#like I KNOW the thing I'm sick to my stomach about can't be dealt with until tomorrow evening at the earliest

[cautiousgoose]

I think one of the worst things about having an anxiety disorder is that knowing that stressing about the thing won't fix the thing does not stop the stressing.

So like, then you get to have two downward spirals: one about whatever the original issue was, and a second spiral about how all the first spiral is doing is negatively effecting your physical and mental health.

[ellieluvr420]

We meet again, darling pt.9 (detective Abby Anderson x criminal reader)

Synopsis: Abby Anderson is a skilled detective that's never let a criminal escape her grasp, until you. You've infiltrated every part of her life and she still can't get you. As she grows more and more intrigued by you she finds herself descending further into darkness until there's no way back. She takes your hand and follows you as if your presence is the only thing giving her life knowing that you are the most dangerous thing for her. Her life will never be hers again and she will stop at nothing to keep following you down your path of corruption.

SMUT, mdni please xox

After you had kicked Abby out Saturday morning, she spent basically her whole weekend in bed. She had been so anxious about Ellie, you, her job, everything, she felt sick to her stomach. It was Sunday evening when you knocked on her door.

"So you do know how to knock?"

"I knew you were in and I didn't want to reveal how I get in when you aren't."

"Right."

"You going to help me out and let me in or leave me standing out here all night?" You were holding Abby's suit which you had had dry cleaned, some takeout and your bag, you were sure you had about 2 minutes before everything crashed to the floor.

"Sorry." She opens the door and grabs the suit and takeout from you before stepping aside to let you in. She kicks the door shut behind you and puts the suit down to lock the door. "You brought food?"

"Yeah I figured you might want a taste of the outside world since I've had you cooped up for the weekend. If you're good I might take you on a walk later." She can't see your face but she knows you're smiling to yourself.

"You're hilarious. Food smells good though, thank you."

"It's okay." You sit down on her couch and wait for her to join you with the food. As you're waiting you look around the room. The walls were a bright off white colour and there was a warm light lamp with a simple grey shade standing in the corner next to the tv on the opposite wall to where the couch sits. She had a black wooden coffee table in front of the couch with a grey rug that matched the lamp. The couch was comfortable, squishy and black with grey accent cushions. You expected the monotone colour scheme from her really but you did notice the plants and decorations that added colour to the room. Her apartment was nice, clean and homey, you felt comfortable there.

"You judging my interior design?"

"The opposite actually, I had never really noticed it but your apartments very nice."

"Oh, thanks." You nod and start ripping open the takeout bag and laying all the food on the table. You waste no time in digging in as between all of the things you've had to do over the weekend you haven't had a chance to eat a proper meal since your dinner with Abby.

"Holy fuck this is good." Abby sighs and leans back as she continues eating.

"Mhmm" You agree through a mouth full of food. She chuckles at you and you laugh with her but you decide now is the time to address the elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry for blowing up at you like that yesterday."

"It's okay, really."

"No please let me finish, I planned my speech and everything." Abby nods her head, signalling you to continue. "I panicked. I'm used to hiccups, that's life. But I'm not used to hiccups involving the cops and it scared me. Regardless, accidents happen and I know you weren't being careless, I forget that not everyone is used to how careful you have to be with these things so I hold everyone to my standard and that isn't fair on you. So I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

Abby stays quiet for some time, pretending to contemplate whether she should until she smiles and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. "You know for a second there you actually seemed human."

"Don't insult me." Your words came out muffled as she is still firmly holding you to her chest. You slap her shoulder as you start struggling to breathe. She laughs and lets you go. "But Abby, this cannot happen again. I dealt with the problem this time but it might not be so easy to fix next time. I mean I don't even know for sure if the problems fixed. Depends how smart your little friend is."

"Williams? What do you mean?"

"I paid her a visit."

"Andddd?"

"I didn't hurt her. Just threatened everyone that she loves and paid her for her silence."

"Oh my god."

"What?! It had to be done."

"So she knows about all of this?" She points a finger between you two.

"Errr not exactly. She knows we're... associates and that you're working for me but she doesn't know what we're doing, although I'm sure it won't take her long to figure it out when we start mission take over." Abby rolls her eyes at the use of the name and then raises an eyebrow.

"I work for you? I thought we were partners."

"I don't have partners, Abby. But if I did you'd be pretty close."

"Gee, thanks."

"That was a compliment darling."

"Your compliments don't often sound like compliments." She leans into you, looking you up and down and stopping to stare at your lips.

"I can only be so nice." You lean in further, tucking a piece of hair behind Abby's ear as your other hand threads its way through her soft, blonde waves, tugging a little. Abby presses her lips to yours in a sweet kiss that soon turns hungry and rough as she slips her tongue in your mouth to dance with yours. She tugs on the top of your thigh to pull you down as she climbs on top of you while pressing a strong thigh to your core. You close your legs around it and immediately start grinding down into it. Tonight is nothing like Friday night, its rushed and filled with need instead of want. You're both consuming each other as all the pent up emotions are released through your touches.

"Fuck this. I need more room for what I'm about to do to you." Abby's voice is low and raspy, it leaves you so entranced you don't feel her strong arms wrapping around your waist and under your bum as she hoists you up to carry you to her bed. As she reaches the foot of her bed, she throws you down with enough force that you bounce a little. "Strip."

"Make me." She had turned her attention away from you but the look she gave you as she whipped her head around was enough to make you comply. She chuckled at your reaction and said over her shoulder. "Good girl." You roll your eyes knowing she can't see and continue stripping. As you sit on the bed waiting for her you watch her strip her clothes off painfully slowly still facing away from you. You take a second to admire the firm curve of her muscley ass and thighs as you see her fitting a harness around her hips. You gulp knowing what's to come and lick your lips at the sight of her back profile and the way each muscle contracts and relaxes with each movement. She turns and your mouth falls open at the sight of the red appendage strapped to her hips.

"Don't worry, it's new, saw the colour and thought of you."

"How sweet." Your face is deadpan but in a weird way your heart swells at her words. "I don't think that thing is going to fit inside of me. That is a monster dick."

"Oh I'll make it fit. On your knees, hands behind your back and face the back wall." You whimper a little at her words but move quickly to listen to her. You hear a metallic clanking and before you have time to react you feel handcuffs being attached to your wrists.

"Woah Abby."

"Tell me you want me to stop." You huff and stay silent. "That's what I thought." She runs her hands down your back and squeezes each cheek hard enough to leave a bruise then one hands laces itself into your hair and starts pushing you forward while the other presses on your upper back to arch you as much as possible. "You are unreal." Your face is being pushed into her pillows and she knows that, so she doesn't expect a reply. You hear the sound of her spitting into her hand and your crane your neck inwards to see her lubing up the strap on. "I know you don't need this, you're already dripping but I thought I'd be nice. Don't get used to it though." She lands one harsh slap to your pussy and laughs as you jolt and moan and with a faux, sweet, sympathetic tone she says "You tell me if you need to stop okay?" She was mocking you but you knew she meant it as you made eye contact.

At the feel of her slowly easing the dick into you, you moan and push back onto her "Oh fuck," you've never felt this full before, it makes you feel like the airs been knocked out of you. As she bottoms out, you sigh and she lets you get used to the size for a minute. You're shocked as it doesn't match her previous demeanour but when she pulls out and starts drilling you into the bed you understand why she did that. You bury your face into the pillow to stop yourself from screaming but she doesn't like that at all. She pulls you up by your hair and then wraps an arm around your neck and grabs and squeezes your boob with the other. She's kissing your neck, your shoulder blades, anywhere she can and then she leans her head on your shoulder and bites down, hard. You gasp at the feeling of her licking the wound. She grabs your face with the hand that had been squeezing your boob and brings you in for a desperate kiss. You can taste your blood on her tongue and you groan into her mouth. You can barely breathe from all the ecstasy you're feeling but you manage to rasp out: "You're just as fucked up and insane as me, doll, you can't deny it," she growls at your statement and grabs at your chin with the hand of the arm that had been round your neck, you gasp only to feel her middle and ring finger being shoved into your mouth so hard you gag.

You whine and cry around her fingers as you feel yourself getting close. You lean your head back on her shoulder and she plants small kisses on your cheek and temple. "You close love?" You nod as your eyes fall shut until you feel her other hand that's unoccupied snaking down to rub tight fast circles on your clit. You screamed around her fingers as tears fell down your cheeks and you came so hard you thought you died for a second. She keeps pumping in and out of you slowing down to a stop. She lowers you gently down to the bed and kisses a line down your back. "I'm gonna pull out." She pulls out quickly get gently and discards of the strap. You feel her weight shift as she grabs the keys for the handcuffs and undoes them . She rubs each wrist gently and leans down to press a kiss to both afterwards. She lays down next to you and brushes your hair out of your face and laughs as she sees your giddy smile and tired eyes. "You okay?"

"Mhm all good."

"You gotta get up and pee."

"No." You slam your face down into the bed and take no notice of Abby standing up until you feel her large hands grabbing your hips and lifting you up. "No, no, no." You claw at the bed but it's no use. She plops you on your feet and keeps her hands on your hips

"Come on, you know I'm doing you a favour." You huff and walk off to the ensuite as she goes to the kitchen to get some water for you both. When you walk in she's already laying in bed and you climb on top of her and entangle your legs with hers. You lay a hand on her chest without a word.

"Do I want to know what happened to your hand?"

Your eyes are closed and you look asleep but you reply quietly and bluntly. "I killed Luke."

"Oh."

"It had to be done."

"Yeah I know. Was it hard?"

"No. He screamed and cried like a little bitch but I expected nothing less. It doesn't make it harder for me, it does Johnny, but not me. I like it when they fight."

Abby strokes your hair and realises she didn't even have a reaction to what you just said. She didn't care, she didn't feel sorry for Luke, she didn't feel scared of you. She only cared that you were back in her arms. You both fell asleep together and for the first night since Dan she didn't have any nightmares. She slept soundly holding the monster she should be having nightmares about.

[setsugekka]

『atarashī 』 ; 06

❝ fixation ❞ | mlist  ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [4,7k wc] ch cws: smut, bad decisions (as usual), a whole lot of lying and pretending and wishful thinking.

The elevator in your building is broken, because of course it would be at a time like this.

After a night like this one.

Late at night or early in the morning—it depends on who you ask, and from whose perspective—you trudge up the stairs with burning muscles and wobbly legs that are barely capable of handling the weight of your body atop them. Your back is sore, head pounding and all of it only slightly quelled by the hot shower you took before making your exit.

No soap used, on account of not wanting to smell of it.

It feels like an endless path you're forced to take. Up, up, up towards whatever it is that awaits you inside. Your mind swims with the thoughts of everything that has transpired in such a short amount of time; the culmination of so many things, all twisted and fucked up in their own, particular ways. You think of Yeosang, wonder how he's spent his night.

Think of Hongjoong, the way the feeling of his touch still lingers on your skin all over. Attentive and wanting and nearly obsessive in yearning to feel your body under his.

You can't ever see him again.

A situation that will have to be dealt with tomorrow morning. For now, this particular situation at hand. You slide your key into the lock, twist it open and slowly step inside. Kick your shoes off, look down at the destruction of your tights and try not to think about the painted nails that ravaged them to that point. You drop your bag by the door, not bothering to even dig your phone out.

Your husband is found lying curled up on the couch with his phone just beside his head. No doubt wracked with guilt, tiredness, and worry in trying to contact you. The sight of it only makes you feel that much worse.

It awakens him though, your entry. Slowly coming back into consciousness with messy, black hair tossed about his head and face as he slowly sits back up and looks over towards you. Once his eyes meet yours and he becomes awake enough to put the pieces of your return together, he springs to his feet and hurries towards you with arms out. Curls them around you in a tight embrace. You've never seen him like this, so distraught. 

"My God, I was terrified something happened to you." It did. "I kept calling and calling and I couldn't get a hold of you." I was busy, in bed with another man. Someone who wants me unabashedly for the simplicities I have to offer him. "When Seonghwa finally contacted me and told me you were safe...I wish you had just told me you were with him, I would have left you alone."

Eyes shutting tightly, you meet Yeosang's embrace with just as much longing, nestling your face into his shoulder and staring out into the emptiness ahead of you—mind elsewhere. Mind still partially with someone different.

With hands placed atop your shoulders, Yeosang pulls you back and away from him; looks you over as if studying you in such a peculiar way. It drives up the worry in your stomach, the concern of being found out. That somehow he will know, smell the remnants of another man on your skin, in your hair. Know where it is that you've been and what you've been doing while he's been here all night, worried sick about your well-being instead.

Part of you—the nasty, vindictive side that hates everything that your husband has put you through lately and over the years—thinks him deserving of it, in some ways.

Yeosang's hands come up then to cradle your face. Suppose whatever it is that he had been looking for not being found, if evidence of unfaithfulness was on the agenda, because he looks at you with the utmost softness. Kisses you lightly on the lips, tells you that he loves you. All things that you know and have heard before. Until...

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your mouth, eyes closed and shuddering with the trickling of remaining terror of potentially losing you. "I'm sorry about everything, about pushing you so hard about having a baby, about not fucking considering how it was making you feel seriously. I wasn't taking it seriously, I wasn't taking you seriously."

At the tail end of the words, you hear his voice tremble. A sob that threatens to erupt from his chest—you can't remember a time where you have ever seen your husband cry. Not before now. He fights it back, eyes opening to look deeply into your own and you can see the evident sorrow so embedded in every fiber of his being now.

He means it. He means every word of it. Only it's too late, and what you've done can't be undone with the same sort of apologia. 

You feel numb, probably a combination of everything. Yeosang kisses you again and you meet him with matched earnest, because you do still love him, and you do accept his apology. You know that he doesn't act maliciously, and purposefully in ways that will hurt you. He's selfish and entitled and in many ways a little bit privileged—something that's hard to break the habit of, feeling entitled to every desire that one may come into.

"If you don't want to start a family, then neither do I," he says, a pained whisper, but you believe him fully. "If it comes down to the choice; having a baby or having you, then I'd choose you hundreds of times, for the rest of my life and again in others."

Would you still feel that way if you knew. 

You kiss your husband again, deep and loving and fully realized in how his arms wrap around your body, hold you close, fill you with all of the adoration and acceptance that made you fall for him all of those years ago.

You wonder if the roles were reversed and Yeosang slept with someone else in a moment of weakness, of heartbreak, and devastation—felt so horribly about it and yet still filled with so much love for you—would you want to know?

No, you don't think that you would.

Sleep doesn't find you particularly well the night before work, though you suppose you have no one to blame for that but yourself. 

Mind wracked with guilt still, this is just something that you're going to have to live with. You made your bed, and now you have to find a way to make peace with yourself and lie in it. Maybe go to confessional despite not being particularly religious of a woman, therapy likely couldn't hurt, either.

Regardless, it makes for the Monday morning and work day ahead tiring before you ever even get started on the tasks at hand. Slumping into the office chair in front of your desk—papers and folders piled just where you had left them from before—you glance over it all and then allow your head to fall back against the cushion. Eyes closed. Just a couple of moments more before you have to get it all started, you beg.

Your thoughts drift off as you sit there—to Yeosang, cooking dinner together last night, his smile, his love for you. Cuddling up on the couch under a shared blanket to watch a movie that you've both already seen before, and then heading off to bed early with both parties needing to catch up on sleep after the events of the weekend.

Head lolling off to the side just a bit, there's a remaining pain that sits just near the shoulder. A reminder of other goings on from the weekend; face pushed down into the mattress, discomfort in craning your neck while your hips remain pulled up and pointed, drilled into quickly and repeatedly from behind—

Two knocks onto the wooden doorframe and you're just about jumping out of your skin as you're forced back to reality. 

Shoulder leaned casually into it, Hongjoong stands in the doorway just across the room. Your eyes pull away from his immediately, though you find that he has no such qualms about keeping his glued to you.

There's a quake to your hand as you reach up to your desk, grab a pen and a file and only glance at him long enough to acknowledge that he's there at all before addressing him.

"Yes?" you say, weak. Pathetic. You make an attempt to steady your voice before trying again. "What can I do for you?"

Hongjoong smirks, doesn't reply immediately but steps inside of your office further and drags himself towards the side of your desk. Closer to you. Much more so than you'd like him to be, all things considered. The door is still wide open, though it's quite a bit early and a good amount of time before the trickling of students will start to line the halls.

You look up at him again, eyes still gazing down at you in your seated position from where he stands. Wholly unbothered by the circumstances at play, though it makes perfect sense as to why that is. What does he have to lose? Who has he betrayed in doing this? The scales are uneven at best.

"The contacts," he says simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It takes you a second to even remember what it is that he's referring to. So much has happened since then. "We talked about it Friday night, among other things."

Among other things, like the fact that he jerks off to the thought of you. Now you wonder if he'll carry on more or less with the knowledge he has acquired since then.

But most importantly is the fact that you have rescinded the offer, though unbeknownst to him. It's not that he is undeserving of them, work and talent not up to par—and in fact, he probably would get far with an extra leg up—but at this point in time the engagements between the two of you have gone much too far, and cannot be saved in any friendly or professional way. You cannot, in good conscious, grant him any professional contacts that you have acquired and especially by somewhat personal means. It's too dangerous—for you, for your marriage, for Yeosang.

Giving your much too young, Akademiya student lover all of the perks of sleeping with the older woman who probably has too much along those lines to offer him. Grotesquely cliché, and you shudder at the thought.

And more than any of that, what he knows even less, is your intention to bring this to the admin board of the Akademiya the moment that he leaves your office and goes to carry on with the rest of his day. Nothing good can come from the two of you remaining in each other’s presence, and while you would like to think yourself a strong enough woman of moral character to say no a second time, should you have been asked only weeks ago and about a first time, you'd think yourself having been much the same.

The best way to not engage in nefarious activities, in many cases, is to remove the option for nefarious activities entirely, and that is precisely what you intend on doing. 

It's an unfortunate outcome for Hongjoong, being expelled from the Akademiya on account of your own ethical failing, but suppose there's a snide part of you that thinks him plenty old and mature enough to have weighed the potential risks before engaging with the married owner of Aurelia too.

There's the blood of moral shortcoming on both of your hands. Now, you have to tell him as much.

Inhaling sharply, you pull your attention away from him entirely, pulling open a folder and sifting through the paperwork therein. "I've given it some thought and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with giving out that information after all. I apologize for leading you to believe as much, and I take full responsibility in doing so. We can revisit the topic at the end of the semester and discuss the possibility of it more then."

The words sound strong in conviction. You're proud of that. 

Hongjoong doesn't respond, at least not verbally. A bizarre silence finds you instead, causes you to glance up at him and find the amused half-grin that awaits you on his face. That curl of his lips that you know so well. So much of him that you know so well now. You swallow down the lump in your throat, manifested by the on-going fight of pushing back the memories of time shared together with him standing so close to you now.

Something so enticing about him, nearly addicting the way he was able to make you feel that night.

"Is that so?"

You don't reply, watching Hongjoong's hand as he reaches forward towards your own with pen dangling between shaky fingers. Internally, you're begging him not to touch you. Please don't, I don't think my resolve can handle it. I crave you still, even now, after everything. 

A lazy press onto the end of the pen that knocks it out of your hand—such a thoughtless gesture.

"Oops."

Hongjoong sinks to his knees.

Barely given any time, any chance to protest before your chair is twisted to the side to face him; hands slipping up under the sides of your skirt and curling at the elastic of your undergarments, pulling them down your legs and then sliding soft palms up the inside of your thighs to pull them apart and make space for him between. Hongjoong's hands curl over and around to the outside of your skirt and settle around your hips, yanking you forward and more towards the edge of the chair—his tongue finds your pussy immediately thereafter.

You melt into the touch all over again. Want to say no, stop, don't do this, but only because you know it's what you should be saying. Your body, the truth of it is that you want him perhaps even more now than the first time, and with the way his fingers curl and fuck into you, it's hard to think anything different for him.

Legs shaking around his head, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and gnaw tightly on it to fight back the sounds that Hongjoong threatens to pull from you. The office door is still wide open, and while no one would be able to see him where he sits knelt below, the debauched twist of your features is likely telling enough.

One hand slides down, cards through his hair as he sucks and tongues at your clit—fingers digging against your walls with just the right repetition—just like when he fucked you. As if he had taken notes of exactly what it was that had you falling apart by his touch.

Hongjoong tugs his mouth away just for a second, the loss leaving you whining in a way that obviously amuses him. Hand never relenting in pumping you full of him in the meantime. "Did you think of me while apart?" He follows the question by a long, firm lick into your pussy, eyes that never for a second fall away from your own. "Did you miss it? Miss the way I touch you? Want more of it?"

"Yes," you whisper, not even giving yourself a chance to reconsider the fact. A single word so destroyed with desperation and desire, slurred at the end as your eyes screw shut and his lips find your wetness all over again.

Only a second or so more, Hongjoong pulls away from you completely; grabs you by the arm and bends you over your desk with the palms of his hands smoothing over your ass from behind. Skirt bunching at the top, exposing you for him as he makes fast work of the front of his jeans.

Hongjoong glides one hand over your ass again, up the small of your back and then settling at the back of your neck. He holds you there firmly, teasing the blunt tip of himself at the entrance of you that's so wet you may as well be begging for him now.

He sinks in, quicker this time than the others. Your body accustomed to him, cunt perfectly shaped around his cock now with how many times you've taken it.

You both moan in tandem, Hongjoong snaps his hips forward a few experimental times to get a feel for the position and whether or not it'll work for him, but in the meantime, your hands come up and around to grasp at the sides of your desk for stability, his name dropping airy and beaten from your lips like it already has so many times before.

"You're perfect," Hongjoong says, teeth gritted through the fervor in how he fucks you. "I can't get enough of you, want your body, want to feel you, it's all I think about—"

The words have an unfathomable effect on your arousal, walls bearing down on him as he buries himself inside of your body repeatedly—hard, pointed thrusts that have you nearly crying out for him if not for the effort you're making to not do that. Hongjoong fucks you like he wants to hear it, wants everyone to hear you. Maybe he does.

"Hard—harder, please, Hongjoong—"

"It's all you think about too, I guess."

He gives you precisely what you ask for, but not before the hand at your neck slips around to your mouth—two fingers shoved inside in an effort to keep you quiet as if it's to make any difference over the sound of his hips harshly meeting the flesh of your behind over and over again. 

But the truth is that you've lost the ability to make a rational decision when it comes to him, and the evidence of such lies currently on display across the crumpled paperwork beneath your torso on the desk.

Leaning over your back, Hongjoong cranes his head down closer to your face as you desperately suck and lick at his fingers—imagining it to be his cock, awaiting for the day in which it finally is.

"Gonna let me come inside you again?"

The tone comes off chiding, almost condescending, as if he knows the answer before ever even asking it. A man with you wrapped around his finger—your body is his for the taking—a kind of visceral disgust that lies just beneath your skin at the willingness you have to be his in such a way.

You nod.

"Is that what you want?"

You nod again, faster, more wildly as your own orgasm creeps up on your body. Hongjoong's drives into you become fuller in the final few—pulling nearly all the way from you before sinking completely back inside in a way that makes you feel impossibly stretched open and filled. It only takes a few more before your release rips through your body and subsequently tears his from his own body as well—pushing far and deep with fingers gripped tightly into the skin of your waist as he empties inside of you all over again.

Disappearing from your body, Hongjoong pulls away from you entirely and you expect him to disappear out of your office and down the halls—pretending none of this has happened at all, and perhaps for the best. You turn yourself over and sit yourself up at the edge of the desk and instead are met with the man in question once more as he motions for you to step into your underwear, pulls them up the length of your legs and situates them back in place for you so that he may come up and meet your dry, bitten lips with a taste of his own.

Even still, Hongjoong kisses you like you're the only woman on earth. The only person he has ever wanted, ever needed, like he can never get enough of you. Everything to him, is you. 

"I want to see you later," he whispers into your open mouth, fingers dipping into the wet, soiled sides of your panties to toy with the mess that he's left there for the day. "I can't stay away from you. Let me see you later."

Intoxicating. Utterly and unquantifiably intoxicating.

Your hips grind down against his hand, as if you have no control of the fact, the way your body craves him just as much as his seemingly does yours. Hongjoong's fingers once again dig into your cunt—wet and stretched open by his cock just moments before, still fucking you with them as if unable to ever stop.

"Can't," you rattle, barely. Desperately, quickly dissolving all over again into his handling of you. "Need to be home."

"I have to see you again soon," Hongjoong admits, sounding so needy for you in doing so. Still touching, still digging against your walls at just the perfect pace, lips trailing down along the column of your neck as he begs. "I need you. I'm obsessed with you."

"Fuck." You can't manage much more than that, finally giving in to the way he's still touching you, relentless in his desire. 

When he finally decides it's enough and pulls his cum-soaked fingers from between your legs, Hongjoong fits them between your lips—slowly pushing them in and out of your mouth and watching the way your mouth and tongue works them as if they were his cock. 

"I want to feel every inch of your body, want to have every inch of your body," Hongjoong whispers then as he watches you. The very front door of the theater hall then booms open, alerting the both of you that the beginning entry of student has started, though too wrapped up in your task to even be bothered to avert your attention from him. "I want to make you come over, and over, and over again until you're begging me to stop. It's the only thing I ever want to hear."

When the knock at the door frame of your office comes through this time, you glance up from your chair—situated perfectly, none bothered by the intrusion—Hongjoong standing idly with arms crossed over his chest just at the side of your desk.

"So, like I said, it's something we'll have to revisit closer to the end of the semester," you say calmly, normally. As if nothing has taken place here and between the two of you at all. "Sorry that I can't do more for you."

Hongjoong sighs, and you're impressed by how willing he is to be a good actor about the whole thing. Rolls his eyes, shrugs, and begins to take his leave. "Oh well, it was worth a shot. Appreciate you seeing me about it this morning though, thanks for your time."

"Of course." You glance over at the other student then. "What can I do for you this morning?"

As the student airs his grievances, at the forefront of your mind and disabling your ability to truly be in the moment; the memory of Hongjoong's hands on your body, the warm, hard drag of him inside of you, and the pooling of cum that leaks from between your legs as you sit and revisit the thought.

As the lunch hour rolls around, you're only expected just a little bit down the way.

A small cafe frequented by people from the Akademiya and surrounding business-goers just looking for a quick bite to eat, you're not looking for much more than that either. In fact, your reasoning for escaping the halls of the theater are with something very specific on the agenda, and although you have taken the time to order a warm sandwich and a drink to accompany it, there's something else that awaits you at a table in the corner—someone else—and a conversation that you're none looking forward to as well.

You sit down, small plate and drink atop the polished wood of the table that stands between the two of you. Eyes averted mostly; in shame, in reluctance. Unwilling to take the first step in acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Seonghwa sits at the other side with arms crossed over his chest, only a drink in front of him though it's mostly untouched. A light ring at one edge of it, maybe a sip or two taken. His glare towards you is narrow, not judging exactly, but none pleased with the goings on that he has been involved with, that much is for certain.

You know the man well enough to know that he doesn't wish to be involved in your marital issues more than he already must be on account of being your best friend, but asking him to lie for you? A new low.

"So?" he says first, questioning. He doesn't need to add detail to it, both of you know that. He does so anyway. "Want to tell me why I got a message from you in the odd hours of the night telling me I need to lie to your husband about your whereabouts for the evening?"

No, I don't. "I just needed some time away from him, away from everything that was going on. I didn't want him trying to come find me."

"And where were you, exactly?"

You force a beat of silence, opting out of racing to grant him a response. Anxiety rushes through your veins, manifests as a tremble in your hands as you bring your drink up to your lips. You hope that he doesn't notice it. A tell. A showing of your dishonesty if he knows what to look for.

"Does it matter?"

Seonghwa rolls his eyes at that, exhales heavy like he's already heard enough even though he very much so hasn't. 

"Yeah, it might matter." He leans forward, voice dropping to something more quiet. "What happened?"

You're thankful that he appears willing enough to drop the subject of where it was that you spent that evening, though the topic of your husband isn't one that you're any more excited to visit as of now either. Only hours it has been since the last time another man had you for his own.

It's not a topic you have room to forgo though, and you understand this well enough. Unwillingness to divulge any information to your friend most definitely ringing alarm bells in his mind should you insist on doing so.

"He brought it up again, he just couldn't let it go. I flipped out, I just had to get out of there and get some time away from him."

"And how are things now?"

Too good for what I'm doing to him. "Better. Good. We talked when I got home in the morning, he apologized, said he would drop it. He said he would rather be with me than have a baby if that's the choice that it came down to."

A single eyebrow perks up on Seonghwa's face, intrigued by the outcome. 

"So that's it? Problem solved?" He pauses, takes a sip from his drink to give him more time to mull it all over. "What do you think? Do you think he means it?"

Problem not solved, things are so much worse than you could ever possibly know. You shrug. "Yeah, I do. He looked wrecked when I got back in the morning, like it all finally came crashing down. Like he finally got it."

Across the table, Seonghwa hums. Leans back into his seat as if relenting to the topic finally. Accepting that it's over and dealt with.

"Are you guys going to be alright then?"

Worry is laden in Seonghwa's tone when he asks, and while this particular aspect of the situation that has manifested so much contempt in your marriage has been laid to rest, now so much more has reared its ugly head and forced its way into the very fiber of your existence. A kind of itch beneath the skin that can never truly be scratched, a dull hunger that can never actually become sated. 

An addiction to something new, an addiction to another.

"Yeah, we're going to be fine," you answer back, a practiced calm in your voice that sounds so impressively well-delivered, it scares even you. How quickly we may fall. "I love him. We love each other."

"And when he has to leave again?"

You almost relish the day.

The phone sitting in your bag vibrates then. A part of you wants for nothing more than it to be Yeosang. The better part of you knows that it is not.

"One day at a time," you say, curious tingle of what awaits you trickling across your skin. "We'll just have to take it all one day at a time."

a/n: BIG LOLE. the tragedy of carnally wanting a man who also carnally wants you? how complicated things become and how far we fall when hubby apologizes and then we still wind up banging the other guy...i'm sure that's going to turn out just fine 🤨🤣

[spicesweet]

To answer your post

I forgot to say the most important part about my last message, by applying this vision and this way of seeing myself as a stranger that I want to get to know, I managed to create a relationship with myself. By getting to know a person more deeply in this way we are often led to feel a connection with them, we create this closeness to them, we connect to them and I went about it like that and I am really happy with it. It's like having a relationship with myself it may seem very strange to some but by having this relationship and this base with myself I no longer feel the need for people outside of me to love me or for them to provide me any sort of attention. I'm more than enough for myself and it's just amazing!! I really treated myself as if I were starting a relationship with myself like how i would do with my loves one and it worked for me at least, the self-confidence and everything followed afterwards I have more confidence in myself , I believe in myself, I love myself... It's one of the best things I've done for myself, to love myself for real, for the person I am, to see my insecurities, imperfections and love them and in the end I am the best life partner I could have. It's also about realizing that you are your enemy you are your dearest friend and it's a very deep and wonderful bond that I have with myself and I encourage everyone to enter into this wonderful quest of loving themselves, it's the best thing that could have happened to me.

(second part of this message) ❤︎

your story definitely resonates with me, I can relate to so much of it! I took a similar path in my journey, but it started from the way I dealt with my eating disorder: I once read a post where someone asked us to imagine how we would feel if someone else did to us the things we did to ourselves, or to imagine someone else doing these things to our best friend. and it made me sick to my stomach to realize that the things I did so nonchalantly to my own mind and body were things that, if I saw someone doing to my best friends, I would be so angry it would make me homicidal. I would never allow it to happen.

and it just sort of flicked a switch in my head. why can't I give myself the same treatment I give to my best friends? all the bad things about me that I found unforgivable and disgusting dissolved when it came to them: I was never cold or rude or aggressive towards them, only loving and comprehensive and attentive. if that energy existed within me towards others, what stopped me from turning it towards myself?

around the same time, I met the man of my dreams, and I'm not ashamed to say that finding romance in my life helped speed up the process of healing for me. he was living proof that I was lovable and that I could give so much love, two things that I always felt were completely out of reach for me. I mistreated myself to the point of torture because, in a way, I thought I deserved it, because I believed I was a bad person, but in that intimate place of romantic love, I knew these were lies. I realized that so much of what I believed to be self-loathing was in fact manufactured by other people, people who were meant to protect and nurture me but instead confused me and harrassed me to feel better about themselves; their abuse ran so deep it made me believe I was the one who had come up with it.

so the way you talk about treating yourself as a stranger that you'd like to know better and become more intimate with; I really connect with that. I learned how to see myself as I see my best friends or my love, because what I love about them is also what I love about me. seeing my "self" as a separate entity from "me" was, for a while, really helpful, because the obvious came into place: I love everything that my "self" loves, I have fun with the same things my "self" does, I know everything that my "self" knows, I have gone through the same experiences as my "self" did: there's no better person out there to be my #1 person than my "self".

I think the conversation about self-love is so important, but it needs to be more practical, less vague, less abstract, even though these are abstract issues since they concern the soul and the mind and the very concept of self. I think your approach is very practical, because it allows for the imagination to flourish into action. it gives the mind clearer guidelines as how to act and what the objective is, rather than just following some buzzwords and some consumerist discourse.

I'm so happy that you shared all this with me! I hope more people will read it and connect with it too ❤︎

[chloe-spade]

Sour Apple Chapter 1: Whistle while you work

Once upon a time, there was a princess.

The fairest of them all,

Who defeated a dark evil and went on to live happily ever after.

But what happens when you are no longer the fairest?

What happens when the one thing you attribute your worth to…

is stripped away forever?

🍎

Lorelei walked into her room, after a day of many duties. She cursed the day that tired her out. She watched as the Mirror's face faded in within the dark atmosphere inside.

Her eyes darkened as she saw the mirror and took a breath.

She hated that she needed to ask, but what had become around her needed to be heard.

🍎

My mirror tell me what you see today

What word of those beyond these walls

🍎

"It seems another has taken your place…," The Mirror hummed.

Lorelei could only look in shock, when she heard. She whipped her head back at the mirror, her lips trembling. "No… no… you told me that couldn't happen."

"The fairest can only be fair for so long."

"But it's all I am… it's all I've ever been."

Lorelei refused her life was already going downhill. Ever since she was a young girl and now onto adulthood. A plague was following her, cursing those around her, and she was done. The Mirror saw this and grinned coyly.

"We all grow old, my dear."

🍎

Beauty is power and all you are

You are nothing now

🍎

But you're meant to help me," Lorelei hissed at the mirror, now glaring at it. Her fists were clenched, blood underneath her nails from how hard they were clenched.

🍎

Though there are ways to gain it all back

I can show you how

Apples don't fall far from where the branch has been

But you'll do more than her

🍎

"I'm nothing like her." Loreli scowled coldly, "And I will never be like her."

The mention of her made Lorelei scowl. The pain she has dealt with from that wicked woman was too much for her to remember, and that damn Mirror knew that, as it smiled once again.

"Really?" The Mirror faux a question, "I see so many things that have made you similar."

"Enough."

🍎

Just tell me what spell I need for this to disappear

Make things as they were

All I've ever been

Gone in seconds flat

Pretty as a rose

Was all I ever had

Now I have a chance

To fix what was replaced

To let this kingdom know

I won't take second place

I can't lose to some nobody

(You can't lose)

I won't back down

(Don't back down)

Take what I have earned all these years

(Take what you've earned)

I'll claim my crown

(Claim your crown)

I cannot be beaten when it's all I've had

(You can't be beaten when it's all you had)

🍎

The story starts again anew

Watch as the chaos now ensues…

🍎

"Mirror, Mirror on my wall," Loreli spoke, gulping as she spoke the question, "Who is the fairest of them all?"

"Although, my queen, though fair may be, I see someone that surpassed the beauty of thee."

"Who?" Lorelei demanded, "You have already told me that someone has taken my place, but I demand who dares take my place? After so long."

"The person I see has fair skin that has been blessed by spring, eyes just as beautiful as the cloudless sky above and lovely curly hair that has reminded those of beautuful lavenders."

"Epel," Lorelei growled, rushing towards a nearby window, and opening the curtains.

She saw the young boy she has damned years ago, now 15, almost 16. He was now cleaning the stairwell that leads to the gardens, on the last step. His humming was angelic, lovely doves surrounded him as he did, and he didn't mind it.

It made her sick to her stomach, seeing the boy that destroyed her life, being so peaceful, though his look of annoyance from time to time made her smile ever so little.

"I don't have to be concerned about Epel," Lorelei scoffed, "he's nothing. Just a mere commoner who works for me." She walks away from the window and looks at the mirror one last time before leaving her room.

But on her way down, she looked out a window once again to see Epel, rinsing the stairwell, and running out of water. He groaned softly and walked over to the water well, ready to refill it.

🍎

Epel looks down at the well and sighs to himself as he moves the bucket down.

It was so long that he started to do chores, mainly scrubbing and dusting, but no matter what, he was so annoyed at everything and small things for revenge made things easier for Epel and his newly distressed state. However, he found some odd solace in Vil and a new hunter named Rook, who always found some food to feed him and clean him in private if necessary.

He was grateful for them, he had to admit. Even the accompanying letters from Jack made Epel hopeful for a new day, a day when he could escape from the chains he was bound by.

He just sighed and started to walk back to the well, in the middle of the gardens. Being by the well again reminded him of his departed mother, and her words whenever they are by the well itself. He looked around at the doves around him.

"Hey," he whispered to the doves, "Wanna know a secret?"

The doves cooed in response, though it made Epel feel crazy, talking to birds.

"Promise not to tell?" Epel smiles.

🍎

We are standing by a wishing well

Make a wish into the well

That's all you have to do

And if you hear it echoing

Your wish will soon come true

🍎

Epel could see his mother by the reflection like she always does whenever she is by the well every time. His hands touch the cobblestone as he starts to sing, and the well reflects his voice.

🍎

I'm wishing (I'm wishing)

For the one I love

To find me (To find me)

Today (Today)

I'm hoping (I'm hoping)

And I'm dreaming of

The nice things (The nice things)

He'll say (He'll say)

🍎

Many hear the beautiful song, even some nearby animals. It always reminded those of the previous queen, whom Epel always seemed to mirror at times, even when he was mischievous and stubborn. Regardless, he's still their prince, no matter what he looks like or what he does.

🍎

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah (Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah)

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah (Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah)

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah (Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah)

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah

🍎

From far away, wolf ears perked up from the beautiful song and followed the melody to the wall. Daring to hear the voice once again, he begins to climb the wall, the beautiful voice leading him.

Once he saw Epel, he could only stare and listen.

Epel, however, didn't notice.

🍎

I'm wishing (I'm wishing)

For the one I love

To find me (To find me)

Today (Today)

Today!

🍎

Epel gasped as he saw Prince Jack Howl in the reflection of the water and looked to see Jack across from him. He tripped almost himself from shock, but he managed to keep himself up.

"What are you doing here?" Epel demanded, "You know what will happen if Lorelei finds you. You'll be in big trouble or worse killed."

"Epel,"

Jack's hands held Epel's softly but firmly, stopping Epel from running away.

🍎

Now that I've found you

Hear what I have to say

🍎

Jack held Epel close, as they slowly danced, with Epel tripping from time to time, but he was interested in why Jack was even here in the first place.

🍎

One song, I have but one song

One song, only for you

One heart, tenderly beating

Ever entreating, constant and true

🍎

Epel blushes at Jack's song, feeling his heart beating in love. Epel didn't know how to express it, especially with him being secluded for 3 long years. How to express love when it's completely foreign and forgotten by someone?

Epel just managed to keep in.

The one thing he couldn't keep in was Jack presenting a beautiful scarlet ring to him, putting it on Epel's finger.

🍎

One love that has possessed me

One love, thrilling me through

One song, my heart keeps singing

Of one love, only for you

🍎

Epel looked up at Jack, and then back at the ring. He didn't know what to say, or even how to say it.

Was Jack asking what Epel thought he was? Marriage? Now?

Epel stood in the garden, staring at the ring in his hand. It was a beautiful ring, no doubt, but he couldn't help but feel hesitant about accepting Jack's proposal.

He loved Jack, that much was true. Jack was kind, caring, and always there for him. But the thought of being married, of being tied down to one person for the rest of his life, scared him.

He had always been a free spirit, never wanting to be tied down to anything or anyone. But he knew that Jack was different. He loved him, and he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.

But still, the hesitation lingered.

"Hey," he said, taking Epel's hand in his. "Did you look at the ring?"

Epel nodded, still unsure of what to say. Jack could sense his hesitation, and he pulled him into a tight hug.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly.

Epel took a deep breath before speaking. "I love you, Jack. I really do. But the thought of being married scares me. I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of commitment."

Jack listened patiently, his arms still wrapped around Epel. "I understand," he said. "Marriage is a big step, and it's not something you should do if you're not ready. But just know that I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

Epel smiled, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you," he said, leaning in for a kiss. "I do want to spend the rest of my life with you, Jack. I just need some time to think about it."

Jack smiled back, his eyes filled with love. "Take all the time you need," he said. "I'll be here, waiting for you."

Epel smiles and holds onto the hug.

"But why did you propose to me?" Epel pondered.

"I got suspicious when I came to visit you after the party years ago. When we wrote to each other, you wrote that we should meet in secret after, but you never stated why. But every time I saw you, you looked like you had been crying, or just incredibly tired. Sure, you are still just as rowdy, but I knew something else was wrong. So, I asked Vil," Jack looked at Epel with sadness, "Why didn't you tell me that Lorelei was doing such horrible stuff to you?"

"Even if I did," Epel sighs, "I can't do anything about it. She's queen and if I escape, she'll send her best hunter to find me. Even his son too. I can't risk it, even though I just want to do so much to destroy her and tell the people of the horrible things she has done."

Epel's eyes darkened as he looked up at the window, where her bedroom his. "I want her to suffer, even just for a small bit, just for a day…I want her to pay for what she did to me. Sure, pranks can go a long way and I've been doing thousands, but I want something that could just make her learn that I am not someone who will just sit idly! I am the prince and she reduced me to this."

Jack stopped Epel, holding his hands again. Epel's face was full of rage, but a small hint of sadness. He knew Epel kept so much in and now, there was no one he could talk to about it.

"What about Vil?"

"His mother forbade him from even looking at me," Epel explained, "but he always made me some sort of dinner and had his hunter give it to me. Vil…Vil is vain, but not like his mother, and I'm glad I got to see that before all of this."

Jack made another proposal, "What if we ran away together?"

"Run away?"

Jack nodded, "I will make a vow. Epel, I vow to protect you, and I will make sure my kingdom will protect you as well. You can't live like this, Epel, and I decided to make this decision for you. Will you accept?"

Epel looked at what he was doing, cleaning the stairwell, and looked back at the well. He was practically wasting his life here, and even though his memories of his mother and father were there, that has been tarnished by the wicked woman he once affectionally called his stepmother.

He wanted an escape, and he'll get that.

"Yes," Epel answered, "tonight. Meet me here tonight, and we'll leave to your kingdom."

Jack smiled and gave Epel a small but passionate kiss.

"I'll be here."

Epel blushed as Jack leaped over the wall, disappearing from his view. He looks back at the well brings up the pale now full of water and begins scrubbing the stairs again, but with a smile and a song.

🍎

"He has done it, Roi du Poison!" Rook announced in delight, " Monsieur Dur à cuire has pronounced his love with Monsieur Crabapple, and they plan to run away. " Rook swooned with a grin, "It was a very romantic thing to witness."

"Good," Vil spoke, brushing his hair in the mirror, "but this is not over, Rook. You and I both know that."

"Ah, yes, I do know. Père has been keeping an eye on Monsieur Crabapple as well. I do fear that it may result in something bad happening to him, and I would feel immense guilt for it."

Vil looks back at Rook, "Then we should be cautious. Now, go on and leave me be. My mother is very impatient and I hate to be tardy to lunch."

Rook nodded and just like that disappeared off to do who knows what.

Vil could only just take a breath and began his walk to his dining room, now worried for his step-brother. Now he has to figure out how to protect him, even when he is far away.

To Vil's surprise, his mother was not at the dining area, like she was supposed to. She was nowhere to be found, which Vil found suspicious, and not trusting the situation, he went to the throne room. If anything, Lorelei was doing some extra work and forgot the time, it wasn't the first time she had done this.

"I want you to do something for me, my dear huntsman," he heard Lorelei speak, "you are the only person I can trust with this task, and I know you will do this without much hesitation."

"What is that, my queen?"

Vil watched as his mother presented a box, deep red with golden accents around it with a heart as its pin. She held it to the huntsman, her face showing evil intentions.

"You will kill Epel, take his heart, and put it in this box. I do not expect sloppy work from you."

Vil covered his mouth, horrified.

"Your Highness," The huntsman gasped, "Epel is still the prince! You can't just plan to murder him!"

"Enough. If you dare define me, your head might as well be on my stand for everyone to see." Lorelei threatened.

"R-right, your majesty," he gulped.

Vil stepped back and quickly rushed back to the dining area. He was panting, resting by a nearby window. He felt his heart racing, now scared for himself and Epel.

What made the situation worse was that he knew that his mother was not one to kid about something as dark as murder. Plotting murder like it was nothing against Epel, the same person who had lost both parents in such a span that it was upsetting.

He didn't know what to do, other than warn Epel.

Vil jumped as Lorelei and her huntsman walked out. He tried to keep his composure but it was difficult for Vil, knowing his mother's murder plan. So he just sat on the dining table.

He hoped that Rook would come to his aid.

Oh, what a lovely prayer Vil thought as Rook entered, with his usual gradient smile. Vil mentioned him close, so he walked closer and leaned down for Vil to whisper.

"Roi Du Poison, I feel something was amiss so I came right away," Rook spoke. "Now what has happened?

"My mother plans to kill Epel," Vil explained, causing a dramatic gasp from Rook. "She enlisted your father to do the job, and as evidence, he must grab a box and put his heart in it."

"As a prize? Now that is horrible, Roi Du Poison," Rook whispered back, trying to hide his shock.

"I need you to join your father and Epel, protect him. And give him one last message from me." Vil ordered.

"What is that?" Rook asked.

"Run, as far as he could," Vil spoke, "anywhere but not here."

"Of course, your majesty," Rook grinned with a smile, watching his father leave, "I shall depart now, please do wait for me."

Vil smiled as Rook kissed his hand goodbye and followed his father outside.

🍎

Epel found it strange, being outside the palace walls. His hair was combed and dressed in nice princely clothing, something that he didn't exactly miss, but that would've been a lie. Rook even found an old necklace that belonged to his mother before her death, and he wore it proudly as he felt the breeze around him.

Sure, he was still accompanied by Rook and his father, but even they could not stop this new sense of freedom he longed for.

"The air is nice this fine day, Monsioer Crabapple," Rook sighs contently, "such beautiful clouds and magnifique flowers, in such a beautiful spring."

Epel rolled his eyes at Rook and began to walk forward. He might just pick some new flowers for his mother and father, as the ones on their graves have been wilted for years and need replacement. He began to pick some flowers, mainly red roses and white lilies, the kingdom's symbol for their strange but romantic love, both on different ends of social status, and their love made it work.

His thoughts were interrupted by a chirp, a very sad one.

He followed to see a sad baby bluebird, picked it up carefully, and smiled.

"Are you ok?" Epel softly whispered, "What happen to you, little bird?"

Epel looked up and got up, "Ah, you must've felt out of your nest, didn't you?" Epel chuckled, found a nearby rock, and began to climb it to the nest, holding onto the branch as he helped the bird back inside, the bird chirping happily and nuzzling against Epel's cheek in appreciation.

"You are welcome," Epel spoke and climbed down.

Epel backed away carefully and watched the baby bird nuzzle against their parents, making Epel feel happy but a tinge of sadness was there.

Once he turned around, he saw The Hunter brandish a dagger towards Epel with inhuman speed. Epel gasped and ducked to avoid the sudden attack. He grabbed a rock and struck The Hunter in his head, defending himself. This made The Hunter stumble back, trying to recover.

"Monsier Crabapple!" Rook called out and rushed over to Epel.

"What is going on!?" Epel demanded, "Your father was trying to kill me!"

"Oh, I did not wish to tell you this," Rook sighed, "but the Queen has asked my father to harm you, to kill you. That why I am here, to lead you away! Far from here, and to safety!"

"What? But-!"

"Go! Please go!" Rook pleaded, making Epel stop for a moment. "It is for your own safety."

Rook gave Epel a basket of food and a lantern.

Epel didn't need more convincing as he began to run away, disappearing into the woods.

"Damn you, boy!" Rook's father hissed, "Do you realize what you have done!? That woman will have your head!"

"I rather it be mine than Epel's," Rook spoke back, "and I follow my prince, not the queen."

🍎

Epel felt trees grab onto him as he began to run away, the sun now non-existent in the dark woods. His mind felt like everything around him was more monstrous, especially for someone who never left the castle before.

The hoots of owls and the growls of wolves scared him every time he was distracted. He hated how he felt his heart beat with fear, as he continued to walk through.

But the lack of noise when he went further made him hear whispers, insults, or evil laughs.

It made him run and not look back. He suddenly became overwhelmed and the trees began to grab him again, almost falling into a cliff. Well, he did fall into the lake that he thought was alligators and he was hyperventilating.

He ran before he collapsed and covered his ears.

"Leave me alone!" He screamed, "I Don't want to be here!!"

A scared mewl made him stop.

He saw a small rabbit now scared, because of his screams.

He looked around as the clouds moved away, revealing the sunlight and his surroundings. He was surrounded by animals of every kind, birds, rabbits, dears, turtles. They were all afraid because of Epel's screams.

He sighs, now calming down.

"I'm…I'm sorry," Epel sighs, "I didn't mean to scared you. I just happened to have a bad day and I took it badly. You didn't deserve that and I'm so sorry again. I just wanted to scream because I was afraid, and I don't want to be afraid and look what I did. Scaring animals. What do you do when you are scared?"

The baby bird chirped happily and started to whistle towards Epel.

"You sing?"

The baby bird whistled again with Epel singing along, creating a melody with each other. It made Epel happy as he got up, and walked towards the birds, continuing to sing.

🍎

With a smile and a song

Life is just a bright, sunny day

Your cares fade away

And your heart is young

With a smile and a song

All the world seems to waken anew

Rejoicing with you

As the song is sung

There's no use in grumbling

When raindrops come tumbling

Remember, you're the one

Who can fill the world with sunshine

🍎

He lets the animals surround him and lets him pet them. They were relaxed now and were happy to meet a new friend.

🍎

When you smile and you sing

Everything is in tune and it's spring

And life flows along

With a smile and a song

🍎

"I really feel quite happy now," Epel laughed, "I'm sure I'll get along somehow. Everything's going to be alright, but I do need a place to sleep at night."

Epel realized that was a problem for him, as he looked around at the animals.

"I can't sleep in the ground like you, or in a tree the way you do, and I'm sure no nest could possibly be big enough for me. Maybe you know where I can stay? In the woods somewhere?"

The birds tweeted happily and flew around him, pulling on his cape.

"Oh? Are you taking me there?" Epel grins.

Led by the animals, Epel was shown a beautiful old cottage, with flowers of all varieties covering it.

It made everything for Epel.

He rushed towards it and looked around, seeing the window clouded and not cleaned, and a disgusting smell filled his nose which he covered.

"It looks nice, but it does not smell friendly," Epel coughed as opened the door. Everything was around and full of dust, the mess was everywhere and the smell had gotten worse. He sighed as he entered the cottage and looked for some sort of well…anything, food, drinks, clothing but everything was so disorganized and it was disturbing for Epel.

"Seven little chairs? Are we in a childrens' house? Those poor children, they live in this dump."

He looked at the animals and puffed his cheeks.

"Well, we have to clean this messy place if I am gonna stay here," Epel sighed, picking up the broom.'

He started to hum to himself and he began to sweep. He slowly got carried away as he began to sing to himself, which made the animals around him clean.

🍎

Just whistle while you work

And cheerfully together, we can tidy up the place

So hum a merry tune, hmm-mmm

It won't take long when there's a song to help you set the pace

🍎

Epel whistles as he begins to grab some of the dishes and wash them, with the animals providing soap and water. His humming was contagious as squirrels began to sweep the insides and corners of the cottage, and birds and deer helped them with the clothes, washing and hanging them.

Epel swept again, as more of a finishing touch to the floor.

🍎

And as you sweep the room, imagine that the broom

Is someone that you love, and soon

You'll find you're dancing to the tune

🍎

Epel could only imagine him being with Jack once again like that morning, dancing around, actually having fun.

🍎

When hearts are high, the time will fly

So whistle while you work

🍎

Epel happily cleaned everything around, adding some lovely flowers to the dining table, and decided to create some dinner for himself, some hazelnut soup, and a nice meal after cleaning until nighttime arrived. He was feeling safe and now sleepy.

"I wonder what's upstairs?" Epel questioned, climbing up the stairs.

He saw a nice room with seven little beds with names imprinted onto them, but he couldn't see because of how dark it was. He yawns and feels the bed, immediately sinking. He managed to be comfortable and yawned to himself.

He closed his eyes, drifting up to dreamland as the birds covered him with a beautiful blanket. May the gods above protect the prince from all the horribles of the world.

[pumakaji64]

Had a particularly awful day at work today... [tw mass shooting threats]

After we left yesterday one of our coworkers, the assistant manager, started making threats that he was gonna 'blow up this whole building' and didn't care who was inside- My mom and I only found out about it this morning when we got there and our manager told us. Our co-worker was scheduled to work todday day at 7:30, our manager told us he was going to be fired as soon as he arrived but the police would be there in case things went bad, but he ended up seemingly taking it well and left- he is also now blacklisted from stepping on the store property and will get in trouble if he's caught back here...

but I just feel so fucking sick to stomach over it... the whole day I was terrified- as if him just being prohibited is gonna matter if he does decide to follow up on his threats against the store- we don't even have a reliable exit close by in the deli! The closest thing is a door with an alarm system but it only opens after being pressed on for 15 seconds! Neither my mother or I go in tomorrow, but she goes in on Sunday alone and then we both go in Monday-Thursday and neither of us feel safe there anymore.

Like, fuck man- another coworker of ours whose known this guy longer then either of us said that he once told her "Don't worry [name], I'll message you before I do it."- idk when this was- could've been years ago- Yesterday, I noticed several of our large bowls were leaking and we told our co-worker about it and even then I noticed his tone was oddly calm but I brushed it off as him just trying to be level-headed about it only to learn today he was stabbing the bowls in anger with his personal knife and that's why they began to leak... like........ I don't want to go back there but we have to- I can't believe we have to go through something like this AGAIN after last years threat at the other area we worked at... I want to quit so fucking bad and just say 'fuck the money' but I know my mother won't and I can't bear leaving her there alone.

And God... it's just another sucker-punch I'm dealt with... My wrist is losing all mobility and there is no cure, I'll likely have to get surgery that will ease my pain but only for 10 years, I might have fucking cancer, I need to get a biopsy done and won't know the results for up to like 2 weeks, I just spent 800 dollars on a CT scan, and all my other medical issues I haven't gotten started with dealing with..... now this as well... knowing any day in that store I could die, my mother could die, some other poor person could die... all cuz we were in the wrong place at the wrong time...

I just don't know what to do anymore... I feel so defeated........ but, tomorrow is my birthday... so- today I'll worry and give-up, but tomorrow I'm gonna act like nothing is wrong and try to enjoy every second of that day..................................

I really, truly, and deeply hope I'm wrong about all of this, and no one will get hurt. I'm just really scared you guys...

[allsadnshit]

having stomach pains and nausea most of the time for the last 5 or so years has really made me feel like i don't know what healthy looks like. i want to support my body the best way possible and i can't ignore the thousands of trial and errors i've taken the time to personally explore this whole time. buts it's isolating and strange...like anything that works is the best kept secret while the most popular brands for wellness continuously seem to not work for anyone i've talked to even though their online reviews are always "life changing"

it's weird to acknowledge you're more than likely being lied to, especially medically. and i feel like people who haven't dealt with that at all or even as much really can't process what i'm telling them when i say no you're doctor doesn't necessarily care about you getting better....if anything they most likely are giving you only the solutions that will make them more money. people feel offended and hurt when i say that sort of thing but sick people know this and have been trying to talk about it forever.

[waitinguntilnovember]

a non-romanticized day in the life of a jobless artist/writer high school student

12pm: around this time, I was able to wake up. I have very bad insomnia, which does not mix well with going to school at 8am, but thankfully yesterday was a Saturday, so I could sleep in.

12:30-1pm: I made myself a coffee with almond milk and plant-based creamer and no breakfast because I find it very hard to eat when I wake up. Because all of my mugs ran out (thanks, mom, for stealing my favorite one) I had to use a short glass cup. I have an easily sick stomach and I'm lactose intolerant but honestly, I still have cookies and milk at 3am when I'm writing. Screw my nausea.

1-7pm: I spend my daylight rotting in bed, doing god knows what. One minute I'm watching a nice cozy art vlog looking for inspiration and the next I'm upstairs making cereal as my only meal of the day and then going back into my cave. There will be short 5-minute intervals between where I'll take snacks or socialize with my family, but I always make it back to my room, stuck to my laptop. I might sneak in a quick one-line poem I thought of and frantically look for a pencil to write it in my notebook. I might think of a random idea for a book or painting. These hours are spent doing absolutely nothing but simultaneously everything at the same time.

7-11pm: painting is my #1 healthy outlet besides writing. I try to paint almost every free day I have to calm myself down when things get rough mentally. Yesterday, I painted a branch with flowers on a small canvas. It wasn't much, but I like it anyway. With insomnia, it's like everything is obscured or blurry, so having these things to keep me on track is very nice.

11pm-around 5:30ish am: at later hours, I write. I spent as much time as I possibly could writing. I find my mind is much more active, or creative, in this time period. Most of the time when I say I'm going to write, I end up editing and revising previous paragraphs. It's a habit I need to work on. What I'm working on right now is a short novel that is told through therapy sessions, where the main character is spiraling slowly with each chapter and has a very warped view of life. A lot of the experiences the main character has come from my own. I'm figuring out a few rough details but I have the plot completed as well as the precise timeline and writing technique I'm going for. If I do end up publishing this, I don't want to put spoilers on Tumblr, so don't expect much out of me relating to this subject.

About 6am: I finally start to feel tired after staring at my ceiling for about 20 or 30 minutes. It takes a bit longer to actually fall asleep after this.

Today, at around 12pm again: I woke up and did the same 12-1pm routine. After, I spent about 30 minutes rereading and only slightly editing my writing from the night before.

.・。.・゜✭・.

Everybody goes through hard points in their life where romanticizing can't make it better. Right now, I'm struggling a lot with my personal health and it's affecting my life and making my mental health so much worse. The passing of midterms this last week has been a great help with my gentle recovery this weekend, as I've finally been able to rest, but I still find even in my relaxed, comfortable state I manage to be stressed out.

And that's able to be dealt with.

I know that most people crumbled under their own pressure like I am with mine, and they made it out. I believe once the season changes and the school depression passes along, I can have my healthier version of this lifestyle back. I will be able to eat meals during the day and go out with my friends without coming home drained. But, unfortunately, all of this takes time.

Do not expect your change to come the moment you set your mind to it.

It's a gradual change. In your sleeping schedule, your moods, your eating habits, everything-- it can't be achieved in one day. If you want to see results, you will have to work and wait for them.

I know there will be moments when it gets even harder, and you feel like you almost need to be sad to feel something, but please trust me when I say that is not the answer. You can experience something other than that zombie-like blankness you feel every day.

Please realize it takes time to feel it, though. And do not give that up if you think it won't work.

.・。.・゜✭・.

Remember that my inbox is always open if you need someone to talk to. I'm a stranger over the internet, I'm faceless, I will tell nobody, not a soul. I promise you that you will always have someone to talk to after seeing this post. Do not think otherwise ever again.

[magicalizardboy]

I wasn't going to write stuff down but it also kills me keeping it inside.

Me and R are still doing great, even though I've been moody and sick for a few days now. I'm also now crazy anxious because we've decided that in a month he'll be here and we'll drive back to my family's. I'm so reluctant to go back, it's a whole new bag of shit to deal with. R insists it'll be better, and that as long as we work together we can find a place together quickly. None of this feels real though, I haven't lived a functional life in almost a decade. For 5+ years I have always lived in a bedroom and never went anywhere. No friends, no social circle, no job, and while I did have some support, it was never mental or emotional. I have dealt with so much more trauma, shit I never thought I would (a literal that will never happen to me type). I feel so fucked up at the idea of someone GIVING a shit about me. He wants us to take a road trip while we travel back, and he'll take care of it financially. He wants me to relax, have fun, and show he cares. My brain looks at this like I'm asked to dip my head in boiling water. I can't fathom it, and it's terrifying.

Yet it's so funny how the brain works too. Just before R messaged me again, I was planning to take a final trip for assisted suicide. What a plunge in the dark that is, one that could take years to do even after I would be in the country. There's a chance it would mean living dismally for years and worse things to happen as I wait. It's such a dismal jump that I was ready to take. Yet now, at the idea of heaven gates opening to take me, warm and kind, the thought of turning around to embrace it makes my stomach drop. Perhaps that's one of the best tricks the devil ever made, making us question that when grace touches us, is it true? Are the gates truly pure and warm? Or are they bright and hot waiting for us to touch them and burn?

I'm so scared, I don't want to go back to my family. It feels so defeating and I know I'll be miserable still. He says he'll support me the whole way but I can't imagine it. Also why? What makes me worth it? He's doing so well and yet he wants to help someone so down bad? R said even if we had just stayed friends he would have helped because he cares about me that much. He respects me that much as a person. I don't even feel like one though, why bother helping someone who brought themselves down to begin with?

What the fuck makes me so worthy to take the branch from someone? I try to stay positive but it's so hard. My heart races and my hands get gross and slick at the slightest thought. I also have to do this in secret, packing my stuff slowly so my ex does not notice. I have to find a way to coordinate all of this so I'll be ready to pick up and leave asap. I have to make sure both my ex and our alcoholic roommate are both at work. I have to make sure they don't take my car to work and make a good excuse. I have to make sure I'm ready to drive, pick R at the airport, and just... meet him again after so long... after stressing about leaving one of the biggest times and impact on my life. He knows I won't be mentally all there, but he still says he'll support me. I just don't know how much my body and brain will take of this.

If you made it this far, thank you. If you could send me vibes, prayers, blessings through this I would appreciate it. I'm fucking terrified and I'm going to be a wreck for a month.

[camellia-thea]

had... a bad few days and need to talk about it somewhere so. vent time.

honestly, it's more like the last month? basically i've been more sick recently, depression kicked in in early may and while i'm feeling a lot better now in that regard, i also tend to completely lose my appetite during those times. which. is pretty dangerous for me because i've dealt with disordered eating on and off for about three years and that part of my brain has been flashing really badly for the last few weeks.

i've been sleeping awfully - unable to fall asleep and unable to stay asleep, my medication isn't working and I've been having trauma dreams again and i just. i'm so tired of this. i haven't slept uninterrupted for two weeks and i take fucking sleeping meds for this shit.

i'm mostly scared about the ED coming back full force because i cannot do that again but i've been super nauseous recently and it makes me not want to eat because nauseous and empty is -- and has always been -- better than nauseous and full. and i've kind of unintentionally started fasting again, and it's definitely becoming intentional and i know my flatmates are noticing that i'm just not eating for days at a time.

it did initially start out being linked to weight, but now it's just. i like the way some foods taste, sure! some food is delicious but in general? i hate the sensory process of eating and so it's just. nice to not? which is such a terrible line of thinking and i just. hhh. i don't want this but also i have so little control over my body that it's-- yeah. y'know. just not good thought patterns to fall into. but also, losing weight? brain says it's a pro. i'm fine, i'm generally as healthy as a disabled person can be but my stupid fucking brain.

so i've been in an awful binge-restrict cycle where i go 'i gotta eat normally rn because otherwise i'll get worse' then i go 'oh god i binged so bad i just cannot eat anything, i feel gross and disgusting'. and like. no? food is not bad, food is fuel and that's it. but stupid disordered brain says no.

and like. i've hit a point where actually eating a normal amount for dinner is making me nauseous which. is a great sign. like. i stopped eating breakfast in 2020, then last year would occasionally have it because there were safe foods and samefoods, but i don't get them here, and i'd eat lunch about 6 days of the week, but this year i started feeling stressed about being in the kitchen at lunch because it got messy and anxiety brain kicked in about eating food around other people, and one of my flatmates makes the same meal for people every single day but i can't stomach it for the fucking stupidest reason. they don't wash the rice before it's made and i cannot eat the vegetables they make because they're always super gritty with spice and i just. it tastes Wrong. and they're lovely about it and it's fine but i just. stopped eating lunch. and also i can't eat so much of what they make because they can't taste very well so they need lots of flavour and i'm sitting here like 'i will eat plain pasta with a little bit of butter and cheese every night and be fine' and unable to stomach a lot of strong flavours because unlike them i don't tend to sensory seek outside of very specific flavours and sensations.

and there's this dumb part of my brain that says 'you're eating none of the food that other people are buying and making so you shouldn't be paying for it' and then to 'ed makes living as a student cheaper so...' but like. no? and so i feel bad for thinking it but like, i spend the most money out of everyone so i can buy things i can eat? and then i just feel gross and guilty and humiliated because i can't go to the supermarket myself to grab my own things so i have to ask for it and like, i just hating living like this. and i feel humiliated and awful if i can't eat what people bring because like, it's so stupid but i can't eat the cheese that we buy but we switched type of cheese so that i could eat it? but we swapped brands and i cannot eat it because it's plastic and horrible and taste and texture is wrong and i hate being like this but it's so fucking stupid and i'm so fucking picky and i hate it i hate it i hate it but like. i can't say anything because it's just so dumb and i'm just a fucking idiot? like this is my fault and the new brand is so much cheaper but i cannot eat it and it means i cannot eat my safe foods. i cannot eat cheese and crackers, or pasta.

and like. this morning was so fucking dumb because last night my flat celebrated the end of the semester and made food and i bailed because i hadn't eaten in over twenty four hours and i knew i'd throw up if i did eat anything because when i'm starving i have to eat something familiar to break it because bad things happen if i don't and so i just. don't eat, and i started going okay what can i make tomorrow so i can eat something and not risk hurting myself--yoghurt, tea, and some carrot sticks. perfect. easy on the stomach, sweet for my blood sugar and small enough not to hurt me. i go through this morning and immediately almost run over someone's laptop and cannot physically make it into the room because of pillows and such just all over the floor and it's fine it happens but i'm hungry, i haven't eaten in almost 45 hours and so i feel like utter garbage and easily upset, and then i have a panic attack because i cannot make anything at all because there is still everything they used last night piled everywhere and not even vaguely tidied properly so i still haven't eaten anything solid, over six hours later. I have had a cup of tea (bless one of my flatmates for offering to make it), and some squares of chocolate i have in my desk. and it's so stupid to be upset at them because it isn't their fault i'm a fucking idiot with de and i don't tell anyone ever but i was still upset.

this is a lot and it isn't even all my feelings on this but like. i'm still lowkey having that panic attack and all i can think about is food and what i will and won't eat and one of the people i follow has been looking at pro stuff i think so that shows up on my dash every so often and i just. cannot escape food right now and i hate it and i feel faint and dizzy at all times and just. yeah. this is a lot and only one of my friends knows about my history and it was a 'yeah i have an ed and it's been flaring lately' and that was it, nothing else about it or how it works for me or anything because i don't want it to become anyone else's problem because i know it's distressing to be around and hear about? but like, i'm not dying or losing weight rapidly in a concerning way anymore so like? it's not that big of an issue most of the time. and i know i'm not exactly subtle about my eating habits either but y'know. i just. have a lot of feelings about it but i can never tell if it's worth talking about to anyone else.

i just. can't stop thinking about food. at all. and i fling wildly between wanting to never see food again and live on anxiety autism and photosynthesis (not that i get enough sun for that either) and planning out healthy meals to make me get better, and binge plans. and i also know my idea of a binge is.... y'know below my maintenance level of cals too. (and my brain has started trying to count again too, yay.)

anyway big feelings that needed to be put down somewhere and i don't know. i've been dealing with a lot lately and i know i'm self isolating and such so. it's just what happens in winter for me.

[yandere--stuck]

hi so i'm so sorry if you don't take requests for it but i saw a post for it so i assume you dO- again so sorry if you don't, but, could you do either Yandere Cesar (+ Mark is optional ^^) x reader or Yandere Jonah and Adam x reader, for Mandela Catalogue? again i am so sorry if you don't want to write this or even don't prefer any poly requests!! -Backrooms Anon

Don't worry about it! I LOVE poly yanderes!!! I hope you like it! c:

Note: This isn’t my actual headcanon on what I think Alternates do to their human counterparts, but I thought it'd be an interesting take.

---

You cracked your neck as you stepped inside your home, letting the bags you had packed fall to the floor to be taken care of later when you had gotten some rest and your back didn't hurt as much.

Despite your initial hesitancy on taking a small vacation out of town, you had found yourself glad you had taken it. It was fun, relaxing, and you didn't have to worry about any Alternates for a whole week! You had hoped that the whole situation would be dealt with by the time you got back, but beggars can't be choosers. And nothing in your home seemed different or tampered with, so you didn't have to worry about robbers or Alternates coming inside while you were away.

Sighing, you moved to turn on the television, before pausing, finger hovering just above the button… Before deciding against it. Better safe than sorry.

You turned, spotting your home phone on one of the side tables next to the couch. You'd check your messages! A much better way to check on the outside world, anyway. Your friends had clambered on about wanting to hear about everything you did on your trip. Plus, it was a good idea to check up on them and see if you had missed anything.

You'd preferred to answer your messages upstairs, so you could relax on your bed as you listened, but you were far too antsy to catch up on what you missed. Hitting the voicemail button, an electronic voice spoke in stilted tones. "You have 20 new messages."

You made a face at the machine, brows furrowed in confusion. Twenty? Had you forgotten to tell someone you were leaving? Had you told them the wrong dates?

The phone beeped. "Message one."

"Hey, it's Mark. Uh, I know it's really late and you're probably gone by now, but, uh… You know, buddy system stuff and shit. Um… Cesar said something happened with his mom. I think she's gonna be okay, but he said he's on his way to the hospital. He, uh, asked me to set up his cameras and stuff to, y'know, keep watch, I guess, and see if he can see the thing that might've did it, so… Yeah." You heard him chuckle a bit. "So, if I don't leave another message, uh… Something got me, I guess. I really hope you're still home, holy shit, heh. But, it should be fine. Alright. Bye."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Mark's message, a smile rising to your lips. He and Cesar were some of your closest friends in the county. Man, you three went way back. In fact, out of everything you could have missed on the trip, you missed their company most. Just hearing Mark's voice again made your chest bloom with warmth. 

You clicked to message 2.

"Alright, update. Um… I'm not dead, so that's good. Cameras are all set up. I hate going in his house, but hey, what are friends for? Cesar hasn't gotten back to me about his mom, but maybe he fell asleep over there or something, I dunno. But, uh, just wanted to let you know everything worked out so you're not freaking or anything. I'm on my way home now."

You knew everything would have likely worked out fine, but you couldn't help but feel a little relieved at Mark's confirmation. But, if that was the end, then what were the other messages for?

Message 3.

"It found me, it found me, it found me," Mark's whispered hurriedly, voice straining. "It was in his home. It was in his fucking home and it found me and it followed me home."

You felt your stomach drop, a sick, dark feeling burrowing into your abdomen.

"It- It tried to get his mom and now it wants me. I- I called the cops, though, so… So, I think I'll be okay. I just… I know you're not there, but- but I need you. I need you and Cesar. I… When you get back, I wanted to tell you… No, I'll… I'll tell you when you get back. I promise."

Message 4.

"They're still not here. I… I can hear it. I can hear it. It doesn't sound Human. They… I know I'm probably scaring you, and that's dangerous, but, I need… I need to tell someone. Because, when I'm talking to you, when I think I am, it feels less scary. It sounds like a recording. It keeps stuttering and the pitch keeps changing. I can't stand it. I'm really, really hoping they get here soon."

Message 5.

"It's night. It's night and they're still not fucking here. They couldn't have forgotten about me! Or could they? I- I dunno. I tried calling Cesar but he's still not answering. And neither is anybody fucking else.. You're away, but everyone else should be home. It's like I'm shut off from the outside world."

Message 6.

A muffled sobbing came out of the speaker. Every sob was followed by a sharp whimper. You were only able to listen for a few seconds before going to the next message.

"They're not coming, are they? I'm never getting out of here. Will it leave eventually? It'll… It'll give up and get bored eventually, right?"

Message 8.

"I… You know, I kept listening to it. Over and over. And I thought maybe it was Cesar's mom. Maybe it really had gotten his mom. Maybe the Alternate killed her already and Cesar didn't know.

But now, I think… I think it's him. He's… It's not him, but it is and- I know the real him is out there, but it keeps telling me to come out, and- and that he won't hurt me, and… I want it to be true. So bad."

You squeezed your eyes shut, stinging. You wiped at them with the back of your hand. When… When had you started crying? God… Mark's voice. It hurt so badly, hearing his pain, his fear. You wanted to take away all his fear, to soothe him and tell him it'll be okay.

Message 9.

"It's hard not to listen. Can you hear him?- It. It. It's not him. It's an Alternate. It's not him. It's gettin' in my head. I keep telling myself It's not him, but it's getting hard to believe. Doesn't help that his- It's voice is starting to sound more like him."

Message 10.

"It's not him, right? I wish you were here. I wish… I wish I had you to talk to. Tell Cesar I don't blame him, if I don't make it out."

Message 11.

You could hear shaky, shallow exhales of Mark's breathing fizzle through the speakers. Every once in a while, you'd hear sniffle and whimper. "What if… What if it wasn't Cesar on the phone? What if this was a trap from the start? Cesar… He's… He's gone, isn't he?"

You were frozen in spot, too gripped with fear for your friends that you couldn't move. No. No, Cesar was fine! He had to be. He had to be, God, please-!

Mark began sobbing into the receiver. "He's gone! He's gone, he's gone, he's gone… And it-! It took him! It took him from us, and now I'm alone…"

Message 12.

All you could hear was the sound of Mark's voice, softy mumbling your and Cesar's names to himself.

Message 13

"Help me. God, please help me!"

Message 14

"It's so hard. It's so hard not to listen. I can't. I can't do this…"

Message 15

You could only make out mumbling of Cesar's name, over and over.

Message 16

"Maybe… What if this is Cesar? No one… No one knows what happens after an Alternate gets you. What if… What if he's in there? Like, they were separate, and now they're one whole… Thing."

Message 17

"He wants me. He wants me. And he wants you, too. He keeps saying… He… He wants us. He wants us both so badly. He wants to be with us. He wants to be in here. I… I can't-"

Message 18

"He sounds so much like him now. It… He. He's… He keeps saying he won't hurt me. He has a surprise. I… Believe him. It's Cesar. It's Cesar, I know it. I'm gonna be with him. I… Maybe it'll be nice, even. Maybe they've been lying. Maybe we shouldn't be afraid of this. If… If something happens… I love you. I- I love you and him, and I always wanted to say that. I'm gonna let him in.

Message 19

All you could do was lean forward, straining to hear, as you stared wide-eyed at the machine.

"I understand now." Mark's voice. "I understand now."

Then, a sharp ringing tone blasted from the speaker, making you jump at the sudden volume. The noise fluctuated and seemed to warble through the speaker, fluctuating in pitches and tones. Scrambling, your ears ringing, you palmed at the button to play the final Message.

Message 20

You waited holding your breath as you waited for something to break the droning silence of the final message.

"Hey! It's Mark. Just wanna say that that, uh, thing was a whole goof. It got kinda overdramatic at parts, but it was just a joke for when you come back home, heh. Just to double confirm, here's Cesar."

"Yeah, don't worry, everything's cool here, and my mom's fine. And… Oh, tell them about the thing."

"The thing?"

"Yeah, you know…"

"Oh! Oh, right, um, heh… I meant what I said about my, uh, my feelings for you and Cesar. Um… Yeah, I already told him, so… If you wanna, um, talk about it later-"

"He's nervous."

"Shut up! But, yeah. Maybe a practical joke isn't the best way to admit feelings, but… We really love you and want you to be a part of-f-f- w-with us. I… We love you. See you soon."

You let the phone go silent, simply staring as you tried to process everything you had just learned. But, you couldn't react. Couldn't move. Trapped as you ruminated on the messages that you had just heard.

Just a prank? Mark and Cesar didn't joke like that, wouldn't make jokes like that. As much as you wanted to believe that your friends were safe… You knew it was a lie.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of it thrumming in your skull. It felt like… like the walls, the whole world, was coming down on top of you. It all felt too silent, but too loud.. There was nothing you could do. Who could you call? What could you do?

Your friends were… Were dead and-

You let out a yelp, startled by the sudden ringing bleat of your phone. For a breath, you simply stared down at the machine, before scrambling to pick up the receiver, nearly dropping it as you attempted to answer the incoming call.

You took a shaky breath. "Hello?" 

"Hey! It's Mark. I knew you were back, so I wanted to call and check up on you, see if you got my other messages, y'know?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but found yourself unable. All the things you wanted to say, wanted to believe, tangled like a knot in your mind, incomprehensible and stuck.

You heard as he said your name. Then, again. It didn't sound quite right. Didn't sound like how you remembered. You were sure. But, maybe, you were wrong. Maybe it was all a joke. Maybe you were losing yourself in your panic. You weren't sure of anything anymore.

Finally, you found the words. "... You're not really Mark, are you?"

"What? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" The thing with Mark's voice said. "Cesar's here, too, and-"

"That's not Cesar. You can't trick me."

Silence. 

You could tell the Alternate was still there - both of them, if it wasn't lying about "Cesar" being with it.

Your breathing picked up, huffing through your nose in anger as the messages played over and over in your mind. These things… They had taken your friends from you! Your best friends…! And, maybe if this never happened, then maybe Mark would have confessed. You'd be together, and…

"I know what you are," You hissed into the receiver, grip so tight on the phone that your hand shook. "And I'm not afraid of you."

All sound went dead on the other end, before,

"Y̶͍̻͒͝ͅō̴̺͙̗͠͝u̷̺̭̤͗́̓ͅ'̶̰̙̦̾r̸̛̗̝̼̿̓͌e̴̘̣̎́͊͠ ̴̦̟͓͙̕l̶̢͓̞̈́y̵̛̳͖̺̘͒į̸͌̃̕n̸̯̓̃g̸̥̰̖͌̀̆,̶͈̈́" A warped voice blared in your ear." I̶̡͔̹̱͍͑̏̚-̵̢̫͍̄͌͜Ḭ̴̂̂ ̸̼̰̾c̵͔̪̠̪̦͌̍͐̌ă̵͚̮̞̩̭̄̓n̴̝̪̙͌̅̿̌͊ ̵̡̨̥̞̜̑̄̉̌͘ḫ̵̥̠͖͇̓é̸͎͉͝ạ̶̪̬̈́̕-̴̡̢̩̮̒̉e̷͙̽ạ̴̙̿͌͋̈́r̷̲̤̍̿͘-̴̩̟̿ę̵͚̬̲͉̇̄̈́͒ḁ̵̠̐͌̄r̴̗̲͓̮̃͝ ̸͉͖̗̼͒͋̇͗͗y̵̖͈̭̐̒̃̇o̷͈̞̟̪̿̀̈u̷̞͌͊r̸̨̡̘͖͈̀̿̈́ ̴͎̳̦͕̿͋͆̍̉f̵̟͈̠͓͐̂ḙ̷̌̈́ä̷̦̭̻́̒̃̃͝r̵̤̫͍̮͆̓̈́.̵̱̫̳͓́͑̐̉͠ "

"I'm not! I'm not afraid. You can't hurt me. You took them from me, but you won't get me, too."

Another voice, suddenly breathing close to the receiver. Cesar's Alternate? 

"Ỹ̷̼̑͗͒̍ǫ̷̢͔̗̮̓̋̌̅u̸̦̭̾̎̃̈́ ̵̪̻͗̒̓f̸̼̎͊͗o̶̠̎ŗ̴͈̭̦̑g̶̗̯̜͎̎o̷̭͠t̸̤̠̑͌̀ ̷̳̒́t̶̼̱̞̎͛͑ọ̶̦̚ ̷̧̍l̷̦̉̆̌͋ȯ̸̯͉̐̾͠c̸̢̛̫̀̄͂k̶̜͎̹̜͋͛ ̶̩͍̹̙̦̓̾͝t̴̡̛͍̹̮̣̃͛́̆h̴̨̲̯̭̉̓́e̵͍̳̬̐ ̴̧̝̉͊̆͆̽͜͜d̵͔̹͚̺͈̋o̸̺̗̫͕̿͆͒́o̴̲̯̯̦̾r̷̩͘͜.̷̲͚̣͛"

No. No, you couldn't have.

Racing to the front hall, you grasped the know and gave it a twist.

Unlocked.

No, no, no… This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. Maybe… Maybe it was nothing. You hadn't heard anyone come in, had you? And how would they be in your house if they had called you from Mark's?

… Unless, they hadn't.

Slowly turning your head, your eyes ran over the steps that led upstairs - to your room, where your other home phone was stationed by your bedside.

You were… You were just being paranoid. They weren't inside. You'd just check real quick to calm your nerves. Slowly, you crept forward, stepping quietly up the stairs and into the dim light that shadowed the mouth of the stairway. 

How would they have found you? Could they have seen you as you went home and followed you home?

In your room, it was… Quiet. Too quiet. The air felt suffocatingly still and bitingly cold. Every step you took was centuries long, your mind taking in everything in slow-motion, as it did in dangerous, high-risk situations.

A flip of the lightswitch, darkness receding. Your bedside phone, unattended.

Nothing.

It was nothing. You were overly paranoid. They weren't here. You were alone.

And the lights flickered out.

You could feel your heart as it skipped a beat. The cold drop of your stomach. The feeling of suffocating terror as it curled around your lungs. 

In the dark, you see the lights in their eyes.

You can't scream.

All you can manage to do is turn away and cower in the darkness, your back to the Alternates. You brace for the end.

There's hands on you. Nails a bit too long to be a human's drag along your skin from over your clothes. Two bodies pressing close against you. One set of lips at your neck, the other letting out warbled chuckles in your ear.

Cesar.

I̷̡͠ ̵̜̄͗ẗ̸̗̄o̸͔̹͂̓l̷̺̑-̶̼̠͑́ ̶͇̅͝ţ̶̣̂o̵̯̅l̷̛̯d̷͈̅ ̸̻̩̐͝y̵͙̌͜ŏ̶̭̱̎u̴̞͑͜.̸̻̿ ̴̛̬̲͂I̵͈̐ ̴͐͜ͅt̸̠̓̓o̵̖̅l̴̡̰̏̎ḓ̴͂̈ ̴̲̫̎͂ḩ̵̐͑-̸̨̛Ḭ̸͕̈́'̵̰̃m̶̪̒̎!̶̩̈́̒ ̴̤̱͝I̸̼̞̋ ̴̤͊͠w̴̦͝a̶̮͉̍n̴̨̧͌̇t̶̝̋͒ė̸̪̑d̴̩́ ̴̡͛b̵̧̤̾͝-̸̚͜ ̸͚͒b̷̭̈́ȍ̵͚̈́t̴͙̱̓̌h̵̥́ ̵̠̳̊o̸̽͜f̸͔̫̽̕ ̷͚̋̉y̷̩̅́-̴̨̜̉y̵͚̤̾͋o̴̻̮͌̀ủ̷̥̻.̵̣͇̂̌ ̶̰͛Î̷̩'̶̡͒͘d̷̬̖̃͆ ̴̋ͅg̷̺̓e̵̜͆t̷̩͚̚ ̴̥̱̊b̶̩̙͘͝o̶̦̓̽t̷͎̂̀h̷̺͊ ̸̹͂̓ő̵͎͔͠-̶̐̈́͜ọ̴̹̃͂f̸̅͐ͅ ̴͓̯̚̚y̷͈̜̌̄o̶̤͐͝u̵̗̍!"

Mark.

"W̶̯̉̌̐̔̃e̷̲̗̳͕̼͐ͅ ̸̧̦̳̟̹̘͖̎̽͌͠l̴̢̡̙̻͖̩̽͌̍̿͒o̷͖̒̐͠v̷̨̧̡͓̈́̊̀̿̌̚ė̶͚̱͇͆̿̒́̕ ̵̮͓͔̞͍̟̎̽͐̊͋̏͘ͅy̵̯̥̠͓̮̅̚ö̵̩̺̟͖̭̅͆͊̃̉̍ͅų̷̫̦̣̣̗̇̏̊̑̐̕.̶̡̯̙͚̄ ̶̝̱̐S̶̛͍̯͖̯̥͖̏̈-̴̲̤̙͆̈́̑̆͒̀ͅs̵̥͍̖͗̈̉̂̋͆̕-̵̨̛̹̝̥͔̯̃͆̃͒̿̎s̴̡̲̰̹͘ͅö̷̤̞͙̭̪̦̣́̄͒̈̀̈ ̷̠͇̀͆͂̏͊̔̋m̶̲̟̗͖͒̎̑͛̈́́͗u̷͓͐͗̍̑͆ç̷̨͖̗̻̩̐̓̋́̋̅̚h̵̢̦̻̣̱̆,̵̠͊.I̶̧͆ṯ̸̈̀ ̸̝̀͘ͅf̶̺̀-̸̠͋͋f̷͚̈́͊ê̶̯̭ě̴̘̇-̵͕̆̓e̴̲̒ë̷͓́͝ĺ̵̨̞̓s̴̖͑ ̶̟̻̋͂s̴̢͗̔-̸͈͓̌̏s̶̢̓̊ͅo̸͔͕͋̚ ̸̳̖̒g̵̝̰̀ǭ̶̗̈́o̷̥̽̈d̶̢͇͝,̷̧͖̈́ ̴̩̺͆̈́Ï̴̙ ̸̺̎̆ṕ̴̰̘r̷͉̯͐o̷̦̺͆m̶̢̖̀i̸̼͚̽ş̶̬̑̕e̸̫̊.̸̛ͅ ̶͍̂Y̸̢̪̅o̶̪̭͘u̵̩͌͊'̶͎̋͝r̵̰̠̄̽ẹ̶̀͠ ̵̝̏ḡ̸̯͒-̴̬͔͂g̶̢̃o̴̘͒̇-̷̙̽o̸͖̅͘ȉ̷͕̉ͅņ̷̳̾g̵̯̮͆͆ ̵͚́t̵͖̱͠ọ̵̙́̒ ̵͔͜͝u̶͈̰͋ṉ̵̛͌ḓ̸̓e̵̝̜͝͝r̷͉̥͌s̵̗͗̃t̷̀͜-̷̱̣̿ ̶̢͊s̸̫̍t̴̯̀ã̷͜n̴̳̟̊d̵̳͂̕.̷̭͖́̕ ̸̛̖W̶͉̃e̸̜͙͋'̸̛̣̚r̷̛̘͙̿e̵̺͛͊ ̴̛̯g̶̹̻̅͑-̴̡̩̍ğ̷͎ȯ̵͚̪͂i̵͔̤̅̽n̷͉̦͗g̷̘̔̒ ̷̤̽̀t̵̲̋͐o̸͎̝̊̈́ ̴̮͂͆b̶͈̃̄e̴̠̺̅̚ ̴͋ͅç̷̘̓õ̶͙̑m̶͎̜̓p̵̗̮͐l̴͈̜͊̽e̵̡̤͂̈ṭ̵̡͛̈́ë̴͍́.̵̼͝

And you were made whole.

[sezja]

Febuwhump Day 16: "Does that hurt?" Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Sanson Smyth/Guydelot Thildonnet Triggers/Content warnings: n/a

"That doesn't look like resting," Guydelot says, leaning on the bedroom doorframe to take in the view: Sanson lounging on his stomach in bed, propped up by several pillows under his chest, the better to read over the various documents the Adders have sent him over the past few days.

With a guilty start, Sanson glances over his shoulder... and then winces, the still-healing muscles of his back and shoulder protesting the motion. "I- ah." He repositions. "I can read while I rest, surely."

"If you rested more, might be as you wouldn't have pulled the muscles in the first place."

"I'm not altogether certain that's how it works-"

"You're not altogether certain it's not, either."

With a huff, Sanson pillows his head on his arms, frowning at the bard. "This is why we need a proper healer," he laments. "A conjurer could have this dealt with in minutes..."

Guydelot pushes away from the door, entering the room with a theatrical dejected sigh. "I know, O fearless leader; I have failed you-"

"Oh, shush." Sanson blows a strand of hair out of his face. "I don't blame you."

"No?" The bard grins, playful. "And here I was, about to do penance for my failings."

It earns him a considering look. A very long considering look. "...What sort of penance did you have in mind?"

Oh, several, Guydelot thinks, particularly with Sanson lying there so invitingly, but the very last thing he wants to do is aggravate the man's wounds; poor Sanson can't even stand up straight without pain - he's spent much of the past few days lounging in bed, hunching miserably when he's forced to leave it. Pride alone keeps him from crawling.

Still, Guydelot climbs into the bed, straddling Sanson's legs. "Mind taking your shirt off, Chief?" This is accomplished with some awkward difficulty, of course, as any movement whatsoever sets off Sanson's angry muscles, but it is accomplished nonetheless, the garment discarded haphazardly on the floor. "Stop squirming," Guydelot instructs, fighting a smile. "Just rest."

"I'm resting," Sanson fusses, once again folding his arms beneath his head. "I'm sick to death of resting-"

Guydelot begins rubbing his back, slow and careful. "Does that hurt?"

"Mm." Quieter now, Sanson closes his eyes. "No. A bit harder?"

The bard obliges, applying more careful pressure, gentle where he knows the worst of the pain will be. He sings under his breath, weaving healing into every word: he's no conjurer, and will never match one for skill or potency in healing, but every little bit helps. Every little way he can ease Sanson's pain, he will. Nothing hurts him more than the sight of Sanson in pain, any pain.

Beneath his hands, Sanson's muscles ease, all the familiar tension melting. Whether it heals or helps the worst of the injuries, Guydelot cannot say, but Sanson's heavy-lidded and quiet now; less restless, less impatient.

He leans forward, placing a soft kiss between Sanson's shoulder blades.

The man squirms beneath him once more, peering back at him again. "I really am feeling much better now."

Chuckling, Guydelot sits back up and gently swats the man's arse. "Rest, Chief. I'll even lay with you a while. How's that?" He suits words to action, climbing off of Sanson and stretching out beside him.

The man grumbles, but good-naturedly. "At least I'm less likely to be bored, I suppose."

[party-lemon]

This month is Mental Health Awareness Month so I'd like to make a post talking about something that I don't actually see a lot of people talk about or address; health anxiety.

I have suffered with health anxiety/hypochondria for two years now and I suffer through it every day. Some days are worse than others.

When most people hear about health anxiety, the first thing they associate it with is "thinking a headache is a brain tumor." I've thought this numerous times but that's not the only thing I have to deal with.

Health anxiety makes you scrutinize everything or anything that seems even slightly off. It makes you hyper-aware of your heartbeat, your breathing, your thoughts, your speech. I keep track of bumps on my skin. I check my heart beat numerous times a day. I take deep breaths every once in a while to be sure that I am breathing correctly. It feels like an obsession.

And, of course, health anxiety is thinking that mild illnesses or symptoms are something more serious. I keep thinking my seasonal allergies are covid. I think stumbling on my words is a stroke. I think heart burn is a heart attack. I have thought that a headache is an aneurysm. I feel sick when I'm tired, it's part of being me, and I think I'm dying. The only reason I haven't gotten the vaccine yet is because I know I will worry about the side effects even though I know it will just be the side effects. Name anything that could have been slightly wrong with myself, anything at all, and it's highly possible that I have thought, at some point, that it is something serious.

When my health anxiety first started two years ago, I am almost entirely sure that it was only so bad because I made myself feel more sick than I really was.

I've always been a healthy person. The worst sickness I have had is a common cold or a stomach flu. Two years ago, I started drinking iced coffee more and one thing led to another, caffeine didn't agree with me, and I started having some heart burn caused by acid reflux. It was nothing major but I had never had heart burn before so I convinced myself that something was horribly wrong with me. I was freaking out so bad one night that I went to the ER. They gave me some stomach medication which only made me feel worse.

For six months, give or take, I was convinced that something was wrong. The health anxiety got so bad that, in the summer of 2019, I convinced myself almost every night that I was going to die in my sleep. I would stay awake until I literally couldn't keep my eyes open. I took sleeping medication and I fought it's effects because I was scared. I was so terrified of anything that was slightly wrong. I checked my heart beat constantly. I was miserable.

I have gotten better but some days are worse than others. I've found that any sort of distraction helps. It makes me take my mind away from fixating on anything that I deem slightly off. During the summer, when I don't have many distractions, it's worse.

I don't talk about this much with anyone. I don't have a therapist. The nights that I was afraid to sleep, I dealt with it myself. My coping mechanism is writing down how I feel, and that doesn't even work sometimes. I've worked through everything by myself. I wish I hadn't.

So, I guess, the point of this post is to raise more awareness about health anxiety. I don't see many people talk about it and so I want to let the few people that do have it know that they aren't alone. One of the reasons I didn't get help was because I thought people might think I'm crazy. Your thoughts may be irrational and maybe you know they are, like I do, and you still can't keep them away, but you aren't alone. It's okay to get help.

Thank you for reading.

[mellometal]

HEY.

I haven't been able to keep up on the whole Dhar Mann lore as of current day, and I'm sorry, BUT FUCK THAT PIECE OF SHIT RIGHT NOW. He's not important at the moment. There's someone else who I really need to discuss. You probably know who this person is if you're in the Sonic fandom.

A few questions for anyone who's new to this person:

1. Do you know who Chris Chan is?

2. If so, what are your thoughts on Chris?

3. Does the character Sonichu ring any bells? If not, here's an official picture of him below:

For anyone who has never heard about Chris Chan, I don't have time to go into the whole lore here because it's not important. You can jump down the CWC rabbit hole on your own. There are MANY documentaries on this person. I recommend Geno Samuel's docuseries on Chris Chan, if you want to know EVERYTHING about this person so far and you're committed to the task.

To sum up Chris Chan in a few words, she's an autistic trans woman who created Sonichu and dealt with a shit load of trolls. Her parents (her late father and elderly mother) have enabled their own child her whole life.

I'm thoroughly disgusted by this person and I don't fucking respect her whatsoever. The ONLY amount of respect I'm bothering to give her AT ALL is using the correct pronouns for Chris when referring to her. That's IT.

Obligatory trigger warning (I am DEAD SERIOUS here, so please listen):

This post will be going into sensitive subject matter such as r@p3, s3xual assault, elder abuse, inc3$t, and Chris Chan ADMITTING TO (ALLEGEDLY) HARMING HER OWN MOTHER. (There will be videos linked in this post if you want to watch them. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.)

If any of those subjects is triggering for you in ANY WAY, or they just flat-out make you uncomfortable, please don't feel like you're obligated to read this post. I understand that these subjects are extremely sensitive, and I'm going to try my hardest to talk about these subjects in the most respectful manner possible. I don't want to bring back any trauma you or someone you know may have. That's the last thing I would ever want to do. Put your mental health and well-being first. Again, like I say with every post that talks about sensitive subject matter that may be triggering or uncomfortable for people, consume media that sparks joy for you.

Any resources that you or someone you know may need will be in this post too. Some countries might not even have resources for things like this locally, but I will try my best to find them.

United States:

Canada:

Latin America:

South America:

ALL European countries:

ALL of Africa:

ALL of the Middle East:

ALL of Asia:

Australia:

New Zealand:

Anyone who's still here, let's get on with the subject of this post, which are the current events in Chris Chan's life.

Recently, Chris Chan has admitted to (allegedly) s3xually assaulting Barbara, her elderly mother. There is audio that was leaked yesterday of her admitting to this very (alleged) action.

One of the phone calls that was leaked is below. This is that full phone call:

Here's a video with the segments where Chris admitted to (allegedly) s3xually assaulting Barbara (WARNING: THE THUMBNAIL IS GROSS):

As of now, Barbara is currently in the hospital for a mental wellness check to see if she's lucid. She's also there for a r@p3 test to see if there was any penetration.

Chris was detained (most likely to be questioned), then released. Her initial plans were to stay with her aunt and uncle, who live near where she and her mother live. Those plans fell through, as apparently they rejected Chris. She's not allowed to have any contact with her mother, or be at the house until August 5th. Their pets are currently left unattended in the house....I don't know who's going to be taking care of the animals with nobody there. I don't know where Chris will be staying for the next few days. That hasn't been disclosed to the public, as far as I've been able to do research on these current events.

I cannot say that Chris has actually COMMITTED THIS CRIME until the test results come in for Barbara, Chris is tried in court, Chris gets a prison sentence, and Barbara is put into a nursing home. That's why I said she (Chris) admitted to ALLEGEDLY committing this crime.

Incest between a mother and son (that's how the crime was written, please forgive me) in the state of Virginia is a Class 5 felony. Class 5 felonies are considered "wobblers", as they can be deemed felonies or misdemeanors, depending on the circumstances. If deemed a felony, Chris could face from one to up to ten years in prison. If deemed a misdemeanor, Chris could face up to twelve months in prison. Because Chris is on disability, they might go easier on her. On the flip side, because of Barbara's age, they might go harder on Chris.

If Barbara happened to be lucid during those events, the charges above would apply. If she wasn't lucid at all and was confused, shit would get VERY serious for Chris.

I also can't exactly say if the phone call is even real; however, there's evidence of Chris admitting to having a fetish for old people, including her own mother. According to a person Chris is friends with, she's had dreams about having s3x with her mother. I also am not sure if Chris is confusing herself with having s3x with fucking MEWTWO, if she was coerced into lying, or if she's hiding something else and decided to say this to cover her own ass. Did I mention she's married to some of her own characters (Magi-Chan, Cryzel, and Sylvana) AND Mewtwo from Pokémon? THAT'S TRUE. YOU CAN LOOK THAT UP IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME.

Why do I say that Barbara needs to be in a nursing home? BECAUSE CHRIS OBVIOUSLY ISN'T FIT TO TAKE CARE OF HER OWN MOTHER. I'D LIKE HER MOM TO BE SAFE WITH PEOPLE WHO CAN ACTUALLY TAKE CARE OF HER.

This whole situation is disgusting and it makes me sick to my stomach. Chris Chan is a MONSTER. I hope Barbara's okay. I know she's not a very good person either (welp, birds of a feather flock together), but I do have sympathy for the elderly and what happened to her is unforgivable.

Some other YouTubers who have talked about this are Gibi and Rogue The Internet Man, as far as I know for now.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-One [PT. 1]

A/N: Part 2 coming tomorrow.

Words:3k

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of miscarriage, sexual situations

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NIKKI

I stare down at the small, black and white pictures of seemingly nothing except a tiny, tiny little blob, except for one picture which is marked with “4 months” on the back, February 14th, 1986, in white marker in Vivs’s handwriting, one picture out of seven, each with dates…she doesn’t say a word to me, and she didn’t before she handed them over. She just chunked them in my lap and went from there.

I don’t know what to ask, because I don’t know what to say.

“Are these…?” I finally get out, looking at her.

She’s got tears in her eyes, and it slowly starts sinking in.

These are fucking kids--well, tiny little embryo kids, or whatever.

“These are your’s?” I ask next and she nods.

When the hell was she ever fucking pregnant?

I check the dates again…

1983.

1984.

1984.

1985.

1986.

1986...the back of it says “twins.”

“Where was I when all of this was happening?” I ask her, and she licks her lips and breathes out.

“I don’t know, Nikki, where were you?” She replies lowly.

I look at her for a moment, trying to decide if she’s serious or not.

Then she digs in her purse and pulls out a paper, unfolding it before going through the list of dates assigned to each ultrasound image, reciting to me--in my own words from diaries--my whereabouts around the time she lost each one.

I take it that she’s already skimmed through a diary or two already.

I get angrier and angrier with each line, shaking by the time she starts on, “1986--you were unconscious while me and Andy McCoy were trying to resuscit--”

I throw the pictures and they all split from each other and scatter around her, cutting her short.

“None of this is my fault, Vivian!” I scream at her, my heart feeling as though it’s rotting behind my ribs. “I didn’t fucking know!”

“How could you fucking know when you were so damn hig--”

“You came home in ‘83, from that appointment and told me it was a false-positive test and you had just gained a little weight. I wasn’t on smack in July of 1983. In fact, I went a little while on just Tylenol and beer while I was tampering off my heavy meds the doctor prescribed for my shoulder. So you could have fucking told me then what the fuck was happening, instead of shutting down and shutting me out for three goddamn months!” I’m crying without realizing it until hot tears prick down my cheeks, my skin uncomfortable as my nerves singe from my boiling blood. “I loved you, I had just married you for Christ sake--I was happy and excited to be at that point with you and you fucking left me for three months! You’d barely let me touch you, you wouldn’t come out of our room, you wouldn’t wanna go out, I’d sleep on the fucking couch or crash at Robbins or Tommy’s because you’d tell me you just wanted to be alone, and all along I thought it was my fault because I went to that fucking party with Tommy instead of staying with you the night of our wedding and you were just making me pay...and then when you were put on medication I thought it was my fault, too, because I thought you’d figured out I was tampering with smack, and I just…” I’m up and pacing, hands in my hair…

Amber doesn’t say a word.

I think Viv broke her, too, because she looks like she’s trying to find the right thing to say.

Maybe she’s hoping we can talk this one out on our own.

But I don’t want to talk anything out.

Not right now.

“I didn’t tell you about them because I was scared you would cope with the pain the same way you’d coped with pain for years. I was afraid you’d drink and drug yourself and leave me to deal with it by myself, and I didn’t want to put that on you, so I just dealt with it myself.” Vivian admits, her voice cracking.

“Vivian, you haven’t dealt with it, though.” Amber quietly interjects, softly. “You haven’t dealt with it. You haven’t allowed yourself to heal.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?” I shakily ask, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat.

“When you died.” She says next, honestly, her tone a dead giveaway that it’s not something she’s proud of, but it’s the truth. “I was just gonna bury the pictures with you, just in case you had random kids coming up to you in the next life, you’d know who they were, I guess.”

I feel sick to my stomach at the confession, my whole body repulsed with the fact that she’s managed to hide this the past four years.

“Nikki, if you need to take a break, we can,” Amber assures me.

I’m getting the fuck out of there as fast as I can, just desperate to get some air that Vivian isn’t breathing her demoness presence into, and the second I get free, I'm puking my guts up in the hallway. 

I know I had a reason to be angry with her, she hid that from me, like I'd hid so much from her. She thought she was protecting me, though, and I just didn't want her to leave me because I was a pussy and a piece of shit--and I knew it. 

I was more pissed at myself, though, because I knew I'd put her in the position to feel like she couldn't come to me and tell me she was pregnant, let alone had lost it, even before I was on smack. 

She knew how I handled shit--either drink, do whatever drug was accessible, or both. 

When heroin and crack entered the picture, that just cemented her will not to tell me about it. 

I think the biggest elephant in the room, though, despite her being pregnant with Duff's baby at that point, and me and my thing with Vanity and all the other women, and her hidden pregnancies, was the fact she never wanted to get married to me that fast, and I knew it. 

I knew it the day we got married that she didn't really want to, she was just trying to make me happy, and I fucking let her do it because I was so terrified that I was going to lose her if I didn't go as far as I could to secure her to me. 

The amount of unnecessary bullshit she could've bypassed had I just taken a step back and told her we didn't have to get married if she didn't want to...I often times think it would've saved her a lot of heartbreak. We could've broken up when shit hit the fan with smack in '84, I still would've lived through my bad OD in '87,  probably, and we could've gotten back together when I cleaned my shit up--that is if she would've waited for me...and that's why I didn't let up. Because "if she waited" wasn't good enough. I didn't want "if." 

I wanted her. 

So I married her, knowing she didn't want to, and instead of proving her wrong and giving her a relationship to question why she ever second guessed vowing an eternity together with me, I put her through hell, treated her like shit, abused her, endured her abuse, wasted each other's time, hurt each other, ruined each other more and more than what we were when we got into the relationship. 

And that was my first indiscretion against her. 

Marrying her knowing she wasn't ready.

By the time I finish puking, I'm leaning against the wall, taking deep breaths, hearing Vivian crying, still in Amber's office. 

I squeeze my eyes closed, my palms roughly wipe my stray tears. 

Despite being sober, the little fuck that is Sikki is trying to claw out of the box I've put him in for over a month, now. 

Just the faintest, "leave her," echoes in my mind. 

"Fuck you." I audibly tell him. 

"She never wanted to be with you in the first place. Why do you think her body refused to carry your fucking kids? Because she hates you so much that it'd be an abomination to have your little hell rats." 

"Fuck off." I argue, again. 

"And just think about it. The timing of this one she's got now...she was getting her brains screwed backwards right next door to you while you were keeling over. It was like she knew what was about to happen and she was celebrating the fact she wouldn't have to fucking deal with your shit ever again." He taunts, getting more and more of his scraggly hand out of the box, the lid cracking open to reveal his white, sallow skin and dark eyes. 

"Fuck off." I gritt out once more. 

"What's wrong? You don't think she'd do that? After all the times you've admitted she's an evil bitch from the pit fires of hell? Because I think she'd do it. In fact, I bet she'd stare your overdosing carcass in the eyes, screaming out his name in ecstasy, while dripping cum at the mere fact you were dying." 

I slam the lid of the box back down, crushing his boney, track riddled fingers, making him curse me. 

I refuse to listen to his bullshit anymore. 

Vivian loves me. She wants to be with me. She'd be gone by now if she didn't, and I wouldn't blame her. 

1 9 8 1

"Ummm…" I trail off, watching her closely, lickikg my lips, my hand grabbing at the curve of her hip over the comforter she's got pulled up to her chest, her head in the crook of my elbow, looking up at me, awaiting my answer. "...I don't know." I say, honestly. 

"As theological as you are and you can't tell me whether or not you think Aliens are real?" She asks and I roll my eyes. 

"I don't know, miss honor roll, you tell me." I counter and she grins. 

"I think the universe is too big for it to just be us." She informs me. 

"Ah, says the one who also believes a heaven and a God exists within the same wide range of universe." I reply and she hits my bare chest with the back of her hand, gently. 

"Shut up." She says, shaking her head a little. "Is it not reasonable to think there's more than just us?" 

I think about it for a moment. 

"I wouldn't be surprised if aliens are real, I wouldn't be surprised if they weren't." I admit, rubbing my eye for a second. 

"What about God?" She asks next and I try not to laugh in her face. 

"I'm almost one hundred percent sure that God doesn't exist." I state. 

"How do you know?" She says, blinking emerald greens at me, as if what I'm about to say about her imaginary friend she's been brainwashed into believing in, is going to make or break her.

"I'm not sure, baby, I just think...fine, tell you what, I wouldn't be surprised if God were real, and I wouldn't be surprised if he weren't real." I give her the benefit of the doubt. 

"I'd be surprised if he weren't." She tells me. 

"Yeah? Well, how do you know he is real?" I question her, next, a teasing smile on my lips. 

"I don't know, you can't see him or hear his voice audibly, but you can feel him." She explains the best she can and I raise my brows. 

"You can feel God?"

"Well, yeah." She replies, her finger tracing along the few bits of chest hair I've got and I lick my lips for a second before leaning down, kissing her. 

"What about now?" I ask, grinning as my hand pushes away at the covers over her to run against the smooth skin of her thigh and she smiles just a little before pressing her lips to mine, one of her hands threading in my hair with her other arm snakes around me, pulling me on top of her and I chuckle lowly, nestling between her legs while we get hot and heavy with our tongues and teeth.

Both of us let out satisfied breaths when I slide into her, her eyes fluttering closed, brows furrowed slightly, head leaning back as her nails bite into my arms. 

I pat myself on the back and trail hot, wet, sloppy kisses along her clavicle before pulling out of her again, a little shudder going up my back from the tight, soaking heat between her legs. 

When I start building a slow but hard rhythm, her legs are locking at the base of my spine, her arms hugging at my back, pulling me to her as, "Nikki," slips from her lips. 

"What about now?" I ask in her ear as I force myself as deep into her as her body will let me, and she whimpers out, "yes."

A sadistic little pat to my ego causes a pull at my lips, my hand wrapping around her throat as I stare down at her, her nails clawing down my back, tears in her eyes as I thrust back into her…

I kiss at her lips, her cheek, her jaw, moving my hand from her throat to kiss her neck and I swear I hear the faintest, barely inaudible whisper of, "I love you," but decide I'm just hearing things...

Present

I squeeze my eyes shut, the smell of my puke wafting in my face, making me take several steps back to catch my breath. 

It's hard to swallow the fact that I really let myself be convinced for so long that I'd let her fuck my life up, to the extent of blaming her for my life actually being fucked up.

"Fuck." I curse at myself, raking my hands down my face. 

How the fuck am I going to make this right with her? 

How the fuck is she going to make this right with me? 

She's pregnant, with Duff's kid or whatever, and then BAM! just drops this shit on me that she's actually been pregnant multiple times from me and never mentioned losing any of them to me. 

I know it's my fault that she didn't tell me. I know it is. Am I going to admit that to her? Fuck no. Am I hurt over her not telling me anyway? Yeah, I am. 

If I wasn't in sobriety penitentiary, I'd probably be out and about trying to find something to numb and distract me…

I don't know what to do. 

But I do know one thing for sure: I'm not in love with her anymore, but I love her, and I'm pretty sure she feels the same exact way about me...but it's not like we can't get back to that place we were in when we first got together, it's just gonna take some work...a lot of work.

I huff out a breath, taking a moment to get my shit together, mentally. 

Do I go back in there and finish out today or just try again next week? 

I think on it for a minute…

"Fuck it." I say out, shakily, weakly, tears break past my lash line once again, 

a far cry from that tough motherfucker I swore I was for years. "Just fuck it."

Fuck this.

Fuck her.

And fuck me.