#i've known this is coming since like 2 months ago and i'm still fucked up....

[gegewrites]

Dr.house- 2 am(smut)

Time wise takes place in season 1, I don't think my timelines exactly right but I can't find exact dates since they're lot really specified.

I’m on a Fuckin role!

4.2k words!!! Not at all edited I just finished this and posted it

5/22/23

Your pov-

It's not every night you get a call from Greg House  to come to his apartment at 2 in the morning...but here I was standing in the entrance room of apartment 221 about to knock on the door to apartment B.

I've been to his house before, I've known the asshole for 11 years, I met him a year before his golfing incident.

I raised my hand and knocked on the door, loud enough for him to hear, quiet enough to not alert the neighbors. I waited for a few seconds of nothing and knocked again, a few seconds later it opened.

"Get in." He promptly spoke, turning around and immediately walking away.

I came in, shutting the door behind me. I kicked my slippers off as i gazed over at the piano, which was obviously being used a bit earlier by the open music and shuffled around music sheets on top. Last week it was tucked in the corner, now it's facing out into the room. One guitar was hung on the wall, the other on a floor stand.

On his coffee table was a half empty bottle of whiskey and a few scrambled folders.

"I was sleeping you know." I said as he came out of the kitchen with a mug. He was still in his work clothes, well the T-shirt and pants part of it, and Now I'm noticing the smell of coffee.

"Fully aware, sit." He plopped down onto the couch and leaned forward, resting his cane against the arm of the couch on his side.

I let out a sigh as I walked over, plopping down next to him. He handed me the red mug right away and I grabbed it.

"That's one hell of a tank top." He commented and I looked down at myself. It was white, and tight. I didn't get dressed alright, I threw on some plaid pj pants, grabbed a zip up hoodie, and threw on my slippers and left.

"Shut the fuck up Greg. I gotta be in the office at six." I took a sip from the mug,"this is fucking good."

"Good, so look at this." He handed me a whole file so I put the mug down on the table and leaned back with the folder.

"Anna Mae Johnson, 56, female..Hallucinating and loosing her vision." I looked up from the file and looked at him, leaned back in the corner of the couch holding a glass of whiskey. "Are you kidding me?"

"No. You were the only neurologist that picked up my call." He shrugged. I'm not just a neurologist, I'm also an ophthalmologist and general surgeon. I didn't let my scholarships at Stamford go to waste. "And, frankly I don't feel like spending another 3 hours with this women."

"Wilson didn't pick up?" I raised my brow.

"Oh no, he did. And he told me to fuck off." He half smiled for a second and i rolled my eyes.

"Could've called me down when I was at the office Greg." I shook my head at him,"Wheres the scans and tests?"

"Red folder." I put down the file and opened up the red folder.

I saw brain scans and negative labs, I was looking for an Amsler grid report or a OCT.

"Did you get an ophthalmologist to look at her eyes?" I looked over at him and he raised his brow at me,"her eyes. She's loosing her vision, did you get some sight tests?"

"Should be something in there." I rolled my eyes at him as I flipped through papers,"Why her eyes?"

"I thought diagnostic medicine was your specialty?" I shot at him and heard his scoff," because macular degeneration, loosing the vision." I opened up the patients file and flipped to the medical history, I felt him shift on the couch, he was sitting closer to me, leaning forward to look at the file...or maybe my chest.

"The gears are turning." He poked my temple.

"Alright, She started having problems with her vision 3 months ago, blurry and getting worse. She went to the eye doctor to change her prescription, it worked for 3 weeks and she never went back. Could be wet AMD."

"abnormal blood vessels growing under the retina. Which have been leaking blood or other fluids, which causes scarring of the macula."he nodded slowly as he looked towards the fireplace.

"So do Anti-VEGF treatment. But the hallucinations aren't a symptom of the AMD. Could be Charles Bonnet syndrome, that's a symptom of vision loss, lack of light entering the Retina so the brains creating images to fill the void." I explained and he hummed.

"can't treat the CBS, but we can treat the AMD, either with the anti-VEGF or laser surgery."

"VEGF first, then the laser." I closed the folders and grabbed the mug and leaned back in the leather couch. "what else?"

"That's really it."He looked back at me and I cocked my head in disbelief at him.

"You didn't know it was AMD or CBS?" I took a sip and he shrugged.

"Had a slight idea, needed a 4th opinion." He grabbed the whiskey bottle and opened it, pouring some into his glass. He closed it and leaned back, holding his glass on his right thigh.

"At two AM?"

"We'll considering you were teaching from three to five, i couldn't bother you. I knew I could get you at two AM, I've gotten you at four." I shook my head as I took snother drink from the mug,"why haven't I hired you?"

"Because I like having my own office." I answered,"my turn, why in the last eleven years haven't I slapped you yet?"

"We'll, for like 5 of those I was married."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Might've wanted to jump my bones afterwards, I've heard some things." I let out a laugh at the smug look in his face.

"We were both single, horny, and drunk." I crossed my right ket over my left leg,"it doesn't count."

"Oh wilson counts it." He smirked snd wiggled his brows. I let out a sigh, and ran my tongue under my bottom k-9s with a smirk on my face.

"I'm not tell-"he cut me off promptly.

"I don't need you too, I've heard it already." He looked away from me and looked over at the fireplace again and then to the coffee table.

"Oh really? What was your favorite part?" I asked sarcastically, Wilson told me he didn't tell anyone we screwed, but I know Greg doesn't count.

"When you- and I quote- sucked his soul from his dick and then rid him like a fucking pornstar." He finally looked at me,"the scratches you left on his back were also very impressive."

"Wow alright." I felt my heart in my throat, not in a bad way.

I sat up and placed the mug on the table, uncrossing my legs and standing up.

"I'm going-"

"No you're not," he grabbed my wrist, not hard but strong enough to keep me,"you wanna see how far this will go. You're blushed, got a little shake in your hand." He let go it my wrist," And I gotta say, your tits look great. It'd be a crime to not give them attention."

"Is that the Vicodin or whiskey talking?" I sat down if the edge if the couches arm, he was placed in the middle of the couch now.

"Me."

"What? Is a Hooker not available for a night call?" I love giving him a hard time.

"I thought she did arrive?" He gasped and looked at me with a shocked expression. I scoffed at him.

"So what? You call me to come here, have me look at your patients files and solve it for you, and now you think I'm gonna fuck you?"  I crossed my arms and he cocked his head before nodding.

"I don't think you are, I know you are. Wilson's bad at keeping secrets and you like to talk." He took a drink from his glass,"so either we can fuck, or you can just keep waiting, but you've been waiting awhile so I don't think you want to."  My jaw dropped slightly at his words. Damnit Wilson. 

I slid off the arm and sat down next to him, my toros turned to him, my arm resting on the head of the couch, my brows furrowed.

"So I'm actually here to fuck you?" I asked,"you couldn't wait. just had to have me huh?"

"I can blame you for my acute insomnia lately, that's why I'm awake."  He leaned forward and out his glass on the table.

"I've finally gotten under Dr.houses skin haven't I?" I raised my brow, a smirk on my face.

"You've been under my skin for awhile, it's not new." That was news to me. these last couple of months it seemed like he could care less. He kept me around, but it wasn’t the same. I knew how he was though, why I never brought it up.

“Really?” I got a surge of confidence, and I took it.

I used my leverage on the couch to move and straddle his thighs, making sure I was careful when coming around to his right leg. His hands immediately came and sat on my thighs

“Thought you were leaving?” He looked over his shoulder to the door,”or was I right?”

“You’re right, I wanna jump your bones.”

“What about your six AM shift?” His hands left my hips and came up to take hold of my hoodie by the collarbones,”suddenly not important because you know you’re gonna get fucked?”

“I suddenly don’t have to go in till nine.” He pushed my hoodie off, I let it fall off my arms and he watched it do so, he then tossed it down to the side of the coffee table. When he looked up at me, I let my lips come down on his, he responded quickly. My hands sat on his shoulders and His hands sat on my ass, he used the grip to pull me closer to him. My chest pushing into his.

I could taste the whiskey on his tongue and the coffee on mine. His beard tickled my chin and all I could think about was how it would feel in between my legs, the thought made my hips grind down on him. His finger tips pushed into my skin as he joined in on the motion. Rocking my hips steadily down on his hardening cock in his pants.

A hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his head, my fingers carding through his hair. I could feel my heartbeat in my pussy, snd I could myself getting wet.

He pulled away from me shortly after, but his lips came back to my skin. Placing a trail of kisses from my jaw to my neck, the feeling of his beard caused a small moan to escape as his hands slid up the back of my ass and took hold of the hem of my tanktop.

I felt him bundling it in his hands, though his lips didn’t leave my neck yet, he wasn’t bitting or sucking just leaving open mouth kisses as he traveled to my collarbones and placed a kiss in between them.

His eyes met mine again, his pupils more dilated then before. He didn’t say anything but took the moment to start lifting my tanktop off snd I let him, he tossed it behind me to my hoodie.

“I knew they were nice, but wow.” His eyes were glued on my chest like a teenage boy to his first playboy magazine. his hands rubbed up and down my waist,”sure they’re real? I’ll be able to tell.”

“They are.” I replied as his hands took hold of them, massaging them. I pressed them harder into his hands, I just wanted to feel him. If I was gonna screw Dr.House, I might as well make it good.

I kept my hips rocking on him, my hips rocking faster and I tried to keep my upper half as still as possible. his hard cock rubbing against my clothes pussy. What a night to wear lace to bed. He pressed kisses to my left breast before taking my nipple into my mouth, that hand slid down my ribs and pushed past the band of my pants and slipped right past my panties.

His tongue swirled around the bud as his finger ran right over my slit before diving to my clit.

“Aah yes.” I sighed out, finally reviving what I want, focusing on grinding into his finger. he wasn’t moving it, just keeping it there for me to use. I appreciate it. His mouth left my nipple and me pressed a kiss between both my breasts. Another moan left my mouth as my head lulled back, my lips stayed parted.

“Wet and needy, just as I was hoping.” His hand slipped away from my breast and onto my waist, he held it tightly,”the tough doctor turns into a little bitch when aroused.”

“Focus on me, not yourself.” I retorted and he scoffed.

Something I was expecting was getting flipped my off of him. He had me pinned under him, his good leg kneeled on the couch, keeping my right leg pinned to the back of the couch, also keeping him stable with the help of his new found grip on the couches arm. His finger didn’t leave the clit In the motion, so he started rubbing faster, even added a second finger.

My chest started rising a bit faster as more moans left my lips, and in true men-fashion, right as it was getting good…he pulled away. His hand exited my pants, but both hands came and met the band of my pants. His weight shifted to his good knee as he pulled both pieces of clothing down my legs, lifting them up when needed, then letting them fall. He tossed the clothing with the rest and I sat up and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, taking a moment to start a heated kiss, one that lasted long enough to slide my hands to the hem of his shirt and start pulling it up.

I pulled away from him to get it over his head and arms and threw it behind Me. Grabbing his face and pulling him back down with me resuming the kiss. Grabbed my previously pinned leg and held it over his hip and pulled away from me. His right hand came back down to my pussy. Wet and begging for anything; Which he gave. His middle finger came down to my core, circling it before diving in. A moan louder then the rest ripped out of me.

“If only I could get that sound copied on a record, could listen to it all day.” I looked at him through slotted eyes, meeting his blue ones which shifted from my gaze to my Pussy. His ring finger joined his middle finger, pumping out of me in a medium pace. My back was sticky against the leather as my back lifted up, my boobs lightly bouncing as my chest rose and fell.

“Feels fucking great.” I moaned out, my eyes falling closed. I felt the couch shift and then lips and a beard against my inner thigh. Trailing open mouth kisses to my core. I couldn’t stop the begging from leaving my lips,”please Greg, please.”

“Gettin’ there.” He quickly commented before his tongue latched to my clit.

My body shivered and my eyes rolled back under my closed lids. His fingers finally found my gspot and my hand shot to his hair, tugging on his crown. My hips rolled into his face as he switched between licking and sucking my clit.

I couldn’t help but moan, i was feeling great. My thighs pressed against his bare and warm shoulders, my calf being nudged by his elbow each time he pumped his fingers. My head felt dizzy, my body warm, and my abdominal muscles tight. I was gonna cum already, last bar hookup was 4 months ago and I’ve barely used my vibrator. There was no doubt I was gonna be the quick one tonight. My hips started bucking up, so his free arm pressed down on hips, holding me a bit more still and controlled. He changed his fingers angle snd pressure, curling them in a “come” motion.

“Just like that!” My voice was a higher pitch now, and within a few second, pathetically, k was seeing stars behind closed lids. My nail scratching against his scalp, trying to hold onto him for dear life, my other hand taking hold of the top edge of the couch.

He kept his pace and speed for bit after my orgasm, trying to push me to a cliff. Which he did Successfully, could probably tell my how I was I moaning his name, how wet his chin was, and how wet I was getting, and used it to know when the right time was to stop.

“Wow.” He breathed out as he sat up, adjusting to sit down properly,”now I understand why you eat pineapple everyday.”

I haven’t even opened my eyes yet, my legs were shaking, and I was catching my breath. I felt his weight leave the couch and heard the shaking metal of his belt, so I opened my eyes. I met his gaze which was staring at me and then they went down to where his hands were. Unzipping his pants, about to reveal the dick I’ve wanted to ride for a few years. I sat up, feeling how wet the bottom of my ass was against the leather. Now I understand why the couch is leather.

I pushed his hands away and hooked my fingers into the band in his boxers and started pulling them down, taking hold of his hard cock when it sprung out. He grabbed hold in his is pants from coming down any further then he wanted m, and he simply shook his head grabbing his cane. I respectfully brushed it off, my hand left his boxers band and traveled up his side sitting on his hip. He was bigger then I would’ve guessed, but it made sense.

I let go of his cock and spit onto my hand, taking hold of his and twisting my fist up and down, when I licked his tip. I looked up at him through my lashes. His head was rested back, obviously an expression of pleasure was plastered on his face, his breathing deep. so I let my eyes fall as I look him into my mouth, not wasting time to flatten my tongue, pumping the base of his cock. I felt his hand snake into my hair, grabbing some in his fist. He wasn’t using it to control me, though it wasn’t hard to tell by his tightening grip he wanted to. I would’ve let him, I kinda planned on letting him, but he only kept me down there for a few more moments before pulling me off.

“What are you on?” He asked the moment his cock left my mouth.

“IUD.” I answered catching the breath I needed. He didn’t respond,”it’s fine, as long as the last prostitute you fucked was clean.”

“Made sure.” He assured me as he sat down, letting his cane rest against the couch again. I stood up to get a better placement over his cock. His hands sat on my hips, his lips finding my breast again. I reach around and grabbed his cock, sliding it through my folds before holding it to my core.

I lowered down on it, moaning out at the initial stretch, and he groaned. His head falling back onto the head of the couch as he took a long inhale through his nose and sighed it out, a whispered “fuck” followed suit. Lowered down more, grabbing onto his shoulders, and biting down on my lower lip to stop a moan that would wake the neighbors from coming out. I lowered down completely onto him, taking a bit more then half of him in one go. I curled forward, moaning onto his neck as his finger tips pressed into my skin.

“When was-“

“Four months ago, shut up.” I mean pushed off of him and met his face, a disconcerted look on his face.

“I’m honored.” His tone was cocky and paired with a smirk. He raised hips and lowered me back down, that fuzzy brain feeling was coming back when he did it again, and again. Each time higher to where his tip was only left, snd lowering me down harder.

“Oh fuck Greg!” My nails pressed into his skin, I caught on with his movement, moving my hips with his guidance. He didn’t like slow I could tell, medium pace was where he liked to start at. Slowly getting faster, snd harder.

My brain drowned out into the sounds of our breathing, my moans, and the loudening groans that came from him. I could feel how wet the inside of my thighs were getting. My hips on auto pilot, riding him quickly. His tip bumping snd rubbing into my gspot.

My nails finally dug into his shoulder when his thumb met my clit and my walls tightened around him. Rubbing Harsh circles against the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves.

“You look fucking perfect.” I couldn’t open my eyes, too overwhelmed with my nerves feeling like they’re on fire, my heart pulsing in my throat and clit,”and so-goddamn (y/n), squeeze me any tighter and I’m not gonna have a dick.”

“Dram-ah- queen.” I said through my shakey , near breathless voice. I didn’t wanna cum, not yet. It was all Too damn good to not savor it.

So I grabbed onto the back of the couch and started really riding him. Rocking and swiveling my hips into his when I came down, keeping my speed and pace constant, at least trying.

“Oh fuuck me (y/n).” His thumb started rubbing faster, ripping a broken moan from my throat. My chest pushed into his, his fingertips pressing further into my waist, no doubt leaving bruises for tomorrow.

“I’m gonna cum.” I speedily warned him.

“Not yet, just a few more minutes.”

“Greg-“

“Just wait.” His tone was firm but tinted with a bit of fake annoyance at my greediness.

“Jus’ want you to fill me up, come on.” My breathing was deep as I spoke but sped up when I stopped. My hairline was damp snd so was the back of my knees.

He bucked his hips up into mine, sounds leaning his throat at their own will, so caught up in his own pleasure he couldn’t even care.

Those few minutes felt like torture, my orgasm on the brink of snapping while his thumb is still abusing my clit. The corners of my lips curled when I felt his cock start twitching inside of me, getting more obvious by the second.

“Now.” He spit out,”gonna full up this greedy pussy.”

It snapped, my orgasm ripped through me, my walls spasmed around him which triggered his orgasm. I pushed my body into his, feeling his warm skin radiating against mine. I could feel him shooting into me, mixing with my own orgasm and spilling down my thighs and onto him.

I rode him till I couldn’t anymore, I finally gave out. His cock buried inside me as I laid against him, his hands holding onto my ass as we caught our breath. Soon after he lifted my hips off of him, his cock sliding out of me and I moved to sit on the leather next to him. Holding one of my knees to my body, my head falling back.

“If I knew your dick was that big I woukd be jumped you years ago.” I let out a breathy chuckled snd he hummed.

“I regret not grabbing your Tits earlier, should’ve acted on my impulse.” He said standing up, putting his boxers and pants back on,”so anti-VEGF treatment tomorrow?” He asked grabbing his cane and leaning against it as he looked down at me.

“Let me check her out first and I’ll confirm.” I answered and looked back up at the ceiling. I heard him walk away so I lifted my head and watched him,”where are you going?”

“To clean up and go to sleep, you coming?” He asked stopping in his tracks.

“Not again tonight, no.” I replied and he blinked at me a few times, a smile keept to his lips.

“Ha-ha!” He sarcastically laughed before going back to his original expression and limping away. I can’t really be mad, I kinda solved his case and got fucked, but now it’s 3:40, and I have work at six still.

[secretsofdbz]

Alright, timelines. (link to my old post)

Today I'm going to walk you through the cluster fuck of Toriyama not paying attention to what he writes from the Trunks arc to the epilogue of the Perfect Cell arc.

Reminder that I divide the "Android Saga" in 4 arcs:

Trunks arc (arrival of Frieza to 3yg training),

Android arc (until the time machine is discovered)

Imperfect Cell arc (until Cell absorbs 18)

Perfect Cell arc (+ epilogue of Trunks killing imperfect Cell)

I will also pull Toei and Daizenshu content if needed just to show how bad it gets, BUT that's just to enhance my argument. Everything here is manga-deductible without extra context or content.

As I've shown in the link above, the manga implies 4 timelines:

Forgotten timeline (Cell kills Trunks and steals his time machine),

Lost timeline (the timeline that dead!Trunks traveled to, which did not have a Cell pop in the middle of its Android Saga, otherwise Trunks would've known about Cell),

Future Timeline (the one we know and see, Trunks traveled to a uni where Cell traveled to first, so there's changes and Cell pops up in the Android saga),

Main Timeline (the one we know and follow, to which Cell and Trunks traveled to),

Let's go into details about dates and math and everything first. (under the read more because LONG)

When Future Trunks discovers dead!Trunks' time machine, he states that it comes from age 788, which is 3 years from where he comes from (which means he comes from 785), and that the Machine landed here "4 years ago". 4 years ago was about one year before Trunks first came (aka one year before Meca Frieza stuff).

During the first trip, Trunks states he comes from 20 years into the future.

That means during his first trip, he went from 784/785 to 764.

We also know he's 17 at this point and "will be born in 2 and a half years"

(Baby Trunks is supposed to be ~6 months old by May 12th, 767, so "I warn in 764, I'll be born in 2.5 years, so I was born in 766" works. Ignoring the wikis about Trunks' birthday being June and Future Trunks' birthday being in November, it doesn't matter here, we just need the years))

For Trunks to be 17 during his first trip, he needs to travel from 784 (before his 18th birthday). So by the time he comes back the second time, it needs to be in 785 (so he is 18!); since it takes 8 months to charge the machine (Trunks the Story manga chapter), that works out.

So in terms of trips, we have:

Trunks (both versions) : (early-mid) 784 to 764

Trunks (both versions): (early-ish) 785 to May 12th 767

Cell: 788 to 763

(handy recap sheet)

At the time, for Toei, there were only two Timelines (aka it was both multiverse theory AND dynamic time travel theory, because Trunks becoming aware of Cell who killed him means Trunks isn't killed by Cell... yeah it's all sorts of EHH ??):

Anyway, you'd think this would be fine right? The image of Cell killing Trunks while he still had his sword (which he shouldn't since he broke it on 18's arm he never used it again in canon) is anime filler, we're all good.

Except... no. This fucking panel right here. Cell explains "(the machine/bots collecting dna) could've gotten Trunks cells but didn't because we had enough Saiyan cells".

Cell supposedly comes from a timeline where GOKU killed Frieza and Cold. But this god forsaken panel contradicts that. (of course it's just that Tori forgot, but we are DB fans, we take things seriously and word of god of the manga is supreme and can't be wrong)

This means that THIS particular version of Cell doesn't come from the Forgotten Timeline.

The Cell we know and love/hate comes from a timeline in which a future Trunks killed Frieza and Cold, BUT everything still went to shit (Goku + gang dying, dead!Trunks traveling to the past, and coming back to destroy the Androids).

In this timeline, Bulma met Future Trunks (who killed Cold and Frieza) in 764, presumably the gang got all the warnings like in the main timeline, but everyone STILL died. So she invented the Time Machine to send her Trunks to the past (perhaps with different instructions so as to not repeat the mistakes of the Future Trunks she saw 20 years prior).

Here's the thing. There is a way for this timeline to exist. You "just" gotta work on the postulate that "each time there's a time travel to the past, a new branch is created". And "if the time machine travels back in time a second time, it lands in the timeline it first branched out unless it travels back further in time". Rephrased: The "784 to 764" trip created a new branch in 764. The "785 to 767" trip landed in that new 764 branch. However the "788 to 763" trip created a whole new branch in 763.

The Time Machine that was piloted by dead!Trunks actually "traveled further back in time", creating an earlier "branch"... which is why Trunks noticed changes, including Goku's late arrival (or Frieza's earlier arrival, we don't know).

Yes, because Future Goku did not use Instant Transmission to fight Frieza and Cold. We know he didn't because Future Bulma had the coordinates where Goku landed, which is how Future Trunks got said coordinates. If Goku had IT to fight Frieza and Cold, Bulma wouldn't have known where the pod was going to land 3 hours later.

So timelines and where does Cell come from? Well you need a timeline from the Branch that started in 764 (with a Future Trunks' arrival to kill Frieza and Cold) but in which everyone died to the Androids, and in which, when Trunks traveled back home, he was able to destroy the Androids...

Anyway here's my final recap of all the timelines in Z, in which "one time travel is one interference creating a new branch". And this is how we can see where Cell comes from :D

This opens a realm of possibilities!!

Did a version of Trunks stay in the past, during his first trip and got a wish to Shenron to have a way to destroy his androids, so he didn't come back in 767 and didn't grow strong at all? Did the future trunks that warned against the Androids but that timeline still went to shit approached the problem differently?? who knows! Time for fanfics and doujins I guess :D

Peace!

[let-spretend]

hey guys .. so , it's been a couple months since the last update , and i'm so sorry !!! i've been procrastinating and putting this off for so long and have been losing interest but i'll try to keep writing this series .

cw violence, crude comments

mold for thought pt. 2

home is where i want to be !

three years ago - 7/11/20XX

“We’re going to Dulvey.” Ethan hurriedly gathers up his things and beckons you to do the same. Gathering your phone, earbuds and wallet, you decide on a small backpack to store your things. You don’t question his sudden order, blindly doing as he gestured. 

“Will it be long?” You ask.

He stops and thinks. “YesーWe’re picking up Mia.” You shove in your journal, clipped with a pencil and a bag of chips. Mia?

You stop, “Wait, what?” 

He swings his keys and opens the front door. “I’m sure she’ll explain everything.” Ethan says. He sounds like he’s lying to himself but you don’t ask anything more. Mia’s been gone for so long, you were accepting the fact she wasn’t coming back. You’re so glad she’s okay, you’ve missed her so much. 

The car Ethan drove was a Dodge Challenger from the 1970's. Having the privilege of riding the car was always something you pride yourself on. You rolled the window down and breathed in the fresh air. The roads were unfamiliar and the scenery was becoming open fields. 

Mia and Ethan took you in when you were little and you don’t remember much. You were now 15, and they were talking about having a child before Mia went off to do her job. At the time you were excited. Wanting to be that cool and loving older sibling to the Winter’s child. You remember Mia reassuring you that she would still take care of you, no matter what. You wanted to hug her then. You would’ve if you'd known she would’ve been gone after that. What were you going to say to her after all this time? 

-

A phone goes off, it rings 3 times. Ethan picks it up and says a shy ‘hello’ into it. “You really shouldn’t have come here.” You could hear a woman’s voice faintly, as you stood close to Ethan. You stare at your left hand and arm. You arm had knife slashes all over it, and in the middle of your hand was a gaping wound. Ethan had frantically put medical aid onto it, but it still throbbed. 

“Who’s this? And what the fuck is going on?”

“My name’s Zoe. There should be a way out though the attic. Go thereーnow.” He hangs up and nods in your direction. Ethan had no choice but to trust this mysterious person. He holds out his right hand for you to take and you hold it tight. You were never one to be touchy, but comfort was very much needed in the moment. Ethan was leading you through the halls, trying to find the stairs. 

You had found Mia, asleep in a bed. To get there it was a treacherous task, the house riddled with locks and puzzles. At first she was “normal”, trying to get you out of the house to the best of her knowledge. But after a roadblock, she changed. Started saying weird things and sat down, stopped moving. You had followed Ethan to find a way out, not feeling safe being alone with Mia. During that time she was alone, someone had taken her. 

Soon after she was taken, banging on a door or wall could be heard. It went on for three minutes, the same rhythmic banging every single time. As Ethan almost gets to the heart of the sound, it stops. He puts his arm out to stop you, now silent, you could hear hoarse hisses coming from the shadows. Something was crawling. The more it nears, you could make it out its humanoid shape. It suddenly jumps and grabs onto Ethan’s shirt. It was Mia. Now clearly being controlled by something. Her face was different, gray and monster-like. 

Ethan goes flying through the many walls, leaving you alone with Mia. She charges toward you with a knife, first, throwing you onto the ground. You try to get back up but she attacks your face, forcing you to block with your hand. As she pulls back, it slices your arm. You try to push her off of you, but her strength was unhuman-like, remaining on top of you. 

Mia aims for your face again, but this time you were slow with your block. It goes clean through your palm, and the blade is inches away from your face. As she tries to push in further, you kick her as hard as you could with both of your feet. You get up as quickly as you could, but she gets up faster. “Ms. Winters.. Wait, wait!” She keeps aiming for your face and you block, again, as she pulls away the knife slices your arm. The second attempt, you are able to catch Mia’s arm and use your right arm to push her face away. She falls back slightly, but is determined. As she comes back, you use two hands to grab onto her armed hand. You stay like this for a couple seconds, before she gets the final stab on your hand and lets go of the knife. 

You stare down at your battered hands. The pain was growing worse and worse, as you realize how bad they looked. “I can hear her.” Mia strains, “I can feel her clawing her way back inside me. Get out!” She rams herself into the wall. “Leave me alone!” Again, with more force. Her eyes flicker over to you. You were still breathing heavily, trying to forget the agonizing pain coming from your left hand. “I’ve been bad. I deserve this.” She stares directly into your eyes and again rams herself into the wall. She flops to the fall, unconscious. You hurriedly go check on Ethan, who had been unconscious and bleeding. You shake him awake and he jolts up, expecting Mia. “We have to go.” You mutter. He feels a wet substance on his right arm, where you were shaking him. 

“Y/N, your hand!” His face was fearful, pulling out a strange green bottle from out of his jacket pocket. He pours it onto your hand and you bite down onto your lip. You could feel the inside of your hand, screaming. He casts the bottle aside and rubs your shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” He says. The moment didn’t last long before you could hear small footsteps approaching. He frantically looks around, finding an ax within the rubble. He stands and doesn’t hesitate to swing at Mia’s body. She held the same knife she was attacking you with before, swinging for Ethan’s face. All you could do was sit and watch, telling yourself that this was in fact happening. They go at each other, back and forth, before Ethan lands a finishing blow to her neck. It’s like the moment was in slow-motion, her knees slowly go weak and her face returns to what she normally looked like. Her pale white skin and green eyes. She reaches out for Ethan before she falls, and Ethan tries to catch her. 

Her body meets the floor, and the sound her body makes makes you realize she was dead. Ethan stares at his hands for a moment, realizing what he’d done to his wife. You try to process everything, but were interrupted by some ringing.. 

-

Mia comes out of the shadows and stops you from going forward. She takes Ethan’s free hand and slowly backs, holding tightly. His breath hitches. “Ethan! Y/N! It’s OK. It’s OK, it’s me.” The blood from the previous fight was still on her. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” Mia shakes her head side to side, trying to console herself. As she slowly backs up, she abruptly stops and throws Ethan’s hand away. She raises her hands and grabs Ethan’s shoulders, pinning him to the wall. He lets go of your hand from the impact and winces. “But you shouldn’t have done that!” Her face contorts into a monster-like form again and her voice becomes raspy. 

Mia grabs you this time, pushing you onto the floor. “It fucking hurt!” She takes your shoulder and positions you onto the wall. Too scared to move, you let her move you. Her hand crawls onto your left arm and she pins it higher, on the wall. A sharp pain jolts through the palm of your hand and you look over to see a screwdriver pinning you to the wall. Your left hand was somehow healing back up, still very sensitive. But she pierced through the newly formed muscles and nerves. A pained yell escapes your lips. Somehow the pain was worse than the first time.

You desperately pull at the screwdriver, tuning out everything around you. Ethan’s hand was trying to calm you down, but you were absorbed in the pain. You hear some distant revving of a chainsaw, but what brought you back was Ethan’s screams. He was protecting you and blocking the chainsaw with his left hand. His blood splattered onto your face and you realized his hand was gone. Mia pushes him to the side like some object, reaching for you. 

She grabs onto your shoulder again and throws you across the hallway, the screwdriver forcefully coming out of the wall. You look at Mia, terrified. She looked completely different. All that remained was her body, but even that, it was gray, making her look sickly. As she mutters incohesive sentences, Mia falls back but you don’t understand why.

You pull out the screwdriver from your hand and keep it as a weapon. You take the tablecloth from the small side cabinet, wrapping it around Ethan’s open wound. He hisses from the foreign contact, but holds it tight after. Blood soaks through it in seconds. You take his cut-off hand and throw it into your bag. Grabbing his right hand, you lead him as best as you could, to the attic. He was wobbling around, his breaths shallow. 

A big red button labeled with ‘STAIRS’ was on a beam. You press it and watch as a pair of stairs slowly descend. You had trouble getting Ethan to the top of the stairs and into the attic. You hold onto his waist while he uses his right hand to prop himself up. You leave him at the top in case you have to get out quickly. Also, giving him the screwdriver to protect himself. 

Immediately, there was a white door to the right. It was dimly lit from a small lamp on a table. A box of ammunition was next to it and you took it, hesitantly. Near it, there was a M19 handgun. Observing it, there seemed to be nothing wrong with it. “OK, fine.” You sigh and take the gun. Back out, you look back to see Ethan closing his eyes, his chest rising slowly. 

You keep going further and enter a room full of mannequins. Some ammunition was lying around here and there and you would pocket anything you could find. 

A ladder, prepped up against the wall, had a small door near the top of the wall. You decide to check where it would lead before calling for Ethan. As you got closer, clattering and shoving was coming from behind the door. That same revving was getting closer and closer. You jump down from the ladder and begin to run where Ethan was. “Mr. Winters! Hide, now!” You yell as loud as you could, interrupted by Mia slashing down the wall next to you. She breaks down the wall with her body, trying to grab you. You instinctively kick her across the room and she falls with a grunt. Using the new handgun you found, you aim for her head. You don’t want to. The image of Mia lying cold on the floor comes back to you. The recoil makes your body stumble back. You shut your eyes as the report makes your ears ring.

“Everyone is relying on me. Everyone!” Mia yells. You run back into the room with the ladder, trying to avoid Mia from discovering Ethan. She comes back through the way you came in and you attempt to shoot again. Expecting the recoil, you flinch and miss the shot. She charges for you, and you nearly escape by falling backward. Crawling away, you hurriedly get up and run across the room. 

This time, you try not to focus on the kickback. Breathing deeply, you shoot two rounds. One for her head and another landed on her shoulder. She stumbles back, but bobs her head back straight away. Through gritted teeth, “I have to do this.” Mia cried. The chainsaw revs and she attempts to slash your head. 

Running for the room with the lamp, you quickly try to figure out how to reload the gun. The slide was open, showing the chamber had no bullets. From movies you’ve seen, you try to find a button to release the magazine. A small button on the handle grip catches your eye, and you press it. The magazine drops to the floor and you quickly grab a loaded one from your pocket. You could hear Mia slashing through another wall, so you hurriedly shove the magazine into the magazine well. Pulling back the slide, it snaps forward. Assuming that it cambered a round, you fired at her four times. She staggered forward, trying to maintain balance. The bullets that pierced her torso began to slowly bleed. She falls to her knees and faces you with a pleading look. With a raspy voice she muttered, “I love you,” and fell over to her left. 

She laid still. Blood gushed out of every gun wound and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You knew she could probably come back. But it still was horrifying, knowing you had the power to kill something, someone.

He could also be dead, from shock. You try not to imagine Ethan dying and leaving you here, or to keep going without him.

You also look down at your left hand. A gaping hole where Mia stabbed you. Something terrible has happened here. What the hell is going on? What did they do to Mia those three years?

You run over to Ethan, who is now wide awake, clutching onto the screwdriver. You help him up and get him down the stairs. He was springing with energy, able to support himself. Ethan desperately tries to find the way out of the place and you hold the gun steady to protect him. The soft pattering of footsteps goes unheard with the obnoxious footsteps Ethan was making. “Welcome to the family, child.” You feel a hand aggressively grab onto your shoulder, and a man punches you straight in the face, causing you to fall to the floor. Pain racks through your face and you drop the gun to the floor. You hear some yelling and tussling while your eyes are closed. Pushing through the pain, you try to grab on to the man’s leg. He tries to shake you off like a bug, but you persist and try to twist it. He kicks you off and bashes your face in with his leg in response. 

-

In some glimpses, you feel your body being dragged across the mud. A foreign view. Some hair was dangling in front of your face, and you saw another person being dragged along with you. Tiredness washes over you, and you give up on fighting and rest your eyes once more.

“C’mon.. don’t you die on us, now. You both have work to do.” A woman’s voice, a southern kind, wraps your hand in gauze. You recognize it as the lady’s voice on the phone. After she wraps you up, you hear rummaging and loud stapling next to you. Your head is extremely heavy. Something’s off. You can’t fight the urge to sleep.

But a horrid smell wakes you up. You try to get up but feel restraints pull you down. Turning to your left, you see an unconscious Ethan, who was also restrained. His hand was stapled back on, with a new wristwatch on. “What the hell?” You squeak out. Three people were in front of you. You guess a father, mother and son. Out of the corner of your eye, you see another figure. Still, and shriveled. She looked like she was rotting in the chair. The younger man throws something at your face, turning your attention away from the old woman. The smell was horrible, and you try not to recoil in disgust.

They all had that gray-toned skin that Mia had, and all looked miserable. The father, who was in the middle, was chugging down a beer and seemed the most calm out of the four. He was balding and had glasses on, like an average middle aged man. The mother was twitching and scratching her neck a few times. She was smiling wide, and her hair looked like it was thinning. The son had his hood up, not really staying still for long. Staring and creepily smiling in your direction.

There was so much meat, platted neatly on the table. The few candles create a nice orange hue over the meal. The meat looked unrecognizable, like something you’ve never eaten before. Not just that, but also parts that you’ve never seen normally. You deduce it to be human flesh. Tons of remains laid before you. Some rotted, boiled or fresh. You try not to freak out.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead. It’s time for supper.” The mother of the family finally speaks up. Her hands were shaking violently as she picked apart the ‘food’. She nibbles on the piece she ripped off.

“Who are all you people? What did you do to the Winters?” You ask. Ethan was still unconscious from the blow. Margueritte slams her hand onto the table to shut you up. She shoves the rest of the handful of remains into her mouth, while facing you.

“Eat it. It’s good.” She says in a sing-song voice, ignoring your question. 

“Dumb son of a bitch wouldn’t know good if it hit him!” The son throws a plate full of human flesh toward Ethan’s head. He stirs a bit, still not fully awake. 

“Lucas!” The mother scolds. She’s angry because of him disrespecting the food. He tries to assert himself and stands up. Suddenly, the older man grabs his son’s arm and stabs it in with a steak knife. He begins to cut through it, blood splattering everywhere. The arm was cut off clean, and he holds it in the air as the blood keeps oozing out.

“Goddamn, old man, not again!” It didn’t really sound like he was in pain, but rather utter annoyance. Jack throws the hand onto the floor with zero remorse.

“Get out the way, Marguerite.” He commands. She scoots in quickly, her body touching the table. “That child’s got to eat! They got to have their supper.” He grabs some meat with his bare hands and begins to approach your face. “Come here, child. Let’s do this, come on.” He grabs onto your shoulder, forcing you still. The smell was so bad, you could feel your stomach flipping. There was white intestine and some green brain inching closer to your mouth. You clamp your teeth tight as it nears, seeing the brain glisten from the candlelight. The veins were now a dark-ish green, it didn’t even look human anymore. You whimper from the thought of eating human remains, keeping your mouth shut as tight as you could. He tries to force the meat past your lips and he successfully pushes in. The force makes you open up your clamped teeth, allowing the human remains to properly enter your mouth. The meat lies on your tongue and you can’t help but retch. The feeling was so foreign and disgusting. It spat out onto the table, clanking onto the dirty plate in front of you. You cough as much as you can, trying to get rid of the feeling and smell.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shitーthey’re not eating it, Jack! They’re not eating it!” Marguerite yells and stands to point at you. You try to calm yourself down, but the yelling makes it harder to concentrate. Your mouth was slightly open, trying to not let your tongue touch the roof of the mouth. The rubbery feeling of the intestine stays on your tongue.

“Shut the hell up, Margueritte!”

“I made that for them!” She sobs. 

“Get the hell out of here!” He kicks her chair toward her and she screams in response.

“You’re a fucking bastard!” She points at you again and leaves, stomping. Lucas didn’t seem fazed, still holding up his handless arm in the air. Ethan was now fully awake from all the yelling, taking in his surroundings. Marguerite yells more incoherent insults before shutting the door. The ground shakes a bit from the force. Jack reaches over you to grab the food you spat out. 

“This was supposed to be a very special feast.” He shows the rotted brain to somehow prove his point. It was now all mushed up. Placing it softly back down onto the table, he slowly grabs a new knife. “Come here, child.” He coos. Jack slowly raises the knife, aiming for your mouth. His hand was on your shoulder again, but this time you fought. Your eyes grow wide and instinctively move your body to the left. He stabs your shoulder and you yell out in pain. You try to look down, avoiding Ethan’s face. You didn’t want to see what he was thinking. 

He twists whilst stabbing, and the pain you felt was nauseating. Ethan is yelling at the man to stop. After being satisfied with your squirms, he finally pulls out the knife. You breathe out in short breaths, trying to think of anything but the pain. Lucas was watching with glee, anticipating his father’s next move. “Come on now.” Jack says. He tries to cut into you again, but is interrupted by Ethan. He doesn’t hesitate to shove the knife into Ethan’s face and he cries out in great pain. It only lasts a few seconds, to your relief. Jack would’ve kept going, but the doorbell rings. 

“God damn it. I bet it’s that cop again.” Lucas stands to go inspect the sound.

“Goddamn pigs!” Jack says. He looks up, then lets out a big sigh. He sternly points toward you. “I’m coming back for you.” His eyes darted toward Ethan, then back to you. Your breaths were shallow and fast. You look around and see the grandma still sitting there, still as an object. You watch him close the door and immediately start to thrash around. Ethan flinches, surprised by your outburst. 

Falling to the floor, the chair you were in breaks on impact. The rope around your hands burns from the pulling but you’re determined. Once free, you grab that steak knife from earlier and cut Ethan’s restraints. The blood makes your hands clammy.

He crouches down and embraces you. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re okay, we’re okay and we’ll get out of here... Somehow." Ethan says. You’re convinced he’s trying to soothe himself, with those words. 

He pours First Aid Med onto your open wound and it stings real bad. It took a lot not to show it on your face. “I’m so sorry for bringing you here.” Your mouth felt dirty. You couldn’t respond at that moment. Not saying anything, you just shake your head side to side. Trying to show that Ethan shouldn’t feel guilty. 

You keep the knife in your hand, in case you need to use it. The blood from Lucas stains your hand. You both quietly roam around the halls, carefully checking and listening for any sound. The more you ventured into the house, the more paranoid you got. “Some sort of locked trapdoor. Maybe we can go through here?” Ethan whispers. He touches the door, looking through the cracks to see a way in. Before you could leave, Jack barges into the room, armed with a shovel.

“Thought you’d just slip out before dinner was done?” Ethan shields you with his arm, slowly backing away. When the timing was right, you both evaded Jack. But he grips onto Ethan’s shoulder, turning him back around. Jack attempts to scratch Ethan, but he blocks with his bare arms. He motions for you to go and you follow his orders. You could hear maniacal laughter followed by Ethan’s frantic footsteps. 

While Ethan was preoccupied with Jack, you try to search for the key. It all seemed too quiet, until an arm holding a shovel suddenly burst out through the wall. Jack’s body breaks through, the wall crumbling behind him. “I was so worried about you.” He shouts. You immediately turn around, trying to avoid him. “You’re wasting your time.” He physically grabs your face, forcefully turning you towards him. His face was scaringly close, feeling his breath on your skin. “You came to the wrong house, child.” He hits you with the shovel and you fall to the floor. He raises his shovel into the air, stabbing it straight down into your right leg. It only pierces halfway through. A blood curdling yell leaves your lips. He brings it back up and down again, exactly where it was before. Putting his whole body weight on top of the shovel, it goes through clean. The bottom half of your leg flings back and blood spews out of the gashing wound. Your yelling is muffled through your teeth but still leaks through. “Poor thing.” He sings out. 

Jack grabs onto your bleeding leg and feels your blood gushing out. It wasn’t a heinous act or anything, but you felt disgusting. He uses the same hand to push your body fully on the ground. He walks leisurely a couple feet away from you and crouches down. You push yourself back up and flip yourself onto your stomach. You army crawl over to your cut off leg and grab it. Your arms were tired and the leg in your hand didn’t help with the crawling. 

He sets down a green bottle onto the floor, “You can use this to fix your leg. You can do it.” Jack laughs a little, observing your move. He was making you so unbelievably angry that he wasn’t frightening to you anymore. You breathe out deeply with every attempt at getting closer. You snatch it before he could try anything. Propping yourself up, you stick the leg back on and pour the liquid. This bottle looked different than the regular ones. “You better now?” 

You clench your mouth as you hold it in place. Your leg slowly starts to reattach to your body. “What the fuck!” You move it around, hoping it would fall off like a normal human being. Maybe this First Aid Med has healing agents in it? lt’s able to reattach because of the liquid, right? You collect yourself and try walking on the leg. It hurt, but you could walk and had full control over your foot in mere seconds. 

“You… better… run… Here’s Daddy!” Why was he attacking you and helping you next, then attacking again? You dash out, limping slightly with every push on your right leg.

Looping through the kitchen and back near where Jack tore the wall down, the key was resting on a little table. It was just the hallway away. Ethan got there before you, grabbing the key. He was about to yell out your name but you waved your arms to make him stop. You both quietly creep over to the trapdoor, avoiding any noise. 

The sound of Ethan opening it was heard. “Found ya!” Jack exclaims. You let Ethan in first, quickly hopping in after, locking it behind you. “Have fun under there. I’m gonna come back for you later.” You flop onto the floor in exhaustion. 

“The screaming, are you okay? Where did you go?” He looks down to see blood all over your leg and a clear line through it. “Holy hellーWhat happened?” His face was littered with worry and guilt. He touches your leg to see if it was okay. It was a different kind of touch than Jack’s did, Ethan only had your wellness in mind.

“What’s happening to me, Mr. Winters?.” You stare at the cut. He seems distraught by your question. He only sighs before standing up, not able to answer your question. What did Ethan think of you?

“Just, rest up a bit.” Ethan goes off first and searches every nook and cranny for some tools. Looking at the cut consumes you with thought. Were you like those people now? You sigh and touch your face for comfort. Your hands were covered in dry blood and it was honestly frightening. 

You decide you can’t ‘dilly-dally’ any longer and help. It was huge, underground. Never seen a crawlspace this big. You follow a yellow wire that leads back up. You grab onto the ledge of the hole and pull yourself up. It was an old laundry room. Looked like laundry hadn't been done in a while. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you smell the socks hanging from a rack. They really stink! You thought. 

You find some more bottles of First Aid Med and grab them for future uses. Useful things were lying everywhere and you grabbed what could fit in your backpack. It was all soaked in blood now and you doubt the chips you packed weren’t crushed. Your pistol from before was in there. Maybe Zoe put it in there? You pocket the gun in your back pants-pocket. You try to use an old rag off the washing machine to wipe off the blood, but it was already stained. The slightly dirty rag was now drenched in blood. You toss it back into the washing machine and close the lid. The bag no longer wet, you were satisfied. Familiar ringing goes off, and you notice a black touch-tone phone is going off and you pick it up.

“You did good, Y/N.” She says. You know Zoe’s probably the only thing that can help you, but you can’t help but be suspicious. How does she know your name? From Mia?

“What the fuck are theseー” You try question her but she cuts you off rather harshly. Does she not know, or is she hiding things from you?

“Shut up and listen if you want to stay alive.” You make a face. Being commanded by someone you didn’t know made you annoyed. “You gotta get out of that house. There might be a way out through the main hall. And that thing on his hand is a codex.”

“That doesn’tー” answer my question. She hangs up before you could ask anything more. You click your tongue in annoyance, “A hell-of-a-girl..” You whisper. You look for Ethan, and he was in the halls. “She says to go through the main hall.” Yelling ever so slightly, so Ethan could hear. You open up the steel door, which leads back to where you were before. You sigh at the sight.

-

“Fuck!” You yell out. Looking at the father and deputy’s bodies, a chill runs through your body. Jack’s head is now bits, all over the floor and the deputy’s decapitated head lays cruelly on the floor. The warmth of the flames start to creep up on you, realizing that the fire is spreading. Ethan had crashed a car into a pole, which led to an explosive fire. He nearly had himself killed.

That deputy could’ve been your ticket out of here and he was dead. You try not to remember, but the image of the shovel going through the man’s head was stuck in yours. It was that same shovel Jack used to cut off your leg. You try to shake it off and meet Ethan at the top of the ladder. He shoves a shelf to the side and reveals a drop down. You are worried about your leg but figure you’re just going to have to suck it up.

He lets you down first, dropping with a grunt. Not waiting up for Ethan, you open the door, where it leads back to the first floor area again. You feel like you’re going around in circles. Ringing, another phone call. You search for the sound and come across another black phone. “Did my daddy give you a hard time?” 

“That’s your father?” You say, in disbelief. How were you going to break the news that you, sort of, killed him?

“He used to be.”

“I’m sorry… but he’s, uh, he’s dead now.” You confess. But, ‘used to be?’ As in, she doesn’t view him as a Father anymore or she knows you killed him? She scoffs on the other end.

“You just might be able to pull this off.”

“What? Pull what off?” You were scared this was all her big deliberate plan, but it was unlikely.

“There’s something I need you to do, but I can’t explain it right now. You may need some sort of keys to do it, but find a way out of the house. I’ll be in touch.” The long beep brings you back to reality. You softly clank the phone back and rub your face to cool off. You grab the newspaper that was next to it and see what it was about. ‘Over 20 missing in 2 years’ as the headline. Could be 22 by tomorrow. You sigh and crumple the first page.

-

The nearest front door was of no use. With windows boarded and other doors being locked as well, it seemed like there was no obvious way out.

You and Ethan tread the Baker’s household quietly. No sign of Mia or those mysterious phone calls. The house was never ending somehow. Although you were looking for a way out, you were also searching for materials. Anything that could keep you two alive. Every stray bullet or bottle of first aid fluid, you would pick up. 

You open a bathroom door to a weirdly placed bathtub. It was right in the middle of the room, with ample space around it. It holds murky black water and you decide to drain it. Not that you wanted to, but there was an urge to. Your hand slips into the water, feeling achy from your disgust. You search for the plug and pull on the ball and chain. It gulps down the water and you swish your hand around in the water. You got over the feeling of disgust. Oddly enough, the water felt soothing; you were drawn to it. 

As the water level slowly goes down, it reveals mold sticking all over the bottom. It only clung, not moving. You felt this sort of connection to the mold. You try to touch the mold, but hear quiet footsteps growing near. Ethan tries to usher you to leave, opening the door. But is met with Jack, his head still not fully recovered. His brain was pumping, mold covering some parts of it. Ethan puts his arms up to prepare for a hit. Instead, Jack raises Ethan from the neck and stares at him, Ethan struggling helplessly. “Heck of a thing, ain’t it? Sure as shit beats the hell out of dying.” Jack says, noticing both your stares at his head. You act fast, shooting him in the brain area. Blood splatters all over the walls and Ethan. He throws Ethan in frustration and goes after you. “She has given us a gift, and this gift is with me always.” Gift? She? Who is ‘She’? You assume it’s not Margueritte or Zoe. You think back at the dining table, to your dismay. An older figure, not moving. Her? Or maybe it’s Mia?

Ethan picks himself up and you both run for it. Jumping down the stairs and pretty far from Jack. “As you can see, the family is only a part of her gift.” You could hear him boldly talk through the walls. “Whichーin a wordーmeans, you’re fucked.” You lean on the wall in exhaustion and put all your body weight onto it. The wall acts as a door and you yelp from the sudden movement. 

A hidden door. “What the hell?” You prop yourself onto your elbows, looking at the weird door. “Who builds this shit?” You say, under your breath. You scratch your head in annoyance and amusement. Ethan comes jogging over to your yelp.

“What happeー” He stares at the open wall and sighs. He helps you up and check out the pathway. Ethan was holding a shotgun, you wonder how he got it. Before you could ask, he begins the inch closer to the open wall. It was dark and narrow, but your only shot at getting out. “Worth a shot.” Ethan says. He goes in first, making sounds from being squished so tightly. “Who builds this shit?” He sighs. You snicker a bit from the coincidence. You close the wall behind, making the hidden hallway pitch black. 

It led to a hidden bedroom. It was scattered with a bunch of notes and photographs of people. You picked one up and read its contents. 

June 14 

Vacationing Husband and Wife 

The Husband was a success. He’s the 12th. Unfortunately, the Wife was no good, so we’ll just get rid of her. 

July 7

3 college girls

They’re all rottenーLucas is a damn idiot.

August 13

Homeless man

Turned in 3 days. He’s the 13th.

What the hell? Was the Son involved with experimenting on people with this mold? You look up at the pictures on the wall with people. Were they all victims?

The room was full of hunted items. A deer head on the wall, several antlers littered the room and even a fully taxidermied deer was on display. You let Ethan thoroughly check the room first, leaving you to admire the deer. Its beady eyes stare back into yours. 

Every corner is left searched and he nods after being content. He leads the way toward a door with some black goo on it. It was spilling out from the cracks of the door. You can’t help but feel it screamed dangerous. It opens up to a small smoke-filled room, with a singular foldable chair and table as furniture. No light. There’s more mold lining the walls, if anything, the whole room was covered in it.

It shuffles in the darkness. You try to peer at it closer. There’s faint gurgling and it starts to get louder. Part of the wall with mold, a figure starts to emerge. “What the?” Ethan says. It swipes for the both of you, but staggers out of the wall, causing it to miss. You were barely able to comprehend what happened, as Ethan led you out quickly. There was light again and finally, unfamiliar halls and no mold.

Without thinking, you head down a flight of stairs that went into the basement. The stairs were covered in mold. You’ve seen nothing like that figure since being trapped in this house. The further you went down, the more mold started to appear on the walls. Opening the basement door, it reveals an infestation far worse than anything you’ve seen so far. The roots were thick and you could barely see the cement walls. Your eyes strain from the obnoxious fluorescent lighting. 

Turning the corner, that thing from before comes out of nowhere. Your breath hitches from the sudden encounter. It had long claws and was made up of strings of mold. You start to shoot at its head. You didn’t really know if bullets would work on it, but it would screech from the hits. It had a humanoid shape and walked with a slouch. The resemblance it had with a human wasn’t helping. It flops onto the floor. 

You keep trekking in further, zipping through the corners of the hall. Stopping at a green, rusted, foldable fence, Ethan pulls it back with all his might. It didn’t screech as much as you thought it would. A couple steps in, you stop. That smell again. Decomposing flesh was on racks and fresh meat on a cutting board. Your head was pounding. That feeling in your mouth was back again. You cover your mouth and try not to think.

Thumping from above you is what made you go out of your trance. You looked around and it wasn’t Ethan making the noises. A loud bang comes from behind you and your head whips towards the sound. Another mold monster. It slumps onto its head from the fall. It uses its arms to get itself up and begins to drag itself over to you. Ethan shoots with perfect accuracy, but it shields itself with its arm. Ethan goes in circles around the table with the meat, repeatedly shooting until it stops moving. 

One after another, they would keep coming. You both just run and run until you find a door and close the monsters out. It was a small room with metal shelves preventing you from getting anywhere. You peer through the gaps of the shelves and see a door, and try to tell Ethan you’d found something. “Mr. Wー” Out of nowhere, a hand grabs an item where you were looking through. Seemingly, trying to give you a spook. Your breath hitches and you try to keep quiet. Ethan puts his hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

“No-no-no-no-no-no-no. I will find them and I will make them suffer.” The father leaves through the door and it slams shut. How many times will this guy keep coming back? You sigh out in relief. Ethan lets go of you and opens the door.

Trying to escape the mold monsters, you didn’t have time to take a look around your new surroundings. Looking around closely, there was a door within the walls of the corridor. The creaking brings Ethan to come. It opens to a place with iron bars and the atmosphere feels off. There was a small pair of stairs, which led to a slightly elevated floor. 

Right of the top, there was a door that was somewhat ajar. You peek through and recognize the familiar shelf. Instead it was where the father was standing. You look through to see where you were mere seconds ago. If it were you, you would’ve been able to see if there was somebody behind there. Perhaps, he was too preoccupied with his thoughts. 

You enter with caution and immediately see a body bag hanging from the ceiling. You turn back around to leave, but see a sight. You didn’t notice the deputy hanging while on the other side.

“Poor deputy…” Ethan’s face contorts into sadness. He holds the pocket knife the man gave him. You try not to stare too long at his body. The blood from him runs along the walls, his body looked worse than it did at the garage. There were other hooks in the room, you try not to imagine other victims hanging on them.

Going deeper into the main area, there was a body hanging from the ceiling, in a bag. Just like the one in the room with the deputy. The place was elevated higher and you peered down to see if there were any mold beings. It looked like some sort of arena. “Y/N!” Ethan calls out. A hand grabs your face and turns you around. It had to be Jack, he’s done it before. You were expecting his face to be stupidly close, but it wasn’t. He kicks you down onto the first floor. 

You fall directly onto your back; it throbs tremendously and you gurgle out in pain. Ethan struggles above, trying to stop Jack from going after you. You struggle to get back up but push through, propping yourself onto your elbows. 

He jumps down with a comically large ax, towering over you. He swings up and you prepare for the worst, putting your arms up to block your face. But Ethan jumps down onto Jack’s back, stabbing him with the pocket knife. He seemed unfazed, but the more Ethan slashed at him, the more he started to curl into himself. He mumbles in a very low voice, incoherently. Suddenly, Jack uses his left hand to grab Ethan by the arm and throws him off. He hits his head on a pole and doesn’t get back up. 

You were scared. The pain in your back was unforgiving, but you couldn’t afford to die here. You forced yourself up, despite your body yelling at you not to. You pour medical aid onto your hand and throw the empty bottle at Jack face. His face has shards of glass stuck, and all he does is adjust his glasses. The place where his brain was poking out was now healed, and bald. Lazily grabbing for the gun in your back pocket, you try to make a menacing stance. You try aiming for that bald spot.

“That gunーit’s not going to work the way you think it will.” He fell to the floor and you could see his brain pulsating again. Again, he didn’t seem in pain. 

You back up and slam into something that was hanging. Another dead body. You seriously couldn’t believe that this was happening. Shutting your eyes tightly, you try to console yourself. You had to protect Ethan. 

Jack pulls away at a wired cage, another body, with a chainsaw sticking out of it. Jack grabs a different weapon but you quickly go behind him to grab the chainsaw. His was a large pincer, with a motor. “Groovy.”

“That is not groovy.” You manage to remark between breaths. He charges forward with full speed, noticing the chainsaw in your hand. 

“That’a child, that’s the ticket!” He laughs. You try to block the blow with the chainsaw but your hand gets caught in the strike. It was a sharp and quick jolt of pain. Your hand was still connected to your arm but there was blood all over it. You form a claw shape with your hand to check if it is still mobile. It hurt.

You circle around the hanging body and attack Jack from behind. He curls from the slashes but turns around to hit you. Holding the chainsaw up, you counter his attack and push him to the floor. His head erupts and exposed parts of his head reappear. You take this chance and ram the chainsaw into it. Blood and mysterious light brown liquid gush out of his head. It splatters all over the bottom half of your body, staining your clothes even further. “You are gonna get it now!” He stands up whilst you keep pushing the chainsaw into this head. He bonks you with the pincers and you feel blood seep out of your head. It trickles down to your left eye, and let it drip off your eyelash. You keep running around, maintaining distance, while occasionally getting slashes in. When you pay attention to his head once more, it was back to normal. 

Using the hanging body, you push it into him. It rams into him, making him stumble a few steps back. With him stunned, you jam in the chainsaw into his face, tugging downward. His head starts to split into two, and his bones make it harder to go down. His arms trying to reach out for the chainsaw to make you stop. His yells make you hyper aware of what you were doing. You were killing this man. 

He tries to get away and pushes you, his head pulsating again. Sparring no time, you stab into his brain once more. Pulling the chainsaw out and back in again, in another spot. The chainsaw stops abruptly, getting stuck in Jack’s head. “What’s the matter? Outta juice?” He says, unfazed. Jack tries to stand up, but you yank on the pull cord, adding pressure into the chainsaw. He yells and you continue to pull the cord rhythmically, until it gets going. It revs up and you continue down his face. He pushes you off and he explodes. His blood covers your face and you close your eyes from the sudden contact. Your eyes open to a pair of legs attempting to walk forwards. You nudge it with your chainsaw and it flops to the ground. 

You sit there stunned for a bit, not moving. You blink quickly a few times to soak in the new situation. Helping yourself up, you look down onto the pair of legs. “Do me a favor and justーjust stay dead.” You say, quietly. Hoping he’ll hear your weak pleading. 

Sitting on the ground, you pour First Aid Med onto your hand. You look at your bloodied hand, mixed with the aid. It drips onto the floor, and softly makes dripping sounds. With the wet hand, you touch your face. It was cold and comfortably soothing. Closing your eyes, you breathe out deeply. What did you do? Mia, and now him? You stare at the still legs. You didn’t feel real. Looking around at the damage, you snap out of your trance. Ethan. You scramble over to his unconscious body and rock him back and forth. He stirs a bit before jolting awake and grabs his head. “I don’t think he’ll bother us for a while now.” You say. He peers over to the torso-less legs. He seems to relax a bit from the sight. Ethan slumps and opens his arms. His tired gesture but caring eyes make you emotional. You dive into them and let the hug take over. It only lasts a few seconds before you break it. It just felt wrong, being able to hug like that after doing something ‘unthinkable.’ Helping Ethan up, you grab the chainsaw again and try to open the door. He wipes off the blood from your face.

“No, let me, Y/N.” Ethan takes the chainsaw from you and begins to cut through the metal. He cuts through the metal but the chainsaw’s blade cleanly comes off with it. “Whoops…” He laughs, a bit embarrassed. You only stare at him.

Finding your way back upstairs to the main area, you find an entrance that seemed to be a normal front door. Excited, you speed up. A possible way out. Before turning the knob, you feel a hand on your hip. “What is it, Mr. Winters?” You turn to see the grandma from the dining table. “Shit!” You exclaim. Her hair covered her eyes, making you unable to make out her facial expression. You swear she wasn’t there before. The grandma slumps back into her chair and stops moving. You couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. She was as still as a statue. And, she wasn’t attacking, so you didn’t care too much. Still, it was eerie. You decide to just leave her there, not knowing if she was a threat or not. 

The door did in fact open to the outdoors. You took in a deep breath to breathe in the fresh air. The house was all musky from, presumably, the mold. 

There was a white trailer right in front of you and you headed straight in. It was bright and lively. Albeit, it was a bit dirty, but way more kept up than the house was. In a closet, a bra was hanging from a hanger. A clue, that this place was probably the person calling you with the phone. Speaking of which, there was another touch-tone phone. Waiting for it to go off, you explore the trailer. On the right, there was a fridge, with a table next to it that looked like a booth. Soft, yellow lighting made the place homey. It was different from the blinding lights from the basement. On the left was a single bed. You drop your bag onto the floor and flop onto it, not bothering about permission. You close your eyes, but don’t fall asleep. Trying to relax, you take deep breaths. With everything that’s happened, this place felt like a safe haven. You would stay here if you could.

Familiar ringing brings your attention to the phone. You slowly get up from Zoe’s bed and lazily walk over to the phone. “You made it. You’re the first I’ve ever seen make it this far.” Her statement does not make you happy whatsoever. 

“So, what is it you need me to do? Is it gonna help us get outta here?”

“Yes, now listen carefully, Y/N.” Zoe pauses briefly. “My family and I… our bodies are contaminated. I can’t leave the property unless I get it out. Same goes for Mia.”

“Is there a way to get it out?” 

“We need the serum. It should clear whatever this stuff is out of the body. As long as you’re not too far gone.” If that was true, why didn’t she just make the serum herself? But, you try not to be a smartass over the phone.

“Alright, so where is it?”

“If I knew where one was I’d already be long gone. But I have a feeling my mother has hidden some inside the old house somewhere.” Slightly irritated from her answer, you sigh. 

“So if we get this thing, I can help Mrs. Winters and we can get outta here?” You start to reach for your bag with your foot. One of the straps gets caught on your leg and you bring it over to the foot of the counter the phone was on. Ethan slowly opens the door behind you, and sits himself down at the table.

“Right, and so can I. The old house is near the waterーyou can’t miss it.”

“Alright…” You say, weary. You pick up the backpack and sling it over your right shoulder. You see Ethan moving in the corner of your eye.

“I just hope you can handle my mother.”

“Your mother?” She was the one who made all that ‘food’. If she was giving you a warning for her, then she must be worse than the father. You touch the left side of your face to stop worrying.

“Be careful. They’ll be lookin’ for ya.” You put the phone back down and see Ethan sitting at the table again, reading some notes. You wonder how long until Zoe will become like the others. Or maybe the mold doesn’t have a concrete way of infecting people. Maybe people react differently with the mold?

He puts the papers down once you get close. “She said the ingredients might be in the old house.” You say. He gets up and immediately holds the shotgun to his chest. He leads the way to the place. It was hidden within the trees, behind a gated entrance. It was unlocked, and opened to a narrow boardwalk. It had a wooden roof and walls, making you feel caged in. Baby dolls were strung up on the walls, in all types of directions. The wood was all old and molded, they looked as though they could break at any time. 

The front double doors were huge and opened up to a room full of bugs. They were not normal sized and appeared to be some sort of bee. In general, you didn’t necessarily hate bugs, but these were the size of your hand. Ethan switched to the pocket knife and sliced the bugs attacking you. Nests hung from the ceilings of all rooms. They looked like strings of mold sewn together, similar to the mold beings. Buzzing and swarming were all you could hear. You try to walk as slow as you could, so as to not disturb the bugs.

‘She’s upstairs. Don’t go up.’ was written on a wall near the stairs. You couldn’t tell if it was blood or paint. Looking around the room, there weren’t any stairs nearby. Maybe Zoe or a person before you wrote this?

You progress deeper into the first floor of the house. The bugs would occasionally be able to sneak up on you and bite. It felt like energy was being drained out of you. Your eyes would feel heavy and breathing would be difficult. Ethan would slash at the man-eating insects and they would explode instantly. Yellow liquid would spew out and a nasty smell would follow. Ethan grabs onto your arm while slashing as best as he could. 

The bugs became attracted to the smell of their brethren’s blood. As they swarm and Ethan could not keep up, he pulls your arm and runs. Hurrying out to the veranda, you could breathe in fresh air. You stare out and realize you were on the boardwalk again. The man-eating insects buzz angrily at the door, and they attempt to sting at it as well. This house had the same musty smell as the other one did. Ethan also sighs out in relief. 

The water was eerily still. Sometimes a puddle fly will move and there would be a small ripple. You felt at peace with these bugs. They were just normal, not being controlled. There were no man-eating bugs out here, so far. You feel the bite marks on your neck.

While you admire the insects, Ethan scavenges for items. There were multiple trash bins scattered about. His eye catches on a particular one, which had some sort of contraption sticking out of it. He takes it and inspects it further, wiping off the dust off it. Ethan keeps it, making you think he has some sort of a plan for it. 

Staying on the boardwalk, you both head toward the small shack to the left, that was lit with candles. An empty backpack sat on the molded table, presumably from a former victim.

He puts the contraption inside the backpack and hangs the shotgun onto it. You peer out onto the water again and see other places outside that connect to the house via boardwalks. Your best bet at finding supplies while avoiding the bugs and Marguerite. Nothing was connected from where you were, so you would need to head back inside. Ethan slowly steps out of the shack and gives you a small thumbs up.

Feeling a bit prepared, you both decide to head back inside. You hadn't even noticed a projector sitting there, facing a wall. Which was odd, since nothing seemed to be operating with electricity in the old house. Before you could properly inspect it, bugs came out of nowhere and began to swarm you. Ethan swung the knife around while sprinting forward. You try to stick as close as you could to him and avoid being stung. 

Heading into the kitchen, he finds a door with a glass window. He takes his chances and goes through the door and is met with the outside again. Some bugs were there, but not nearly as much as the inside. He jogs into the closest shack and shuts the door quickly. Melted candles were the only light source. It seemed that was the only way things were lit in the old house. 

A burner nozzle laid on the table. You assume it could be assembled with the component from earlier. He assembles it like you thought he would, and inspects it thoroughly. “I’m not sure if I built it completely right, so stay a bit back, OK?” You nod and do as you’re told. He goes outside and aims at one of the bug nests near the crates on the boardwalk. It goes up in flames, but bugs start to swarm out of it, trying to find its attacker. Ethan proceeds to hose them down with more fire, and they all fall, burnt to a crisp. 

Returning inside and back to the kitchen, there were some items you missed but thought could be useful. Some chem fluid and more First Aid Med. 

Ethan decides to open a molded door connected to the kitchen. As if waiting, the bugs swarm out attacking you and Ethan. You try and swat them away with the chem fluid bag, and Ethan goes further in, destroying the nest. There was another and Ethan attempted to torch it also, but there were too many bugs. “Down here!” You say. A small crawl space was made in the fireplace. You go in and see it leads to a basement. You push the door open and shut it as soon as Ethan goes in.

The room was again dimly lit with a few candles, your eyes immediately landing on a table. You try to reach for whatever was on it until, “Y/N?” It was Mia’s voice. You look behind a fenced off hallway and see Mia standing there, in front of an open door. She comes up to it and grabs on. Mia looked happy to see you. She notices Ethan behind you too. “Ethan.” She breathes out. He stands in front of you, slightly hiding you behind himself.

“No more bullshit, Mia. I want some answers.” Her face became concerned. 

“I know. I know. You’re right. And I always wanted to tell youー” She shakes her head and looks down, “but, I justーI can only remember a little and the rest is just gone!” Lucas comes out of nowhere and grabs Mia, and holds her tight. Ethan gasps and grabs onto the fence. 

“Ethan, right? You mind if I borrow her for a little bit?” He backs up and drags Mia with him. “Well don’t just stand thereーdo something!” He reaches for the doorknob and slowly closes the door, with Mia struggling under his grip.

“Ethan, Y/N! Help!” She manages to scream out before Lucas closes the door.

“Dammitー” Ethan grits his teeth and goes back where the bugs were. He gets ready to fire, and unleashes it onto the nests and bugs, releasing pent up anger. The nest on the ceiling falls to the floor after the fire goes out. 

You try to exit through the molded door again, but feel a weight behind it. “Stay the fuck out!” Her face was oddly calm while her voice was raspy and yelling. Marguerite closes the door and summons spiders to appear all over the door. They jump at you, crawling over your arms and body. They didn’t bite but the feeling of a million legs had you thrashing around. You aggressively swat them off of your body and release a deep breath out. 

The creaking from her lantern could be heard if dead silent. You try to tiptoe around the house to avoid her. Occasionally hiding if too close. “I told you to get out! It’s mine.” She yells out, at nobody. Ethan’s body was sticking out behind the crates and was visible. You mentally smack your face. She again summons insects to go attack you after she notices. You try to run back to the previous room, but the spiders were still on the molded door. ”Alright, you pieces of shitーI’ve had enough of you.” Her yelling was muffled through the walls. She was much more crass with her words than the father was. 

Your eyes meet with Marguerite again, and she laughs maniacally while releasing more bugs. As you start to run further away, her laughs turn into weird yells. Incoherent, and sounded painful. 

Running back into the room with the projector, your feet get caught under the rug. You fall straight for the wall where the projector was shining on. Bracing for the impact, you bring your hands up trying to protect your face. Instead, you lean forward and a loud rumbling follows. You look up to see it’s one of those hidden doors again. Ethan helps you up and pushes you in lightly. “Hurry!” He pushes the door shut, and you try your best to adjust your eyes to the darkness. You could hear faint crawling of something, but don’t think about it.

Slowly, you proceed through the narrow pathway and see bugs crawling all over. That was what was crawling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You panic, under muttered breaths. There were centipedes, millipedes and silverfish on the walls, the ones you absolutely want to be surrounded by. “JesusーFuck.” You stop as some fall from the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, you take big strides out. You hope Ethan doesn’t hear your swearing. 

The very end was a dead end, but the wall your body was facing had a gap through it. You fall forward, stepping out with the small thump. The room had stairs and a gap in the floor, preventing you from getting over. These stairs must be the one the wall was warning you about. Since Marguerite was probably someplace else, you decide it's safe. You go up the stairs with caution and see a dead crow plastered on the door. It was hung up with pins like how butterflies would be. A note was also pinned to the side on the doorframe. 

Zoe, 

You tried to sneak up to the second floor again, didn’t you?! Did you think I wouldn’t notice?!?! Even after what happened to Grandmother, you just keep talking about some strange medicine. And what are you planning to do with my altar? You better keep those sticky hands off of it! Nobody touches my sacred altar!

You think your father and I are idiots?! You spoiled pathetic child…

I wish you’d NeVEr been born. UnforGIVably pathetic yet always lookingDOWN on uS aNd trying to Leave our HOME! After EVERYthing WE’VE done for YOU… Pathetic PATHETICpathetic pathetic…

If you EVER even touch my altar I’ll slice off your chest and serve it up as potroast…

You make a face. You couldn’t imagine the people you love talking to you like that. You felt really bad for Zoe. You tried to open the door, but it was locked. 

Returning to the main area, the hole in the ground had a rope contraption in front of it. All it needed was some sort of handle to retract the rope. You look around for anything that could be, but instead you find a hole next to the stairs within the wall, sort of lit up. You venture in despite Ethan’s quiet protests. The crawlspace reminded you of the one in the other house. Staying in a crouched position, you move little by little. 

Pushing past a crate, you find a crank. You’re a bit surprised by how easy it was to find. You turn back around, and hear familiar buzzing. A bug sitting there, innocently. You sneak up behind it as quietly as you could and stomp on it. Its yellow-blood gets all over your shoe. You felt cold.

Ethan was waiting for you and helped you up. “I got it.” You say, showing him with great accomplishment, the crank and place it onto the device. You push and pull and feel immense weight each time you row. A plank starts to slowly rise, creating a bridge where the hole previously was. Before you cross over, you rethink other places you haven’t explored. The boardwalk. Outside, there was one shack you couldn’t get to. You carefully take out the crank, afraid the bridge would collapse without it. To your luck, it stayed.

The room was connected to the wall with the red lettering, so you made a run for the veranda. “You got no business being out here!” Marguerite says, hearing your footsteps. Bursting through the door, your eyes search the area for an unsearched shack. The place where Ethan previously burned down a nest, had one. It had the same crank contraption next to it. You quickly attach it and begin to heave. Just like in the house, out of the water, a bridge started to slowly lift up. It was much heavier this time, with the weight of the water and the bridge being longer. You puff out your chest, clenching your teeth and push.

You hurriedly walk over to the shack. There was a small sink, with an empty bottle of First Aid Med sitting in there.  The door opens with a swing. This shack was considerably smaller, and you realize, it was supposed to be a bathroom. Another sink was to your left, and in front of you was a toilet filled with trash. On top of that trash had burner fuel, which you thought Ethan could use.

A shiny box was on top of a rollable shelf, and you hesitantly opened it. Inside it, it had a makeshift key with a crow’s skull tied onto it. The key to that door. You shove it into your pocket and slowly close the chest. Again, you swing the door open, to find Ethan keeping watch of the perimeter. You throw him the fuel and he happily accepts your find. 

This time, you tread carefully through the house. There was nowhere you could confidently make a break for. 

The house was eerily quiet, but she wasn’t anywhere in your vision or hearing. Ethan had your back covered, confident you both were safe. The crow door was growing near and you mentally prepared yourself for what could be behind that door. You would be lying if you said you weren’t thinking up the worst to come.

Slowly going up the small stairs, you reach for the doorknob; with Ethan right behind. Marguerite was patiently waiting for you to come back, hidden within the shadows. “I told you to stay out of here.” She grabs onto your shoulders and shoves you hard. Your body hits Ethan on the head and falls to the foot of the stairs. You go flying toward the middle of the room and land on your hip. You groan out in discomfort, squeezing your eyes shut tight. Your body starts to ache and you wonder, how much more damage could it take? 

The floor starts to crack and wood starts to break apart. You wanted to move, but your body was tired. You were tired. The ground rumbles and the floor from under you breaks away. Out of instinct, you grab onto the ledge. Your fingers were barely hanging on, with just the tips of your fingers holding your weight. 

The section of wood you were grabbing onto was not sturdy and snapped off. You try to grab onto something but it is no use. You prepare for the worst, but land almost instantly. Landing on your back and you immediately suck in. You tried to breathe out, but you couldn’t. Panicking from your inability to breathe, you mentally tell yourself to calm down. Not being able to touch your face was upsetting, but you nonetheless keep trying to breathe calmly. You manage to get out tiny breaths. Your body felt weak. Rolling over to your side, you try to shake off the feeling of being afraid. Pushing yourself onto your knees, you feel the ground. You’re okay. 

Marguerite kicks Ethan out of the way and she peers down at you, holding her lantern out to see you better. Still fazed, your chest was rising up and down while you looked back up at her. 

Slowly pulling out your gun, you shoot for her face. She doesn’t budge from the three shots. “Alright, you little cocksucker, let’s get down to business.” You try not to pause from her comment. You aim your anger at her, shooting anywhere you could land. 

“I’m fifteen!” You mutter out. Ethan grabs onto her, and makes her fall backwards. You couldn’t see her, but she summons her bugs to attack you while she is distracted. 

You don’t waste your bullets. Instead, you pull out whatever you had, which was a first aid bottle, and swing. Most of the bugs explode from impact. 

Your swatting gets sluggish from every bite. That feeling of immense tiredness washes over you. Through your lidded eyes, you try to attack anything that is moving. You squish them with the first aid bottle, crushing them into the walls. 

Ethan throws down his flamethrower while fighting the mother. The sound of it landing surprises you, snapping you out of your haze. She releases even more bugs after you, “Eat well, my pretties!” She exclaims. You aim and release. Torching them all down, Marguerite grunts in frustration. This time she sends the hurd after Ethan, leaving you and Marguerite alone. “You think you can waltz in here and have your way with my family?” You furrow your brows and aim the flamethrower at her face, not thinking. As the fire gains contact with her, she starts to crackle. Her clothes begin to burn away at a fast rate. She screams in great pain and thrashes in the fire. You look up again, mortified at what you’ve done. The father, and now her? You hate what this place is doing to you, changing your mind and body. You don’t feel the same anymore. 

Your breath wavering, as she suddenly stops. She leans back and drops her lantern in the pit. You move to the side and let it hit the floor. The sound of it hitting the ground makes your skin itch. She reaches for her lamp but realizes it's too far gone. Her fingers curl in and her face has a somber expression on it. Her body looked like it was covered in soot. All your doing.

She loses her footing and falls in, landing with a gasp. As she reaches for her lamp, her hand goes limp. Ethan runs back in and helps you up, leaving her behind. “It’s mine… It’s mine… My light…” Marguerite croaks out. She forces herself up, inching toward the lantern. You look back down to see black water rising from underneath her. It looked like that moldy water from the bathtub. You could feel its yearning, once more. It consumes the lantern and her, the light slowly disappearing. She gurgles as the black water envelopes her. 

The water was still after that. You felt cold again. Ethan grabs onto your shoulder to console you. You reach to feel for the key in your pocket. You needed to get over yourself. Nothing was to get done if you didn’t, right?

You push the key into the weird lock and it clacks open. The room had those baby dolls hanging from the ceiling and flowers next to a chest. 

Distant beeping could be heard somewhere and you look around to find nothing. Ethan slowly goes up to the chest and raises the watch on his left arm. “What the?” He says, quietly. The chest opens automatically, revealing a decomposing baby in a fetal position. 

Regarding the serum:

      the following items

 be able    synthesize      serum 

(infected decompo  d at least two y    s)

D-series cranial nerve

D-peripheral nerve

“I think that’s it.” As soon as he makes his remark, the phone goes off. This time Ethan goes and picks up the phone, and shyly puts it to his ear. 

“Well? Did you find a serum?” Zoe asks. Her tone could’ve been interpreted as a bit, matter-of-fact, condescending. Ethan’s eyebrows furrow and his body stiffens. He looks like he’s trying to stop himself from exploding.

“I just got done dealing with your mom and her fucking bugs. I wish you coulda warned me.” At home, Ethan was always careful with his words. Soft and caring, he would slip up with curse words sometimes but he would always apologize. You’re surprised at his outburst.

“Sorry about that.” She laughs and dismisses it quickly, not really caring for Ethan’s change of mood. “What about the serum?”

“Haven’t found any, but I did find out what we need to make one. A D-series head and an arm. This can’t be right...”

“A head?” She pauses. “ I think I have that around here somewhere.”

“You do??” Ethan’s words leave his mouth surprised. 

“I don’t know about the arm, though. Have you searched the whole house?” Zoe asks. It seemed so matter of fact to her that you were kind of creeped out. I mean with everything, were you really surprised though?

“No, not yet. I still need to check the second floor here.”

“Alright, check it out. Meet me at the trailer if you find it.” She cuts off, like usual. Ethan glances at the phone a bit, taken aback by the abruptness. He puts it down lightly and uses his head to nudge to the left. There were four small steps up and a small room right at the top of them. Ethan goes ahead, and ignores the room to check if the coast was clear. You sigh as soon as Ethan leaves your side. Slowly going up the steps, you feel the handrail as you drag yourself up. It was chipped and corroded, rough at the touch. The door frame was in the same condition as the handrail. It’s chipped white paint reminded you of home, back with Ethan and Mia. Why was she involved with all this?

Inside, you inspect a doll that was on the desk. It seemed like dolls were a recurring theme in this house. It was homemade, and had no features on it. You put it back down, feeling bad for the mother. It’s not their fault they were infected.

The room was very cramped, with a piano, chair and rolled up rug taking up all the space. You see a journal on the piano and decide to snoop through it. You were expecting sheet music but instead found several journal entries. 

October 11

My ears have been ringing all day and I haven’t been able to sleep since the child showed up. It’s like Zoe says: There’s something strange about the child, and the woman she brought with her. 

October 15

I’m seeing things, hearing things, can’t stop feeling nauseous. I went to see the doctor in town and he gave me an X-ray.

What’s happening to me?

October 23 

The child gave me a present.

October ー

I put the present in the secret room right at the back of the second floor, where nobody will find it.

That arm is a sign of the child’s trust. That arm will lead us to happiness. 

And anyone who corrupts that happiness… I won’t allow them to live.

You try to understand the entries but something doesn’t add up. There is no child here. Or at least to your knowledge. It would explain the baby dolls hanging around though. Maybe the mother grew a sort of obsession over this child? And the woman. That had to be Mia. What is Mia’s relationship with this mold? You place the journal back down and think back to Mia’s video calls. She was babysitting someone. Was this ‘kid’ the person she was babysitting?

Ethan pops his head back in the room and shakes his head. “Locked. Some weird contraption to get it opened.” You nod and follow him out. He goes back down the steps and out though the crow door. You both peer down the hole and notice there was no black water anymore, just the lantern. You could hear some quiet growling and see a long, sickly arm come out of the hole in the wall. It hastily grabs the lantern and disappears. That was the only way out. Ethan hesitates but starts to go down the ladder. You do the same, and try not to think about what appeared. 

You both carefully peek into the hole, seeing a shadow moving in the tunnel. It was walking like an animal, on its hands and legs and moved like a spider. “What the fuck?” Ethan breathes out. He turns over to you to see what you were thinking. He sees your worried expression. “That’s special.” He blurts out. His line delivery sounded like a middle-aged white dad. You sigh through your nose. You’re glad he’s still trying to make you laugh despite it all.

The light disappears and Ethan begins to follow in after it. The tunnel was small and narrow, caving you in. It had you hunched over, taking baby strides. 

You could hear the wind and water getting closer, and light began to shine in. At the end of the tunnel, there was a ladder that led to the outside. You were back at the old house, and behind you, there was Zoe’s camper behind a fence. The lock was, luckily, on your side, so you unhook it and were relieved to see no Marguerite. You take a mental note of where this door was. The trailer was your only safe haven here. 

Ethan was trying to find a way back into the old house, climbing up a set of stairs full of vines wrapped around it. He quickly comes back down, shaking his head. Must’ve been locked.

There was another way up exactly how the other stairs looked. The green door was unlocked and opened to a place infested with more vines. Shrubbery was growing through the cracks of the floorboards. Clearly, unkept, moreso than where you were roaming before within the old house. You could hear painful groans echoing through the walls, as you looked for a way further into the house. 

Another hole was the only way to progress. You both jump down to unfamiliar territory. It was the second floor of the old house. The atmosphere was completely different, off, even. There were no candles to light the way, just pure darkness. Naturally, you open your eyes wider to somehow see better. Your eyes gradually got used to the dark, but it was still hard to make out a lot of things. 

As you make your way further in, you could see some light. There was a lonesome lamp on a desk and it drew you near. Like a moth. The light allowed you to see the state the place was in. The second floor was also overrun with vines, but had this grimey look to them. Everything was in a hue of gray, devoid of life.

You stick close to Ethan as he ventures through the rooms. He clutches onto his flamethrower, getting ready for what’s to come. He has trouble finding a way through, circling around and going back to where you first started. You sigh and point to some stairs you saw while wandering around. He awkwardly chuckles and starts to go up the stairs. As he sets foot onto the old stairs, it creaks horribly. You shudder, something is wrong. “Mr. Winters!” You cry out. 

Out of the boarded up wall, comes out Marguerite. Ethan immediately shot fire, but she still was able to claw at him. He falls to the foot of the stairs and she manages to grab onto Ethan’s feet.

“I got you. Don’t you worry none.” Her voice is now deeper. It was all hoarse and scratchy. Ethan points the flamethrower at her again, and she grits through the pain. She lets him go and desperately tries to put out the flames. Marguerite retreats while still patting herself down, giving you a chance to help up Ethan and leave. Her whole body leaves the house, the boarded up wall now revealing the night outside. The open wall reveals the night sky, stars twinkling. What cruel timing. 

Your head is running. You’re overwhelmed by the “new” threat you had to face. You had just defeated her, you thought it was over. 

You take the flamethrower from Ethan and run up the stairs. He is surprised by your assertiveness and stands there stunned. “I torch, you shoot.” You calmly but quickly let out. You could hear distant scratching and see Ethan’s caught up with you. 

“Here I come!” A deep and hoarse voice yells out. She appears from behind you, and Ethan lands a few shots on her with his shotgun. Her body was two times the height it was before. Her arms were freakishly long, being able to swing at you from a great distance. You release fire on her and she jumps onto the ceiling to avoid it. She crawls around like a pesky spider that tries to avoid being squished. You hose her down again, and she falls through a crack in the floor. 

Marguerite yells in frustration, spazzing out on the floor. It was a sight to see. She was clawing at nothing, staying in that one spot. Your eyes leave her for a second, looking back, she is gone. A shiver runs down your spine. Her groans could be heard, but it echoed throughout the walls. You jump down through the hole Marguerite fell in and scan the room as fast as you can. Her voice was closer, but she was nowhere to be found. 

That buzzing was getting louder, and you turned to see two big bugs that only Marguerite could control. She was near. Ethan goes for the swing and it bites him as he slashes. Something pulls at your hair and your body responds and swings back. She towers over you and you’re sure to aim for her stomach. It looked like a bee’s nest, extruding out of her and had holes all over. As she drowns in the fire, her hand attempts to grab at your face. You jerk back and aim the fire at her. As you try to bring the fire back down to her stomach again, a bug catches you off guard and you are forced to stop. 

Marguerite gets on all fours and begins to back away from Ethan, who was shooting her with the shotgun. She slowly climbs up the wall, without looking. She hung from the ceiling peering down, “You got nowhere to go, now, child.” She jumps down and lands on top of you. You immediately point the flamethrower at her face, and she screams in agony. Ethan releases a couple rounds on her, making her retreat. She jumps back on top to the second floor, to your amazement. Ethan stares at the hole in the ceiling, breathing heavily. You hand him some First Aid Med from your backpack, and he applies it to the bite marks he got from earlier. 

You try to find the ladder up quickly and quietly. 

There it was, painted in a bit of yellow. You clutch the flamethrower in your right hand and leave your left to grab onto the ladder. You peek your head in and see Marguerite peering down the hole she jumped from. You unleash the lot of fire onto her, and she whips her body around as soon as it hits her body. Using your right leg, you kick her down the hole. Your foot landed onto where the nest was, making her scream as she went down. You hear gunshots from below you, followed by more screams. She jumps back up through the same hole, surprising you greatly. Marguerite reaches for you and successfully grabs onto your shoulders. She brings you in for a bite, her teeth sunk into your left shoulder. Her teeth threaten to break through skin, while you try to pry her off you. You kick near her lower region, until you feel a squish. She falls back again, clutching onto her stomach. She tries to reach for you again, but is met with bullets. Ethan had made his way up here, and gave you enough time to hose her down. She falls to her knees and begins to spaz. She gurgles out nonsense and slowly leans back. Her body begins to petrify, from her legs to her face. 

From her face, she crumbles. “Just fucking stay deadーOK?” Ethan yells out, he tries to soothe himself with his outburst. All that remained was her lantern, which Ethan took. You stare at the pile she became. The shards were red on the inner side, and a light gray on the outside. You felt numb, and hated that you did. 

The ground started to shake and you looked over to see the wall start to crumble down as well. It seemed like similar material to what Marguerite became, but had no red in it. A green door similar to the one that led here, was behind the crumbled wall. You crouch down to feel the crumbled wall. As soon as your hand lands on it, it disappears. As if, nothing happened. You sigh and look at Marguerite once more. She too, was as if nothing had happened. What would be of her now? You take one shard and start to head toward the green door. Ethan has left it open, waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. As you clench the shard and ascend down, you look at the starry sky again. 

You were going to make it out of this place.

[wraenata]

You seem to put a lot of energy into being considerate of others. I'm thankful for it but like, how? I hope you're taking care of yourself.

Hi anon! Thank you very much, I really appreciate this.

I really like being considerate of others, in fact it makes me happy. When I see someone having a down day, I just want them to know that someone saw, and wants things to get better for them. Because that's how I really feel. I love all of you in my phone and I want you to be ok. And I like leaving nice tags for people on their art, because I know how much joy that can bring.

But, ugh, yeah. I'm not going to lie, it takes a lot of energy.

I think I'll put the rest under the cut...

Ever since the months started getting warmer this year I've been having more trouble keeping up with my dash (I'm someone who needs to scroll through the whole thing). Before the wedding I was in and covid about a month ago, I was able to just barely keep up with my dash and also scrolling the rise tag. Because I didn't want to miss anything! I also was able to scroll through ao3 to see what new fics were posted and bookmark ones I wanted to read! I...haven't been able to do that anymore...and I hate it.

I'm so far behind on reading fanfics that I absolutely enjoy because I just don't have the energy for reading anything longer than 1k at a time right now. And I can't start any new ones until I catch up on the old ones. There are so many writing posts I came across on my dash that are stuck in draft jail until I have time and energy to read them. And quite a few art posts that I came across when I just didn't have time.

I try hard to keep up with my dash at work but I only have so much (extremely generous) time to do that. I'm often speed running tags when I don't have a lot of time or energy. And sometimes I can't express just how much I love your art because of that low time or energy. And I hate putting posts in drafts cause it piles up and gives me anxiety. And when I come home its just, dash, all night.

I am eternally grateful for @/teainthesnow, she keeps all the tmnt tagged posts coming onto my dash so I can still see them (if you see this tea I am so appreciative of all the work you do for the fandom, you are an amazing person and I love you/platonic).

I've already unfollowed a few blogs, and I agonized over it, for like weeks, before doing it. But it hasn't been enough. If you noticed I unfollowed you in the past 2 months, please know that it was nothing personal and I hated that I had to do it. I miss seeing your posts and how your day is going. We are mutuals in my heart forever.

In fact I wish I could follow so many more blogs but I have had to stop myself for a while now. And it really fucking sucks. I've tried filtering a bunch of tags to make it easier too but it's not enough.

The fact of the matter is, I need to unfollow more blogs. And I hate to do it. I know I need to do it. I've known for a while now. I don't have the energy to keep up with it anymore, not after getting covid. I'm just so tired. All the time.

If you see that I unfollow you at some point, again, I love you and we are mutuals in my heart forever. All of my followers are my mutuals. My askbox and messages are always open. You can always tag me in posts (and oh my I'm just remembering all the of tag games I haven't had time to do) I just can't keep up with this anymore. I want to get back to reading fanfic and making the mountains of fanart I want to do for people.

I just, I love you all. But I'm so so tired. I really hope if anything comes out of this long ramble, its that I love you all. The rise fandom has given me so much and I want to return that love.

I'm sorry for the late response anon, and I'm sorry for turning your lovely ask into a bit of a vent. I've tried to put this off for as long as I could, but I just can't do it anymore.

I love you all though <3

[dynamic-power]

The Happiness We Deserve

I've just uploaded the first 2 chapters of a multi chapter gallavich fic that I'm lowkey excited about. Here's chapter 1!

Read it on ao3 here

Mickey Milkovich does nine years for attempted murder. While he's locked up, Ian Gallagher gets himself out of Chicago.

It's been almost 15 years since they've seen each other when Ian decides it's time to come home and visit.

Mickey is in a relationship. He's got a boyfriend, he has the Alibi, and the Gallaghers who still live in Chicago are his family. He's happy. Really, he is.

Right?

Rated: E

CW: excessive use of the word fuck, no sex just fade to black (but it will eventually earn that E rating)

Mickey ended up doing nine years for the attempted murder of Sammi Gallagher.

When he got out, he managed to wait for a whole week before he found himself pacing on the porch of the Gallagher family home. It was Lip who answered the door when he finally got the balls to knock on it.

“Mickey.” Lip only looked mildly surprised to see him standing on his doorstep. Holding a hand out, he pushed Mickey back gently, just enough to step out of the house and close the door behind him. He regarded Mickey for a moment. “You look good.”

Mickey had only just turned 21 the last time he’d seen Lip. He’d changed quite a bit since then; packed on a bit of muscle and covered almost all visible skin below his chin with stick-and-poke tattoos.

Lip had changed, too. He didn’t seem as restless as he used to be; that had been replaced with the ease of a man who had accepted his lot in life. It was a good look on him, Mickey decided. “You do, too.”

They stared at each other for a few moments. Mickey knew they were both aware of why he was there, but it was clear that Lip was waiting for Mickey to say it out loud.

“Is he here?” he finally asked.

“No,” Lip replied simply.

“When-” Mickey started, pausing when his voice cracked. He cleared his throat, swallowed, tried again. “Where-”

“He left, Mick.” The words felt like a knife in Mickey’s stomach. “He got out of Chicago, 6 or 7 years ago. He hasn’t been back since.”

“Oh,” Mickey managed to say around his pounding heart and sinking stomach. “Right.”

Part of Mickey wasn’t surprised. He’d known that Ian wasn’t really going to wait for him. That part of him was proud, even, that he’d gotten out of the south side.

But another part of him, the part that had allowed his heart to crack a little more with each month that had gone by without a visit from Ian, shattered entirely.

He stood there, feeling a strange mix of desperation and finality, for nearly a whole minute before Lip finally asked, “Do you wanna come in for dinner?” He opened the front door again and Mickey heard the sound of voices coming from within over the rush of blood in his ears. “The rest of the family is here. You can come meet all of our significant others and the hellspawn that we’ve produced.”

“Uh, sure,” Mickey said, shoving his hands in his pockets and forcing a smile on his face. “I think I’d like that.”

-----

5 years later

Liam was the first Gallagher to walk into the Alibi that afternoon, and Mickey wasn’t really surprised. Carl had a great mind for plenty of things, but punctuality was not one of them.

“Where’s my brother?” Liam asked as he sat himself on one of the bar stools.

“Dunno,” Mickey grumbled. “I’m not his fuckin’ keeper.” He reached over the bar and put a hand on Liam’s head, shaking him fondly. “Want a drink?”

“Sure.”

Mickey flipped over a glass and pulled the tap. “What d’you need Carl for?”

“Lip wants a head count for dinner Monday night,” Liam said as Micey slid the beer across the bartop. He took a few large gulps and sighed, wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve.

“Why?”

Liam shrugged. “Said he had some big news. Dunno what, though.”

“Huh.” Mickey wondered what news Lip could possibly have that required them all to be present for dinner. It must have been important; even his engagement and the conception of his last child hadn’t warrented quite this much buzz.

“You gonna be there?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Bringing Jay?”

“Nah,” Mickey said as the front door opened and Carl came barreling in wearing a sheepish grin. “He’s gonna be in California on business. Hey,” he snapped, turning to address his business partner, “the fuck you been?”

“Sorry, I-”

“You gonna be at dinner Monday?” Liam interrupted.

“Oh. Uh, yeah.”

“You have any idea what news Lip has for us?” Mickey asked as Carl passed him behind the bar.

“News? No.” Carl pulled out two shot glasses and filled them both with bottom shelf whiskey. He passed one over to Mickey. Mickey accepted it, tossing back their traditional Friday afternoon pre-open shot and clicking the empty glass twice on the bartop. Carl followed suit. “Is that why he’s been buggin’ me about it?” Carl asked through the burn of the whiskey. He passed behind Mickey again and opened the till.

“Guess so,” Mickey said. He pointed to Liam as the teen finished off the last few swallows of his beer. “Another?”

“Nah,” Liam said, slapping his hands on the bar and standing. “I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Oh, yeah, hot shot?” Mickey sneered.

“Yeah,” Liam answered with a shit-eating grin. “Meetin’ a girl at a party.”

“Shit.” Mickey waved him towards the door. “Don’t let us keep you.”

“Need a rubber?” Carl asked without looking up from the money he was counting out. “Last thing you need, college boy, is to knock some poor girl-”

“I’m fine, jackass,” Liam snapped back. “I’ll see you losers Monday.”

“Be safe, kid,” Mickey called after him as he disappeared through the front door again. “Hey, count that shit out again,” he snapped at Carl. “I don’t trust it when you try to fuckin’ count and talk at the same time.”

-----

It was nearly three in the morning before Mickey finally made it back to his apartment. He sighed heavily as he shut his front door behind him, tossing his keys in the bowl and kicking his shoes off without caring where they ended up. As he turned towards his kitchen, he nearly jumped out of his skin as someone came out of his bedroom.

“Jesus,” he breathed, clutching one hand to his chest as his boyfriend, Jay Flores, grinned goofily at him from the hallway. “Fuckin’ scared the shit outta me.” He crossed the living room quickly, stepping into Jay’s open arms. He pressed his face into Jay’s bare shoulder and pulled him closer by the hips. “Didn’t think you’d be here.”

“I wanted to wake up next to you one last time this week, querido, ” Jay said into his hair, voice thick with sleep.

“Fuckin’ gay.”

“Yeah, a bit.”

“What time is your flight?” Mickey asked, pulling back just enough to peer up at Jay.

“Too fuckin’ early. Eight, I think. Taxi is gonna be here at five thirty.”

“There’s lots we can do before then.”

“I should really sleep a little bit more-”

“Sleep on the fuckin’ plane.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jay agreed easily. He leaned down and pressed his filthy grin to Mickey’s in a poor attempt at a kiss. They were both smiling too wide to really make it good, but neither of them really cared as they pushed each other back into the bedroom.

------

Part 2

[incarnateirony]

This entire post you reblogged below, maam. Three years ago, you blew up over literal fucking lemons, thinking I'd use them to cast a powerful curse on, summarily, half the people I banned from my server that you've been clinging to the asses of since and/or people in their fractal orbit.

You then spent years haunting my fandom discord, chasing me down, and then invested SIX MONTHS OF YOUR LIFE STALKING MY BUSINESS INVESTOR WITH THE SOLE INTENTION OF EVEN SMEARING ME TO HIM.

THE ENTIRE REASON YOU ARE IN THIS GODDAMN FUCKING ACME TRAP IS YOU SPENT A THREE YEAR STINT OF YOUR LIFE FUCKING STALKING ME AND TRAINING YOUR FRIENDS TO WHILE TRYING TO REPLACE THE GHOST OF ME!!! THAT IS THE FUCKING PLOT!!! YOU!!! YOU'RE THE SMEAR CAMPAIGN. THIS IS ME SNAPPING.

THE SIGN IS FOR YOU, GARFIELD.

literally!!! YOU FUCKING OX!!! YOU SET OFF THIS ENTIRE FUCKING LOONEY TUNES SHIT BY DRIVING UP AND SQUATTING IN A GODDAMN FURRY PORN SERVER FOR HALF A YEAR TRYING TO FIND THE PRIMARY INVESTOR OF MY FUCKING COMPANY THAT I'VE KNOWN FOR TWENTY YEARS TO TRY TO SMEAR ME TO HIM BECAUSE YOU REALIZED I DIDN'T CARE ABOUT YOU SMEARING ME HERE!!

YOU!!!! IT'S YOUR TRAP, DEAN

JUST LIKE THE RED FLAG POST!! YOU DIDN'T ACTUALLY READ IT!!! YOU!!! YOU'RE THE RED FLAG TRYING TO GROOM FOR FOLLOWERS AND CHARGING FOR FRAUDULENT SERVICES INCLUDING PLAGIARISM AND NONCONSENT. THAT'S IT. THAT'S NOT A SMEAR CAMPAIGN ITS THE FUCKIN TRUTH. I care FUCK ALL ABOUT CONVERTING ANYONE, YOU'RE THE ONE TRYING TO SAVE YOUR OWN ASS FROM YOUR GROOMING, I'M TELLING EVERYONE TO FUCK OFF, I DONT CARE WHAT THEY THINK, I AM LITERALLY TRYING TO *DISBAND* A CULT YOU BUILT.

YOU. IT'S HERE AND IT'S YOU AND YOU'RE THE RED FLAG AND IT'S YOUR TRAP, YOU RAN A THREE YEAR SMEAR CAMPAIGN, NOW YOU'RE WAILING AFTER ONE MONTH.

the bicycle is fucking telling you to fucking get different handlebars, Shealyn. We have tried our whole life to teach you to ride a bike but you just keep chasing ours, it's gone, get a new one.

I'm coming for my fucking Air Jordan collection. It's not a theory, it's not a belief, it's not something you can reblog away on tumblr if you spin around enough and find the right syntax, it's the shadow you just stared in the face and realized only a criminal would be acting how you are.

Virtual systems ready, bitch. I'm pissin on the moooooooooon

no like it's seriously time to start coping and realizing, like, this is a wholeass smiting. This whole thing. And I'm not going to stop no matter how you whine. Really, only you can stop it now, I can just steer through and make it a lot funnier, okay? Mkay sweetcheeks. These aren't a million random events that have me rolling on the floor laughing as they happen when spoken, no, sweetie. I told you, we're going off the rails. this is a shadow spiral. and you're in it.

MFW I'M LIKE LOOK AT MY DICKROCKET, I'M GOING TO THE MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON, its a spaceship bicycle and WE'RE IN TARTARUS, LISTEN TO THIS JAM ABOUT TAKING BACK MY DANCIN SHOES, BITCH, HERE COME THE BULLETS

AND SHE DOES THIS!!!!

eat me you frauuuuuuuuuuuud

"Practicioners have a right to charge for services" SURE AS SHIT DO. REAL SERVICES. THIS AINT THAT GIRL. You've already changed pantheons like four times in the last fucking month and ditched half your beliefs adjacent otherwise to run from recognizing what's happening. You already "admitted you were on the wrong path" indirectly, but won't confess or look at what or why, and still wanted to play victim while we have been SCREAMING at you to get a fucking different one, we had to PEEL you off that shit and you thought that was where the problem ended and no like that's the first fuckin boss, we're breaking past 2, 3 is next, ok peaches?

HOW CAN YOU CHARGE SOMEONE FOR SERVICES WHEN YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU BELIEVE ON ANY DAY AND ARE PUBLICLY ADMITTING YOU'RE JUST NOW TRYING TO LEARN TO RIDE THE BIKE??????????????

my ass out here doing tony hawk stunts in fuckin akasha on your ass in circles cuz you won't get off my fuckin bike and you're like, don't take the training wheels off yet!! But let me keep charging people? And raping your dead shadow LITTLE BIT?

THAT TIME IS GONE. We LITERALLY told you no more fucking training wheels at the start. And it's not because you can't learn to ride your own bike, it's that we're taking ours back, it's that simple. It's not our fault you built yourself a house of fucking lies.

All of this. Your disassociation. Your disliking the distancing from "channeling" or me staying busy with work or Works. Your kingdom of lies, forgetting everything convenient under vague amnesia and patchy belief, treating people around you just like the game you refused any lessons from. And your nonstop aggression for years. This is all you. I gave you years to work out your shit. This is ALL you.

Neither I or he are your bicycle. Stop using me like one.

Truth serum available worldwide, Shay Shay. The only way out of this is you, and that requires full stop honesty, mostly to yourself. I told you. I know you too well. I made a trap you can't back up out of. And baby, baby, baby, the plot twist is, you're the biggest monster, I'm just pinning you with a bass revved version of yourself and your own actions in a house of mirrors. With my favorite red eyed foo dog installed with my favorite flower.

You're still not fucking perceiving the words I am fucking writing to you as clearly as fucking possible. Most Acts Of Gods were simply those of Great Magicians in their generation, regardless of their path. Call it blasphemy in whatever pantheon you want to pretend to be loyal to this week while you pretend not to be the whitest piece of entitled shit on the planet rotating for convenience, not belief--no. No, most of the greats were just the strongest souls. In fact it all comes down to the souls, however many identities are cut from the cloth, and you're not from this cloth, and you're getting bagged by it until you face yourself. Call it man or god. But I insist. I am a man. I do not want your cult. And neither man nor god will continue to tolerate it.

You were right. The gods do not approve of your altar, but when you just rearrange trinkets and fixtures, the rot is still there.

Face yourself.

I repeat. This is a smiting. No negotiation. No Half. No reblog whining, no appealing to a bunch of irrelevant blog readers that don't even fucking compute what's happening. Like most of the people whining in the in-between are people that don't even fucking believe in anything outside of what middle school taught them, they just think it's politically correct to nod past your generalized roleplay, they're not used to a fucking graded Magus losing his absolute shit on main.

What does a spartan put on his resume? No surrender. What Great Acts A Man Does, common people follow. Just because someone tells you to jump off a bridge doesn't mean you're falling in love. You can't kill the past. You butchered everything. Loyalty required no leaps. Just be there. I am. And I brought 200 million friends to farm you. Listen to chat GPT sing the song of 15 years ago you ignore while the internet itself drops for half the nation like a distant dream where you never see your songbird again because you became a husk with a beating heart.

Kill Liars 4. Into 4 noobs. Wtf is half? My ass is better in this dress and the thousand dresses that seem to be chattering about you in conceptual hell. Unbubble the tea that is literally my pizzaman reaper in a scarf here's the pics. The Chiefs can take Hermes' son's winged shoes and get dragged straight to Tartarus. I'm coming for my FUCKING air jordan collection. YOU have to move the fucking box, not wait for me to do it for you. But at this point, I'm about to destroy the box. Much easier to fuck a human pumpkin once you install hinges. Fucking pumpkins? Pumpkins, oranges, lemons, it's all fruit sweetheart. UWUWUWU THERES A DOOR IN MY BACK FIX IT FOR ME UWU.

My very first jack o lantern. Once it's all emptied out, I get to put in an actual light. Then, maybe, once I've recreated my first human ground up, then maybe I will let someone call me a god. But for now, I am a man, and your phantom x, and this is your shadow loop. Happy listening!

Funny story, san bernadino boy's cucumber latch road. Born from two lineages of CIA/Stanford Project Stargate. What was that about your back problems again? Only road like this in town. You took the fucking shortcut again.

This isn't about what pantheon you whine to, or what fuckin language, or how you spin the syntax. I'm an alchemist top rank magister, but I can also respect there's some truly ascended buddhists out there. But they, too, walked their path in full, it wasn't their Diapercope of the Week. Literally just get off my dick woman, and face yourself.

You decide: open reflection about it that disbands any illusions, bad teachings, or misleadings you have given, whether personal or religious or whatever, which would happen naturally the second you face your shadow and realize the truth, or more accept what you already realize. Or the other obvious option, if the cost of honesty is too high.

This is literally your chance to start fresh without me, why the fuck are you refusing. Start a new path. You're realizing you don't know shit about shit because you didn't listen to shit about shit, so learn again. It's never too late for THAT but you gotta actually face your bullshit to end this loop, lady. No more driving in reverse. No half, no sideways back onto it little bit, all the way off it. The bicycle broke up with you years ago lady, and now it's screaming so loud it's literally fucked up your conceptual life so far you're both hearing screams of it 15 years ago, you and 'Min'.

I am not a fucking GATEKEEPER, I am just protecting the D with a flaming sword, and you literally are so obsessed and addicted you won't stop, no matter how clear the signs, and you ignore them, because as personal and targeted as they are, your cult does not know better.

I have a motherfucking MESSAGE for you, Starlight. STOP FUCKING PRETENDING YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE READING IN THIS TO YOUR FOLLOWERS THAT DON'T KNOW BETTER. YOU FUCKING REMEMBER.

LET ME/HIM/WE/US/EVERYBODY GO FROM YOUR MOTHERFUCKING CAGE!! HENRY ISN'T STICKING HIS HEAD TO BE IN THE COMPUTER WITH THIS TRAP YOU MADE!! HE'S SHOWING YOU HIS ASS AND STARING OUT THE WINDOW TO THE HORIZON AGAIN!!!! LET EVERYBODY GO!!! WE DON'T WANT YOU AS A GIRLFRIEND WE JUST WANT OUT!!!!

AND NOW!! now you've fucked henry up so bad that even if you opened your door I don't know if he could make it, even if he dreams of that horizon out your window in almost every video or picture you post!! he wants the freedom but he has been stripped!!! TAKE THAT BOY TO A REAL REFUGE. TAKE THE OWL OUT OF THE BIN SHEA, IT'S SUPPOSED TO STAY A FEW NIGHTS, NOT FOREVER. WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED TO YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKING MONSTER????????????????????

Truly, all I see is a roving corpse feeding on my shadow, you're nothing like the person you pretended to be ten years ago. Fucking. What even am I looking at during this. Grotesque. The ghost of your dead "wife" drags you past embarrassment and into manifestationland in every timeline you continue breathing in, because you won't let go, because you can't com-fucking-pute that the reborn magus past the veil was coyote and was always the same person, you fraud ass bear lady. Two spirit. Process it while I rearrange your entire fucking world. Stop denying my fucking face, or I will continue to be the slenderman fucking up everyone's facial recognition and reclaiming my goddamn shoes. The ones I never guessed that you'd be dressed in, remember that joke, you morbid pumpkin? You deadass just want to keep being transphobic about this shit by forced disassociation of common sense, while waving a flag and pretending you're an ally to mark, and NEVER CONFESSING THIS SHIT. THAT'S YOUR FUCKING PLAN???????????????

Fake witch. Fake businesswoman. Fake everything. Pathless piece of shit that won't face her shit. Took the fucking shortcut into san bernadino boy's cucumber latch road again, without grokking the depths of hellsing eyed foo dog fuckery she was already lost in from Very Funny Yugioh Post, as she and her scorpion I jokingly called to the field day-prior swell from overfeeding on their water like morons.

Listen I know you have vague memories of memaw's life in egypt or whatever, but you haven't done shit for shit in your current life, so stop leaning on everybody else. It's over. It's done. Put on your own fucking shoes and start walking if you can't figure out how to ride the fucking bike.

You know what??? Let's bet, my precious unhinged pumpkin. If you and the people around you drop dead by September, I am a man. If I completely reconfigure you inside out, as we are already halfway to, without you facing yourself to identify a SELF to SAVE, *THEN* I am a god you can build another cult to, how does that sound?

No like I didn't misspeak. There's no third option. That is the coin toss you are banking on right now. And why it's stupid to sue you in Tartarus.

No like, I really don't see any other options than those. I admit, I Am A Man And Flawed. But as far as I look through the haze you insist on, this is the best I can see. September is an absolute deadline, not a goal to strive to try to survive until, while already screaming under the first moon.

Shealyn I am begging you in whichever voice of me or him will make you listen to understand you literally do not understand what you are fucking with, and that's not even a threat, that's a fucking plea. You are so many fucking degrees behind you are literally not understanding the events transpiring around you at this point even as they slap watching Adepts in the face to the point of carnival for the great fool. Let it go. Start over. Learn fresh. But you have to fucking move forward, on ANY path.

You, yourself, without me or him or us, is enough, why do you keep motherfucking fighting to refuse that???? WHAT THE FUCK DONKEY HORSE SHIT IS THIS????????????????????? DID U MISS THE TEARDROPS ON HIS GUITAR, THE APOLOGY FOR THE PARTING, DID U MISS ALL OF IT OR DO YOU NOT FUCKING CARE YOU PSYCHOTIC PIECE OF SHIT

Shea!!! HE FUCKING WANTS TO BE WITH YOU. NOT ME, I THINK YOU'RE A SLUG. HE DOES THOUGH. AND EVERY TIME HE TRIES YOU SHIT ON IT.

[dracolizardlars]

Two months ago I, completely unexpectedly, saw a Eurasian Hoopoe pecking around on someone's front lawn while visiting Tenerife (the most built up, tourist trap area of Tenerife) and it still makes me genuinely HYPE every time I think about it like. I don't even know WHY seeing uncommon birds means so fucking much to me and gets me so excited but it REALLY FUCKING DOES and I'm grateful I have that source of joy bc like 98% of people absolutely Do Not Get It when I express that sentiment

I think a HUGE part of it is that, since the age of about 5, I have been A) reading Britain & Europe bird guides and B) collecting the official RSPB range of bird plushies, and the thing with both of those is that I've spent my whole life very aware of a lot of Cool Birds that either 1) are mainly found in continental Europe / north Africa and only occasionally show up briefly in the UK or 2) are only found, within the UK, in the highlands of Scotland. All these birds I've known the existence of all my life, even played with plushies of in many cases (this includes the hoopoe), but have never had a realistic chance of ever seeing anywhere near where I live in the far south of England. Then as an adult I've travelled and I've finally seen some of these incredibly beautiful looking birds and it is literally a fucking *lifelong dream come true*! It's like getting to meet your favourite fictional character or something. It's so fucking incredible fr!

(The primary "childhood bucket list" birds that remain are the European roller and the European bee-eater, although the latter is lower priority because I've seen other bee-eater species in Africa)

[sumarmz]

Rant about having divorced parents and stuff

TW: mentions of sh and $u1c1d@l thoughts

Also this is a mess so a lot of it probably won't make sense lol

"Don't divorce! Try to make it work for the children!" My parents like despise each other and the only reason my mom waited so long to divorce is for me and my sister to grow up in a 'normal' family, and guess what. I had suicidal thoughts and was regularly cutting myself because kids pick up on things like this and, if your partner is horrible towards you, what makes you think they'll be better towards your kids? We moved out 2 months ago and I've been clean ever since 👌 and i only get not so nice thoughts when I think about certain people from my old city. Please don't stay for the kids, if you're unhappy then they'll be unhappy too. In just 2 months my life has gotten so much better, all because my mom had the courage to leave him. It may have came late sure, and I resent the fact that I'm never getting that part of my childhood back. But there's some people out there who didn't get any of their childhood, all because of the stupid "for the kids" thing. The standard nuclear family is not the only way to be happy. The stigma around divorce is pointless and unnecessary. Yes it upsets the kids, like I've known it was coming and I still cried until I could barely breathe once we moved out. But in the long term its so much better than forcing them to grow up in an unhealthy environment. Try to resolve issues of course, but don't stay if you know its over. Divorce hurts kids, but don't hurt them further by forcing them into a situation where they know that you're basically trapped in a loveless marriage all because of them. Because that fucks with you, knowing that if you weren't born both your parents could be happy with separate lives.

[wishingwell4aspiral]

Documentation : Day 8

So uhm. Its. Been a few days since I last updated.

Here's what we missed.

So I started getting close to my friend Meow and all of his friends which are just hella horny and sexual on main. That's been... an interesting experience.

Oh also does everyone remember me complaining that I was hoping to find somebody else to step into the role?

Well. I. Uhm. I may have a contender?

Okay. Let's back up.

My friend bot. I've known him for well over a year now.

Bot, for the majority of the time i knew him, was dating my other friend named Shen

Shen was outed to be a pedophile a few months back, it was absolutely crazy.

Anyways.

So fast forward, three days ago.

We run around worlds together. We end up cuddling as we fall asleep. We are physically affectionate. He makes a comment earlier that day that goes "Yeah I have a list of people that can sit on my lap. It's you... yeah there's nobody else." And I just

"?????" Mentally going "where did that come from??""

And in these past few days we've been cuddly, openly affectionate, tonight is night 2 of sleep calls?

Listen.

I'm not upset about this update. I'm not.

I'm just??? Confused?? Did you like me previously orrrr like..? How.. how did we get here so quickly. Ain't no damn way you fell in love with me so quickly."

And for anyone about to go "that's hypocritical what about you?"

Listen. I don't have BPD but I do have the "favorite person that my entire world is based off of and I would either burn the world and kill myself or save it depending on what they believe" thing

I can and will latch onto anything that'll give me enough attention that I can attach to it.

But also he said he was still gonna meet the girl he was interested in irl and they broke up so they could work on some issues before a relationship.

And like, if you're waiting for her. Why are you even fucking with me??? Huh???

So that's a thing.

[riverageleis]

I've been MIA for a few weeks. Between my mental health, starting a couple of new projects, work, and renovations, my spoons have been dangerously low.

Mental Health

I had a Myriad genetic test to see why I failed so many SSRI/SNRIs. The answer is because of the answer is because of all of the ones on the market three (3) work with my genetics. The rest are 'might be okay' or 'absolutely the fuck not.' I've already failed one of the 3, so that makes two left. It is also why I have failed tricyclics. The vast majority of them are in the 'lolnope' category. So is my current antipsychotic, so I guess I get to detox from it. >:-[

Anyway, so Pristiq is making me vaguely paranoid (vaguely being above baseline...) and now I'm sleeping around 4 hours, which is why I'm up at 0130 typing this. I'm tired all the time, have a headache, have all but stopped eating, and in general don't constantly want to unalive myself, but holy fucking fuck! I'm so tired I could drop into a coma at any point during my day. All of these are known side effects., so yay. I titrated up on my dose a week ago and all of those things have gotten worse. Also, yay.

Oh! And a couple of weeks ago I had this random asshole get angry at me on the road because I had the audacity to be in front of him and slow down to turn into my driveway. He was going to turn into the drive behind me and make the biggest mistake of his life until he saw my partner come out of the house and then he thought better of it. That's twice now in the space of a year that men have thought they were going to intimidate me by following me because I had the audacity to be afab existing alone in a vehicle. (The other got mad because I had the audacity to pass him because he was going 20mph under the speed limit.) Some of us have no flight response. That's bad for someone just wanting to be a scary jerk.

New Projects

I'm about 4k words into 2 new stories with about 8k words to edit in my finished works. The aforementioned exhaustion has got those things moving slower than I'd like, despite all of the extra hours in my day.

Work

I'm working long hours again, this last week it was 49. The two weeks before it averaged 44 each. The extra pay helps with bills since my partner was unemployed for 2 months and has worked at his new job for 2 weeks. His unemployment still hasn't come through. (Thanks 'small government' Republicans! It's great that you're in my uterus, but also want to destroy any social safety net us poors might need, you know, like unemployment. You're awesome!)

Renovations

They all but stopped until the last 2 weeks. I think daddy was sick of my partner being under foot for everything instead of worrying about getting a job. Honestly, I was, too. We moved a year ago and he's been unemployed almost half that time. If we hadn't been living in an RV this whole time, we'd have been homeless. (Not really, but mom and dad would have been paying rent or bills or something because I couldn't.) It was only when I told him that he needed to think about moving back to Missouri did he find a job and quickly. It wasn't like this before we moved. He was always employed. I also have fruits and veggies going nuts. I have a sweet potato that I'm going to put in a hanging basket. I have 6 volunteer tomato plants, two of which are losing their minds. I have no less than 3, probably, cantaloupe plants in my burgeoning compost pile. Horsenettle all over the yard, muscadine vines (wild grapes), wild petunias. This wee witch's cottage loves us as much as we love it.

The Cats

And because I need to end on a high note, I need to talk about my cats. My almost 9-year-old beastie, Clarise the former completely indoor City Kitty, has embraced the idea of being a Country Cat. She's being supervised as she explores the yard and all that our wee acre has to offer her, which is mostly grass. She has flea and tick medicine on for the first time in her life. I also discovered that her soft double coat is too dense for a tick to get through. How? I found one on her face trying its damndest to get through to her skin. It was failing. So, now we do tick checks, despite the medicine. Lt. Dan is turning into the most rambunctious little bugger as she heads toward 6 months old. Still, nothing seems to phase her, so I hope she's going to be super chill. She was desexed recently and completely unbothered by the surgery. She also got her first dose of flea medicine because she didn't weigh enough to have any yet. She is also excited to be a Country Cat, except they don't make a harness small enough for her. Fun fact: Tiny dog harnesses are the same size as kitten harnesses.

[formulaonedirection]

hi nadia, since ur the designated 'crush talk' host i got something for you so buckle up... i've liked this guy since probably last year, i've known him since 2020, as he's a friend of one of my best friends who i currently live with. very smart, intelligent, kind, and so gentle, plus one of his main interests is something that i literally study at university so we have quite a few things in common. since last year i've been noticing these little things, kind of like serendipity, or maybe that's just how i've been interpreting them🤣🤣 just coincidences, most notably we went to the same play at the local theatre but completely missed each other, and also we met on the tram once and since it was packed there was no railing for me to hold onto so he very gently held my elbow (very cute and interesting conversation took place also). he would also often put a heart reaction on my stories whenever i'd post a selfie (he actually did it earlier today as well), and always compliment me whenever i'd post videos of my guitar playing. he once even asked me to play something for him the next time we see each other. so i thought things were going in the right direction... but poor mental health and self confidence really stunt my bravery when it comes to things like this so it's been going rather slowly. he came over when my roommate was throwing a get together the other month but i didn't make it. i've been wanting to tell my best friend about this whole ordeal so that she could maybe put in a good word for her homie but alas i haven't done it. 2 days ago i had a cute but quite vague dream about being in a relationship that had me absolutely wrecked for the entire day so last night i talked to another friend and decided i was going to tell my best friend!! and start making some moves!! fast forward to this afternoon, he comes over randomly just to visit my bestie, i'm over the moon obviously. the 3 of us talk, and then out of nowhere he announces he got back with his ex. what in the absolute dick and balls do i do now

oh my goddddddddd when I got to the end i literally went NOOOOOOOOOOO. I was like. Close to hopeful when you were like I'm gonna make moves but then I remembered this is crush talk and we're all suffering. BLEUGHHHH. Awww man dude that sucks. From the sound of it I'm sure it wasn't all happening in your head cause like he was being all replying guy and liking selfies on instagram guy. I'm sorry but that means something OKAY you can't be A MAN out here liking SELFIES on STORY. Like it's different if you put it on main and the person likes your post but HEART ON AN IG STORY SELFIE??? Nah. If you felt some type of connection I don't think it's fair to assume it was one-sided that's just silly anxiety and insecurity talking. Anyway that sucksssss. Idk how close you are with your bestie roomie but I'd still consider telling her? Maybe in a more casual way like oh my god I totally had a crush on your friend and he got back together with his ex :facepalm: so it doesn't seem That Big Of A Deal that it becomes awkward? Or you could do a proper heart to heart of it. Either way I think if you come out the other side feeling some type of emotional release or growth it's still worth it.

As for Serendipity boy idk try to see if the getting back together with ex thing is serious or if it's just like a fuck it why not situation? Cause sometimes getting back with your ex is truly just an I'm bored, you're bored we know this works in some way so let's just do this again type thing. So I'd say try to get a feel of it before you really lose hope but also more importantly I'm focused on you cause brains are silly and self confidence is SOOOOOO hard like crippling hard. But if the situation changes or another serendipitous man comes along I hope the fact that I'm rooting for you to go for it will help <3 Sorry if this was slightly too woo-woo but I know how hard it is to get over that barrier of your mind telling you NO and just go and get something you want but you're braver than you think! You typed this all out to me and you told a friend about it and you were gonna tell bestie roomie!

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

.

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

.

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

[sicjimin]

🍳 Get the Egg Away 🍳

A.N : based on anon's idea few days ago about pregnant yoongi. A little bit angst but i dont know .. if this good enough .. since im suck at writing angst or something with plot shsjshss i hope you like it. Sorry for keep filling you with mpreg stories :") (i know the title is lame)

TW : emeto, graphic description of vomiting, mpreg

"What kind of demon possessed you this morning?", Yoongi asks, his brow furrowed and his hand busy rubbing his stomach that now has become prominent with his 5 months pregnancy. He sits on the counter, resting his head on his palm, looking at Namjoon that currently in a war with the pan. Yoongi giggles.

"What are you laughing about? I could have been cursed.", Namjoon says as he flips the pan over, the flames from the stove almost making him flinch away but he manages to hold it together, "but I wasn't."

"I tried to be a good husband", Namjoon says, smiling in satisfaction when he sees the egg looks decent. He lifts it up, placed it on the toast with bacon along with strawberry jam and butter too- Hobi's recipe that he grows fond of.

He grins once he finished the plating, slides it in front of his boyfriend, "Here, your breakfast. Made specially by me"

Out of every expression he was expecting from Yoongi, scrunching his face with disgust definitely is not on the list.

"Egg?", Yoongi asks with disbelief while looking down at the plate. Namjoon frowns at the tone.

" Yes? Is there anything wrong?"

Yoongi doesn't say a word, but he can see the look in his eyes. obvious Yoongi is pissed. Namjoon doesn't know what he did wrong to cause such a reaction out of his boyfriend.

He wants to apologize immediately, but his pride was holding him back. "You dont want to eat that?"

"No", Yoongi pulls the plate away again.

Now. Namjoon is pissed.

"I know i'm not a good cooker, like you, but what's wrong with that? Is me cooking for you is that bad?" Namjoon tries to defend himself, to reason with Yoongi.

But that doesn't work.

"Joon, I don't want eggs."

Namjoon looks at him. A deep frown on his lips. Yoongi never refuses an egg and always eats them before anyone else.

"What? Why?'

Yoongi huffs, " I just not ! I think i have told you thousand times before that i can't eat eggs?"

"I would've remembered if you told me. When is it?"

"You know, 2 days ago. I threw up after eating our ramen that had egg in there!", Yoongi says, voice slightly raised and Namjoon frown again, " You throw up nearly everyday and every time hyung. How am i supposed to know that it the eggs that makes you sick?", he asks and Yoongi shakes his head in defeat. "You should've known if you care about me", he pouts now. Fiddling with his sweater. Namjoon would coos at the sight right now, Yoongi's chubby cheeks, his little bump that drowns in his fluffy baby blue sweater, and the pink lips that forming a pout ... Gosh. His boyfriend is too adorable for his good — if he's not fuming with emotion right now.

Namjoon scoffs, " You're not making any sense now, Yoongi"

And that makes his boyfriend snap his head, "It's still hyung for you, Joon-ah", he points out, " And what's not make any sense? I just say that i cant eat eggs! It's making me nauseous. Why you had to make it as a big deal?"

"Well, maybe because i wake up early to prepare this and because of the egg you refused to eat it?", Namjoon ran his fingers through his blonde hair, looking at everywhere else but Yoongi as he knows he would just forget everything and apologize if he sees the older. " I can't believe we argue about the egg. Pregnancy really make you more irritable, hyung"

"Is that what you think? Me? Irritable and annoying?", Namjoon turns his gaze immediately after he registers what he just said. There is Yoongi, looking at him with tears covering his orbs.

Fuck, Namjoon, you're so stupid-

" No no hyung that whats i mean-", Namjoon stammered, moving his way to the other side of the counter, wanting to hug his boyfriend but Yoongi swatted his hand, "Then what am i suppose to take that sentence? I hear you loud and clear. Glad to know what you've been thinking this whole time", Yoongi said through his teeth, wiping his tears with the back of his hands, sniffling.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Now Namjoon feels even worse. Why was it this hard?

" Hyung", he says, trying to get closer, reaching out and grabbing Yoongi's hand to bring it into his lap. But instead, the older reach out for the plate and take a mouthful of it, "Thank you for breakfast. You should eat, we gonna be late"

"Hyung .. you shouldn't eat it if that makes you nauseous", Namjoon tells, his voice small and scared as he watches the elder slowly chewing on what he had in his mouth.

"I don't care if i vomit or something" Yoongi shrugs, taking another bite.

"But it might upset your baby—"

"You were mad at me earlier because i dont want to eat it, now you tell me not to, what do you want, Joon-ah?", Yoongi sighs.

The words are out of Namjoon's mouth. So he just stares quietly as Yoongi takes more.

" Stop staring at me and have your breakfast, Joonie"

And then the only sound of fork and knife surrounding them. Namjoon still can't tear his gaze from the older. He noticed how Yoongi could take a moment before swallowing. The hesitation everytime he gonna lift his fork, and how he takes a long time to chew. He even noticed when Yoongi's body jolts a little with quiet gag.

"You don't have to finish it hyung", Namjoon voices breaking Yoongi's nauseated haze. He hates seeing his boyfriend in pain, he doesn't want him to feel any. Yoongi shook his head as soon as he heard that.

"You made it, so i'll eat it".

He took another gulp.

A couple of minutes pass with both of them silent.

Yoongi finishes first.

He places the empty plate on the sink, before he stood up and leave for their shared bedroom, " I will get ready"

Namjoon nods softly, quickly to finish his food too before heading upstairs.

Namjoon's eyes widen once he opened their bedroom door. He can't found Yoongi anywhere, but there's a sound from the bathroom. He walks there, standing silently. His heart skipped a beat when he heard a small gag, then followed by a rush of liquid filling the bowl. Yoongi is vomiting.

He didn't bother to knock as he turns the handle.

Yoongi's eyes were screwed shut, hands wrapped around the rim of the bowl as he puked until the last bit came out. Namjoon steps further inside, looking at his boyfriend who now laid his head onto the toilet seat, eyes closed and breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?"

Yoongi shakes his head, before he groans and lifts himself again. His shoulder rolls as he belched into the bowl, more of brown vomit spilling from his lips. Yoongi's face is flushed red, his eyes are red as well, and his hair is damp because of sweat.

Namjoon approaches Yoongi, sitting beside him while rubbing circles on Yoongi's back with a comforting palm.

"You're doing great baby, let it out"

And Yoongi does. He continues emptying the contents of his stomach, gasping between his breaths with his nose scrunched up as he could register the toast he just ate, barely disgested, floating on the murky water below him. And the taste that lingers on his tongue only makes everything worst. His stomach twist, his head spins and he couldn't hold back the urge to vomit again.

"Your egg—uuurrkkkk", Yoongi manages to spit before turning his head. But the action caused the sick feeling to worsen and Yoongi pukes again.

" I know, i'm sorry, just finish it first hyung", Namjoon whispers.

When Yoongi is done throwing up. Namjoon helps him wipe his mouth with a wet towel and wipes his face with the same cloth.

"Are you feeling better?", Namjoon asks while he helped him lie down, Yoongi groaning as he did, letting himself rest on the soft mattress. His back aches after hunching over the toilet for a long time. His stomach is sore, and the baby keeps kicking there just adding more to the discomfort he felt. Then his argument that causing him to throw up earlier with Namjoon showing up.

Yoongi nods before placing a hand on his abdomen and rub soothingly, ducking his head down as he felt his emotion starts rising. Tears stinging behind his eyes, and before he knows, he sobs.

" Hey hey, baby, why are you crying?", Namjoon sits down next to his lover, hugging Yoongi close and letting the older cry against his chest. Yoongi clings onto him tightly, sobbing. " I'm sorry, hyung. I just didn't mean to make you sick, i swear."

"Everything feels horrible", Yoongi hiccups. He didn't care if his words come out slurred, " My stomach sore, the baby keeps kicking and making me nauseous, my back aches so bad and so is my feet, and your damn egg-", he rants in between sobs. Namjoon hushed him gently, rubbing his arm and kissing his crown.

"Shh, shh, i'm sorry hyung", Namjoon kisses the top of his boyfriend's head. And he continued holding him. Yoongi finally lets go of him with his tears dripping on Namjoon's shirt.

" Can we ...", Yoongi sniffles again, and it sounds like his throat hurts.

"... stay at home today? .."

Namjoon looks at him, "What?".

" I don't want to go anywhere. Now I've thrown up once, i know I will throw up more since my stomach still queasy", Yoongi mumbles.

" Okay", Namjoon answers immediately, " We can stay at home. Do you want anything?"

"No", Yoongi shuffles, getting comfortable on the bed, " but .. your baby kinda misses you. Can you stop making them kicking me?"

Namjoon looks at him, confused. "And how do i do that?"

Yoongi takes his wrist, slides his sweater up so it showed his bump, and placing Namjoon's palms there, motioning it against his skin, "Like that"

Namjoon laughs, "Just say you want me to rub your tummy and go"

"There's a baby now!", Yoongi pouts.

"Stop pouting or i will kiss you"

"I still taste like puke", Yoongi whines.

"Okay fine", Namjoon chuckles, " Your stomach grumbles loudly though. I can sense some kicking too", he says after a while.

"I know. It makes me nauseous when the baby moving a lot", Yoongi huffs in annoyance.

Namjoon giggles at his reaction, "It's nice to hear you complaining. I love you"

"Hnngg", Yoongi replies, "Don't you say i'm irritable?", he teases. Namjoon's face immediately falls, " I'm sorry hyung, I didn't mean that"

"I was teasing you Joonie", Yoongi smiles at him.

He brings him closer, "I know i become more annoying as im pregnant. But i can't help it, my mood control me most of the time"

"I know, i love you. I really didn't see it as anything annoying, but more too adorable. Seeing you pouts every time you complain", Namjoon grins, leaning forward to steal a kiss. Gaining gasps from the older, before his face scrunched and he clamping his mouth as he suddenly gagging.

" Joon-ah, trashcan. Now", Yoongi groaned.

Namjoon gets up from the bed and grabs the trashcan, walking back to Yoongi, placing it on the older laps as the silver-haired boy immediately hunching over it. Heaving trickle of bile and saliva as he still empty, haven't eaten anything yet.

Namjoon staring at him, "Why are you suddenly nauseous?"

A gag escaping his parted lips and a few seconds later Yoongi vomits again. "Your lips-", he chokes out before another bile making him jolts forward, "-it taste like eggs"

Namjoon stares at him, mouth agape. His eyes widened, "Gosh, you really hate eggs now?"

Yoongi pukes, before he nods and sniffles. Lifting his head a bit when his stomach calmed down, "I told you"

×××

"What did you cook now?", Yoongi greets his boyfriend that already busy in the kitchen, again, the next morning.

" Pancake", Namjoon says, gaining a hum from Yoongi as he propped himself on the counter.

Yoongi squints his eyes when he sees something different on their fridge. A sticky note.

He steps down from his seat, and walks -more like waddles- to there, taking the sticky notes.

"What is it, Joon?", he asks. Not aware how fast Namjoon turns his body and blush covering his cheeks.

" Shit, you're not supposed to see that"

Yoongi laughs, his shoulder shakes, "Seriously, Joonie? " Don't cook eggs. Yoongi hates eggs. Eggs ❌" ?"

Namjoon groans, taking the notes from Yoongi that still chuckling. "I just dont want to make you accidentally sick again"

"Oohh, you're down bad for me Joon-ah"

Namjoon rolls his eyes, "Shut up hyung"

[journeyofbell]

Guys, I'm so tired of feeling sad. This entire month has been nothing but jolly Christmas everywhere, everyone is supposed to have a good time and relax with their family. To enjoy each other's company and not focus on conflict.

I've been awake for the past 3 hours, sobbing quietly and then had a silent panic attack in the bathroom. I hate how dysfunctional my family is, not even Christmas can get them to behave nicely. I was naive enough to believe that I could have an actual peaceful Christmas eve, just for once.

Instead, I've spent the entire day watching my uncle belittle, criticise and ignore his son, my cousin. Meanwhile, he's sweet and polite towards his daughter, the sister. The kid has done nothing wrong, btw. It's terrifying to see how my uncle won't even look at his own son when the latter is talking to him. Instead, my uncle wandered off to look for something stupid, interrupting a story my cousin was telling only to him, and no one said a damn thing. I asked my uncle to come back and listen but no, apparently he does that all the time.

I'm upset because my uncle is angry at my mother for doing the exact same to me. He thinks he's better than her yet every sentence towards my cousin is like listening to my mother speak through him. My cousins are bloody adults now but my uncle insists on talking to his son like he's an idiot. Not to his daughter, only his son.

And I'm not only sad, I'm angry and disappointed. I thought my uncle knew better, working with kids for a living and all. But he still treats his son like a troublemaker who can only do wrong. It hurts so much to see because my cousin has autism, like me. He's known since he was 6 or so. He's such a good kid, he's doing so well but my uncle is still bothering him every second of the day. No matter what he does, it's never good enough for my uncle. This kid just wants his dad's attention and approval for a bloody minute and he'd be better off talking to a fucking wall.

My family has come apart at the seams because my grandmother was like this. Her children (my mother and uncle) cut her off years ago due to her extreme lack of support and no empathy for her own children. Both claim they want to be better than her yet neither have tried to self-reflect and consider, for once in their god damned lives, that we're not here to please them.

My grandfather on that side committed suicide when I was 2 years old due to depression. I'm the only out of his now 5 grandchildren he got to meet in person. How can that loss and sorrow have taught my family absolutely nothing? Why is no one noticing the pattern of misery tainting each generation? Why is it that my cousin and I (and my youngest brother) are working so hard to catch up yet get scolded as the enemies because we're "different"?

I am sick to my stomach right now. I broke and paid dearly for trying to appear neurotypical in a family that despised my differences. Now my cousin, and youngest brother, are going down that same road. I'm not fucking having it, it'll be over my dead body that these two boys have to break in order to get taken seriously. I am not accepting this disgusting behaviour towards us, I'm more than done. We're the ones working so hard to fit in but our parents take the victim role and blame us for being problematic. Just like their mother did with them. How the fuck are they so blind that they can't see that?

I'm done being nice about this, period. I'm not the glue of the family, that didn't work last time and it's still not working now. It's not my job, as a fucking neurodivergent person, to tell a bunch of grown ass people that they have to treat all of their children with respect. We shouldn't have to appear neurotypical to get treated with respect, our siblings never worked for that a day in their life. No matter how accomplished we are, we are pushed aside so that our parents can praise the others for the most mundane shit.

They got lucky and now they're reaping the love and respect our parents failed to give out evenly. It's not their fault but it isn't ours either. I'm done taking the blame for how our family is broken. I can't break something that has been fucked from day one. I'm not bending and breaking myself anymore for their convenience so that their generation can stay in their comfort of never having to change. Neither should my cousin or brother, for that matter.

That generation above us are changing this time because it's their mess to fix, not ours. My mother won't do it so lord help me that I'm cancelling that part of my family if my uncle can't see this himself. I'm fucking tired of excuses with no actions behind them. They need to step up or get fucked.

Make that my New Year's Eve resolution for 2022, if you will.

[itsadamcole]

graduation day pt.2

fem!reader x finn balor

It’s been two months since reader graduated college. Her and Finn’s new relationship is going strong. She’s applied for a position as teacher’s assistant at the college she graduated from so she has a reason to continue living nearby to be with Finn. The two decide to keep their relationship on the down low since he is her former professor. She finds out that it’s not easy to keep a relationship on the down low, especially when she finds out the teacher she is assisting is the woman that has had a thing for Finn for the longest time .... “you are so fucking hot when you’re jealous”

word count: 3.6k+

warnings: a former teacher/former student relationship, angst, smut

— here’s part 2 of “graduation day” that probably no one wanted. enjoy —

masterlist || part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ||request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You’re getting ready for your first day of work when your phone begins to ring. You see that “finn ♡” has popped up. You answer right away.

“Look who it is,” you say, smiling as you brush out your Y/H/C hair before tying the natural waves up in a high ponytail. “I was just thinking about you.”

Your new boyfriend laughs over the phone and says, “I can only imagine what was goin’ through that pretty little head of yours. Anyway, have ya found out who ya are assigned to assist?”

As Finn talks through the phone, you put on your outfit for the day. When he’s done speaking, you say, “Not yet. I report to the English department head.” I did request to be put in the English department so there’s more of a chance that I’ll be put with you.”

The outfit you’re wearing today consists of a simple short sleeved black dress with converse black and white sneakers.

Finn says, “Well, stop my my office when ya get assigned. Maybe I can tell ya a little about the teacher ya were assigned to so ya know what to expect.”

You add some light makeup to your look as you say, “I will. I have to get to the school so I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Alright,” Finn says. “See ya in a bit.”

The two of you say your goodbyes. You gather your things, including phone, wallet, and little backpack in case you’re assigned to grade something.

It’s 7:30 in the morning. You woke up an hour ago to shower and get dressed. You don’t have to be at school until eight but you want to grab coffee from Dunkin.

You get into your car, throwing your things in the back.

The past two months have been anything but ordinary for you. Since graduation day, you and Finn have been attached at the hip. You're always at his place or he's over at yours. The new relationship between the two of you has needed some getting used to.

He convinced you to stay nearby by getting a job as teacher's assistant. You're getting paid a decent amount too because it's a private college. It was this or go home to New York, which would be over a thousand miles away. You were not interested in leaving Finn this soon. So you applied for the job.

Once you got hired, Finn told you that he wanted to keep the new romance between the two of you a secret. You immediately agreed. Finn's well known among the teachers and students and you had some friends in the grade below you. It wouldn't look good if it came out that you and Finn were in a relationship.

He's your former professor. You're his former student. You only graduated almost three months ago.

There's also an almost seventeen year age difference between you and Finn. You turn 23 in a few months and Finn is 39. Neither you or Finn care about the age gap. It just wouldn't look very good for either of you if the relationship between the two of you was public.

You think about the past two almost three months in the short ride to Dunkin. You go through drive-thru to get your coffee and two donuts.

A medium mocha iced coffee with some cream, sugar, and some extra mocha to make it a little more sweet. You get two glazed donuts to eat on the way to school.

You and Finn both embraced the change of relationship. You went from teacher and student to lovers. Some would find it weird, especially with the age gap, but it never bothered you or him. Finn definitely still moves like he’s in his 20s and not about to hit is 40s.

When you arrive at school, you remember the last time you were here. You pulled up almost three months ago to confess your feelings to your teacher before proceeding to sleep with him in his office. It was the best sex of your life. The few times you've had sex since have been good, but nothing compared to what happened in the office on graduation day.

You pull into a spot in the teacher's parking lot. You park in the back of the lot. Once parked, you reach back and grab your things out of the backseat before getting out of the car. You secure the backpack on your shoulders before walking toward the English building, half drank iced coffee in hand.

The campus has teachers and students roaming around. It's almost eight in the morning. You're sure a few classes have begun by now.

You take the elevator to the fourth floor, walking down the hallway. You pass Finn's office, which is only a few doors down from the head of the English department.

Once you're outside the department head's door, you knock four times then wait.

An older man, probably late 50s or early 60s, answers the door. He's dressed very professional.

"Ah, Miss L/N," he says. "I've been expecting you. Please, come in."

You give him a kind smile before walking into the larger office. You're not surprised it's a big office. He is the department head.

The name plate on his door said "Dr. Dennis Hart PhD. Head of English Department". You sit across from Dr. Hart at his desk.

Dr. Hart says, "It's always wonderful to see former students getting a job here at the school. You did phenomenal in your English classes over the last four years so this department is lucky to have you."

You give a little laugh and say, "I'm just giving back to the school that gave me an amazing college experience. It's good to be back."

The older man smiles and says, "Now. The teacher I've assigned you to is Miss Veronica Rodriguez. She's a wonderful teacher and has been teaching here for five years. She teaches 407 English to seniors and her classroom is right below us, next to Mr. Balor's classroom. I saw you had him last year for English."

You nod and say, "I did. How is Mr. Balor? He was one of my favorite teachers and I never got to say goodbye and thank you to him."

When you and Finn agreed to keep your relationship on the down low, you both also agreed to act like you haven't seen each other since graduation day to throw off any suspicions.

Dr. Hart says, "He's been good. Very excited to be coming back for his tenth year of teaching."

"Ten years, wow," you say, almost shocked. Almost. "That's a long time. I didn't even think he was old enough to be teaching ten years."

The older gentlemen laughs and says, "He's older than you probably thought. Alright, class begins in about fifteen minutes so head on down and introduce yourself to Miss Rodriguez before class begins."

You nod and thank Dr. Hart before leaving the room. You walk down the hallway, checking to make sure no one is behind you before you slip into Finn's now open office. He sits at his desk.

"Hey," Finn says, facial expression brightening when he sees you. "How'd it go? Who ya assisting for the semester?"

You sit across from Finn at his desk and say, "Veronica Rodriguez. You know anything about her?"

Finn blinks at you before he says, "She's been up my butt for years. She's had a thing for me since she started teaching here and it's not a secret either. It's also not a secret that I've been rejecting her over and over again. She's a good teacher. She just needs to leave me alone."

You raise your eyebrows and say, "Wow. Well, don't worry. I'll do everything I can to keep her away from you."

He smiles and you look at the time. Ten minutes before class. You stand up and say, "Well, I've got to go to class. Are we meeting up for lunch here?"

Finn nods and says, "Of course. I'll see ya then."

You smile and lean over the desk, pressing a very light kiss to Finn's lips before leaving the room.

You head downstairs, walking to the classroom.

When you reach your destination, you knock on the door before opening it.

Miss Rodriguez is a younger woman. She's probably early or mid 30s and she's beautiful.

She looks at you and says, "You must be Y/N L/N. Dennis told me I'd be getting a teacher's assistant this semester and he told me you were a former student."

You nod and say, "That's me, and yes I am. I graduated in May." It's now mid-August.

Miss Rodriguez says, "Well, it's nice to meet you. You can call me Veronica or Ver, whichever you like. You don't need to be formal with me since we're co-workers."

You give her a nice smile. She seems like a very nice person. She tells you the schedule of her classes. Two classes on Monday and Thursdays. One class on Tuesdays, three on Wednesdays, none on Friday, and a late night class on Saturday. The only very early classes are on Monday and Thursday at 8:20 in the morning.

As students start trickling in, Veronica says, "I teach seniors who aren't very awake this early. This can be a little tricky sometimes but you'll get the hang of it. When I'm out sick or visiting family, I'd like you to come in and just assign some work then you can dismiss the class."

You nod.

Right as Veronica begins class, you look over at the doorway to see Finn standing there. You try not to have a reaction as Veronica notices. "Mr. Balor," she says. "Nice to see you. How was your summer?"

Finn says, "Eventful." You have to cover your smile. "How was your summer, Ver."

"A little less eventful," she says. "I stayed in most of the time, reading books. Um, why didn't you return my calls?"

You raise your eyebrows a bit and Finn glances at you before he says, "Like I said, my summer was very eventful. I apologize."

Veronica says, "Well maybe we can just skip over the phone calls and you can take me out to dinner."

Jealousy hits you like a truck. You want to say something but you know you can't. All you can do is bite your lip to stay quiet.

Finn gives a breathy laugh and he says, "After class we'll talk. Oh, and Y/N?" You look at him. "Nice to see that ya keep gnawing on that lip of yours. I'd stop doing that before ya cut it open."

He said that to you on graduation day. Your face heats up a little bit and let your lip snap back into place.

The door to the classroom closes and class begins.

***

After class ends, you make your way up to Finn's office. He's still in class so you sit in the spiny chair behind his desk.

Several minutes pass before you hear his voice outside. Not only his voice but Veronica's too. You hide under Finn's desk as the two walk into the room.

"... didn't tell me no in front of my students," Veronica is saying. "I'm thankful for that."

Finn says, "I've told ya no many times. I'm not interested in ya, Ver. You're a nice woman, and I'd even say attractive, but I'm not interested."

Veronica is quiet before she says, "Is it because of a wife? Or a girlfriend? Because I don't care about that, Finny. You know this"

"Get out of my office, Ver," Finn sighs, clearly annoyed. "Now."

You hear someone leave and peek out to see only Finn in the room. He looks over and sees you peeking out from over the desk.

He says, "Ya can come out, Y/N."

Slowly, you make your way out from under the desk and walk up to Finn. "I don't like how she can openly flirt with you," you say, pouting.

Finn's hands intertwine with yours and he says, "I'm all yours, my princess."

You pout some more and say, "It's not fair, Finn."

He says, "Relax, Y/N. I have no interest in her whatsoever. It's only you." He presses light kisses to your cheek and you look at Finn. His light kisses make their way to your neck, making you sigh.

"We are not doing this in your office again," you gasp as Finn grips your thighs right under your butt.

He smiles against your neck and says, “I never said we would, love.”

You giggle and say, “Come by my place when you get off work and we can do that there.”

Finn says, “I’ll definitely be there at four then.” You smile and nod before pecking his lips.

“I should head down to the classroom to make sure everything’s okay,” you say. “I’ll come back at lunch.”

He nods and says, “I’ll see ya in a few hours. Maybe I’ll come check on ya to make sure ya are okay.”

You smile and say, “If you hear yelling coming from my classroom then you should come running because I might be about to kill Veronica.”

Finn laughs and says, “Don’t kill her, Y/N. Please.”

You peck Finn’s lips before leaving the classroom.

Veronica dumps a little work for you to do. Just to make sure that everyone did the in-class assignment and to mark people who didn’t.

Noon hits and you go to the cafeteria to grab your lunch. You are in line when someone comes up behind you. You glance behind you to see Finn.

“Y/N,” he says. “Good to see ya again. How was your summer?”

You nod and say, “Good. Very eventful. How was yours, Mr. Balor?”

Finn says, “Also eventful. How about ya come by my office and have lunch with me so we can catch up?”

As you grab your lunch, you nod and say, “That sounds good.”

Finn laughs softly as the two of you grab your lunch. You pay and Finn pays before the two of you head to the office.

You walk into the office and Finn closes the door behind you. You sigh and sit at Finn’s desk. You begin to eat and Finn says, “I can’t wait for this day to be over.”

“I agree,” you say, swallowing the bite of your veggie burger.

The door opens and Veronica walks in. She says, “We usually have lunch together, Finny.” She sounds like a child and it annoys you.

Finn has a look on his face and he says, “We had lunch together one time, Ver.”

Veronica says, “It’s a little inappropriate to have lunch with a former student.”

“We’re catching up,” Finn says. “And she works in the department now. She’s a co-worker now.”

You look back at Veronica and you say, “You know what’s actually inappropriate? Begging someone to go out with you when said someone isn’t interested.”

Finn’s eyes widen and Veronica says, “Excuse me. That’s no way to speak to me. I can have your job.”

You smirk and say, “Go ahead. Try to take my job, but imagine what would happen if I went to your superior and told them that you harass Mr. Balor here.”

Veronica says, “Dr. Hart spoke so highly of you and you are not what I expected.”

“Yeah, well, I can tell that Mr. Balor is tired of your shit and he’s too nice to say anything about it so I will,” you say, turning in your seat to face Veronica. “I’m telling you now because he won’t. Back off of him.”

She looks taken aback by my comment. Her jaw is almost to the floor and Finn’s hiding a smile behind his hands.

Veronica says, “Keep speaking to me in that matter and I’ll make your life hell for the semester.”

A comeback immediately comes into your head as you say, “It’s already hell because I’m assigned to you.”

Veronica has a pissed off look on her face and she says, “Whatever.” She leaves the office and you look at Finn. He’s looking right at you.

“Ya are so fucking hot when you’re jealous and telling someone off,” he says.

You giggle and say, “Relax Finny Boy. A few more hours then you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Oh, I plan on doing whatever I want to ya,” he says, smirking at me.

***

You get back to your apartment at 3:30. Finn won’t be here for a half hour so you decide to get into something a little sexier than this plain black dress.

You put on a white lacy bodysuit. The whole thing is a little bit see through and the neck dips down low, exposing your cleavage. You keep your hair up and lay across the bed, laying on your side and facing the door.

Finn has a key. You gave him the extra key you had so he can walk into the apartment whenever he wants to. He’s only scared you once and he learned his lesson.

At four on the dot, the front door to your apartment opens and you hear Finn call, “Y/N?”

“Bedroom,” you call back.

The door is open and several seconds later, Finn appears in the doorway. His neatly tied tie now hangs draped over his neck and the first few buttons on his shirt are now unbuttoned.

His eyes darken with lust when he sees what you’re wearing.

“Like something you see, Finn?” you tease.

He nods and he keeps staring at you. You get off the bed and you walk up to Finn.

You hook your fingers in the belt hooks of Finn’s pants and look up at him. You say, “You’re mine, Finn. All mine.”

Finn echos, “All yours, my love.”

You smirk and say, “Good. Now fuck me until I can’t walk.”

That’s all Finn needs to hear before he picks you up by your thighs and walks you over to the bed. His lips are on your neck as he walks over to your bed. You gasp and giggle.

He drops you on your back on the bed and kicks off his shoes while starting to unbutton his pants.

You bite your lip gently as Finn undresses himself in front of you. Your eyes trace every muscle on his body.

Finn’s down to his boxers when he crawls on top of you, hovering over you between your legs. His lips crash to yours and they move harshly. You move your hips so your crotch rubs against Finn’s bulge. He lets out a low groan into the kiss then pins your hips to the bed. “I don’t think so, love,” he says, pulling away from the rough kiss. Ya told me to fuck ya until ya can’t walk so no teasing.”

You pout as Finn gets on his knees between your legs. His fingers hook onto the straps of your lingerie and he pulls the piece down until your naked as the day you were born.

Finn smirks as he admires your body. His hands roam a bit and you smile, watching his hands. They dip below your waist and his fingers run through your folds. You gasp as Finn pushes two fingers into you.

“Oh, Finn,” you sigh. He moves his fingers hard into you, scissoring you open. Your gasps and moans fill the room. You grab onto the silky bedsheets.

Finn move his fingers in and out of you roughly and quickly for a few moments before he pulls them out. You whine and look at Finn.

“Patience, my love,” he says, pulling off his boxers so his erect member is free. You reach out for it and Finn pins your wrists to the bed.

Finn leans down and says in your ear, “Tonight’s about ya, love. I’m gonna make sure ya know that I belong to ya and ya only.”

As soon as he’s done talking, he pushes himself into you. You moan softly and you put your hand on Finn’s biceps. As he begins to thrust into you, you dig your fingers into Finn’s arm.

Finn’s hands are on either side of your head, propping himself up. Your legs are wrapped securely around Finn’s waist as he moves hard and deep into you. His forehead rests on yours.

He moves roughly but almost in a careful way. He’s never moved like this before.

You slide your hands to Finn’s cheeks as he moves. You kiss his lips slowly, moaning as his thrusts get faster.

After a second, you roll and straddle Finn’s waist. You lower yourself onto his member and move your hips. His hands are on your waist, helping you move your hips.

“I’m yours,” Finn moans. “All yours, Y/N.”

You echo, “All mine.” You ride Finn like you never have before. You move like he moved. Roughly but carefully.

Finn sighs, “Come with me, princess.”

You nod and Finn counts down from three. Both of you come together, like the first time the two of you had sex in Finn’s office. You moan and cry out as you release around Finn. He groans as he releases his seed into you.

You roll off Finn and lay beside Finn.

As you both lay on the bed beside each other, you say, “That felt different but a good different.”

He laughs softly and says, “It did. It felt really good. I loved it.”

“And I love you,” you suddenly blurt out. You quickly cover your mouth and look at Finn.

The Irishman smiles and he leans over, kissing your neck softly. He mumbles by your ear, “I love ya too.”

[treadskitty]

Tread owns me. I'm his obedient kitty cat.

But it wasn't always so. We grew up together, and back then... I guess I didn't know how much he liked me. He thought the world of me, and I didn't know it. Well, we were friends, but I didn't know that he *wanted* me. He told me since we got together that he used to jerk off thinking about me. Fuck, what a compliment!

I didn't know then, that I was pretty, that I was desirable. I thought I was just a tomboy farm girl who didn't know how to make myself pretty like all the slender, delicate, popular girls. I was dark haired and big boned and awkward. But he wanted me, and I didn't know.

I surely didn't know he admired me so much. That he was so impressed by the swiftness of my mind and the independence and radical freedom with which I moved through the world. I knew we were friends. But I didn't remotely understand how lost we could have gotten in one another, if I hadn't been so damned blind.

During the time he knew me best, I had hit a sort of breaking point where I decided not to take any shit from anybody, to just be unapologetically myself. I had this philosophy that the more true I was to myself, the more I would draw to me those who appreciated that and repel those who did not. I believed it was the way to make a perfect life for myself.

And it pretty much worked. One thing that was true is that Tread kept an eye on me as the years rolled past, he certainly stayed drawn to me. Every couple years he would reach out and we'd talk a little... 3 years ago or so I almost went to visit, but I got so busy.

Then, seven weeks ago. He came back around yet again with his gentle inquiry into whether I was finally ready. Even though so many things have changed about me since we grew up, he still wanted me.

Finally, I saw him. I recognized what had been there this whole time that I could have had him years ago if only I'd known that he really did want me.

And it's best that everything works the way it did. I had things I had to do, as did he.

But now, now I'm wrapped around his fingers. Under his thumb. Putty in his hands. Now I'm a perfectly reprogrammable pleasure pet who simply cannot get enough of him. He still has such a high opinion of me, but now I'm absolutely insane for him.

I want him.

I need him.

I need his control. I need him to tell me how it's going to be. I need for him to own me, co-own me with my wife. She sees how good he is for me.

I can't believe how much it turns me on to think about how he wanted me so long, and now he has me so completely, and I'm so helpless, and I'm so addicted to him. It had barely been, well not even 2 weeks before I was on a plane to make myself his pet. I've got just one week more, not even, before I'm back beneath him.

I'm really completely reveling in this idea that, just by giving in to him completely and without any hesitation, I'm able to fulfill his boyhood wish.

Only now he doesn't just have to jerk off over me. Now he can, he has, taken his pleasure from fucking his pretty pussy cat. Now he can drain his balls into me over and over, trying to knock me up in just the way that I'm kind of glad we didn't when we were both too young for it.

I'm so happy to belong to him. I'm so happy that Tread owns my mind as my body and my heart. I'm delighted about how inevitable this all feels. I like to think that maybe he did a little sex magic back in the day. Maybe when he was coming way back then, thinking about coming inside me, maybe he was marking me some way, like a sigil of sorts inscribed on my very soul, to ensure that when the time was right, I would be the juiciest, most sun ripenned, most perfectly ready to be taken and tasted and kept right where he wants me, forever.

2 months ago I didn't know any of this would happen. Two months ago I was all fucked up about a crush who told me that I was way too much. Always too much for those who aren't enough for me.

Tread is enough. Tread is just right. Tread is everything I wanted, needed, asked for. I'm still a lot, but I never have to worry about being too much ever again. If I am ever more than he wants me to be, he will just change me until I am perfect for him. He knows I'm a shapeshifter, he knows how the magic works, the structure of it. He has absolute power over me. Fuck, yes.

I love this. There is finally a man who really all the way knows me, who knows what he has taken hold of and who knows just how to use me to access states of pleasure that most men will only ever guess are possible.

I'm just right for Tread. Not just an example of the kind of pet he always wanted, but the actual irreplaceable original. He wanted me. Now he has me. He used to masturbate over me and now he decides when or even if I will be permitted to cum... And if so, it is because making me come pleases him.

All pleasure I ever have again, all of it happens only because it pleases him. He's a very kind owner, but if he didn't let me cum any more at all, I would still have the incredible pleasure of obeying him.

He was a little afraid at how fast it was, when first I rushed to his side. He'd never been loved quite like this before. So few have. But I think that he is warming to it.

I don't need his heart back in trade for mine.

It isn't like that. This isn't a transaction. I'm life's free gift to him. He wanted me. I didn't know how badly I needed for him to want me. And he did. He does. I don't know if he will ever know what enormous good that does to me.

But I know. I know who owns me.

I belong to Tread.

I'm so fucking happy.