#mass text messaging

[witlingosite]

Five Reasons Why Good Communication Is The Key To Happy Residents

If a community wants to grow and survive, it has to make improvements on its communication. Nowadays it is not enough to just send messages with updates in it. If you want to run a community, you have to build trust with the right community engagement strategies. Its all about making people feel like they belong here, and making sure that all residents are happy. Here we will talk about 5 strong reasons why good communication should be the centre of your community management.

Building trust with communication

Building trust is all about making people feel heard. If they are heard, they are more likely to be happy and comfortable in their community. If you want to build a good communication, you have to talk to residents, address any concerns they have quickly, and keep them up to date on community issues as well.

Getting residents involved in activities

Good communication allows for you to influence community members differently. If you are up to date on events, they will naturally feel more encouraged about participating in community’s activities. All this can be done through the right mass text messaging and event notifications updates.

Right way to address the problems and worries of a community

Every community has its shares of problems and worries. Through good communication, you can give people a structured way to talk about their problems and look for solutions. A clear and quick communication system is vital for quick problem solving in communities.

Making sure everyone feels included

Community of today isn’t just speaking one language. There are people from all walks of life and from many places around the world. If you want to provide good communication, you can’t just pick between residents. You have to strategize your outreach through tools that support multiple languages in community texting, have accessibility features like text to speech features for easy understanding. With these features, you are going to create a more welcoming and transparent approach. Community members will feel happy.

Making community rules more clear

For any community, it is important to have rules to keep things in order and making sure everyone is safe. Community management and residents can talk about and understand these rules better if they can talk to each other well. Residents will understand what is expected of them if rules, regulations, and expectations are communicated clearly and consistently. This will prevent misunderstandings and potential conflicts. Ultimately it will lead to greater satisfaction.

Explore the best community outreach tools on https://witlingo.com/

Original Source: https://bit.ly/3SkC1ge

[chicago-geniza]

Going to my friend's MOVING SALE and bringing FILIPINO BREAKFAST for him and his BOYFRIEND. Go go gadget leaving the house having social interaction following through climbing out of the HOLE that is not our GRAVE

[hanasnx]

indoctrinating donnie to mass effect by making him read my college level length thesis on human x turian smut every time he opens discord like

[ignorantsanonymous]

The Tragedy Prayer

"Let us offer up a prayer to those who have perished in this nightmarish act of cruelty today.

And I remind you all, once again, that we pray not to God, but to ourselves; to sharpen our minds and to focus our wills.

Our Power, which burns within Us, exquisite be Our Might.

Our Kingdom come, Our Will be done, on Earth as it is within Us.

Give Us this day our fondest wish, and improve ever upon Us, as we strive ever to improve Ourselves.

And lead Us not into corruption or malaise, but give Us strength to persist in the face of adversity.

Lives have been taken needlessly from Us by a loathsome lost soul on a mission of evil.

May the sickness of this rotten death-urge vacate Our collective Being.

May the exploiters of tragedy find that their words turn to shit in their mouths.

May the deniers of tragedy find that they are denied mercy until they repent.

May the cruelty of this world be alleviated by the love and fellowship and brotherhood and sisterhood and siblinghood that We may find in Ourselves.

To love One Another and to serve One Another and to serve those that love Us.

And may Those whose souls are on this day scorched with pain and anguish find Their way to the balm of kindness.

Let Those who have been so darkly touched by the worst of humanity see now the best of it.

And may Our differences be cast aside, and all the bullshit cut through, until all that is left is the truth.

Let it be so."

-TJ Kirk (May 2022)

[astramachina]

The one change I would love for tumblr to implement is the ability to treat my sideblogs like independent blogs. i want to be able to follow people from them specifically.

[oca-rinn-a]

please why are they sending me these

[i8i8t]

Does Hormel receive complaints about internet spam?

[witlingosite]

Go with Community Texting Over Any Other Messaging Solution

Communication has always been the key. It makes every operation flawless. But, inefficient communication could be a barrier as well. So, instead of communication is the key, everyone believes that efficient and right communication is the key. The meaning and purpose of communication in communities is a bit different. It is to inform, engage, and interact. For this, most organizations use community texting solutions from the best solution providers. Such community texting or mass messaging solutions lift communication barriers conveniently. Here is why communities consider these solutions as the best.

Requires Minimal Effort:

Managing communities can be a daunting task if one overlooks the purpose and importance of efficient communication. Communicating in communities of larger sizes is not an easy task. People believed it required excessive effort and determination more than anything else. However, mass text messaging is one of the most convenient ways for this. Mass texting software solutions are easily available in the market. Such solutions allow the employee in charge of communication to send a message to all the members of the community. Instead of needing to send the message personally to each member, the person in charge can send bulk messages at once. Hence, it reduced the need to put in unnecessary effort.

Reduced Costs:

Software solutions have taken charge of assisting organizations, profitable non-profitable, in many ways. The ultimate goal of such software solutions is to reduce costs. Similarly, community texting solutions deliver the same purpose. Communities can more efficiently manage the cost of communication with the help of such solutions. Communication remains no longer a headache for communities because of such solutions. Moreover, sending individual messages was always a concern for the person in charge. But such solutions made it really more manageable for all. Hence, it is one of the most suitable introductions for all the communities.

Purpose of Community Texting:

Community texting has been a comfortable solution for all. Such solutions make sure that the right information reaches all the members of the community. Moreover, a few community texting solutions make community engagement possible. Interaction with the members, feedback, etc., are easier to receive with the help of such community texting solutions. Along with engagement, community texting solutions keep everyone intact. There is no way that a member or several members feel left out due to improper or mismanaged communication.

Witlingo brings excellent community texting solutions for communities. You can check more about such solutions easily at https://witlingo.com/

Original Source: https://bit.ly/3O3WwLC

[quickestgold]

Okay but LISTENNNNN. Reader and Jack having feelings for eachother but he pulls back (she’s still new , too young , etc) he’s been cold and she decided to take that day off work and go to Pitt Fest and …oh no…. (Still lives but it’s BAD)

Strip Her: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Synopsis: Amidst a mass casualty event, Jack’s medical instincts clash with his personal life when the woman he loves risks her own life to save another. Is he about to watch you die?

Warnings: Canon-typical depictions of trauma/gun violence, mass shooting, GSWs, blood; Reader basically does what Santos did, but in the field hah! > No "good girl" energy from Jack, just anger for putting yourself in danger lol

Word count: 2k+

A/n: Thanks so much for sending this in, so sorry it's taken so long!! Lmk what you think!! ♡

This is not exactly in our mass casualty plan.

Blood is for the ones we can save.

Ten other patients will die if you put all of your energy into saving this girl.

Jack’s own words haunt him, playing through his mind on a torturous loop.

He looks at Robby, pleading for something. Then back at you, watching you fight for your life.

"Hi, handsome."

"Wanna come over after your shift?"

Read.

You huff out a humorless laugh. The old man really left you on Read.

You know Jack isn't a big texter, making the age-gap between you hilariously obvious. But today it gets to you.

Jack isn't your immediate superior, but you wonder if this is why he's been acting cold. More than usual.

The ER staff love to talk. Of course they do. But neither Jack nor you care about that. You’ve made it clear there’s an undeniable connection between you.

So, you’ve acted on it.

The last couple of months have been bliss, an unspoken understanding of exclusivity.

But now, Jack's been distant. Swapping shifts, avoiding working with you.

Was it something you did?

You've already double texted him today, wishing him a good shift and letting him know that Robby's asked you to 'babysit'.

How embarrassing. But you draft another.

"Heading to Pitt Fest now, will be up for some fun when you get home... ;)"

You delete the last part. God. Don't show your age!

"Heading to Pitt Fest now, see you soon."

You hit send.

Code Triage. Emergency Department Now.

The mass casualty event is in full swing. Patients come and go. Green. Yellow. Pink. Red. Black and White.

It's a haze of coordinated chaos.

Jack keeps trying to reach you in-between treating patients, leaving you countless voicemails.

Of course he would.

"Hey, Y/N. It's Jack. Call or text me the second you get this message, okay?" His voice trembles. "She's not picking up."

"I can't reach Jake either." Robby mutters.

"I'm sure they're ok." Dana offers gently.

Time slips away, minutes turning into hours. Their shift was supposed to end a while ago, but they've stopped keeping track.

"I'm going to check on triage." Robby announces, stepping out to help Shen and Ellis assess incoming patients. "No pulse. Black and white. Pink zone. Strong pulse. Unresponsive. No obvious GSW. Red zone GSW left chest."

A familiar voice cuts through the noise. "She was talking when we first got into the truck. T- There was so much blood."

"Jake!" Robby's at his side in a flash.

"Robby! Leah got shot. It's really bad...", Jake cries out.

Robby is at a loss for words, his medical instincts fighting the fatherly ones in a gruesome match.

"I've been putting pressure on the wound the whole time", Jake stutters.

"That's good. You're good", Robby reassures him, more for himself than Jake.

The team rushes Leah into the ER. Jake follows closely behind. "You can't stay with her. There's no room and we need to work on Leah right now", Robby says firmly, getting to work immediately.

Jack spots them and hurries over, panic rising in his chest.

"Where’s Y/N?" he asks, voice tight.

"I- I don’t know," Jake mutters. "She stopped Leah’s bleeding, then went back in."

"What do you mean?" Jack growls, trying to keep his voice calm.

Robby looks up, taking in Jake's words. The lines on his forehead growing deeper.

"People were screaming. The shots were so loud. She- She went back to see if others needed help." Jake's eyes well up, before he is wheeled off to get treated.

Of course you would put someone else's safety over your own.

Others might see it as noble, but Robby and Jack think it's reckless.

They exchange a look, knowing there's nothing they can do to reach you. To make sure you're okay.

Jack is called to another patient, while Robby proceeds to work on Leah.

Despite their best efforts, it's not enough.

Minutes pass. Jack watches Robby closely, his desperation becoming more evident by the second. Dana gives Jack a knowing look, recognizing the only person who can reach Robby right now is him.

Jack steps closer, glasses off, his voice gentle.

"The bullet tore through her heart", he says softly, giving Robby time to process.

"Anyone else with a wound like this is pronounced dead in the field. You can't keep up with the blood loss. If she was our only patient, we'd do a thoracotamy, maybe ECMO. But even then, I doubt we'd get her back." Jack's words hang heavy in the air, but he continues.

"We're gonna lose ten other patients if you put all your efforts into saving this girl." Jack doesn't let it show, but it pains him to see Robby hurting like this.

Robby does one final pulse check. But Leah's heart is no longer beating, the realization shattering his own.

"Okay, we're done", Robby whispers, breaking.

"We stopped at 19:47", Dana declares. "Move her to Pedes?", she asks gently.

Robby just nods.

"You want me to go with you to talk to Jake?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, thanks. I got it."

But another gurney is wheeled in. Robby notices first.

"Jesus Christ", he mutters. "What's going on?"

"Female. 30s. GSW to the right inguinal region. Retroperitoneal bleed", Dr. Mohan declares. But there's someone else kneeling at the end of the gurney, holding the patient's leg up. Robby and Jack's eyes widen, when they meet yours.

"The bullet must have tracked north and hit the external illiac", you state nonchalantly, ignoring the stunned looks from your colleagues.

It was supposed to be your day off.

"Dr. Y/LN did a REBOA in the field to stop the bleeding", Samira continues.

"You did what?!" Robby gasps, incredulous but unable to hide his pride.

Jack is by your side in an instant. "Are you shitting me?"

"Hello to you too, Dr. Abbot", you smile weakly, still focused on the patient’s wound.

Another time, your smile would’ve lit a spark. Not now.

Jack's anger is palpable.

You’ve seen it before, his cold, stone-faced demeanor, always one existential crisis away from breaking. But never directed at you.

"Are you hurt?" Jack’s voice is dangerously low.

He's scared.

Robby and Jack scan your blood-soaked clothing. You quickly dismiss their concern.

"Uncontrollable bleeding from a pelvic artery, no other options. I blew up a balloon in the aorta to stop the bleed. Going in a few inches, zone three, below the kidney. I just needed to hit the femoral artery."

You hesitate, but go for it anyway.

"Piece of cake", you grin, weaker than usual, but you hope they don't notice. They do.

"Radial's stronger." Mel confirms.

Robby and Jack both notice your uneven breathing but chalk it up to the stress and trauma you've experienced.

"Also, GSW to the chest, left hypochondriac region. Probable internal bleeding", you continue.

"No. That's not true-", Samira objects.

You direct everyone's attention to your own chest, your breathing becoming erratic.

"What?!" Jack's voice cracks, disbelief, shock and fear hitting him all at once.

You feel like you can hear your own heartbeat, the ER growing eerily quiet at your confession.

"Okay. Let go of her leg", Robby orders in an intimidating tone.

"Gurney!" Jack barks.

"I need to lock the balloon first." You stare directly into Jack's eyes, knowing he won't budge. You turn to your friend and mentor, pleading.

"Robby." He knows you're right.

"Do it." Robby nods, ordering Whittaker to check the wound once you're done.

"BP's 110, by palp", Donnie announces.

Jack remains frozen, his mind racing a million miles a minute.

"The balloon can stay up for an hour max. Get IR and Vascular on the case." Robby directs, before drawing everyone's attention back to you.

Your patient is stable.

You've done what you can.

But the blood loss is catching up with you.

"I- I think it's a through-and-through. My back hurts like hell and my legs feel funny." Jack snaps out of his trance, his training kicking in.

Robby lifts your top, shocked at the severity of the injury. Jack shuts his eyes, unable to stomach the sight.

It must be bad.

But it doesn't hurt too much.

Not a great sign.

"Okay. Stabilize her", Robby orders, multiple hands are on you immediately, steadying you. Grabbing the base of your neck, your shoulders and hips, securing you in place.

You're still sat on the gurney, but have now let go of the patient's leg.

"Strip her", Jack commands, voice low and firm, eyes dark and unreadable.

You try to lighten the mood. "Gee, buy me dinner first, won't you?"

A few giggles from the team, but Jack's lips are tightly pressed together in a fine line, facing downwards.

Dana cuts through your top, leaving only your bra. Unusual. But you're relieved to not flash your coworkers. You'd rather like to maintain the mysterious vibe you've got going on.

"Cowards", you tease. More chuckles, but worry growing on everyone's faces.

You whisper to Jack, "I'm sorry."

He doesn't respond. Can't look at you. Instead he orders a chest tube and a unit of blood.

A sharp gasp rips through you, the weight on your chest suddenly making it hard to breathe. "Fuck, that hurts." Any last traces of playfulness vanish, replaced by something else.

Fear.

Jack realizes he has to save his anger for later. "Hey. It's okay", a slight smile now tugging at his lips. "I've seen you worse", but the vulnerability in his voice betrays him.

Shit. It must be really bad. He's cracking jokes now?

Your anxiety spikes.

Is Jack about to watch you die?

You shiver at the thought. Or maybe it's the blood loss. Probably both.

Your vision blurs. Your thoughts get foggy.

"J-Jack?" You're not sure he hears you. Or anybody really. Did the words even come out?

Your eyes flutter shut. There are no more thoughts.

Only darkness.

Robby orders Jack to step back, the roles tragically reversed.

This is not exactly in our mass casualty plan.

Blood is for the ones we can save.

Ten other patients will die if you put all of your energy into saving this girl.

Jack’s own words haunt him, playing through his mind on a torturous loop.

He has been distant with you. But not because of your age, or your careers.

No, it's because letting you in means risking losing you and he knows he can't survive that kind of pain. He’s seen too much death, too much loss. And loving you only makes that fear stronger.

He looks at Robby, pleading for something. Then back at you, watching you fight for your life.

"I know." Robby is laser-focused, but shudders at the thought of Jack up on that roof again.

Painfully aware of the inevitable cost of losing you.

They won't. They can't.

Monitors and machines beep in a faint rhythm.

You wake, eyes heavy. A familiar figure is propped up in the armchair beside your bed.

He looks like shit.

Jack's wearing the same bloodstained scrubs, dark circles beneath his eyes, hair dishevelled. On second thought... it's a look.

"Hi, handsome", you whisper, unsure if it’s the relief of being alive, the pain meds or just seeing Jack, but a wave of comfort floods you.

He leans in, eyes wide with tenderness.

"Hi, beautiful."

His gaze radiates a warmth that kept you alive, even when your skin grew cold.

"How are you feeling?" His voice is soft. So unbelievably soft. The anger has subsided, but you know there’s a conversation you’ll have another day.

He takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently.

"Peachy", you exhale, giving him a warm and genuine smile. He returns it, his shoulders relaxing more with every steady breath you take.

You hesitate, but finally go for it. "So, about you leaving me on Read." Your smile turns into a familiar smirk. "You know only old people leave voicemails, right?"

Jack's breath catches in his throat, caught off guard. He chokes out a strangled laugh.

"You're unbelievable", he says, before leaning down, his lips brushing gently over yours.

The grip this man has on me I swear... Also, I'm still in shock from ep13 and I fear it's only getting worse... Jack being so rational about letting Leah go was So Painful, so writing this was very cathartic. Pls comment/share your thoughts below. ♡

[rainrot4me]

My Muse - Halloween Special

Summary: What if the Creepypasta characters were real life killers idolized the same way horror movie slashers were? Kids dressing up as Ghostface or Pennywise? More like kids decorated as Jeff the Killer or Slenderman! You chose to dress as your favorite mass murderer, Ticci Toby- and, oh, how he couldn’t get enough of it. He had never seen someone look so good in his goggles.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Vaginal, fluff and smut, fluff, vaginal fingering, handjobs, use of a condom, slight stalking, slight obsession, praise, alcohol, slight bullying, Jeff being a big brother, slight miscommunication, slight panic attacks, decompression, Toby is obsessive but we knew that, first time?

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 12k

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! This work is based off of @h3llw1’s request made a while ago that I felt fit perfectly with a good spooky special! I will tag the request! Please be responsible and have fun tonight and this weekend!

Find the original request for this story here!

“Wait, so… Who are you dressed up as, again?”

You shuffled the goggles off of your eyes, pushing them onto your forehead and messing into your hair, turning back to your friend.

“Toby Rogers- y’know, that kid who burned all those houses down? Serial killer, dude.” You smiled awkwardly, turning back to your vanity mirror and pressing the makeup brush against your cheek, trying to recreate the infamous cheek gash in the image you had pulled up. You were almost done, detailing the fake teeth at the corner of your lips. “Was really obsessed with him in middle school…”

“Oh, right.” Your roommate, Avery, rolled her eyes, curling the strands of her hair into big voluptuous rolls, making sure each piece looked nice under her hat. She was supposed to be Strawberry Shortcake, you think, it was hard to tell with how little she was wearing of the actual costume. It was really more of a bikini topped off with a strawberry hat.

“You’re still planning on going to AJ’s party, right?” She chirped, flipping the curling iron off and lying it on the counter, reaching back to grab her phone. You paused, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror- your costume really wasn’t the ‘AJ’s party’ type. You turned around in your chair, a little overwhelmed with how messy your bedroom floor was, but promising yourself you would clean it up later tonight.

“Uh, sure- If you guys are still going.” Avery tapped away at her phone, your own lighting up with text messages to your group chat sent by her. You were waiting on the rest of her friends, some people she had become close with in her classes.

It would be fun… you hoped.

“Oh, they’re here.” Stepping out of your room, you followed her to the front door, making sure your makeup looked good in the mirror. Standing on your front step, the rest of the group was there, chittering their excitement as Avery swung the door wide.

You stood awkwardly as they all hugged, complimenting each other on their matching costumes- the other two girls were supposed to be Orange Blossom and Blueberry Muffin, but they more or less matched with Avery’s.

They each had a guy with them, the tallest one wrapping his arm around your roommate’s shoulder, the Ghostface costume he had on making her all giggly. You cringed, fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie you had stitched to look like Toby’s, the stripes on your sleeves were the hardest part.

“Oh! This is my roommate [Y/N], she’s gonna come with us tonight.” You nodded, giving a small wave as they all turned to you. Brushing your hair behind your ear, they all smiled sweetly, but you could tell they were a little put off by the outfit you were wearing.

“Ah, what’re you dressed up as?” The Ghostface guy chuckled, shuffling his mask up to get a better look. 

“Oh- uhm, Toby Rogers? Like, that serial killer. Yeah.” None of them had a clue, you could see it in the weird glances they cast at one another. Avery waved them off, jingling through her keys to pull the door shut and locking it behind you. “We should get going, I don’t wanna miss anyone.”

Nodding, everyone began to walk down the hallway of your apartment building, the guys carrying six-packs of beer under their arms. Sighing, you followed behind, taking the fabric mask from under your chin and pulling it over your mouth.

You would try to have fun tonight, you swore it.

-

“Listen, kid, if you don’t hurry up I’m leaving you here.” 

Jeff crossed his arms, a scowl on his face as he watched poor Sally try and adjust her costume. Toby shoved him, kneeling beside her and reaching back to tie the little bow around her waist, casting a nasty look at the killer.

She was dressed as Annabelle, the creepy dress splattered with fake blood, making the real blood pooling from her forehead look like nothing more than some face paint. Her hair was tied into two neat little braids, Nina’s doing. Sally turned to look at herself in the reflection of EJ’s truck- Jeff had stolen it for the night, claiming he wasn’t going to walk all the way into town just for some candy. She finally nodded, holding her little basket tight in her hands.

This was her first Halloween, with Jeff of all people, so she was a little anxious. The killer, on the other hand, found this holiday to be his favorite. He could waltz the streets of the small town closest to the mansion, hood down and everything, snagging as much candy and compliments as he wanted. People really admired his ‘makeup.’

Toby decided to tag along this year, curious to see all the costumes and jack-o-lanterns. He really loved this night as a kid, he wanted to make sure it was good for Sally, too.

“I’m ready now.” She hummed, skipping forward to wrap her hand around Jeff’s hoodie sleeve, the killer rolling his eyes as he began to walk. Toby followed behind, admiring the decorations and darkly colored leaves littering the ground, a surge of excitement coursing through him. It felt just like one of those older scary movies, the sun dipping just low enough to cast an orangish hue across the clouds, kids running around giggling and screaming, parents tossing out candy left and right- he missed this feeling, what it was like to be normal.

He was older now, officially ‘candy handing-out’ age. He used to relish these days, promising that he would dress up for Halloween until he was sixty- now he had much more important things to worry about than what costume he was going to wear. If only his younger self knew how much of a genuine horror his life would become.

“C’mon, twitch, I ain’t waitin’ on you, too,” Jeff called, snapping Toby out of his trance as he watched kids race across the road, some mother yelling about being careful. He nodded, pushing his mask up over his nose, shimmying his goggles off of his forehead and over his eyes. He was still too paranoid to go outright, the covers made him feel more secure, like fewer people’s eyes were boring into him. He felt that swell of anxiety, having to remind himself that people would be far more concerned with Jeff’s look than his. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he took a deep breath- he had to calm down.

He wouldn’t lose himself tonight, he swore it.

-

“Wh- What’d you get?” Toby helped carry Sally’s basket, the thing nearly overflowing with how much she was getting, everyone was loving her costume. They were nearly done with this neighborhood, but Jeff heard some kids yelling about a Baptist church’s trunk-or-treat, and he was more than excited to show up somewhere holy. It was getting late, the sun almost nearly disappeared, so Toby knew it was almost time to wrap things up.

“Lots’a chocolate. Jeff keeps stealing the good stuff, though.” Glancing up, the killer was popping a tiny box of nerds into his mouth, tossing the cardboard onto someone’s yard when he shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve got like, six more of ‘em- you’ll be fine, squirt.”

It was turning out a lot better than Toby had thought, the brunette’s worries nearly washed away as the night grew more crowded. Jeff had spotted some middle-schooler dressed as Slenderman, the killer nearly doubling over in laughter as Toby hauled his phone out to take a picture. The brunette had forgotten just how popular their boss really was, more of an internet spectacle than folklore now. A meme? Yeah, his big scary boss was a meme. Tim and Brian were going to get a crack out of it. 

Teenagers were out now, older kids walking in packs with their friends, not so much worried about getting candy as they were trying to hide the alcohol they were carrying. Toby had forgotten just how much different Halloween was when you got older- girls dressed in skimpy outfits of cartoon characters, guys trying to play cool as some movie slasher chasing everyone around, and then you had the ones who just didn’t dress up at all. It was weird.

“Damn, when did Strawberry Shortcake lose the baker getup and start wearing lingerie?” Jeff snickered, crossing his arms and nodding towards a group across the street. Toby scanned them, the orangish tint of his goggles obscuring them, but he could easily make out who the killer was talking about. He gave the rest of the pack a once-over, their outfits more or less the same as guys clung to their hips, flirty little touches as they all walked.

He almost missed it though, the one in the middle of the group, unaccompanied. Jeff must’ve seen it at the same time because he was slapping Toby’s arm like crazy.

“Oh fuck, isn’t that supposed to be you?” Toby shoved his goggles off of his face, ruffling them into his bangs just like how you had them, looking utterly bored as your group quickly began to get out of his eyesight. The brunette looked down at himself, wearing that same hoodie that every popular image depicted him in, the stripes on his sleeves the telltale sign. There was no mistaking it, you were dressed up as him.

The brunette didn’t know how to feel, didn’t even really know what to say as Jeff’s teasing went unheard beside him. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, couldn’t stop his hands from flexing and fidgeting with utter excitement.

He had to get a better look at you.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Jeff yelled across the road, Toby shoving the candy basket into the killer’s hands and jogging in the direction your friends were going.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later! Don’t wa- wait up!”

He disappeared into another block, Jeff letting out an exasperated sigh as he took Sally’s hand. “C’mon, kid. We’ve got some Baptists to freak out.”

-

It was already loud inside the house, music thumping against the walls as people tried to shout to hear one another. 

You hung against the wall of the living room, sipping slowly on whatever alcohol-filled punch they were serving in the kitchen. People were spilling out everywhere, the front yard just as busy as the rest of the rooms of AJ’s house.

It was barely even 9 PM, but nearly everyone from your school was here, familiar faces passing by with glances or cheesy small talk. Avery and her friends had disappeared into the crowd near the speakers, couples dancing and talking with one another, the pulsing neon lights, cheers following every finished game of beer pong, and the atmosphere heavy with vodka and laughter. It was nice, a little overwhelming, but nice.

You could feel the buzz in the back of your head, the tipsy dizziness you held making it a little easier to relax, the music swaying your hips gently.

You couldn’t see through the crowd, but Toby rested his shoulders back on the wall across from you, tapping his fingers across his thigh as he surveyed the crowd. He didn’t even have a drink, awkwardly trying to pretend like he was supposed to be here amongst the buzzed-out college kids.

He had followed you there, staying a comfortable distance behind your group and out of your curious eyes. It was hard not to notice the way your eyes lingered on the houses you passed, smiling at the kids who ran by, and pointing out the overzealous house decorations. You really stood out from your group, a sore thumb from the rest of them. 

What was he doing? Why was he even here? Following some girl because she was dressed as him? Toby knew he was popular, Ben reminding him every time some new post went up on the internet trying to debunk his whereabouts. It didn’t bother him, with his job came weirdos who idolized him- he had just never seen it in person before. 

It really was surreal. 

“Oh my god.”

Toby shot up, straightening as he looked to his side, panic sweeping over him.

Lost in his thoughts and the rush of the party, he hadn’t noticed you pushing to his side of the room, shuffling past to get back into the kitchen for more of whatever you were drinking. You had your mask tugged down under your chin, the facepaint on the left side of your cheek standing out against your flushed cheeks. You even had torn tissue paper to make it look realistic- God, he was going to freak out.

Holding your hands out, you look down at yourself and then at him, comparing your almost identical outfits with a bright smile. “Nice costume, man.” 

Of course, you were cute. He was trying to register you, eyes flinching across your sweet face smiling up at him.

Toby teetered, shoulder flinching just enough to make you glance, but not enough to take the excitement away from your face. He also realized he was just staring and not saying anything- “Oh! Yea- Yeah, hah-” The cool metal of his mask pressed against his cheeks, staring oddly at the fabric one you had.

“Oh damn, you’ve got like- the legit facemask. I just got mine from Spirit, it’s pretty crappy.” You laughed to yourself, holding the solo cup awkwardly in your hands, fidgeting with the lid. Toby immediately regretted his decision, wracking through his brain for some way to get out of here- he forgot how painful small talk was. “I didn’t know anybody else even knew who Ticci Toby was.”

God, that nickname. The play on words was supposed to be funny, but its holder didn’t think it was all that humorous. He smiled at you anyway; there was just something about the way you said it, all giddy.

“Ah, yeah. Mine’s pre- pretty old.” He was fidgeting again, unprepared for how you snuck up on him. “I, uhm, tried my best. Haven’t re- really dressed up in a while.” You complimented him heftily, pointing out the ‘fake’ dirt and blood stains across his hoodie, the great quality of his goggles, and even how he got his makeup to that weird milky-gray skin color. To you, it was just a very well-done costume. 

“No, I get it. I don’t usually go all out like this,” Looking down at yourself, you put on sort of a blush, nervous chirping about how niche it was. Toby couldn’t help but smile. “I just have always really loved his story, so I wanted to make one of my last Halloween’s memorable, y’know?” Ah, candy-handing-out age. A million thoughts ran in the brunette’s mind, but he found himself relaxing again, shoulder pressed onto the wall as you rambled. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one who likes him.”

With you, this close, cheery little features continuing to blab on about the rest of the small details of your own costume, he couldn’t help but find himself listening so intently. A fan? Is that what you were? It felt weird to think about it like that, but the brunette found himself blushing at the thought of an admirer.

“-And I fringed the bottom of his hoodie with a lighter. It was hard to get it to look right, but I really liked how it came out. Y’know, for like him burning his house and stuff- I thought it was a nice detail.” Toby was nodding along, surprised by the little burn holes near the pockets of your lookalike hoodie, the attention to detail far more than he was expecting. “That’s really cool, uh-”

“[Y/N].”

“Uh- Toby.” Was that going to give it away-

“Even got the name down too, huh? Man, I see why you dressed up as him- you fit everything to a T.” He relaxed, your obliviousness laughable, but also a heavy relief.

People brushed by, bumping into both of your shoulders and shimmying their way through. You refocused again, pointing back over your shoulder with a shy smile. “Would you, uh, wanna get some more to drink? I was going anyway-”

Woah- You were inviting him to hang out longer? He was about to refuse, come up with some weird excuse to get back to Jeff and Sally, but the way you gleamed up at him, flashing lights and overstimulating music, it felt so odd.

He was going to let himself give in. He was wearing a ‘costume’ after all, so why not play up the act and enjoy himself a little bit? Slender would have him out running these woods by tomorrow, so why not just take the night and at least pretend like he was still a normal kid? Like all those bad things never happened, being a proxy never happened… He was just a kid who grew up, spending Halloween how normal teenagers did now. Yeah, he was going to let himself have this one night if nothing else.

Toby nodded, pushing off of the wall as you led the way, pushing through the mess of wildly dressed people into the kitchen. Behind you, now, Toby could see the way you still stood out amongst everyone, odd glances being cast in your direction. Just like him, almost, a freak in a sea of hateful eyes. You get it.

“I don’t really know what this stuff is, but it tastes pretty good.” You laugh, flipping the nozzle of the jug holding whatever concoction was mixed with red Kool-Aid, pouring some into two cups. You handed it to Toby, the brunette awkwardly swirling the liquid around with a nervous stare. You giggled at him, wrapping your hand around the sleeve of his hoodie, and guiding him out the back door and onto the patio.

The atmosphere was much calmer than inside, the muffled thumping of whatever song was playing giving a nice rhythmic atmosphere as you sat on top of the stairs leading out into the backyard. You both watched friends and couples dare each other to jump into the pool, the chilly autumn air guiding you to believe the water wasn’t much warmer. Toby sat next to you, mask still snug on his face, revealing nothing for your curious mind.

“So, Toby, what’re you doing here?” You sipped lightly on the drink, contrasting flavors of vodka swirling in the fruity punch, the sting of alcohol making you cringe. Toby hesitated, still tapping his fingers on the side of the plastic cup, trying his best to calm his rushing nerves.

“Uhm- well, y’know… Halloween par- party stuff…” Even though you had taken notice of his stutter ages ago, you forcefully ignored it. You knew better than anyone about nerves, you didn’t want the poor guy to feel any worse about it. Still, his answer made you laugh.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you?” You smile as he shakes his head, leaning back to glance up at the sky, the moon hanging bright and casting a milky glow across the clouds. Toby really enjoyed it when it was like this, made it easier to see where he was going at night. “That’s alright, I don’t really belong here, either.” You enjoyed the moon because it was pretty. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“How come?” Toby leaned back, too, kicking his legs out as he relaxed, easing into the conversation. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I only came because my roommate invited me, I didn’t really want to come. These things aren’t really my deal.” You took another sip, Toby taking in every inch of your face, studying every detail as you spoke. “I would’ve much rather gone trick-or-treating. I guess we’re all a little too old for that now, though, huh?”

The breeze ruffled your hair, wrapping your knees in tight against your chest as the air chilled you. Toby caught himself admiring- it was almost like you were wearing his hoodie, the top just a little oversized on you- he could imagine it. “Nah, I used to love it. Wish it wasn’t we- weird to go when you got a certain age like there’s a time lim- limit on when you can ask for candy.” He smiled, flinching his leg a little.

Toby felt his phone buzz in his back pocket, leaning over to dig it out, flipping the screen up to see a text message from Jeff.

“wtf r u?????” “party. dont wait up.” “😡🖕🙄”

Just to make sure, Toby shared his location with the killer, flipping his phone off and shoving it back into his pocket.

You gave him a sideways glance, smacking him on the shoulder playfully. “You haven’t even drank anything- at least try it. It’s not all that bad.” Clearly, considering you were throwing the cup back to finish off presumably your second glass.

Toby awkwardly cupped his hand onto the metal of his mask, sliding it down below his chin. Thankfully, he had remembered to get EJ to redo the bandages on the corner of his mouth, the gaudy wound becoming irritating to deal with. He wishes it was just cool makeup like yours.

Taking a sip from the cup, he cringed, brows knotting as he shut his eyes. “God- That’s like- straight vodka with fru- fruit syrup- Fuck-” It burned his tongue, your laughter so sweet beside him, resting your hand on his shoulder. He made a funny face, fake gagging on the terrible thing.

He sat straight when you gasped, cupping your hands onto his cheeks and turning his head forcefully. His instincts kicked, hands flexing to grab at you, to slam you down across the pavement below- 

Until you were rubbing your thumb across his bandages gently, flattening out the ends that had become soiled with dried blood. Toby forced himself to relax, his heart thudding in his chest with adrenaline. No one usually got this close- touched him- unless they were clawing for their life. It was like a whiplash, having to condition himself differently for your ignorance.

“Dude, no way you’ve been hiding these all night! Fuck, even these look real- how in the world are you so good at dressing up?” You were taking in every detail of his face, assuming the scars across his lips and cheekbones were merely good makeup skills or a talented friend, Toby trying his best not to freak out with you this close.

You seemed to notice it too, because you were snapping your hands back, eyes blowing wide-

“Shit- sorry- I get real excited about these things… The drinks probably aren’t helping either.” You chuckled, awkwardly sitting back and tucking your knees against your chest, silently cursing yourself for making him uncomfortable with your weird obsession. Toby noticed it, immediately catching the switch-up in your attitude.

Holding his palm out, he levels it in front of you, catching your attention. “I’ve, uhm, got the weird hand bandages, too.” He sheepishly smiled, watching as you slowly lit up again, taking his hand between your own.

“No way…” You picked at the medical wrap clinging around his hand, little bandaids and medical tape snugged tight around his fingers to hide the terrible bite marks and scars he had given himself, that gaudy proxy symbol etched into his flesh. He wanted to compliment your makeup, to say something about how realistic it looked-

Until you both heard a piercing scream from across the patio.

“Tyler!”

Snapping your gaze to the noise, you watched as a tall jockey guy hauled a tiny blonde girl over his shoulders, taking two heavy steps before he jumped into the pool, dragging her along with him. Toby was concerned but was quickly caught off guard when you began to laugh, slapping his arm.

“Avery! Are you okay?!” The other girls on the side of the pool knelt down beside the water, reaching their arms out to help the poor girl back onto solid land. They quickly had a towel wrapped around her, and the guy, Tyler, hopped up onto the side, high-fiving the similar-looking guys accompanying them.

You were still laughing, Toby smiling even when the girl came over to the steps, hurriedly trying to get back inside.

“Ah- [Y/N]? Who’s this?” Your roommate gave Toby a once-over, casting a sideways glance as she noticed you both were wearing the same outfit.

“Uh, This is Toby- we’re dressed as the same thing, see?” You were all cheery, smiling up at her even as she dripped water everywhere. Toby recognized them now, the skimpy group you were walking with, the ones who left you alone almost immediately after getting to the party. You tried to act like it didn’t hurt you, but the brunette had seen it all, catching every time you longingly stared at them through the crowd- the way you still did now.

“Right… Well, I’m glad you guys found each other,” You could hear the sarcasm in her voice, her friends hanging behind her and giving you both funny looks, whispering to one another as she talked. Toby knew you noticed it, too. You were pressing your knees against your chest again, shriveling up into yourself. “Look, we’re leaving. Probably going to finish the night out at some bars if you want to head on back to the apartment.”

You began to nod, giving Toby a half-glance of defeat, taking your empty cup in hand as you began to stand up.

“Uh- Ac- Actually, we’re going trick-or-treating. So, don’t wa- wait up.” Toby stared daggers into the girl, unapologetically snagging your hand in his as he stood, taking his cup in hand. Avery watched him with a sour look, glancing back and forth between you two before stepping up the rest of the stairs. “You two have fun, then. Freaks.”

She definitely said the last part louder than she meant to, because her friends were giggling as they trailed behind her, quickly scuttling into the crowded house. You rolled your eyes, trying not to let it show, but the pang in your chest was heavy.

Toby looked at you, took a firm grip on the solo cup, and closed his eyes. You watched with bright eyes as he chugged the rest, throat burning as he groaned, crushing the cup in his fist and tossing it behind him. You smiled, forgetting that your hand was still tucked neatly into his as you both raced off the patio, pushing through the fence gate, and climbing out onto the road. The street lights were on now, kids dwindling as houses stopped handing out candy, but Toby was determined to get you some.

“Are we actually trick-or-treating?” You laughed, Toby dragging you along with him, pulling his mask back up and over his nose. “Dude, we’re like, totally too old for this stuff, now-”

“And? Just cause I’m older doesn’t me- mean I stopped loving candy.” He hollered. You clung against his side, the breeze pushing through your hair and giving your nose a cute little blush, eyes bright with excitement as you gripped his hand tighter. You tugged your own mask up, shimmying your plastic goggles off of your head and over your eyes, completing the entire look. Toby stalled, heart whirling in his chest as you raced down the sidewalk, excitement buzzing in the air.

Jeff was going to kill him, but it would be worth it.

-

“Trick or treat!”

You held out a plastic Walmart bag, the thing nearly busting with how many pieces of candy it was holding. You both had meant to stop five houses ago, but when you somehow wound up in the nicer neighborhood four blocks over, you couldn’t pass up the full-size candy bars they were giving out.

The tipsiness was really hitting now, you both holding onto one another as concerned glances from parents dumping the rest of their candy into your bag. You always hated those obnoxious people who laughed or talked too loud in public, but now, you found yourself doubling over, cackling at the mean comments Toby was dishing out to little kids’ costumes.

“Tha- That’s supposed to be Spiderman? Yeesh.” It wasn’t even that funny, but you nearly hit your knees from lack of air, laughing so hard that your chest was hurting. Toby’s eyes were heavy, neck jerking and body twitching from the overstimulation, his cheeks a rosy color from the swirl of alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Okay, okay,” You raised up, catching your breath as you leaned against his arm, the rusty smell of his cologne surrounding you. “I think if we get any more- hic- we’re gonna be picking all of it up off the ground.” You pointed at the sack, the plastic stretching and threatening to bust out everywhere. Toby nodded, reaching in and snagging a Hershey’s kiss, popping the sweet chocolate into his mouth. You acted offended, holding the bag close as you both laughed.

The streets were nearly empty now, most of the houses’ lights being turned off and decorations unplugged, the only sign of activity from cars driving by or random groups of kids racing back home to review their hauls. You could feel your own room calling to you, your intoxication pulsing sleepiness into your mind.

Toby noted when you yawned, taking that as a silent sign that the night was ending, preparing to part ways with you. He nearly reached back into his pocket, going to give Jeff a call to come pick him up.

“Wanna go back to my place?”

He paused, your heavy eyes grinning up at him.

“Uh- What?” He could feel himself blushing. Was it just the vodka? He hoped so.

“Well, I ain’t gonna eat all of this by myself. Besides, I’m not trusting myself to get back without crashing out in a bush somewhere.” Toby laughed, rolling his eyes as you waited for his answer, shifting your weight nervously. You smiled when he nodded, your arm quickly wrapping around his and dragging him down the rest of the street.

Reaching over, he took the bag of candy from your hands, stuffing it under his arm. You walked slowly, taking in the dulled-out character inflatables and oversized skeletons in people’s yards, pointing out the Spirit Halloween animatronics that you found so cool. He couldn’t help but find himself staring, encapsulated with you. You found such beauty in what everyone else found offputting, admiring what even he would call strange.

“You’re so weird.” He huffed with a grin.

You glanced up at him, rolling your eyes. “You like it.”

Toby couldn’t find a good answer, turning his attention back to the street lights out front. He did like it. 

“So, I never asked about you- Like, really. What do you do when you’re not wearing the best Toby Rogers cosplay ever?” Toby glanced at you, stalling out mentally as he tried to come up with something.

“Uh, I travel a lo- lot. Kinda like an on-call thing. Uhm… Yeah.” You nodded along, but the brunette wasn’t entirely sure you were hearing what he was saying. You were just looking at him, eyelids hanging low as you took in every detail of his face. He smiled, reaching his free hand to tug your mask down under your chin, your sly grin hidden underneath.

“Tell me abo- about you, [Y/N]. What is Ms. Rogers doing when she’s not ob- obsessing over me?”

Toby paused, a dead stare into your eyes as he choked on his words. He slipped up- Did you notice, would you care? He could feel the panic rising in his chest, jerks twinging at the back of his neck, anxiety swelling-

“Woah, easy tiger-” You’re giggling, pushing the strands of hair that fell in your face when you did an unbalanced little bow. “Didn’t know I was in the presence of such a celebrity.”

Toby was already relaxing, shoulders untensing faster than they wound, trying his best to settle his shaky hands. “But, I don’t know. I’m in between jobs? School?” You fidgeted with your hands, your arm still wrapped tightly around his. The weight was comforting. “I’m only still here because it’s where I grew up, but I don’t know what I’m doin’ now…” Your stare was distant, fidgeting with the fabric of his sleeve as you talked. 

He was about to say something, trying to muster up some affirming speech that Tim used to tell him when things got rough. But you were tugging him off of the sidewalk, skipping towards some apartment complex building. “We’re hereee…”

He followed you through the neat hallways, the stout smell of clean and tacky air fresheners strong on the brightly colored carpet. Toby didn’t know if he had ever been in a place so nice, dozens of doors lining everywhere you went, feeling like he could get lost if you weren’t dragging him into an elevator.

Pressing your floor button, he leaned back against the brassy walls, your hands rummaging through your pockets and hauling out a set of keys. Cute little keychains were hooked onto the loop, reaching back into your pocket for your phone, swiping across the screen.

“Here, smile-” You were leaning back against him, holding your hand high in the air to take a selfie, Toby grinning goofily up into the camera. Looking over the picture, you smiled, never moving off of his shoulder as the elevator took you up, Toby’s heart soaring much higher.

-

“How many of those are you going to eat?” You gasped, tossing another Skittles wrapper onto your floor, adding to the mess that you swore you were going to clean up.

Alternatively, you were lying on your back, laid out on your even messier bed, stuffing your face with possibly the most unhealthy amounts of sweets. Toby sat on the floor, his back pressed against your footboard, rummaging his hands through the sack and tossing pieces up to you. 

He looks really good in just a t-shirt, you thought, catching yourself staring at his toned shoulders.

“As many as I want.” He grinned, popping another jawbreaker into his mouth. Your twin pairs of goggles and masks lay scattered on the floor, hoodies bunched at his feet. Toby was in bliss, the sweet smell of your perfume and clothes soaked in all around him, pieces of you everywhere he looked. Posters of your favorite bands, corkboard full of keychains and polaroids, even your wall-mounted TV playing some older murder mystery documentary. He loved how normal it felt, how comfortable, and different.

In his mind, he could see you going through the motions every day, the boy longing for even just a taste of that. In the way you admired his weirdness, he admired your normality. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“I’m officially cutting myself off until Christmas.” You huffed, climbing off of the bed and staggering to your vanity. Toby watched as you fiddled through your makeup, popping open the box of makeup wipes and taking one out. Pushing your hair behind your ears, you began to wipe the design on your cheek off, rubbing the wipe over your eyes and cleansing your skin of the fake deep-set eyes. The brunette was lost, mesmerized by how your rosy cheeks looked so sweet in the warm light of your bedside lamp, eyes brighter than ever.

Sitting off your chair, Toby sat up a little when you grabbed another wipe, kneeling next to him. “Your turn.”

He stuttered, glancing from your now-clean face to the wipe in hand, nervousness creeping up in his throat. The wipe was cold, pressing it against his as you tried to clean him off, Toby watching through worried eyes when your face started to contort, confusion heavy in your features. “Dude, like, none of this is coming off. What kind of makeup did you use?”

“Hah- Uh, the good stuff, y’know?” He could tell you weren’t convinced, scrubbing just a little harder on his cheekbone until the grayish skin became littered with red irritation. You sat back on your heels, cupping the side of his cheek with your free hand, running your thumb across the skin under his eye. Toby flinched, your other hand coming up to cup the other side of his head, eyes tensed in focus. 

Fuck, here it goes.

“This isn’t makeup, is it?”

Toby cringed, refusing to look you directly in the eyes. His fingers flexed, the outline of his pocketknife pressing against his leg, a silent reminder. He didn’t want to do it, God, he silently begged not to, prayed for you to brush it off so he could get out of here. The room felt so small now, your closeness becoming increasingly irritating the longer you stared.

But the brunette knew that if you reacted how everyone else did, with panicked screams that would have your curious neighbors come knocking, he knew what he would have to do. Even someone as awestruck as you couldn’t keep him from the inevitable.

He clenched his jaw when you dropped your hands, parting your lips like you wanted to say something, but getting tangled in your own thoughts.

“[Y/N]. I’m- uhm- I’m him, okay?”

You just kept staring, “I get it, your costume was good- okay? I don’t-”

“No, I’m not- Jeez,” He slid his hand up the side of his thigh, finally forcing himself to look at your confused face, eyes snagging onto every detail. “I’m Ro- Rogers. Like- Toby, Toby Rogers… I’m Ticci Toby.”

Tapping his heel on your carpeted floor, the brunette waited, collecting every twitch of your eyes or shaky breath that you took. He was ready for the yelling, the panic, taking calculated measurements in his head of just how many steps it would take for you to get to your bedroom door. He had done it a million times, ended someone’s life a million times. He would force this time not to be different.

His hand flexed around the indent of his pocketknife, ready to flip the metal open as you sat up onto your knees.

Your hands moved slowly, following the same motion you had been making all night, but this time it was more meaningful. Toby flinched as your warm fingertips brushed along his jaw, wrapping gently around his cheeks as you said nothing, the brunette trying to keep the floodgates of panic from cracking open in his mind.

That’s when he felt your fingernails picking at the bandage on his cheek, pinching the edge, and slowly, carefully removing the sterile cloth underneath, the fabric spotty with dried blood. Toby let his eyes shut, his facial wound now on full display, slowly ticking the seconds of silence by in his mind, relishing in the fleeting feeling of his ‘normality.’

He was a fool to ever think he could have something so nice-

“The pictures on the internet do not do you justice.”

The rush came to a stop, eyes slowly flinching open as he looked at you, his brows knitted in confusion. “What?”

“There’s these pictures on Twitter, really blurry, but still- of you. They don’t make this thing look half as cool as it really is.” As if to confirm it for yourself, you brushed your thumb across the edge of his skin where the flesh broke off in torn tissue and exposed the side of his gums. You watched to see if he would flinch, carefully pressing the softness of his cheek to watch the skin stretch and move- it was real.

Toby watched as you sat back, setting your hands down in your lap. It was strange how the brunette found himself missing the warmth of your touch, already.

“Toby… Toby… How the fuck did I not see it sooner?” You repeated his name over and over, rolling the syllables off your tongue and stapling them in your mind. “How did I not notice? I’ve seen your face a million times.”

Toby could barely register any of it, his heart thudding a mile a minute as you carried on like everything was normal, more angry with yourself for not noticing it was him than anything. It was almost a blur as you scooted forward, leaning in close to wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him in so gently. 

He could feel himself melt, hand unraveling from his knife as the panic dissipated, the sweet, lovely smell of your perfume heavy in his nose. He had to be dreaming, he thought, slowly coaxing his hands around your back and pulling you in closer, forgetting the last time he had even had a hug at all.

But then it ends all too quickly, your hands pushing back on his shoulders, a panicked look in your eyes.

“I must seem insane.” And then you’re standing up, running your hands through your hair, pacing back and forth across the messiness of your bedroom. Toby shakes his head, standing off the ground, reaching out to you. “I’ve been going on and on about you all night- I must seem so psycho and crazy. This is so embarrassing- What the fuck?” 

He’s grabbing your arms, pulling you back over to the foot of your bed, and sitting you down, an exasperated smile on his face. He was so worried about you freaking out or becoming terrified that he completely forgot who you were. You had been rambling about him all night, unknowingly complimenting the boy right to his face, and Toby was scared you wouldn’t like him. Just like how you’re worried about looking crazy, embarrassment flooding your face as you hide your palms in your hands.

“[Y/N], lo- look at me.” He tugs your hands away, sitting beside you on the bed, leaning down so you’re forced to look at him. You nervously hold his gaze, face so red and flustered, he’s smiling at you like a little kid. “It’s cute.”

And then you’re flopping back onto the bed, screaming into your hands as Toby laughs, running his hands through his hair.

Is this what it’s like? Teenagers hiding out in their rooms, casting sheepish glances at one another all night until one of them cracks, everything flooding out. He should be taking a priority, getting the hell out of your room and out of your life before he gets mixed up with something he can’t pull himself away from. But the flirty touches, teasing, and everything else that got him here clouds his judgment.

Then you’re sitting back up, scooting closer, and throwing your arms around his neck, abandoning every thought he was just brushing over in his mind. He holds you close, your face hiding in the crook of his neck, taking uneven, steady breaths as you try and rationalize it all, before giving up. “I’m sorry, Toby.”

And now it’s his turn to be confused, leaning back to look you in the face. “For?”

“Everything. The things even I couldn’t have controlled, the things that made you this way- Nobody’s probably ever told you before, so I will: I’m sorry. I’ve studied your story so many times, went over every detail, ran your perspective in my dreams- but even still, I can’t possibly imagine.”

The brunette can’t feel pain, he doesn’t understand the cut of a knife or the sting of a bullet. But the pang that snags in his chest, this heavy weight that feels like all the pain he's ever missed out on- that hurts worse than anything. But looking into your eyes, his hands planted firm on your skin, the solid weight beside him- It’s like it's all never even mattered in the first place.

For the first time in his life, he’s being seen. Viewed as more than just a weapon.

Screw the different perspective, screw the polar opposites, he’s in the here and now. It doesn’t matter if he’s been pretending tonight or his entire life, right now is real. He’s not going to lose it.

“Ca- Can I kiss you…?” It’s nearly a whisper, his voice so quiet and nervous as he leans forward on your bed.

You glance from his eyes down to his lips, heart thumping so loud you’re scared he might be able to hear it. You nod anyway, blinking slowly as you hold his gaze. “Y- Yeah.”

Toby brings his hand up nice and slow, cupping the side of your cheek as he leans in, fingers trembling against your skin. Your hand reaches to cup his, warm fingers relaxing atop his, a satisfying weight that has the boy swooning. Then you’re leaning in, too, slowly fluttering your eyes shut.

And then your lips touch, and everything just holds for a moment.

All the rush of the night, the nervousness, the excitement, it stops for just this one second.

You’re leaning into his touch, soft lips pressed firmly against his rough ones, slowly twinging your jaw to coax him deeper. He feels like he’s melting, skin so hot to the touch when you reel him in, your free hand snaking up the backside of his neck and into his messy curls.

He groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss and leaning back, breathing heavily. Your face is so flushed, cheeks a deep vermillion that makes Toby smile a little, grinning as he still cups your cheek. Your fingers brush through his hair, coaxing his head into your hand with such gentle touches. It’s so sweet, so calm, a complete turn from what the brunette is used to.

He knows pain, and rough, and cold- but you- there’s only sweetness, and caring, and warmth behind those eyes. He wants more of it, to feel more of it, he has to have it- to have you.

It doesn’t hit him what just happened until you’re giggling in front of him. Then that hold snaps, his conscience rushing back into him, and he’s leaning back further-

“I’m so so sorry- Oh my god- I don’t kn- know what I was thinking- I- Gah- I’m so sorry-”

“Toby.”

“If I should go- or- Oh, my god- I’m sorry- I should-”

“Toby.”

“I’m just so-”

And then your hands are wrapped into his hair, pushing forward until your lips collide, hurried, loud kisses that have the brunette spiraling, eyes fluttering shut again. There’s that warmth, your body leaning in to press close to his, arms wrapping around his neck, he thinks he might pass away.

You pull back, taking a deep breath as Toby collects himself, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He’s a mess, brain running a mile a minute, his body having a hard time catching up as he twitches and jerks. 

Throwing your leg over his, you straddle his thighs, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck and holding him close. He’s swallowed by the sweet smell of your perfume, resting his chin on your shoulder as he wraps onto your back, heart thumping against your chest. He finds the thoughts flooding, dissipating the more he breathes, disappearing into this blanket of quiet.

“You alright?” You whisper, brushing your fingers through the back of his hair, his skin tingling with your touch. He hums low against your shoulder, running his fingers up and down your spine, the touch making you sigh. He could live forever in this moment, could die happy right here.

But when his fingers mindlessly dip a little too low, brushing your lower back right above the waistline of your jeans, Toby mewls at the way you grip onto tufts of his hair. It’s abrupt, a reaction, but he feeds into it anyway. He brushes that spot again, right above your tailbone, and you’re taking a deep, shaky breath against his neck. He likes that a lot.

Gently, he tugs the hem of your shirt up, just enough to see a peak of your skin. You pause, hitching a breath when you feel his cold fingers wind up under your shirt and press against your back.

“Toby-” He promises he’ll stop if you ask him to, making sure you know that- but you’re shaking your head, gripping onto his arm as he pushes his hand higher, snaking his fingers along the bony press of your back. You let out a low groan, quiet, but just enough to have Toby aching for more. He stops when his fingers brush the strap of your bra, dipping back down to caress the curve of your skin, studying every detail you’ll let him get.

“You’re so pretty…” He whispers, the dull lamp glowing across your flushed face making him blush, your body relaxing against his hold. Your noises are like a drug, he wants to hear them over and over, the softness of your voice so intoxicating. But more than that, he wants you. If this is all he gets, he’ll cherish it for the rest of his days.

Wrapping an arm around your back, he’s flipping you over, pushing you up to the center of your plush bed and towering over you. “Toby…” He drinks in your sweet gasps as he intertwined his lips with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were with a swipe of his tongue across your lower lip. Toby’s hands wandered the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to rub your waist. It’s so greedy, so hurried and eager, but doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out.

Your fingers run through his curls, following his head as he moves off your lips, slowly pressing a trail of gentle, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. You’re gasping, running your hands across his shoulders, digging your nails in when he kisses just above your collarbone- but then he’s sitting back, pushing up and off of you with a worried look.

“Fu- Fuck, I’m sorry-” And then you’re sitting up on your elbows, a concerned look on your face. “I’m not be- bein’ myself tonight- I don’t know what’s wrong. Shit, [Y/N], I’m sorry-”

“Toby, it’s alright-” You laugh, pushing up to sit in front of him, reaching out before he takes your wrists in his hands, holding them down.

“No- I just, never do any- anything like this- It’s like I can’t stop-” Even through his apologies he’s staring at your lips, that hunger pooling in his chest for another sweet taste.

“You’re telling me I get to kiss the boy I’ve had a crush on for years, and he’s worried about not being able to stop?” Exasperation was heavy on your face, it’s almost laughable how much playful irritation was in your voice. Toby caught that last part though, the words going straight to his head.

“You gotta crush on me?” He smiles, redness tinting his cheeks. He’s still holding your wrists, your eyes slowly widening as the heat settles on your face.

“I, uhm- Well, you see-” You’re scrambling for words, the cheesy smile on Toby’s face not helping your case at all. “I mean, I thought it was kinda obvious. I dressed up as you for Halloween, man.”

He doesn’t let his conscience weigh him down anymore, pulling your hands to wrap around his neck before he pushes you back down onto the bed, swallowing the sweet taste of your lips against him. He can still taste the sourness of the candy you were eating on your tongue, too. He licks at the plush of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck- he probably won’t.

You’re a giggly mess, spreading your knees for him to slot between them, his muscled arms wrapping around the small of your waist. “And I’ve nev- never seen someone be able to pull off my go- goggles so well.” He prays you won’t be able to feel the bulge he’s sporting, but when your legs wrap around his hips, he loses all hope.

Your stomach flutters, tingles across your skin as he’s back on your neck, little nips and kisses that have your back arching off of the comforter, arms tightening around him. He would kiss you forever, marking every inch of your skin with a delicate brush of his lips, he could waste his time like that forever. You wrap your legs around Toby’s waist to pull him closer, feeling the outline of his cock. He grinds against you, letting out low groans at the snag of your clothed core. Both of you knew it- he needed you so badly.

But then you’re pushing your warm hands up the back of his shirt, fingers scorching across his toned muscles and scratching your nails into his skin. You push the top off of his shoulders, up and over his head before throwing it to the side, glancing down at the slim but strong figure looming above you. Scars adorn his skin, long gashes or scattered fragments of bullets that have clipped him, not to mention the littered cigarette burns all down his abdomen. He finds it disgusting, blemishes that he can’t stand to look at.

But you’re tracing them with your fingers, rubbing your thumbs across the blistered burns that made him sick, taking in every inch of him. And smiling. Was it possible to fall in love this fast?

“They’re disgusting.”

“They’re so cool.”

He can’t muster the words to fight you as you’re reaching deeper, pushing your hands further down his torso to snag onto his jeans, reaching for his belt. Toby’s body comes to a rushing halt, his heart beating so hard, the feeling of his cock finally getting the attention it wanted.

His hands rest on either side of your shoulders, a dark shadow over you as you slowly undo his belt, unbuttoning his jeans hastily. Hands dipping past the band of his boxers-

He was big- so mouthwateringly big. Flushed a deep shade of pink at his tip, pulsing in your hand so comfortably- every part of Toby was so endlessly pretty to you. He was gasping, eyes trained on how your fist slowly moved, so hot and heavy in your grasp as you pumped him at a steady, methodical pace. “Ah- Shit…”

Glancing back up to you, your face is so red, lips parted as Toby takes your jaw into his grasp, forcing you to look up at him before he bullies his tongue past your lips, little groans slipping past. Your back arches into him as his hands snake up your shirt, parting from your lips only to push the fabric over your head, capturing your kiss quickly again. He thinks he can manage, thinks he can keep his composure- but then your thumb runs over his slit, precum dribbling out onto your finger, and he's moaning into your mouth like he's never been touched before.

He hasn’t, not like this, not this gentle.

“[Y/N]- Oh God-” You’re biting his bottom lip, fingers clenched tight around the swollen head of his cock and pumping gently, his hips twitching and jerking for more. He pushes off of you, the breathless flush of your face so pretty under him, but then he’s glancing down.

And, fuck.

Your tits sit so pretty in your bra, blushed skin laid out beneath him as shaky hands reach to unbutton your jeans, jerky fingers quickly tugging them down your thighs and onto the floor below. And then he can’t believe how he's gone this long without you, or how he'll be able to survive another night if you’re not with him. 

Where you admire his blemishes, he admires your perfection. Not a nasty knife scar or bullet nip anywhere on you, skin so soft and warm, his cold hands running across your smooth hips. “Gorgeous.” It’s the only thing he can think to say, but it doesn't do you any justice.

“Let me- Can I touch you? Pl- Please-”

You don’t answer, just rising up off of the bed to reach behind your back, unclipping your bra so seamlessly as it falls off your shoulders. Toby nearly moans when you toss the fabric to the side, chest rising and falling with shaky breaths, tits so round and heavy- so pretty.

Falling to your side, he’s holding you close, one leg draping over his bony hip as he shimmies his jeans off. Your legs spread wide, hands gripped tight into the softness of his curls as rough lips wrap around your nipple. You’re gasping, skin fluttering with every touch across your abdomen, cold fingers slowly trailing down just below your belly button. He stays there, tongue pressing flat across your nipple as the pads of his digits line the hem of your panties, teasing as you buck your hips up, silently begging for him to go lower.

The brunette’s fingers were now rubbing against your folds through your panties, causing you to jerk at the friction. He playfully nipped at your collarbone before glancing up at you through heavy eyelids. “My turn, pretty girl.”

“Toby- hah- Yeah-” His free hand wraps behind your back, cradling you into his side as he pinches at your unattended nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers. He smiles against your tit, a long sigh of relief when you feel his fingers break past the line of your panties.

His fingers dip into the warm folds of your cunt, dipping down to collect your arousal on his digits, messily swiping across your plushy lips. You’re already soaked just from kissing, Toby popping off of your nipple to snag your lips, kissing you hungrily as you pant into his mouth. His fingers circle your clit, the nub pulsing and jerking at his touch, hips rising and falling as they chase the sensation. “Jesus- You’re soaked.”

Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub, you gasp, heat so prominent on your cheeks. “Don’t worry, I go- got you.” He’s unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor nipples, or soaking his tongue in the warmness of your mouth, lips glistening with his saliva. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You’ve never been touched like this before, and Toby didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your gummy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. You cry out, breaking from his kiss and giving him a good excuse to snag back onto your tit, gently biting on your reddened nipple.

He’s pumping his fingers rhythmically, curling them in a way that has your eyes fluttering shut, fingers tugging his hair so hard it makes him groan at the pressure. His digits glisten in the low light, hand stretching the fabric of your panties He’s hitting that little spot each and every time., looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your nipple, lips wrapped tight around the skin.

“Sh- Shit, Toby-” You groan, grinding your hips down as he stuffs his fingers all the way to the knuckle, the two middle digits spreading and pressing against your walls, coaxing your legs to spread wider. His palm bumps against your clit, holding his hand there to press firm against the bundle of nerves, your jaw hanging loose when he leans up to go in for more kisses. He is all over you, barely able to breathe as he ravages your skin, fingers bullying their way deeper until you can feel yourself gushing across his palm. The noises are so lewd, the schlick, schlick of your wet cunt taking him back in, walls clenching around his thick fingers. You can’t stand it, can’t take it anymore-

Toby can see it in your face, in the way you stop kissing him back to let out a long, guttural moan that has him in bliss. His fingers beat faster, fucking your swollen cunt open as his unattended cock throbs and leaks against your thigh, begging to replace his fingers.

“S’good Toby. Fuck. Right there- Don’t stop.” And then your arms are wrapping around his head, cradling his face into your neck as you fall apart on his fingers, pussy gushing and practically dripping with your orgasm. You think maybe you see stars, or it’s just the freckles on the brunette’s skin when he captures your lips, drinking up every moan you feed him.

His cock is wilting, throbbing, and twitching against your leg as you finally settle out, breathy groans that have you both staring at each other through heavy gazes. He slips his hand from your ruined panties, pulling your knee up higher to spread your legs more as he slides the fabric from your hips and tosses them somewhere unseen, taking his cock in his soaked fingers. 

Your breath hitches at the way he drags his swollen head teasingly across your slit, pooling your slick on his achingly hard tip, smearing your juices with his cockhead as he pumps himself lazily. It’s so torturously good, his face disappearing into the crook of your neck as he gently nibbles your burning skin. “Need you so bad, Toby.” You breathe out, nearly panting. “Co- Condom. In the nightstand-”

Despite wanting to feel you, really feel you wrapped around him, he kisses just below your jaw before rolling over. Fishing for a condom in your drawer, he misses you sitting up, fresh orgasm giving you a rush of need as you watch him haul the packet in between his fingers.

Because then you’re pushing his shoulders down onto the bed, straddling his thighs as you snag the condom from him, quickly tearing open the packet. Toby watches with excitement, hands reaching to cradle against the sides of your thighs, fingers digging into your plush skin when you slowly slide the latex down his throbbing length. It’s snug, but thin, able to feel every pulse of your cunt as you take the base of him in your hand, swiping his tip along your folds, wetting himself. It was all the preparation you were going to give yourself because fuck Toby needed to be inside your pussy right now.

Then you feel like you’re being split apart- Toby’s cock was slowly pushing up into your warmth as he presses through the first ring of muscle. Before you can overthink, you’re nudging your hips down gently. So agonizingly gentle that Toby has to stop his hips from riding off the bed. And you can do nothing more than let out barely-audible whispers of his name as you seat yourself on his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. “Ah- Hah-”

You feel so full. So drunk off of the delicious burn of your pussy, hands resting on his chest as he watches you. 

You’re so nauseously tight, gripping his length in a way that had his eyes rolling back, fingers digging red marks into your skin. You’re both breathless, eyes clamped shut and bodies shaky when your hips finally meet his, so utterly full of him. Toby can’t even find the words for it.

That’s when you hear voices from outside your closed bedroom door, Avery and her friends returning from whatever drunken night they had, loud as ever.

In a panic, you push your hands over Toby’s mouth, the brunette’s hot breath fogging against your skin as he smiles, waiting patiently as they all file into Avery’s room, voices slowly dwindling out. Meanwhile, you’re pulsing around him, cunt clenching as you’re forced to wait.

But eventually it's all clear, palm slowly letting off of his mouth, a teasingly smile plastered on his face. You roll your eyes, quietly laughing as you steady yourself, pushing your knees further against his sides. You’re pulling your hips up eagerly, achingly fucking yourself at a slow, sensual pace. His tip kisses your cervix as you roll your hips sensually against his, making sure you feel every vein and twitch against your tight walls.

“Y’looked so beau- beautiful tonight. So pretty dressing up as me.” Toby gasps, running his hands across your thighs, up the sides of your waist as you dig your knees into the mattress. It sends shivers down your spine, ones that go directly to your clit as you lean forward, pressing your chest against his. Sweaty forehead meeting his, he leans up to meet your pitiful kiss, hips still pushing back as your clit rubs against his abs.

Surprised moans get choked in his throat as you rock your hips back and forth, pulling all the way up till his furiously flushed tip is teasing your sloppy hole, slick glistening on his length, just to nudge yourself down again, relishing in that full feeling. 

Wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, he massages the plushness of your ass, smiling to himself when you wrap your arms around his neck and hide your face into the crook of his neck. “More, Toby.”

“O- Okay…” He breathes, bending his knees to get a better angle, the divot of his cock pressing against that sweet spot and making you mewl. The weight of you on top of him is so satisfying.

Toby starts up a satisfyingly good pace, thrusts get deeper and deeper until he finally buries his cock into you as deep as it could go. Throaty groans spill out of his mouth, he looks over and kisses your forehead gently, taking in every moan and whine you muffle into his neck. “Oh- hah! Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

Even if his body was exhausted, he couldn’t feel it. All he could tell was that your cunt was gripping him so hard his jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth as he fucked himself up into that sweet warmth. “So good- Oh, feels so good-”

“Oh god. Toby, right there-” You gasp out in pleasure, starting to move in shallow thrusts that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, the curve of his cock knocking that swollen sweet spot over and over, each thrust more prominent than the last. You bounce your ass back on him, meeting every thrust that he delivers so deep into the swell of your pussy, clit aching and throbbing as it rubs against his hard abs. “You’re so- doing so good, baby-” He huffs.

Feeling that very familiar coil in your abdomen, you mewl, “Toby- I’m gonna-”

But then his thrusts halt, hands reaching further up your back to hold onto you tightly, sitting both you and him up as he crawls up onto his knees. He’s got your weight in his arms, cock still nestled so deeply inside of you as you wrap your limbs around him, leaning in to kiss along his jawline sticky with sweat.

He gives up thrusting now, hips rutting and grinding into you in a way that has you moaning deep and long, cunt throbbing with the ache for release. He’s in so deep- so full. 

Kissing against your rose cheeks, he looks at you with fucked-out eyes, trying his best to ride out the last of this moment as he feels his gut pool with warmth. His arms reach around your slender back to dig his nails into the unblemished skin, holding you as close as he physically could. It felt so perfect. Your hips grind back to meet Toby’s, thighs trembling as they cling to his hips. “Shit, [Y/N], I think yo- you were made for me.”

And then you’re capturing his lips, breathy moans as you feel him throb inside you.

“Close?” 

“Mhm…” He sighs, leaning down to kiss along your shoulder.

You grind your hips deeper, chasing that heavy feeling that builds in your gut, clinging onto whatever you can grab of his skin, brushing your hands up into his hair and pulling. “Hngh- Toby. Inside- ” You whimper, overstimulated, and your senses filled with only the brunette, you finally cum, riding it out on his deep thrusts. “Oh, fu- fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna cum, my pretty girl- Hngh-” He moans out as your pussy clenches down on him, finally tipping over the edge as well.

You feel Toby cum in hot spurts into the condom, rasping your name over and over as if it was the only word he knew. He collapses onto you, careful not to crush you with his full body weight as he pants against your neck, slowly tugging himself from your gooey warmth.

As you both come down from your highs, he quickly removes the condom and hugs your sweaty body closer to his, kissing along your neck and up to the corner of your mouth. Eventually, he climbs off of your bed, searching your messy floor for his boxers, tossing you his t-shirt which you happily pull on. 

He fishes new panties from your dresser- quietly spazzing out at all the different colored bras and matching bottoms you had to choose from- and tugs on his own boxers.

Every movement after that is laced with exhaustion, tired, sticky bodies shuffling under the covers as you cling to his side, breathing in his smell like it’ll be the last time you do. He’ll make sure it’s not.

Flipping your lamp off, the only glow is from your TV, dim lights reflecting off of your still-rosy skin. He takes every moment to kiss along your cheeks, brushing your hair from your face, and cradling your body tight against him. He doesn’t really remember how you coaxed him into taking off the wrap on his hand- with the false promise that you would change the soiled bandages out tomorrow- but you do, unraveling the fabric until that horrific proxy symbol contrasted against his pale skin. A mark, a reminder of who he was returning to when the sun rose tomorrow.

He promised to let himself have tonight, but he knew that tonight wasn’t going to last forever.

But then you’re bringing his hand to your lips, placing a sweet, deep kiss right at the center of his palm. And he melts. He wasn’t lying when he said he thought you were made for him, the sour look on his face disappearing when he was cupping your cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to kiss against your skin.

You kissed against the scar on his cheek, soft lips on jagged flesh, and he knew.

You spend the rest of the night fishing stories from him, things he promised he would never tell, but find your reactions just too good at the mention of Masky and Tim. Your obsession seemed to run deeper than him, but he was your favorite.

-

Toby would have never felt the dip in the bed beside him, or the fingers that messed in his hair, but he did feel the fist that clenched onto his jaw much harder than you ever could’ve.

“Rise and shine, twitch.” Jeff, in all of his ugliness, sat on the edge of the bed, teasingly patting Toby’s cheeks. The brunette sat up, pushing the killer off of him and out of the bed, hoarse little chuckles erupting as he felt you stir next to him.

“How the fuck did you get here?”

“Front door, duh. You sent me your location last night, remember?” Toby noticed through your open bedroom door that your front door was swung wide open, the killer smiling with satisfaction, but his face slowly dropped when he saw you slowly sit up.

“Toby? Wha-” You see Jeff, Toby ready to reach out and clamp your mouth shut, prepping for a terrified scream. But then you’re sitting up, Jeff awkwardly glancing back and forth between you two as your lips part. “No way.”

Toby should’ve known better.

Because then you’re bombarding the killer, sitting on the edge of the bed, and studying every detail of his face, fangirling, of all things. Toby smiles, laughing to himself as you banter on and on about newsletters and obscure websites, Jeff casting you concerning looks as you recount his entire backstory. 

-

It’s well into the afternoon by the time Jeff finally pushes Toby to leave, barking about how he was supposed to have him back hours ago. The killer would never admit it, but they were only there that long because he enjoyed hearing someone harp on how good of a killer he was, complimenting him like he had always wanted.

Jeff’s already in the truck waiting as Toby kisses your face, kissing against your hands as fear courses him, fear that this will be the last time. But then you’re grabbing his phone, typing in your number, and sending yourself a text. A promise.

“For whenever you want to stop by ;)”

Followed by your address.

And then he’s back on the road, Jeff harping on and on about how ‘you weren’t that bad’ or ‘if Toby wasn’t careful he’d snatch you up.’ He couldn’t hear him though, too busy studying every detail of the photo you had sent him, the two of you smiling half-drunk in that elevator. It was already his wallpaper by the time they made it back to the mansion.

And he was already making plans on how he could sneak away tonight to come see you.

God, how he loved Halloween.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

Happy Halloween!

[millers-girl]

fallout

interconnected standalone/sequel-ish to bitter/sweet - a Dr. Jack Abbot (The Pitt) fanfic

pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

summary: you and your sister plan to spend the day at Pitt Fest but instead spend the night in the hospital, and Jack is left to pick up the pieces.

warnings/tags: mentions of an active shooter, gun violence, ptsd/trauma response, grief and loss, implied survivor's guilt, slow burn, hurt/comfort, grumpy x sunshine, food as a love language, age gap, mild language

word count: 5.1k

a/n: oops accidentally made this love story my entire personality

Jack rushed through the sliding doors of the ED, the familiar, sharp scent of antiseptic welcoming him back. His eyes were locked onto his phone screen, thumb twitching over the messages he’d already sent.

As soon as he’d heard it on the police scanner—“Active shooter at Pitt Fest. At least two confirmed dead. Unclear how many injured”—a sick, crawling fear had taken hold of him. It was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling, and one he couldn’t wait to get rid of. 

He’d been trying to get a hold of you. Calling. Texting. Over and over.

Where are you?

Are you okay? 

Please answer.

I’m in the ED. Come straight here if you can.

He forced himself to pocket his phone when Robby started rattling off the hospital’s mass casualty protocol to the group, but he made sure to leave the ringer on – just in case.

When the first wave of patients came in, it was like muscle memory took over. Like he’d slipped back in time, to when he was stationed in Afghanistan, boots hitting blood-streaked dirt.

Assess injury. Slap a colored band on. Treat until stable. Repeat.

A girl, maybe sixteen, sobbed as he wrapped gauze around her bloodied thigh. Her hands were shaking.

A man in his forties was wheeled in, gray from blood loss, gasping.

He sutured a gaping wound left by a gunshot on another boy’s arm. 

He couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t let himself stop.

Somewhere, beneath the routine and urgency, he was antsy, just waiting for you to walk through those doors. 

And then – you did. 

When you were gurneyed through the entrance, the fluorescent lights that usually hummed quietly in the background now felt blinding. Each flicker seemed to stab into your corneas. Your ears rang, your hands trembled, and for a second, it was all white noise. You barely registered Dr. King’s voice asking you questions, her hands checking your vitals.

You weren’t looking at her. You were scanning the frenzied room. 

And then your gaze caught his.

Even amidst the chaos––screams, alarms, blood––his eyes found yours. Jack stopped mid-step near the nurse’s station, the world narrowing for him in an instant. The clinical buzz of the ED faded. He beelined toward you like gravity itself had shifted.

“Jesus Christ, you fucking scared me.” 

His voice was sharp, but familiar – comfort laced with adrenaline. He shouldered Dr. King aside and immediately began assessing you himself. You tried to push his hands away, your injury the last thing on your mind. His hands swatted yours back, frustration flaring into the way his brow furrowed. 

“Jack,” you whispered past trembling lips. He froze, and when his eyes met yours again, they softened. You reached for him without thinking, shaking arms curling around his neck, clinging.

And he didn’t hesitate. Didn’t care who was watching. He wrapped you up, hand cradling the back of your neck, and let out a deep sigh.

You weren’t sure what kind of fight-or-flight response you had that knew being held—feeling safe—would be exactly what you needed then, but you were glad for it. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured into your matted hair, voice tight with restrained panic.

You nodded against his skin, though the movement was hesitant, slow. 

“I’ve been trying to reach you. Why didn’t you answer?” 

“My phone got knocked out of my hand in all the chaos. I didn’t even realize…”

You leaned back, and found worry still clouding his features. You released him enough to let him do his job, finally letting him examine you.

His touch was careful, but you felt how tightly he was wound – how his hands lingered too long on your skin; how he exhaled when he saw the swelling in your ankle. 

Dr. King stepped back in, clearing her throat. “How are you feeling?” 

“Kinda nauseous… dizzy. I don’t know, the lights are making it hard to concentrate,” you mumbled.

The two doctors shared a look. 

“Mild concussion,” Jack said, gently wrapping his fingers around your ankle and rotating it. You winced. “Sprained. Scrapes and bruises on knees, elbows, forearms.”

He slapped a yellow band on your wrist. 

“Ow, Jack,” you muttered, tugging your hand back. 

Any other time, he would’ve rolled his eyes and teased you – made a quip about how dramatic you were.

But not today. 

Today, his fingers immediately rubbed over the spot soothingly, and his voice was soft as he apologized.

When he reached to slip a patient tag onto your wrist, he glanced up again. “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s fine,” you said. “Just had a scraped arm, bruised ribs maybe. She went to help Emery in the OR.”

He exhaled quietly, then moved efficiently – pillows under your ankle, ice pack secured, orders rattled off to Dr. King. “Acetaminophen and Zofran in an IV bag. Don’t get it mixed up with ibuprofen – she’s allergic.” 

Dr. King brought the requested bags and kindly offered to hook you up to them, wanting to help in some way. Jack ignored her, still locked in his quiet rhythm as he began treating your wounds. Stopping the bleeding. Cleaning the cuts. Dressing them carefully. 

You stayed silent during the whole thing.

And it unnerved him.

Normally, you’d be rambling about something––telling a story, cracking a joke, flirting with him––to distract yourself. But now, you just watched him, eyes distant.

He didn’t push.

As he was finishing up, someone called out for him. “Abbot! Need you in the red zone!” 

“Coming!” he shouted back, eyes never leaving you until the very last second. “Hey,” he said softly, “I know it’s crazy in here right now, but try to get some rest, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Wasn’t even near the shooter. Just got trampled in the crowd… Others had it worse.” Your gaze flicked to the burgundy splatters on his surgical gown.

Jack cut you a look. “Don’t do that,” he said firmly. “You still got hurt. That matters. And I’m gonna fix it. Okay?” 

You nodded, just to keep him from worrying more.

“And keep that ankle elevated,” he ordered. As he turned to leave, you caught his hand in yours.

“Can I borrow your phone? I need to call Eleni.”

He hesitated, then pulled the phone from his pocket. When you reached for it, he tugged it back. “One call, then you rest,” he bargained.

You nodded again, the device cool in your hand as he disappeared down the hall.

Dr. King smiled kindly before saying, “Okay, you should be good for now. I’ll come check up on you in a bit, too. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”

“Thanks.”

When she left, you dialed Eleni’s number. It only rang for half a second before she was picking up and frantically asking, “Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me.”

Relief hit the other end of the line like a wave. You could practically hear her collapsing into relief before relaying the good news to the rest of the team. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, fine. Just a little knocked up.” 

She paused for a second, then said, “Knocked up? Wow, that Dr. Tall, Dark, and Broody sure works fast.” 

You huffed out a weak laugh. It felt forced. Hollow.

Eleni meant well. That was her way of checking if you were really okay. So, for her sake, you tried.

“Can you do me a favor?” you asked, looking around the chaotic room.

“Anything.” 

“Get the team to make some food for the ED. For the survivors, their families. Staff. Anyone who needs it.” 

“Yeah, that’s a really good idea. How much do you need?” 

“Everything we’ve got.” 

A beat of silence. “Everything…? Is it that bad?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. 

She didn’t hesitate. “We’ll get started right now.” 

You thanked her, hung up, and slowly slid further down the gurney, resting Jack’s phone against your cheek like a comfort blanket. It was nice to have a piece of him with you. 

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. But somehow, your body finally gave out. And, when you woke again, it was to Dr. Mohan’s voice ringing out from a few feet away. “Need help with an airway!” 

Your bleary gaze tried to focus, mind swimming through fog as Jack and Robby rushed to help her. 

“GSW to the neck with expanding hematoma and distorted anatomy. Can’t intubate him – probably hit the carotid,” she explained.

You blinked heavily, watching Jack attend to the bleeding and shout out orders in that commanding voice of his.

But it was the needle taped to his arm, feeding a blood bag wrapped around his ankle, that really caught your attention. Without lifting your head, your sleepy eyes shifted to it. 

“Are you donating?” Dr. Mohan asked. 

“O-neg, yeah.” As if he could feel your eyes on him, he glanced your way, one of his eyes dropping in a wink. “Thought I’d be more useful as a two-for-one today.”

“Show off,” you muttered weakly, rolling your eyes. 

He grinned, eyes focused on the patient before him as he put a Foley in. As he was working, he called to Perlah, asking her to get you a juice box when she got a chance. 

“Can you make sure it’s not apple?” he asked after her. “She hates apple.”  

Despite everything, you felt a warmth blooming in your chest at that.

When Perlah brought you a juice box––fruit punch––you sipped it quietly, eyes on the trauma around you. The blood. The screams. The ones who were being saved – and the ones who weren’t.

Jack returned after stabilizing his GSW patient. He didn’t say anything at first, just placed a warm hand on your forehead, thumb brushing lightly at your hairline. 

“You want some more juice?” You shook your head. “But you’re good?” 

You force a nod. “Yeah. Just tired.” 

He didn’t believe you, but he didn’t force the truth out of you either. Just made sure to watch you more closely as he continued working around you.

Sometime later, Eleni arrived – along with half the staff from Francesca. They came bearing trays of food: warm bread, hearty pastas, fruit, rice dishes, sandwiches, coffee, cookies.

The smell alone grounded people. Nurses grabbed bites between patients. Survivors’ families cried when offered plates. Even doctors paused to say thank you.

You watched it all from your bed, barely speaking – your throat tightened. 

Santos, who stood beside Jack, asked, “Is that the black cod from Francesca?” she asked, oblivious. 

Jack’s eyes flicked to the food in the familiar light pink bags, then to you.

It wasn’t the fact that you’d gotten food for the entire floor that caught his attention – it was why you’d even thought to do it. Even banged up, bruised, barely functioning – you’d wanted to look after everyone else.

He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time, with new eyes. Like maybe, despite your young age and optimism when it came to seeing the best in people, Jack could still learn a thing or two from you. And maybe that was what he admired most. 

When he managed to find a minute to be back at your bedside, he didn’t say anything. Just offered you the food on his plate, making sure he saved you that sandwich you raved about so much. 

He sat beside you, in quiet solidarity. And, for a moment, in the middle of one of the worst days either of you had lived through, something in the chaos finally felt still.

When Jack left again to attend to more patients, the chaos didn’t remain still. Instead, it slowed – in the worst way.

You finally stopped moving. Stopped reacting. And, just, took it all in.

The crying, the gurgled pain, the rushed footsteps, the overheard codes being called. You can see every little thing – the crimson on someone’s shirt, the way a nurse’s gloved hands shook, the metallic scent in the air. 

Someone shouting for gauze. Another for a crash cart. A kid screaming down the corridor, clutching his broken arm, blood smeared along his cheek. 

And it was all muffled, happening in slow motion. Dull in your senses, leaving only an ache. In your bones. In your ribs. Behind your eyes. 

And then you saw them.

Robby was towering over a gurney, hands pressed tightly to a teenage girl’s chest – desperate, shaking. Her bra was soaked through. A pool of maroon darkened the sheets she was lying on.

She was already still. Limp.

And a teenage boy was sobbing her name. Leah. 

You vaguely remembered his face – Jake, Robby’s sort-of adopted son.

He’s just a teenager… meaning Leah is too.

Was too.

You silently watched Jack touch Robby’s shoulder once, gently, but Robby shrugged it off. Muttered something over and over. Continued with chest compressions everyone knew wouldn’t help.

You could see it in the eyes of the practitioners around him. In the way they hesitated before trying to help. In how nobody called to see if an OR was open. Still, they didn’t want to pull him off her. Not yet.

And something about the quiet truth of that moment sliced deep through your gut.

Before you could process it, you were pulling the IVs from your arm and sliding off the gurney. Your knees buckled for half a second, and your sprained ankle throbbed, but you forced yourself upright. Moved down the hall. Didn’t realize where you were going until your hand was on the bathroom door, pushing it open and locking it behind you.

The silence inside felt oddly louder than the overwhelming med bay.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, not recognizing the reflection. Skin smudged with soot and scarlet blood, small cuts along your hairline, a big bruise where you’d fallen and hit your jaw.

You turned the tap on, splashing ice cold water on your face. It did nothing.

The tears came suddenly and in volume, blurring your vision, and causing you to sink. Down to the floor, knees against your chest, arms hugging.

You dropped your head, trying to focus on the sterile scent of disinfectant as it stung your nose. But all you could see was blood. The stillness. The way Robby cradled Leah’s lifeless body like she might wake up at any moment.

You didn’t know how long you sat there like that. Ten minutes, two hours – time had gone strangely elastic.

A knock sounded once. Then, a key card swipe.

You flinched as the door eased open and Jack stepped inside, gait soft-footed. His brows pulled together when he saw you there, folded into yourself. 

He didn’t say anything at first. Just closed the door gently behind him and sat down beside you, back resting against the wall. His outstretched knee brushed your good ankle. 

You could tell he was itching to say something, to get you out of this funk. But you didn’t speak until you were ready, and he respected that. 

A long time passed before you looked up at him, and your chest cracked wide open.

“How come nothing happened to me?” you asked quietly.

“What are you talking about?” 

“That kid – Robbie’s kid – his girlfriend, she…” you trailed off. Shook your head. “And I… I’m here, right? I’m breathing, and I’m good, and I’m gonna have some really badass scars and a hell of a story – ”

The corners of Jack’s mouth lifted comfortingly. “Did I leave any scars when I sutured up your thumb?” You shook your head. “Then, what makes you think I’m gonna leave any behind for you to remember this by?” he tried, lightheartedly, almost teasing – but your face didn’t soften.

You were somewhere else entirely. A million miles away, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“I don’t want you to remember this forever,” he admitted, correcting himself. 

“I think I will,” you whispered. “Even if I don’t have any physical scars to remind me.” 

Jack looked at you for a long time. Then, slowly, he pulled you into his lap, pressing you gently into his chest. You didn’t resist. Just leaned in. Let yourself fold into him like you had no bones left. 

He felt safe, even if the world didn’t anymore.

His chin rested lightly on top of your head, and his voice came low, almost gravelly. 

“Sometimes surviving feels heavier than dying,” he said. “But you’re here, and that counts for something. Even if you don’t know what yet.” 

You closed your eyes, let the silence swell between you, thick and full and terrible. His heart beat steadily against your cheek, and yours slowly synched to his. 

For the first time all day, you let yourself breathe without holding back the sob. 

When your breathing eventually evens out again, your sobs subside into hiccups, but Jack still doesn’t move. Not until your fingers unclenched from the fabric of his scrubs and you shifted slightly in his arms, blinking up at him through lashes sticky with salt.

“Let’s get you back, huh?” he murmured, thumb brushing gently against your cheek, wiping away a tear. “Before King starts paging me panicking because she lost you.” 

At that, a genuine single laugh escapes past your lips. 

You nodded, letting him help you stand, steadying you with one hand at your elbow while the other rested at your waist. 

You weren’t shaking anymore, but your body felt like it had been wrung out, nothing left but raw emotion and a dull, aching tiredness. 

Back in the med bay, the gurney felt too open, but you climbed back into it anyway. Jack hooked your IV back in, checked the monitor, adjusted the pillows under your ankle and tucked you in, grabbing extra blankets because he knew how cold you got here.

Every time he passed when moving from patient to patient, he paused. Asked you if you wanted something more to eat, another dose of pain meds, or the chance to change into a fresh set of clothes.

He led you to a new bathroom, helping you change out of your bloody top and jean shorts. As he pulled the hole of an extra t-shirt he kept in his locker over your head, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your forehead, without ever saying a word.

Back in the gurney bed, now in his t-shirt and sweatpants, you felt a little calmer. By now, all the food from Francesca was gone, but he offered you a half-eaten granola bar from his scrub jacket pocket when your stomach growled loudly.

And each time he left the absence of him left behind a cold draft against your skin.

The night dragged on. The chaos outside finally slowed, like a storm passing. Wounds were closed, departments and rooms assigned. The steady beeping of monitors became the background noise of recovery, not disaster.

It was sometime past midnight when Taylor led you into an assigned room not far from the nurse’s station. When you were settled into the room––overhead lights dimmed just how you liked it and a cup of cold water at your bedside––you caught sight of Jack outside your door. 

He talked quietly to another nurse for a few minutes, then handed over a clipboard he held before making his way into your room, checking your progress.

“Are you busy right now?” you quietly asked.

He glanced down the hallway, then decided, “I got a minute to spare.” 

Yout throat felt dry, the words nearly catching a little as you spoke – even after everything you two had been through in the past few day. “Can you come lie down with me?”

Your voice sounded so small, how could he ever say no?

He blinked once, then shut the door behind him.

The bed was barely wide enough for one person, but he made it work. Shrugged off his stethoscope and climbed up carefully. His body curled beside yours, both of you on your sides, facing each other in the dim glow. He tucked one arm under your head, the other hooking around your waist to pull you closer. 

You let out a deep exhale, murmuring against his skin, “Pretty sure there’s a HIPAA violation about doctor-patient contact somewhere here.” 

Your voice wasn’t light. You didn’t smile.

But the joke still landed.

“Oh, my God,” he groaned, eyes rolling before they settled back on you. The hand on your waist rose to cup your cheek. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he whispered, before his lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss that reassured you you were going to be okay.

The silence that followed when you pulled away was full of the words neither of you had to say out loud. His hand found yours under the blanket, your fingers tangling naturally.

And, for a little while, the horrors of the day faded into something softer.

The first days back home after the shooting felt different. 

Your bedroom felt smaller, like the walls were closing in. But, it also felt comfortable, familiar. Nothing bad had ever happened here, and nothing bad ever would. 

Jack drove you home that first day. He didn’t say much, didn’t need to. He just kept a steady hand on the steering wheel and his gaze flicked over to you every few minutes. He ended up staying until his next shift, never leaving your side unless he had to.

You trailed him around the house like a shadow – when he brewed tea for you, made you breakfast, shifted through his backpack by the door. You weren’t even sure what you were so afraid of, only that when he was near, it all felt quieter. Bearable.

An hour into being back home, the two of you had settled into the couch with some show playing low in the background. You didn’t remember what it was, only the way Jack’s eyes started to flutter closed. He fought sleep longer than he should’ve.

You tugged gently at his hand, coaxing him into your room. He didn’t protest, just let you lead him, half-asleep. His body sunk into the bed, melting into sheets that smelled like you.

You couldn’t sleep – couldn’t really calm your mind when your ears were suddenly so sensitive to the noises around. Dogs barking. The garbage truck coming to pick up the recycling. A car backfiring.

Each one pulled your body taut with unease.

Instead, you watched Jack sleep. He looked so peaceful, long eyelashes brushing against soft skin. His forehead wasn’t crinkled in worry for once, even though you could tell he was running on empty this last shift. 

You reached out to gently run your fingers through his hair and it made him sleepily shift toward you on the bed, his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck. The warmth made your chest ache.

When his alarm went off, he began to stir but you tightened your hold on him. Not ready to let him leave or face a cold, desolate existence without him for the next 12 hours.

Eyes still shut, he gently teased, “Clingy much?” But the softness in his tone showed you he didn’t mind it one bit.

Not when your bare feet padded lightly right behind his as he walked into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, nor when he got in the shower and you followed in after. 

Afterward, wrapped in a towel, you avoided looking in the mirror. You didn’t need to. You could already feel the bruises blooming, their soreness serving as quiet reminders. You stared down at your arms, your collarbone, at the places where the pain still lingered, where the memories came to life – gunshots, screaming, smoke in the air. 

You flinched when Jack shut the bathroom door, the sound too loud, too sudden. He didn’t notice… or maybe he did and just didn’t say anything.

When he was packing his camo backpack for work, his movements froze for a second, hesitating. Then, wordlessly, he pulled out your bloodied clothes from Pitt Fest, folded in a ziploc bag. Before you could even process what he was doing, he’d quickly stuffed them into the laundry machine and ran a cycle.

After he had pulled his jacket on, he approached you while you were slowly picking at the sandwich he’d made you for supper. His hands gently cupped your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. 

“You gonna be okay tonight?” he asked softly. 

You nodded, though it felt like a lie. Still, he pulled you into a hug, pressing your head against his chest, and leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “Call me if you need anything. Or if you get bored and wanna get your ass kicked in chess.”

That coaxed a real laugh out of you, unexpected and bright. Before the shooting, you two had been engaged in a seriously competitive match over GamePigeon. Jack had accused you of cheating more than once. You missed that.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, patting his chest when you leaned back. “Might let you win this time. Keep that fragile ego intact.”

He smirked, leaning down to meet your eyes. “Be good today, okay?” 

“Yes, Dad,” you groaned with exaggerated disdain. The wording made his brows raise and sent a shiver down his body. 

“That and the age gap… you’re gonna give me a complex,” he groaned, watching the corners of your lips tug upwards before you reached up on the tips of your toes and wrapped your arms around him. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll forget all about it when you’re elbows deep, rearranging someone’s guts,” you easily teased, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Rather rearrange your guts,” he mumbled against your lips, cupping a hand behind your neck to deepen the kiss.

When you pulled back, you tilted your head. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I’m rubbing off on you.” 

He opened his mouth again, likely to make another suggestive remark about rubbing something else off on you, but you cupped a hand over it before he could. 

“Don’t you have lives to save?” you asked, gently shoving him out the door.

You knew the house wouldn’t be empty for long—Jack and your sister had alternated shifts so someone could always be with you—but you still missed him.

Only thirty minutes passed between Jack leaving and your sister coming home. But in those thirty minutes, the washer went off and you thought you could manage the simple task of transferring your clothes to the dryer. 

After all, they were just clothes. Just pieces of cotton and thread, no longer cakes in soot and blood. They were fresh as new. 

So why couldn’t you touch them? Why did you leave the washer door open and just stare into the tub where they sat, soaked? 

By the time your sister walked in, the clothes were long gone – dumped in the trash bin outside. It was the only thing you could bring yourself to do. 

You were curled up on the sofa when she found you, TV flickering across your face like nothing had happened. She didn’t ask. She just sat beside you, and that was enough.

That’s how the days passed. Evenings with your sister – watching TV, talking about what happened, processing. Mornings and afternoons with Jack, who brought over puzzles, crossword books, a physical chess set… even a spare toothbrush which now sat happily beside yours in the bathroom. It made your heart ache every time you saw it.

You slept a lot, but even when you were awake, you were tired. Even inside the comfort of your home, you were still hyper-aware of all the noises outside, and any large crowds that passed by, voices raised. 

Yet, somehow, those hazel eyes you’d grown to find comfort in had convinced you to step outside, start going on walks. Take in fresh air again.

It wasn’t easy – you barely made it around the block, nails digging into the back of Jack’s hand from how tightly you held it – but it was progress. 

In a week’s time, you even returned to the restaurant. You were ready to face the hustle and bustle of Francesca, ready to put your mind to work and focus on something positive for a change.

What you weren’t ready for was running into Jake by the entrance. 

“Hey,” he said softly, remembering you from Robby’s stories and also vaguely recalling seeing your face on that unspeakable day. 

“Hey,” you echoed, voice just as strained. “What are you doing here?” 

“Mom asked me to pick up dinner.” 

You nodded silently, sunsure what to say next. “How are you?” 

He shrugged. “You know…” 

You did know.

“My mom’s got me talking to a trauma specialist,” he said, not sure why he was telling you. “At the hospital.” 

“Yeah… Jack – Dr. Abbot – he’s been trying to convince me to go, too.” You hesitated. “Is it… helping?” 

Another shrug. “A little, I guess. But.. I don’t know – she wasn’t there. She doesn’t really get it.” 

You reached for a napkin on an unoccupied table, finding yourself scribbling your number down before offering it to him.

“You can call me… if you want. I get it.” 

He held the napkin between his fingers, staring at the numbers. Then, he tucked it into his pocket with a slow nod. “Thanks.” 

You couldn’t let him leave without saying the next words at the tip of your tongue. “Hey… I’m sorry about your girlfriend. She seemed… pretty. I’m sure she was – I’m sure she was really great.” You found a lump forming in your throat.

He paused a minute, then said quietly, “She was.” After a beat, he added, “You know, I told her about you once.” 

You were shocked to hear that. “What?” 

“I was telling her one of Robby’s stories, about the first time he ever came to visit this place, and he got to brag to the people at the next table about how he knew the head chef. And when they asked you how you came to be there, you said by – ” 

“ – by being brave,” you finished for him, feeling tears lining your vision. 

Jake nodded. Then, as if he knew you needed to hear it, he said, “Leah would want you to be brave now… about all of it.”

That stayed with you until the restaurant closed, and you drove home, and laid in your bed for the night, getting the first restful sleep – no nightmares – for the first time in a long time.

And when you woke, it was to Jack crawling into bed beside you, rays of sun filtering through the blinds and lighting up his face. 

His hand found yours under the covers, like it always did, comforting and warm – and you sighed in contentment.

“I wanna stay like this forever,” you mumbled against his skin. “Can we?” 

“Yeah, baby… as long as you want.”

.

.

.

read part 3 here !!

[chibistarlyte]

i was notified by my SIL that denver was added to the mass deportation raid list, so i wanted to share information in case anyone needs to know what to do if they're targeted, no matter what city (images first, followed by text)

.

I am sending this message to everyone. Please forward to anyone you know who may need to know about these rights and resources as Denver was just added to the deportation raid list.

You DO NOT need to open your door.

You DO NOT need to let them into your home.

You DO NOT need to speak to agents.

You DO NOT need to sign absolutely anything.

Even if you are not a citizen, you have rights under the constitution. These include the right to be silent and the right to not have unlawful search. Even if you believe your rights are being violated, don't resist. It won't help.

Be prepared. Do the following:

1. If an officer knocks on your door: Do not open the door. Teach your children not to open the door. Officers must have a warrant signed by a judge to enter your home. ICE “warrants” are not signed by judges; they are ICE forms signed by ICE officers and they do not grant authority to enter a home without consent of the occupant. If you are unsure if a warrant is signed by a judge, do not open your door. Do not let them in.

2. If they do take you, do not lie about your status. Dont say anything. Find lawyers in your area. Don't call unless you need to. Those with lawyers are significantly more likely to not be deported. You can find low cost nonprofits here: https://www.immigrationadvocates.org/legaldirectory/

3. Create a safety plan. Know your emergency contact numbers. If you have children, let the school know who else can pick up your children if needed. Provide authorization in writing to an emergency contact allowing them to make legal and medical decisions for your child.

4. Emergency documents. Gather documents showing the length of time you have been in the United States; the most recent two years are most important. This can include U.S. income tax returns, utility bills, leases, school records, medical records, bank records, or other documents. Make sure your emergency contact knows where to find your documents.

5. Print a red card or find places that are giving them out. They are printed in multiple languages and outline your rights. You can present them or show them through your window to any ICE agent who may approach you. DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOOR TO GIVE IT TO THEM.

https://www.ilrc.org/red-cards-tarjetas-rojas

[tanlakarix]

What is the best time to send SMS marketing messages?

According to conventional marketing knowledge, the optimal time to send an SMS is when your target audience is most likely to notice it. Fortunately, it is virtually always the case with SMS. People always carry their cell phones with them, day, and night.

Because an SMS message pings their phone immediately, individuals are considerably more likely to view a text message than an email. That is the strength of SMS marketing. There is, however, one caveat: just because you can text at any moment does not mean you should. The distinction between effective communication and simply sending a text message into the vacuum is determined by timing.

Conventional marketing thinking holds that the optimal time to send text campaigns is when your receivers are most likely to respond to them. And it is not the same as simply looking at a message and disregarding it. When you’re in a hurry or busy, you might open an SMS merely to clear the notice and then forget about it. Ideally, you want the message to make an impression and prompt action.

Effective business text messaging is as much about the message’s timing as it is about its content. And the two are connected in your message’s overall purpose, but what is the optimal timing?

The answer is that the best time to send marketing SMS depends on the message’s purpose and target demographic. However, there are some general rules and SMS marketing best practices that will increase the likelihood of your message being received and engaged with, rather than simply being shown.

The Best Time to Send an SMS

The short answer is yes, during ordinary business hours. Most people and businesses consider this to be between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m.

Some people work between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m., while others work between 10 a.m. and 7 p.m. But let’s go with 10 to 7 to cover a wide range while also avoiding the dreaded early morning notification. People are awake and going about their business currently.

Remember that SMS systems allow you to schedule your messages ahead of time. Even if none of these times work for you, you can easily automate your campaigns for the best time. Let’s take it all apart.

Early morning texts are bad unless necessary.

Avoid texting in the early morning unless it’s an SMS reminder for an appointment in an hour. Aside from the risk of disturbing someone, early morning messages are less successful because individuals are rushing to get ready or traveling to work. You might be lucky enough to catch someone on a monotonous commute on a bus or tube.

However, unless you know your recipient’s daily routine and habits down to their mode of transportation, it’s a safer choice to avoid this period entirely.

Late-night texts are even worse and rarely necessary.

Nobody loves being awakened in the middle of the night by a text message unless there’s an emergency or a fire (no, not a fire sale). Nothing is more likely to damage a client connection than an ill-timed text message that provokes displeasure or rage. Your municipal regulations may even have required quiet hours during which businesses are not permitted to make phone calls or send text messages.

Lunchtime is a good time.

Another ideal period for SMS marketing is during lunch and early afternoon — usually between 12 and 3 p.m. People are less likely to be in meetings or engaged in hard work and more likely to be browsing their phones, with time to read and respond to texts.

Time-sensitive messages are an exception.

Send your SMS now if your message is time sensitive. This could signify that someone has an item that needs to be picked up before a specific time, that something is about to be delivered and must be received by a person, or that there is a payment deadline. If you need to remind someone of an upcoming appointment, send a message the day before and again an hour or so before.

Furthermore, you send scheduled SMS to deliver timely messages, such as an hour or two before someone’s appointment.

An appointment reminder service is useful for automatically reminding clients about subscription renewals or other scenarios that would cost your company money if missed. Similarly, an SMS alerts service can be set up to send out automated weather updates, traffic updates, and other time-sensitive information.

Consider time zones when mass texting.

You may have recipients all over the country or perhaps the world, and time zones can throw your precise timing off. Fortunately, bulk SMS service providers can assist you in sending these out at the appropriate time according to the recipient’s time zone.

For example, you can configure your sending so that all receivers, regardless of time zone, receive the message at 5 p.m. This is especially beneficial when mass-texting a list that is geographically dispersed.

The Best Days of the Week to Send SMS Marketing Texts

The best days to send SMS marketing texts are weekdays, but not all days are created equal.

Mondays are just that: Mondays. Nobody likes them, and even fewer enjoy being bombarded by more unwanted messages during them. Many people will be catching up on tasks, attending meetings, and communicating about work-related issues during this time. If you’re committed to sending on Mondays, try injecting some humor into your messages.

Fridays, on the other hand, are hit-or-miss. Yes, it’s Friday, and everyone is thrilled. They are, however, making plans for the weekend, anticipating the evening, and mentally checking out. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are ideal for SMS since they provide a decent balance.

The weekend becomes more difficult. This is when many people like to unwind and spend time on personal matters. However, it is also a time when many people will be shopping, lounging, and scrolling on their phones. It’s a time for friends and family, and many people don’t even check their email.

Because texting is a private medium reserved for those closest to us, your SMS messages will be delivered even on a Saturday or Sunday. Use this privilege carefully and in moderation.

What Time of the Month to Send an SMS

If you’re selling something, you should let buyers know when they’ll have money to spend, which is usually after payday. People are more likely to spend when they have a pay check in the bank but haven’t spent it all. Aim for the first third of the month and avoid the last third, when money may be tight for some people.

These are broad recommendations and should not be interpreted as hard and fast rules. Finally, it is determined by your specific situation and target audience. Experiment with various times to determine what works best for your SMS campaign.

You may segment your audience and test to determine which times of day generate the most interaction and conversions. This will help you to engage with your audience on their terms, but you must first understand your target.

Know Your Audience

Personalized SMS marketing entails not only tailoring the content of your message to each receiver but also the timing. And the best time to send a text message depends on your target demographics.

Learn about your target audience and their behaviors. Are they high-powered executives or stay-at-home parents? What are their attitudes and expectations towards you? Are you their doctor or just their favorite apparel brand?

You may not know everything there is to know about each receiver, but you should have a basic idea of who your targets are and when they are most receptive to your messaging.

Top Examples of SMS Marketing Timings

In general, the best time to send SMS marketing texts depends on what you’re communicating and what you want to accomplish.

Upcoming Sale or Promotion

If your sale begins tomorrow, publicize it today. Or a few days earlier, but not so far ahead of time that people have forgotten about it by the time it begins. In that situation, you’ll need to send another reminder closer to the event.

Ending Sale or Promotion

On the other hand, your sale or campaign is concluding, and you’d like to send a promotional SMS to your contact list. Repeat the process outlined above a few days ahead of time, and possibly again on the final day.

Lunchtime Specials or Dinner Deals

If this is the situation with your company, send an SMS an hour or more in advance to stay top of mind. Karix offers a comprehensive suite of SMS solutions for the restaurant and beverage industry, including reservation reminders, order delivery notifications, and weekly discounts.

New Subscription to Your Texting List

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[calder]

please reblog for sample size.

edit

good job dude

edit 2

i have been permanently banned from nukapedia for this post

edit 3

the following posts were screencapped and posted to nukapedia as the other reason for upgrading my 1yr ban to permanent

several patrollers have resigned in solidarity or disgust

you can read the bans and see for yourself, where admins repeatedly vaguely accuse me of presenting these messages under false pretense.

i was also harassed by a nukapedia admin on tumblr who attempted to delete the message before i could engage with it. when i mentioned it to the other acting admin, i was told to re-read the harassment so i might be a better person in a year.

further, a channel was collectively scolded last month by an admin who had been triggered upon being compelled to review the messages of the anti-Woke mod. during an argument, the mod had compared transness to blackface in defense of JK Rowling, earning him a 3-day ban. when i said i was traumatized from dealing with his targeted harassment of myself and my queer peers throughout pride month, i was accused of "emotionally manipulating admins"

all of this had begun two months ago when someone shared a personal anecdote about a racial microaggression they had experienced and wrapped it up with "such a white thing to say." for weeks thereafter, this woman was namedropped by the mod whenever racism came up, as an example of a racist. he would ultimately accuse her of being no better than a holocaust denier because she said "the far left is not associated with mass murder and bigotry."

during the mod's three-day ban he participated in the coordinated monitoring and harassment of a minor. the user sent five replies to the effect of "you are never to contact me in private" and "stop talking to me" before the mod stopped messaging him. this was not addressed when the mod was unbanned. however, the morning before this, the woman mentioned above was banned for leaving an incredulous emoji react face on a backhanded admin post targeting her.

the mod believes he is protecting the community from "reverse racism." he has also asked me if i "think hostility towards white people is justice" and when i excused myself from the conversation he asked if i was "triggered"

at one point i announced i would be absent for several days to attend a funeral. the mod invoked me by name and characterized me as a bad person while i was attending my grandmother's service

he remains on-staff, surrounded by silence. my 1yr ban was prompted by my confronting the community with proof of him stalking a minor, but that incident did not come up at all in the text of my ban

please reblog for public awareness. please show this to every fallout fan you know.