelf in the back against the wall.

"Don't do that again." You stared at him, tears silently rolling down your flushed cheeks as sniffled, lip quivering.

"I'll be here."

[booksandabeer]

A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy) (E | 150 K)

To celebrate the completion of the fourth & final part Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) in this wonderful series by dorian_burberrycanary.

Author's summary: The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road? A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky fix-it as part of the all-American road trip, detours included.

Follow Steve and Bucky on their Great American Road Trip as they drive and eat their way across the country and beyond. From the beaches of the Jersey Shore to the graveyards of Savannah, from the cragged horizons of Mexico to deserts with (small) volcanoes, from college campuses to earthship settlements, from the mountains of Colorado to the monumental emptiness of the Great Plains and on and on and on…there is always more road ahead.

A Man Takes... is a miracle of a series that works with what should be an unworkable premise: Steve really did leave to go live in the past. He returned a few months later, yes, but he still made that choice. Knowingly. So, how can any author, any story, rectify such a colossal mistake, and how can it be reconciled with a believable, satisfying romance that short-changes neither Steve nor Bucky? Like this. With patience, and care, and often painful honesty. Just like Steve, this story slowly digs itself out from under the burden of that terrible decision.

I know that some people are very reluctant or even outright refuse to read EG-compliant fics and I understand why this might be a tough sell for them. Believe me, I do. But this series manages to neither let Steve off the hook for his choices nor does it punish him excessively. Instead, Steve and the readers are repeatedly confronted with the fact that there are no magical solutions here, no take-backs—it’s a fix-it, yes, and very much a Stucky fic through and through, but it’s not a fix-it fantasy where in the end everything turns out to have been an unfortunate misunderstanding after all. What's done is done and the only way out is through. But. even if you usually prefer to ignore anything that happened post-[insert preferred point of canon divergence here], please, please try to give this absolute marvel of a series a chance. It is genuinely one of the most rewarding and satisfying works I've ever read in this fandom. It's catharsis in slow motion.

You will find descriptive writing here that is so incredibly beautiful that it will bring you to your knees in awe. This series transcends fanfiction in many ways, as it stands out for the remarkable quality of the prose and the nuance, subtlety, and precision with which it explores both the emotional landscapes of its protagonists and a fictionalized, yet very recognizable post-Snap America. At the same time, it could only ever work as fanfiction because it stays so close to the characters and is so deeply rooted in and filtered through Steve’s inner life and perspective. Just like the real Steve Rogers, this story is smart and curious, and deeply empathetic towards its characters and the world they inhabit.

Every detail is imbued with meaning. The food Steve and Bucky eat. The clothes they wear. The art they look at. The books they read. The music they listen to. The places they stay at. The landscapes they drive through and the objects they carry with them or acquire along the way. One doesn't need to understand or even notice all of the references, allusions, or ambiguities to enjoy the series, but it makes for such a rewarding reading experience to really dig deep into the many, many layers the author has so expertly assembled into this phenomenally rich text. More often than not in this fic, the curtains aren’t just blue. Or rather, Bucky’s sweatpants aren’t just gray.

At some point amidst this sprawling, reflective journey, a bittersweet realization sets in: There simply is no compensation for the time and life lost, for the pain suffered. No money, no medals or statues, no hagiographies, and certainly no delusional pipe dreams forcibly made real, will ever make up for all that loss. You can't outrun your past, but that doesn't mean you should bury yourself in it. And maybe, solace can be found in mutual understanding, not just between these two men, but in interactions, in shared community—however fleeting—with ordinary people doing ordinary things in their ordinary lives. And in the beauty of the mundane and the relief that there still is a world in which such beauty can exist, even though it is so often a cruel and unjust place. Steve Rogers finally allows himself to feel his feelings: his grief and his shame, but also his joy and—even though he’s already so very tired—his hunger for more. More time, more life, more Bucky.

This series is a wonderful tribute to Steven Grant Rogers—an honest and affectionate portrayal of this compelling and lovable, if at times difficult, character. It is also a gorgeous, intricate love letter to the miracle of a man that is James Buchanan Barnes. As you can probably tell by now, I love it a totally not normal amount.

A most heartfelt thank you to @burberrycanary for taking us all along on Steve and Bucky's long journey across America and (back) to each other. Thank you for letting us sit in the back seat and watch as they learn to love and live with each other in old and new ways, finally find some measure of well-deserved rest and peace, and, together, face their greatest challenge, their longest fight, the eternal question:

How to live with all this survival?

[sociopathicartist]

Sans x Reader (BREAKFAST COMBO)(oneshot)

‘BreakfastCombo’

“so… how did the two of you meet anyways?” Fell asked, folding and unfolding the napkin he grabbed with his breakfast.

You were at a hotel (yes, all 7 of you, including you) in Colorado, staying there for the day until you drove down to the ski lodge tomorrow morning. Originally the plan was to leave today, but it started snowing. Snowing bad.

“Sans and I?” You questioned, not sure what he was referring to. There were 6 other skeletons.

He nodded, looking back to see his brother trying to make a plate of food with the hardly salvageable hotel breakfast buffet. “who else? m’ curious. he’s talked about you since the first day we showed up here.”

Hm. You sighed, staring down at the wooden table. God, how did you meet Sans? That was a long story that happened a really long time ago.

“Uhhh, I could tell you. Whydda ask?”

“m’ just wondering. s’ not like any of us had a human best friend like you at home. s’ weird seeing him like this.” He poked at the dry biscuit with his fork, a small snarl on his teeth.

Huh. No you in their AU’s? Interesting.

You tapped your fingers on the desk, thinking back to when you two did meet. Stars, it feels like forever ago.

“Technically,” You started. “I met Papyrus first. I was at Muffet’s and he saw me struggling with the morning crossword. He helped me finish it, promptly suggesting afterward that I try Junior Jumble instead. We just kinda became friends that morning and kept in close contact. I knew Papyrus for at least four months before I ever met Sans. It’s odd.”

“hm? whyssit odd?” Fell slurred his words together like usual, a bad habit of his.

“Well, you know.” You took a bite of your toast, swallowing down the hardly edible substance. “Everyone always meets Sans first. Before Papyrus trained with Undyne, Sans worked for her at the sentry station. Before Alphys met Papyrus, Sans ran into her in hotland and they’d watch anime together sometimes. Before Papyrus met Toriel, Sans would tell her jokes through the door. Everyone always met Sans first, but I didn’t. I didn’t even know the guy existed for a hot minute.”

“THIS FOOD IS DISGRACEFUL.” Edge suddenly appeared next to the two of you, startling you a bit. His arms were folded angrily. “I WILL GO GATHER BLUE AND DISCUSS ABOUT A POSSIBLE SHORT DRIVE TO A DINER SOMEWHERE.”

“Isn’t the whole point of staying at the hotel today because we can’t drive in the snow?” 7 people in one car during a snowstorm was a tad bit wild, especially just for some food.

“THE LODGING IS A 3 HOUR DRIVE. RESTAURANTS ARE CLOSER BY. I’M SURE THIS IS NOT HOW YOU WANT TO EAT THE ENTIRE DAY.”

Fell shrugged, not seeming to care about the whole ordeal. “room service food is way nummier. could jus’ order that, idk.”

Edge scoffed at his brother. “NEVER SAY ‘I.D.K.’ OUTLOUD EVER AGAIN.” He walked away, presumably to go grab Blue who was oddly still asleep.

“Anyways. We met for the first time when Papyrus invited me over for his birthday. I had already met Undyne and Alphys before, so there weren’t too many faces at his party that I didn’t recognize. I suppose Papyrus had talked about me to Sans before because I didn’t introduce myself and he just kinda… Stared at me the whole time.”

“that’s weird. prolly thought you were smokin’ hot and got nervous.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Again, anyways. I figured I’d break the ice, so when Paps was opening gifts I sat by Sans and cracked a birthday joke and his whole face just lit up. I knew that the guy loved jokes, but I didn’t expect him to crack one-liners and puns at me for the rest of the night.��

You trailed off in your words, the memory playing vividly in your head. After the party you had gone home and decided to scroll through some photos you’d taken earlier, deleting many that Undyne and Alphys spammed on your phone when you had left it unintended. You saved some photos and went to send them to the pair, but saw a new contact added. You clicked on it, seeing the only message being an awful one-liner.

(—-,—-,——) - 9:12 pm - why did the cell phone bring a sweater to the party

(—-,—-,——) - 9:12 pm - it didn’t want to get a cold signal. lol.

(—-,—-,——) - 9:15 pm - it’s cold. stay warm on your way home.

Ah. You must have given Sans your number at some point during the party. Who else would send these horrible puns?

10:05 pm- LMAO. I made it home safe, don’t worry.

You two ended up texting on and off for about an hour before retreating to bed.

A few days later you ended up having a shitty day at work. Unlike your normal tendency to bottle things up, even to your best friend, Papyrus, you wanted to spill your feelings... You called Undyne and Alphys. No answer. Papyrus was busy with Mettaton today, so both those options were out. Toriel answered but said she was at the park with Frisk. You didn't want to impose and passed off your call as a simple check-in. BP would only bring more down since he wasn’t the best at comforting, so you were led to your last option.

You rang the number and heard the pickup tone.

“hey?”

“Hi! Sorry, I’ve just had a long day and wanted to talk.”

You heard a soft sigh before a response. “go on. i’m not busy.”

“you called for how long?” Fell gave a bit of a surprised look to you.

“7 hours! I know. After I told him about my shitty day he ended up telling me about his equally awful one. I don’t know, we just talked.”

Fell stared at you for a moment, the end of his phalange picking at his gold tooth. You raised an eyebrow.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You battered.

“no, no. keep talkin’.”

After the two of you ended the call, you had asked to call the next day.

So you called the day after that.

And the day after that.

And the day after that one.

It took a long time for you to notice how close you and Sans had become. Papyrus was the realization moment for you.

“HUMAN, I MUST SAY THAT YOU ARE HAVING A GREAT INFLUENCE ON SANS.”

You looked up to Papyrus, setting your menu down on the booth table. “What?”

“HE HAS BEEN MORE ACTIVE NOW THAT HE IS TALKING TO YOU SO MUCH. I MUST SAY, I AM VERY HAPPY WITH THIS DEVELOPMENT!”

“Oh, uhm…” You took a sip of your water, the ice-cold temperature giving the roof of your mouth a bit of a cold shock. “Thanks.”

You did feel a bit bad at the fact that you were spending a bit more time with Sans over Papyrus, your best friend, but he was occupied with Mettaton and didn’t mind much. The two brothers still ate up a large portion of your time.

For Sans’ birthday, you chose to knit him a blanket. You had corrected him several times that it was knitting, not crochet, but now you were convinced that the smirk on his face when you corrected him meant he knew the difference and just said crochet to patronize you.

Although he tried to avoid you from coming into his room, mostly because it was messy and unfurnished, you had caught glimpses of it from time to time. A big ringer you noticed was the lack of a proper blanket in his room. While the temperature didn’t bother him much due to the lack of skin, you still didn’t like the idea of him being without a blanket at night.

You had been sneaky with it, casually asking him to go on a shopping spree with you and stopping at the yarn store on your way home. While you picked out your yarn for a separate project, you watched to see which yarns he liked. It was easy to tell, if he liked the color of it he’d pick it up and see if he liked the feeling. If approved, he’d hold onto it for a few moments before putting it back up. You kept note of which ones he liked and went back to the store alone the next day, picking out enough yarn of the two colors he was amused by.

It turned out as a soft blue blanket. The main yarn was a sky blue that was silky and cold to the touch paired with a dark blue crushed velvet that wrapped as a border. It took about two weeks of knitting in all your free time to finish it, completed by being folded nicely and wrapped up in paper.

After the small party you and your friends planned for him, you chose to give him your gift alone.

Well, not alone. You had attached a letter you wrote for him to the gift and placed the blanket on his mattress, knowing he’d see it later. You were correct, receiving a text from him later thanking you for the gift.

He seemed to open up to you a lot more after that.

“Sooooo, the rest is history.” You tossed the paper plate (still full of gross food) into the trash.

“wow. wowwowwowwowwow.” Fell shook his skull. “boring story.”

You scoffed at him, heading into the elevators as he followed beside you. “Yak it up. You asked. What did you expect, hm?”

He shrugged, pressing your floor number once you were in the elevator. “dunno. sounds like you two were going to shack or somethin’.”

“Fell, you perv! Nothing is going on between him and me.”

“yeahhhh, alright sweetheart.”

You scowled at him, breaking separate ways once you were out of the elevator and going to your hotel room.

You were lucky. Being the 7th member of the ‘friend/family’ group meant you were the odd one out, and also the only female. (ignore if you’re gender-neutral) If there was ever a situation like this where you all had to stay in rooms, you always got your own while all the individual brothers shared theirs. You can only imagine the chaos breaking out between Edge and Fell, cooped up in that tiny room together.

Your bed was cold and plush when you laid down on it, all made up by the hotel cleaning service. You stared up at the ceiling, your hands over your stomach. There wasn’t anything going on between you two, right?

Ugh. It was only 8:30 am, so most everyone was still asleep except the malicious duo, that was unless Edge successfully woke up Blue. You couldn’t just go back to sleep either. All the talking and walking around made your sleepiness wear off, so you were just a bit stuck. You grabbed your phone, choosing to mindlessly scroll on Pinterest.

You wouldn’t make a move on Sans since you were almost 100% positive that not only was he not interested in you, but that he wasn’t interested in a relationship at all. Every time you brought up the subject he just got dodgy, so you just chose to bury any feelings you had deep down so that you wouldn’t risk the friendship and be a hopeless romantic over some guy.

But now?

Ugggggh. Your feelings were all in a wad. Fell had successfully just made things complicated. He may be a bit of a punk sometimes, but he wouldn’t say something like that to you if he didn’t think you two were interested in each other. Even though he’s a bit rougher around the edges, he still is a Sans. He has the same morals and motivations similar to Classic, unlike Blue on the other hand. He would be your next best dig at getting into Sans’ thoughts since asking him directly was too risky.

You could ask Papyrus, but Papyrus is loyal to keeping his word. You heavily admired it and used his loyalty as a bit of a role model for yourself, but unfortunately, that meant that going to him for an inside scoop meant you’d have to be tricky with your words. Sure, he wouldn’t let you go in completely blind since you were his best friend. If he knew of your little crush he definitely wouldn’t let you get heartbroken, and would give indirect suggestions that technically don’t break his loyalty.

You chose your next best option.

8:34 - u up?

8:35 - i wanna ask u smthn.

8:39- did u go back to sleep ?

8:41 - evil sans (satan) - what's up

8:42 - do u think he likes me?

8:42 - don’t make fun

8:43 - evil sans (satan) - jfc, you woke me up for this?

8:43 - evil sans (satan) - im going back 2 sleep

8:44 - fell pleeeease:(:(:(

8:45- evil sans (satan) - im not sure. he doesn’t talk about that stuff to me. he does act interested in u though, esp compared to how he acts around everyone else.

Mh. You typed and sent a short thanks to him, feeling pretty satisfied with what new information you’ve learned.

You shut your phone off, sighing and tossing it beside you. If you were back home, you’d go and talk to Toriel about this. She’s always so nice and comforting to talk to. Granted, Alphys and Undyne were also good options, but they had a bit of a hard time keeping a secret in relation to crushes. You’d be teased high to no end. Mettaton would be nice to talk to, you could have a day with facemasks, mani-pedis, and gossip.

But you weren’t home, were you? So… how to pass the time…

The time went by slowly. It wasn’t until about 10 am that Blue and Stretch woke up, begrudging you to hang out with them downstairs in the hotel lounge. Since you already had plans to take a short drive to get food, eating at the hotel wasn’t really on the table. Blue dragged you and Edge to do one of the community puzzles the hotel had while Stretch and Fell lounged in chairs, occupied on their phones.

It didn’t take long for Sans and Papyrus, the iconic duo, to show up in the lobby. The short skeleton stood behind you, ruffling your hair a bit while Papyrus rambled on about why they were up so late.

“HORRIBLE. JUST HORRIBLE. WE HAVE BEEN UP FOR THE PAST HOUR AND I HAVE WASTED 30 MINUTES JUST DRAGGING HIM OUT OF BED!” Papyrus complained, some snickers being heard from Stretch about the situation.

“I’m sorry, Papyrus.” You tried to console him, elbowing Sans in the ribcage for his older brother's havoc. “When we get to the ski lodge tomorrow we’ll have our own room.”

Sans nodded, feigning a hurt expression from your elbow jab. “sorry bro. i really gotta work on my self o-bed-ience.”

Several groans were heard, and Fell waved Sans off. “boring, lazy, sloppy. you’ve been lacking on your puns recently.”

Blue connected another puzzle piece, a small look of pride and victory on his face. “I SUGGEST YOU CHANGE OUT OF YOUR PYJAMAS, LAZY ME. WE ARE GOING OUT TO EAT.”

Papyrus’ attention was caught. “GOING OUT? I THOUGHT IT WAS TOO SNOWY.”

“FOR A 3 HOUR DRIVE, YES.” Edge corrected. “BUT THIS DINER IS ONLY 5 MINUTES AWAY AND SEEMS TO SERVE EDIBLE BREAKFAST OPTIONS.”

“hmmm. who’s gonna drive, again?” Stretch eyed everyone in the group. None of you preferred driving.

Papyrus’ face changed to fear, quickly holding up his hand to his nasal socket. “NOES-GOES!”

The crowd of you went wild, the once tired and calm group now screaming “noes goes” while raising their hand. A few people in the lounge looked over at you, trying to see what was disturbing the peace.

Blue groaned once he realized he yelled out last. “WHY DO I ALWAYS LOSE AT NOES-GOES?! I SWEAR, YOU ASSHOLES ONLY PICK IT BECAUSE IT IS THE ONE GAME I AM BAD AT.”

“sorry, bro.” Stretch showed a half-hearted sympathetic look. “we don’t make the rules.

“Why don’t we put up the puzzle and head out then? There’s nothing wrong with being in your pyjamas. It’s not like we know anyone here.” You gestured to your lazy pyjama outfit, vouching a bit for Sans.

“see? they get it.” Sans commented, looking at you with a lazy grin.

“I SUPPOSE IT’S OKAY… BUT JUST FOR TODAY.”

The drive was chaos.

Somehow just five minutes in the car leads to sibling fights, Blue yelling at everyone to shut up so that he can focus on driving, Sans pestering Papyrus with puns and Fell showing you TikToks on your phone that he found funny. You never got a break from them.

Blue managed to park the car with several harasses from Edge about how “HE NEEDS A CAR SEAT TO EVEN LOOK OUT THE WINDSHIELD PROPERLY.” The snow was still relentless, just occurring to you that Blue was right and you should have not gone out in your pyjamas. While the others didn’t have skin and weren’t temperature-bothered, you were. You kept trying to rush them all into the diner as quickly as possible.

“I RECALL THAT YOU WERE THE ONE WANTING TO STAY IN YOUR PYJAMAS.” Edge teased you, watching as you sat down and tried to conserve your warmth by wrapping your arms around your waist.

You grabbed one of the menus, glaring at him. “I didn’t realize how cold I’d be. Gimmie a break, man.”

You loved him, but he could be a tad annoying sometimes. Quite frankly all of them got on your nerves now and then.

Food items, Food items… Hashbrowns, some ‘Waffle Topple’ special for 9.99. Your stomach grumbled at all the options.

“still cold?” Sans’ familiar voice rang out.

You looked down at him, seeing that he was sitting next to you. Odd, usually Papyrus or Stretch sat by you.

Checking around the table, you saw the chatter amongst the other skeletons. The two of you would be able to talk one one-on-one for a few minutes before any interruptions.

“A bit. It’s not my fault it’s still cold in here.” You scanned over the menu again. “Whatcha gonna get?”

“not sure.” Sans shrugged, tapping his phalanges on the menu. “all of these options are pretty eggstraordinary.”

“Sans.”

“but i think the breakfast combo looks grape.”

You crossed your arms, watching as his amused expression developed. “I’m not doing it. It’s too early.”

“what?” Sans looked over to you. “you got something to hash out with me?”

“10 am. 10.”

“just one? then i’ll quit.” Sans pleaded. “don’t grit your teeth at my puns.”

You groaned in annoyance, hiding your face behind your menu and peeking at him. “Uhmmmm. I’m really tired. I don’t think I can mustard up any good puns.”

Sans stared at you for a few seconds, a bit of a confused and enticed expression. “wow. mustard isn’t even a breakfast food.”

“You didn’t say it had to be.”

“didn’t i? i thought it was obvious with the way my puns were roll-ing.”

“I thought you said you’d quit.”

“i know.” Sans winked, setting his menu back on the table and shrugging off his jacket.

He pulled you in by your shoulders, wrapping his jacket around you to provide a layer of warmth.

You smiled softly, your cheeks heating up a bit since he got so close. Breathe. “Aw. for me? Your musty ketchup jacket?”

Sans brushed you off, his permanent smile twinging upward a bit more. “whaaattt? diddya think i’d give you the cold shoulder?”

You elbowed his arm, pretending to be annoyed despite enjoying his puns. It was a bit impressive how witty he was. You wrapped the jacket around you a bit tighter, not seeing the way Sans was busy staring at you.

“Whatcha gonna order, Papyrus?” Your voice rang soft to him.

Papyrus looked up to you, beginning to ramble about all the options they had, Blue occasionally piping in to debate on which one was best. You glanced over to Sans while listening to them babble, catching a glance of him before he quickly looked away.

You’d tell him soon, one day.

first one shot upload:3 idk if i should make it a two part or not? thanks for reading <3