#Small Nanny Cam

[xan-izme]

Double life 13 (ATSV x reader x batfam)

summary: You can't get a break. Not even for a second

TW: Angst, mental health issues, cursing, hallucinations, mentions of death

Bruce was the world's greatest detective. And a father. So, he was bound to pick up on a few things. He had suspicions of you hiding something. But he assumed it was due to it being an effect of losing your mother.

But ever since Jason began to stay at the manor longer than a day or two(which was surprising) he began to notice small things. He began to notice how you two would often be together. Not as often as you were with Damian of course. But wherever you were Jason was there as well.

He assumed you two were just getting along. And he was happy about that. But he would catch you two giving each other small knowing looks. The two of you whispering to each other or giving each other signals.

Yes, everyone else in the house does this with each other as well. But the way you and Jason would do it was more like a secret. A secret only you two would have with each other. Maybe it was some inside joke or some odd bonding thing you two had.

Bruce tried not to pry into your life too much. Especially after the argument you two had.

But the more he sat and thought about the argument instead of sulking. Something he said to you ticked you off. Of course, his words got you pissed, but he has this, itching feeling that his words meant far more than you led on.

So, he put you in therapy. And might have bribed the therapist to install a nanny-cam so he can see and listen in on your sessions. . . yes not his most honorable moment. But that itching feeling just kept growing and growing.

So, every session you had. He was watching. And he was slowly seeing you in a more, brighter light. You would laugh as you crack up jokes. Your smile made him smile. The way you would play with some of the toy's Mrs. Dean had warmed his heart. (He might have bought a few dozen plushies to give to you soon)

You spoke about him. And you had no resentment. You even spoke about how you wanted to apologize to him. How you felt like you were in the wrong.

Bruce honestly felt like he didn't deserve you at this point. You were so kindhearted. You spoke about him and everyone else with so much love.

But don't think Bruce didn't pick up those small moments of hesitations. When Mrs. Dean would try and dig deeper into you in any emotional way involving just you. There would be this, small pause that felt like more than a minute. The look in your eyes. The same look he saw you with at that party with your mother's side of the family.

He knows that look far too well.

You hate yourself.

This realization. Kind of broke him a little. His little girl hates herself. Why didn't he see this sooner? he feels like a fool. He's trying to piece everything together. Why would you hate yourself. Your perfect. A little broken. But that just makes Bruce love you more.

As he's trying to piece things together. To understand fully of what was going on with you. There were always blank spots that he couldn't fill in. This was a puzzle. I not a hard one but not easy either. He was able to dig deeper in on you.

He went as far as to hacking into your phone. Yes. His overstepping it but he wasn't going into your messages or socials. Only your call history and photos. It was very sad to see most of your recent calls were to your mother's number, of course those calls were not answered.

Your photos were filled with family pictures and- odd. Pictures that seemed to be in an almost hidden file was filled with unfamiliar faces. He scans the faces through his system. But he found nothing. That, that was odd.

Tim walked into the Batcave, he wanted to report to Bruce and tell him he was going to be playing games with you tonight instead of going out on patrol. As he walked down the stairs. He hears what sounds like a recording of a woman talking.

He's brow arched up curiously as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Bruce doesn't seem to notice him yet.

"You don't seem to be the type to hold a grudge."

The voice of the woman who spoke just now was unfamiliar to Tim.

"Oh no. I hold grudges."

Another voice spoke. Younger. It sounded a lot like. . .

"If I fully give you my trust and loyalty. I expect it not to be broken or abused."

It was you. A recording of you speaking to someone. Why would Bruce be listening to this.

"Uh . . .Bruce?" Tim finally spoke up. Bruce turns around, looking a little like he was caught off guard. Too focused on listening to the recording. Tim walked closer looking confused.

"What are you-" Tim was cut off as your voice was heard once again.

"If I give my trust and loyalty to someone. I give them my heart."

Tim frowns. He's realizing what Bruce was listening to. "Is that- Are you spying on Y/n's therapy sessions?"

Bruce was quick to shut off the recording. Letting out a deep sigh.

"Weren't you the one who didn't want us to invade her privacy?" Tim was reasonable. You going to therapy is actually a good thing, because at least someone in their family was going to therapy.

But just to find out Bruce was spying on your sessions was just. . . disappointing.

"For a good reason." Bruces statement just angered Tim even more.

"Good reason? Bruce, she's a 16-year-old girl who's pouring her heart out to someone you paid to listen to her problems. If you were going to just going to do this. Talking to her would have been a better option." Tim crossed his arms with a deep frown.

"She won't talk to me Tim. . . she's hiding something." Bruce sighed as he looked back down at the recording.

"That doesn't mean you should be doing whatever this is!"

As Tim and Bruce argued, Dick came down with a box of pizza and a smile.

"Hey, I brought Pizza-" Dick cut himself off as he stumbled upon Tim and Bruce arguing.

"Whoa, whoa. What's going on here?" Dick walks up to the two with a slight nervous smile. Tim doesn't look all too happy.

"He's been spying on Y/n's therapy sessions!" Tim's words caused Dick's smile to slowly drop.

"Oh. . . oh Bruce that's not. . ."

Dick was trying so hard not to give Bruce a look of hard judgment. But in his attempt to do that his face forms cringe.

A school trip to a museum was giving you Daja'vu from your last field trip. Didn't go well due to the result of getting bitten by a spider and having long-lasting trauma from there on out.

You stared at a painting, a spider devouring a butterfly who was unfortunate enough to be caught in its web.

"Kind of a sad painting don't you think?" Someone spoke up.

You turn your head and see Jason. You don't seem surprised; you slowly turn back to the painting.

"Didn't think paint museums were your thing." You say as your eyes stayed trained on the spider eating the poor butterfly. Jason couldn't help but chuckle. "What do you think my thing is exactly?" He asks as he tilts his head while staring at the painting with you.

"Bird cage maybe. Isn't that where a bird like you should be?" You spoke almost mockingly. "Actually, I feel like that painting over there would be more of your taste." Your head jesters to a painting behind the two of you. Jason glanced back to see a painting of a bird being attacked by a black snake with green eyes.

What was painfully ironic about the painting, was that the bird was a robin.

". . ." That was a personal jab. Jason would usually get angry and curse someone out. But this was you, and he honestly understands your hate. Even when you say something cruel, he knows it's not aimed to him directly. But to yourself.

Jason stared back at the painting of the spider and butterfly. Then stared at you. You stared at the painting with, sympathy . . .?

No. Thats not it. Empathy maybe?

"The butterfly, do you feel bad for it?" His body facing you while his eyes stayed focus on your expression.

"It's the spider I pity."

Jason's brow raises from your words. "The spider?"

You stay silent for a moment.

"People hate the spider, for something it can't control. Kind of unfair if you ask me." Your stare didn't seem to be focused on the painting, seeming to be beyond that.

"Your weird" Jason mumbled. Not fully understanding what you were meaning.

Suddenly your spider senses spiked up. You were quick to grab Jason and pull him away causing you two to fall to the ground, right before a bomb was set off.

Jason was quick to get onto his feet

"Stay." Was all he said before running off. You got off the ground and scanned the area before running off to try and help others to get up and evacuate. Your spider senses were going crazy. People were screaming and the building was shaking.

you were so distracted you didn't notice something rolling to your feet. A smoke bomb. But the moment you noticed it, it was too late. Red smoke exploded into your face.

The sound of a ticking clock, the lights dimmed. You were in a chair, blinking a few times. Trying to process how you got here, you look up to see Mrs. Dean. Sitting on the chair across from you.

". . . Mrs. Dean?" Confusion was quick to take over you.

The air felt eerie, and oddly damp. You glanced around and see your in her office. You see Mrs. Dean talking. Her mouth moving but you heard nothing.

"I- I can't hear you-"

"Do you blame yourself?"

You stayed silent for a moment, Confused. You were getting this, unsettling feeling, causing you to grip the onto the chair you seem to not be able to get off from.

"What?" You spoke, almost in a whisper

"Well, it's quite common in this situation for a patient to feel a sort of guilt"

Your brows furrowed by Mrs. Deans statement.

"What situation. . .?"

Mrs. Dean doesn't answer. She freezes almost. No movement. Like she's been paused.

Your surroundings glitch.

And you're standing outside. In the rain, ruins around you. You couldn't process anything. Because you were staring down.

Starring down at a motionless body. The face. She doesn't have a face.

Where is her face. She's supposed to have a face, right? why doesn't she have a face? What is it supposed to look like?-

. . . who is this?

Your supposed to know who this is. But you don't. Why can't you remember? This isn't right. . . .

different faces glitch onto the woman. But none of them were right.

Why can't you remember?

what's wrong with you?

Why can't you remember?

Suddenly your body began to move. Your hands slowly move up to reveal blood. Your breathing increased, panic, dread. Utter dread.

"AAAAHHHHH!!!"

"Shit!" Jason struggled to hold you down. Bruce shouted for Dick to open the pod to get you out of this hallucinating state you were in due to the fear toxin. Your blood curdling screams echoed throughout the Batcave.

Your body thrashed as you screamed and cried. Your screaming was throwing Jason off. And it hurt. It hurt seeing you like this more than he would think. Bruce took hold of you and told Jason to grab a syringe to knock you out.

Bruce held onto you tight. You screamed out.

"Please! No- NO NO PLEASE NO!"

Jason ran back with the syringe and stuck it into your neck. You flinched, your head falling back as your eyelids slowly close.

"Mama . . ." You whispered, only audible for Jason and Bruce to hear. Giving the two men a few seconds of silence before Bruce quickly carried you to the pod.

--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__-

A/n: Yup, I'm back. Hope y'all are having a good school year for those in school. Hope y'all liked this one and feel free to give me any tips on making more unsettling seance (I just noticed I reached 1,007 followers. You guys going crazy with this)

@huening-ly,@mariadvorak, @superherosdystopiafreak, @chelluv, @houseissofine, @esposadomd, @greyeyedmockingbird, @1-800-daisy, @c0c0-puffsxxx @arthurswife, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @josiepapen, @natashanice165, @amber-content, @mahbeanz @azurewisteria, @seraph101, @skepvids, @lara20aral, @iwasveronica, @jackrabbitem, @nickey-diano, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @sekidekiboombeki, @masters-blog, @lulpeepkins, @sgarrush-blush, @redsakura101, @danart501, @definitely-not-sammie, @khaleesihavilliard, @reallynotsoconfident, @uknowimdumb, @bat1212

[iamzer0]

ᒪIᐯIᑎᘜ ᗯITᕼ Yᗩᑎᗪᗴᖇᗴ ᑭᒪᗩTOᑎIᑕ ᕼ᙭ᕼ ᑕᕼᗩᖇᗩᑕTᗴᖇ𝚂

The phantom troupe

Chrollo:

Living with him actually isn’t as bad as the rest of the troupe.

He’s not always around, being the leader of one of the most infamous groups ever and all that.

You have everything you could ever need except freedom.

He sees you as a small child, that must be protected.

Despite not being there all the time you still feel suffocated in the small room you are confined in.

You have a mini kitchen full of already prepared meals (he doesn’t trust u with knives), you have your own bathroom too.

But despite all of this there’s this underlying feeling of malice that pollutes the air of your room.

Your room is filled with children toys, and your walls are aligned with dolls and stuffed animals. It would be a cute room for a 6 year old but you were certainly not 6.

You hate the room so much, you feel like the dolls are always staring at you, and your pretty positive there’s a nanny cam in one of them.

You have begun to lose it, trapped in this room filled with children toys that are constantly reminding you of your lack of freedom.

You start screaming and shouting throwing the dolls off their shelf’s, breaking the toys, clawing at the wall desperate for freedom.

You scream until you lose your voice, you curl up on the ground crying yourself to sleep.

Chrollo returns later that night, he saw you losing your shit on the camera placed in your stuffed animals.

He looks around at the trashed room, sighing to himself. He picked you up gently placing you in your bed.

He couldn’t understand why you hated your room so much you had everything you needed.

He decided that sense he couldn’t be around all the time and he didn’t want you to hurt yourself or trash your room he decided to get you a nanny.

Strange right? Well he has it all planned out, he tells the nanny you have mental issues and need to take medication to make sure you don’t lose it. (It’s really just drugs that will make you loopy)

Life is a blur, you can barely think for yourself anymore. But despite this you don’t lose hope, you will be free no matter what you will find a way. This small piece of hope you hold onto is single handily keeping you sane.

Feitan:

He is probably the worst person to be stuck with if I’m honest.

He’s around more than Chrollo, but I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.

He hates hurting you but certainly isn’t against it if you do something he considers bad.

You can’t leave your room without him, as he doesn’t trust you after you tried escaping while he was gone. Let’s just say that wasn’t a fun day.

He brings you food most of the time, it’s weird living with him he’s so….. quiet.

His quietness is so unsettling to you, it puts you on edge every time.

He sees you as his closest family(besides the troupe), that’s why he can’t comprehend why you want to leave so badly.

He enjoys your company quite a bit actually, not that he’ll ever admit it.

He drags you around the house, making you eat dinner, watch a movie, or even simply just be in the same room.

His cold stare always makes you think he’s mad but in reality he just has this constant resting b face.

You sleep in the same room as him(separate beds unless you have tried to run away recently) you have never actually seen him sleep. You go to sleep with him still awake and wake up to him awake.

He doesn’t like sleeping, he thinks it’s a waste of time and pushes off sleeping till he physically needs but even then he only sleeps for like 4 hours.

You lay sleeping in your bed blissfully unaware of Feitan staring at you intently as if he blinked you would disappear.

Shalnark:

Living with him is having very little privacy, you know those parents that take your door away when they don’t trust you, yea that’s him but much worse.

You live in a tiny room with cameras almost everywhere expect the bathroom of course.

He almost sees you as a doll, he can chose what you do throughout the day, chose what you wear and eat. It’s gotten to the point you start to see yourself as doll as well.

You hate your life being dictated by him, he says it’s to ensure your safety, and protect you but you call bullshit.

You can yell and scream at him but he won’t take you seriously. He just sees it as a tantrum.

Every time he talks to you in his seemingly sweet voice there’s always this undertone of malice. It sends chills down your spine.

You may not be able to escape but you are determined to make his life hell as payback for this tortuous life.

So here you are looking around every nock and cranny, tearing apart your stuffed animals and pillows, taking apart the furniture in your room searching for cameras and destroying them.

You yell and throw your food against the wall going on a hunger strike, smacking him when he tries to get close to you.

Your protest doesn’t last for long as he simply puts one of his mind control pins in your arm.

You may be controlled by him currently but you have a sense of pride knowing you pissed him off.

Phinks:

He’s a…… character. He’s one of the more playful, and funny people to be stuck with.

It’s not that he makes funny jokes he just does dumb things that are so funny for no reason.

He gives you the most freedom, and to be honest despite him being an air head he’s the most self aware of all of the troupe(besides nobunaga but I’ll get to that).

He understands that it’s wrong to keep you here but he can’t help it, to him you’re just this small kid that needs protection.

He gives you small freedoms but you are still not aloud to leave.

You have a semi nice room he let you decorate it which was pretty cool.

Just cause he’s chill doesn’t mean you’ll forget about what he has done to you.

He had killed your family, he hadn’t meant for you to see. But you ended up waking up and walking in on him killing them.

He understands why you are crying but he thought you would get over it quickly, I mean he treats you better than them, why can’t you see that all you need is him?

You are quiet and cold towards him for very obvious reasons, but to him it’s just teenage angst.

Nobunaga:

As I said he’s probably the most sane, he understands he’s in the wrong but almost doesn’t care.

He thinks your happier with him, he try’s to give you some freedom like making your own food(no knives or anything hot tho), and letting you have your personal space.

He wants you to spend time with him, he wants to act like a family.

You have a nice set up going for you, you have all your needs met and are surrounded by things you like but it can’t compare to your old life.

You miss your family and friends, you want to be free.

Currently you are working on an escape plan, you write down your plans in your tiny little journal, nobunaga doesn’t even know it exists because you keep it on your person at all times.

You are going to take advantage of the small freedoms you have, no matter what happens you will get back to your family, your REAL family.

Machi

(I dont know much bout her so sorry if it’s short)

Like Feitan she appears cold towards you, but can be sweet at times.

She tries to give you love but it always ends with you sad or scared.

She’s really protective of you and is scared someone might hurt you, though her face doesn’t depict it.

You have a nice room and she takes care of you although she does have cameras placed around the house just for when she’s not there.

She scares you with her stare it’s like she’s staring daggers into you.

After getting more situated you decided to ask her about possibly leaving the house but you were greeted with a stern talking to, you argued back and forth but it ended with you being “grounded”.

Pakunoda:

She believes herself to be a good mom that cares and takes care of her kids.

In your mind she’s delusional and you’re not her kid, but for some odd reason she thinks you are.

She refuses to hear other wise even if you and her look nothing alike.

She’s actually a really kind person, she gives you gifts to help with your self care.

She’s nice and all, honestly she would be the best person on this list lif it weren’t for her delusion.

Uvogin:

He is SO LOUD

Living with him has its up and downs, mostly downs.

He travels a lot never staying in one place, naturally he brings you with him. He’s not like Chrollo who has has his own house for you, you kinda just go where he goes.

It’s not that he trusts you it’s more that he thinks he can easily get you back if you start to wander.

Your diet living with him consists mostly of fast food tbh. He doesn’t know how to cook at all.

He’s very talkative and constantly makes jokes with you, but will kill and burn down an entire village just for you.

He’s a sweet person but he scares you, he’s giant and loud. Which makes for a terrible combo when you are trying to sleep.

He often gets drunk but even in his drunken daze he would never hurt you, but he may get up in your face and make terrible jokes and be louder than usual.

He’s possessive and likes to keep you near him at all times, it’s nice to travel to all these different places if you were traveling with a different person that is.

The boys:

Killua:

He’s a very hard person to get away from, him being an assassin and all.

He keeps you close to him, and will freak out if you try and leave(like a mental freak out).

He yells at you if you even propose the idea of leaving, you and him full on start arguing.

He is very delusional and doesn’t understand why you are trying to leave him, you are his baby sibling he needs to protect you why can’t you see that?

Literally goes as far as drugging you to make you loopy and obedient.

He treats you like your made of glass, he is constantly telling you about how he needs to protect you because you won’t survive in the outside world.

Is impossible to get away from, he puts your needs before his own, but in the worst possible way.

He’s also very paranoid about his family finding you and hurting you.

You constantly try and escape despite it being basically impossible, can’t lose hope because the minute you do you will start to lose your mind.

Gon:

Life with him isn’t the worst but it’s isn’t the best.

The cons: him kidnapping you, never being able to see your family and friends, living with a possessive boy that keeps hugging you and calling you his baby sister.

The pros: he makes good food.

He takes you everywhere with him, your one safe haven was Aunt mito. She was nice although you constantly tried to tell her what was actually happening, Gon never let you always interrupting you and dragging you away before you could tell her.

He thinks this behavior is normal and that nothing is wrong.

Anytime you try and tell him that he is insane he only sees it as you throwing a tantrum.

He always makes you stand back while he fights, he feels satisfaction from defeating enemies in front of you. He feels like your knight in shining armor.

He gets annoying after a while, I mean he is always on you try to hug you and tell you story’s and don’t get me started on his rules.

He makes you go to bed insanely early, he treats you like you will die if he’s not careful, is super protective, won’t let you do ANYTHING on your own.

Overall it’s pretty shitty, gons a good kid he has strong morals but there comes a point where his delusions start affecting his morality.

The zoldyck family:

(They mostly stuck together so I’m writing their head cannons as one)

Welp your fucked start praying to whatever you believe in cause there is no way out.

Life is well…… quiet i guess…

Kikyo is constantly obsessing over everything you do.

She has everything planned out for you down to the meals you eat.

The other family is no help at all, sometimes Zeno spends time with you one on one so sometimes you are free from Kikyos death grip.

Silvia is intimidating, he claims you are part of the family but you don’t feel like it. It feels like you are a doll that can be moved around and accessorized if need be.

Zeno is surprisingly nice, he lets you break Kikyos diet and when you are around him you can wear what you want and talk about whatever you want.

Milluki is mean, you have only talked to him a little bit but he’s cruel and not only that but he is constantly helping the family monitor you whether it be everyday life or online use, you are never truly alone.

Zeno and Silva are nice for the most part but despite their kindness there is no way in hell they will ever let you leave which is one of the many reasons you resent them.

The whole family makes you mad, they are so possessive and every time they talk to you all you hear is the underlying malice in their voices.

Your room is kinda like Allukas heavily guarded, walls reinforced with titanium.

And ontop of that toys, dolls, stuffed animals all fill the room. Just a constant reminder that they see you as this small incapable toddler.

You hate this colorful room you are trapped in, you hate the family, and most of all you wish life could be normal again.

Extra characters:

Illumi:

Like his family he is impossible to escape from.

You have no freedom like at all.

He feels that he messed up with Killua letting him go out into the world, he won’t make that mistake again.

Instead of training you he kinda just takes care of if you which is objectively better then his intense training.

Where do I start off well let’s start with your living conditions.

You live in this strange apartment and sometimes travel with him, the apartment you live in is empty, just having all the basic stuff.

Illumi never sleeps but because of that he makes sleeping impossible, he just stands over you, staring.

You tried talking to him about it but his solution was to instead join you in the bed which is incredibly awkward he kinda just lays their stiffly not sleeping still staring.

He feeds you but it’s the blandest food know to man, white rice and unseasoned chicken is a stable in your sad apartment.

Y’all ’hanging out’ is just him staring at you motionless it’s creepy.

He refuses to let you even step one foot outside, his mere presence is suffocating.

Bisky:

She’s more protective than possessive.

You have freedom, but she is always with you 24/7.

She’s pleasant to be around but she can be smothering at times.

Despite her appearance she is like a wild mother hen constantly fussing over you.

She is always running wild making sure you get enough rest, food, water, etc.

You can leave the house ONLY if you stay by her, don’t wander, and only for a short amount of time.

Some days you have so much fun you forget she kidnapped you.

Hisoka:

This man is a monster, a menace of society.

He is possessive but in a playful way, he masks his feelings with sly jokes.

He acts more like a fun uncle or wine aunt rather than a dad.

He cares for you but is vey smothering with it.

You can’t leave and he constantly reminds you of that fact.

He does take you places, simply because he knows even if you tell anyone he can kill them easily.

Your life isn’t terrible but you wish you weren’t stuck with this maniac.

GUYS I DID IT AFTER 3HRS I FINISHED MY HEADCANNONS FOR LIVING WITH HXH CHARACTERS. But anyway this really isn’t relevant to what I just wrote but while I was writing this I had a open cup of Dr Pepper I set it down on the floor then I was like wait there’s ice cream in the freezer, so as I was pulling myself up (btw I upgraded no more crutches now I have a big boot.) and I stretched out my leg and my stupid boot knocked my Dr Pepper over and it spilled EVERYWHERE I was so mad. Anyway long story short life sucks, but I hope y’all had a wonderful day remember to drink lots of water and stay safe love you all bye bye!

･:*+.\(( °ω° ))/.:+

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Nineteen: You Made Her Your Downfall SS: 6 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 3.8K Content Warnings: Talks of rape, threats, violence, blood, Minho is ferally protective Previous Next Masterlist

Minho’s car purrs softly in the shadows of the dilapidated apartment building, its deep metallic hum resonating against the backdrop of distant city traffic that ebbs and flows like a heartbeat. Inside the vehicle, an electric tension hangs heavy in the air, palpable and suffocating.

Minho's fingers brush against the small button camera discreetly pinned to his shirt, the inconspicuous device melding effortlessly with his dark attire, ready to capture every moment lurking in the dim light of the evening.

“Chan, Changbin, Seungmin, and Hyunjin are at the storage locker now,” Minho mutters, his eyes fixed on the building ahead. “Felix and Jeongin are back at your place with the nanny cam feed set up. Everything’s in position.” Minho flicks his gaze over to Hayun, who’s adjusting the thin strap of her silk green slip dress, the fabric barely reaching mid-thigh. Her white sneakers look almost innocent paired with it.

Jisung leans forward from the back seat, eyes narrowing as he notices the button camera on Minho’s chest. “Damn, they make those things real fucking good now,” he remarks, his voice low. “I can barely see the damn thing.”

Minho offers a tight smile. “Yeah, and if all goes well, he won’t either.”

Hayun takes a deep breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she reaches for the door handle. The weight of what she’s about to do presses heavily on her chest, but she steels herself, swallowing hard. “Let’s just get this over with,” she mutters under her breath.

Before she steps out of the car, Jisung leans forward, his voice serious. “As soon as you want out, we leave, okay?” His eyes are filled with concern, but there’s an edge to his voice, an understanding that this might be the only shot they have.

Hayun nods. “I know. I’ll be fine.”

Minho’s eyes follow her as she steps out of the car, his jaw tight. He watches as she straightens her dress and pulls her face mask up over her mouth, adjusting it carefully before turning toward the building. The dark green silk clings to her in a way that’s meant to draw attention, every step deliberate, calculated. She’s a weapon wrapped in vulnerability, and they all know it.

The three of them walk up the stairs to Mingi’s apartment, the smell of mildew and stale cigarettes clinging to the air. It feels like they’re walking into the belly of the beast. Hayun moves ahead of the guys, her nerves disguised by the sway of her hips, her sneakers squeaking slightly on the worn-out steps.

Jisung’s voice is barely a whisper behind her. “Remember, any second you want out—”

“I know,” Hayun cuts him off, her voice sharp but not unkind. She needs to do this, for herself, for Yuna. She knocks on the door twice, sharp and direct, and then steps back slightly, her heart hammering in her chest.

From out of sight, Jisung and Minho position themselves, staying out of view as planned.

The door creaks open, and there stands Song Mingi, dressed in a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, looking as smug as ever. His eyes land on Hayun, a slow, greasy smile spreading across his face as he leans against the doorframe.

“Well, well, well,” Mingi drawls, his eyes shamelessly dragging over her body. “Little Hayun. You grew up beautifully.”

Hayun pulls her mask down, exposing her face fully as she stares at him with cold, hard eyes. “Minho, Felix, Jeongin, and Jisung said you said ‘hi’ when they came to visit.”

Mingi’s smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows wider. “I always had a soft spot for you. Come on in, let’s catch up.”

Before he can make another sleazy remark, Minho and Jisung step into his line of view. The smug look on Mingi’s face vanishes instantly. His eyes widen, but before he can react, Minho lunges forward, grabbing Mingi by the collar and shoving him forcefully into the apartment.

“Inside. Now,” Minho growls, his voice ice cold.

Jisung and Hayun follow quickly, closing the door behind them. Mingi stumbles backward, his arms flailing as Minho forces him into a chair in the middle of the grimy living room. Mingi opens his mouth to protest, but Minho’s grip tightens around the back of his neck, forcing him to stay put.

“The night Yuna disappeared,” Minho begins, his tone deadly calm, “we know you didn’t kill her. Hayun, unfortunately, is your alibi.” He glances toward Hayun, his eyes softening for just a second before they harden again as he focuses back on Mingi. “But we think one of your victims did. So we want names.”

Mingi scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain as he looks at Hayun. “You stupid girl,” he spits. “I told you what would happen if you told anyone about those tapes.”

Jisung steps forward, Minho's phone buzzing in his hand. He glances down, then smirks as he holds it up for Mingi to see. “Chan just confirmed they found the tapes. Storage locker 143, right?”

Mingi’s eyes widen, panic flashing in them for the first time. He stays silent, but the fear is palpable.

“Now, get talking,” Jisung demands, his voice steady. “Hyunjin found one labelled ‘Shin R.’ Was Yuna’s sister one of your girls?”

Mingi’s smirk falters. “Yeah, Ryujin was one of mine,” he admits, his voice low, calculated. “But she wouldn’t kill her sister. There are hundreds of tapes. You’ll never find out who it was.”

Minho’s patience is running thin. He shoves Mingi harder into the chair, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back roughly. “Start writing the names. Now.”

Mingi glares at him, defiance in his eyes, but the threat is clear. Reluctantly, he grabs the notepad and pen that Jisung shoves into his lap.

Minho looms over him, his voice dangerously low. “Get writing before I break your hand.”

As Mingi scribbles furiously, the list grows longer and longer, each name a potential threat, a puzzle piece they didn’t know they were missing. When he’s done, he drops the pen, the notepad falling to the floor.

Minho picks it up, scanning the names. “That’s a long list of people who might want Yuna dead.”

Jisung steps closer, his eyes dark with determination. “We’ll figure it out.”

Mingi leans back in the chair, a sick smile creeping onto his face. “You know,” he says, his voice low and taunting, “solving Yuna’s disappearance, getting me locked up, it won’t fix you, Hayun. You’re still broken.”

Before anyone can react, Minho slams Mingi’s head down against the table with a sickening crack. The sound of his nose breaking echoes through the room as blood begins to pour from Mingi’s face.

“You don’t talk to her,” Minho snaps, his voice filled with barely controlled rage.

Mingi gasps, his hands flying to his nose as he groans in pain, blood dripping down his face and onto the floor.

Hayun stands still, her face unreadable. She doesn’t flinch at the violence, doesn’t say a word as she watches the scene unfold. Jisung stands beside her, his fists clenched, but there’s a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Minho leans in close to Mingi’s ear, his voice a dangerous whisper. “You ever say her name again, and I’ll break more than your nose.”

Jisung, Minho, and Hayun turn to leave Mingi's apartment, the air in the room suffocating with the weight of everything that just happened.

Minho wraps his arm around Hayun’s shoulders, pulling her close as they walk toward the door. He presses his nose gently into her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, a silent gesture meant to comfort both her and himself. He’s holding it together, but barely.

They’re almost at the door when Mingi’s voice, dripping with venom, cuts through the air like a jagged knife.

“You Lees do love the fucked-up ones, huh?” Mingi sneers, his voice strained through the pain. “Chaeryeong and Yuna, now you and Hayun. Has she fucked you yet?”

Minho’s body goes rigid, his muscles tensing beneath his shirt. He doesn’t say anything, his jaw clenching hard, but his arm tightens around Hayun protectively.

“I bet she hasn’t,” Mingi continues, laughing bitterly despite the blood dripping from his nose. “I bet you’re too afraid to ask her to be your girlfriend, too scared she’s too traumatized to say yes.”

Minho’s breath hitches, but Hayun just keeps walking, her hand tightening around his. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t give Mingi the satisfaction of a reaction. She knows better than to give him that power, but Minho’s steps falter slightly, his grip on her almost painfully tight now.

“You should thank me, Lee,” Mingi calls after them, the sound of his laughter echoing through the small, dingy apartment. “Broken girls are always freaky.”

It happens in a blur. One second Jisung is standing by the door, trying to leave, the next he’s launching himself at Mingi, tackling him out of the chair. The two of them crash to the floor in a tangle of limbs, Jisung’s fist connecting with Mingi’s face again and again.

“Fucking piece of shit!” Jisung sneers, his voice raw with fury. “Say something like that again, I fucking dare you!”

Mingi’s laughter doesn’t stop, even as blood pours from his split lip. He’s enjoying this. “Come on, hit me harder, little boy,” he taunts, even through the pain. “Bet you’d love to kill me, wouldn’t you?”

Minho and Hayun react instantly, rushing forward to grab Jisung before he does something irreversible. Hayun grabs Jisung’s arm, trying to pull him back, while Minho grabs the back of Jisung’s shirt, yanking him off of Mingi with a force that almost knocks them both over.

“Jisung, stop!” Hayun yells, her voice shaking as she holds onto him with all her strength. Mingi’s laugh cuts through the chaos, and it’s like gasoline on a fire. Jisung lunges again, but Minho wraps his arms around him from behind, holding him in place.

“Get off me!” Jisung shouts, struggling against Minho’s grip. “I’ll fucking kill him!”

Mingi sits up, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, still smirking. “You should, Jisung. You’d be doing her a favour.”

Before anyone can blink, Minho steps forward, pressing his boot down on Mingi’s throat. Mingi’s eyes go wide, and he gasps, clawing at Minho’s boot, his smirk finally vanishing as his airway is cut off.

Hayun presses her forehead against Jisung’s, brushing her nose against his, her breath mingling with his. It’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Look at me,” Hayun whispers, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m okay, Jisung. I swear, I’m okay. Minho’s got it under control.”

Jisung closes his eyes, his chest heaving as he tries to calm down, his fists still shaking with adrenaline. “I would’ve killed him, Yunnie.”

“I know,” she whispers, her voice soothing. “But Minho’s handling it now. Just breathe.”

Meanwhile, Minho presses his boot harder into Mingi’s throat, his face eerily calm. “There’s not going to be a place on this earth you can hide,” Minho says, his voice low and terrifying. “I will hunt you to the ends of the earth if you try to run. Do you hear me?”

Mingi glares up at him, his face turning red as he struggles for air, but he doesn’t answer.

“Do. You. Hear. Me?” Minho’s voice is ice, and he presses down even harder.

Mingi claws at Minho’s boot desperately, choking out a strained, barely audible, “Yes!”

Minho steps back, releasing the pressure on Mingi’s throat, and Mingi gasps for breath, coughing and sputtering on the floor.

Hayun gently pulls Jisung toward the door, her fingers still trembling as she leads him outside. The moment they step into the cool night air, the tension in her body releases slightly. They sit down on the curb together, both of them catching their breath.

Jisung leans forward, burying his face in his hands. “I’d have killed him,” he mutters, his voice muffled by his hands.

“I know,” Hayun says softly, her voice steady even though her heart is still racing. “And I think if Minho hadn’t been there... I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

Jisung lifts his head, his eyes red and filled with anger. “Why are we even trying to get justice for Yuna anymore? She was a piece of shit.”

Hayun sighs, leaning back against the curb as she stares up at the dark sky. “It’s not really about Yuna anymore,” she admits, her voice quiet. “It’s about figuring out who killed Chaeryeong. For Minho. He needs to know who killed his sister, who framed her for Yuna’s murder, who faked her suicide. He needs to know all of it.”

Jisung’s hands tighten into fists again, though this time, the rage is different. It’s quieter, more controlled. “You’re right. This isn’t about Yuna. Fuck her. But Minho, he needs this.”

Hayun nods, her gaze distant as she watches the headlights of a passing car reflect off the wet pavement. “We all need this, Ji. We need to put this shit to rest, or it’ll kill us.”

Jisung takes a deep breath, his voice calmer now. “And what about you? Do you need this too?”

Hayun’s eyes meet his, and for a moment, she doesn’t know what to say. But then she nods, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I need this. I need to know it wasn’t all for nothing.”

They sit there in silence for a long moment, the weight of everything hanging between them. Finally, Jisung reaches over, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Hayun squeezes his hand back, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Together.”

Inside the apartment, Minho crouches down next to Mingi, his eyes dark with a cold fury that’s barely restrained. He grips Mingi’s chin tightly, forcing the man to meet his gaze, his voice low and dripping with malice.

“You ever—" Minho’s breath comes out in a controlled whisper, though every word cuts like a knife, "and I mean ever, so much as look at Hayun again, and I’ll kill you. And trust me, I’ve got an army of people who’d help me get away with it. You understand?"

Mingi wheezes, his eyes narrowing in a sick grin as he gasps for air. His voice is raspy but filled with cruel satisfaction. "She’ll never love you like a normal girl, you know that, right?"

Minho’s grip tightens on Mingi’s face, his fingers digging into the man’s skin, but his expression remains icy and composed. "So?" Minho scoffs, the corners of his lips twitching upward into a dangerous smirk. "You think just because you raped her, she can’t love someone? You’re fucking wrong." His voice hardens, his words like venom. "She kept your secret for years because she loved Jisung so much she didn’t want him to hate his sister."

Mingi’s eyes glint with malice, the grin never leaving his face. "What if she never tells you she loves you?" he rasps, his voice dripping with condescension.

Minho leans in closer, their faces inches apart, his voice calm but filled with a dark certainty. "She doesn’t need to tell me shit. Her eyes… her eyes are the windows to her soul, and I know she feels for me what I feel for her. She doesn’t need to say the words for me to know. You don’t understand that kind of connection because you’ve never had it."

Mingi’s laugh is weak, but he keeps pushing. "And yet… she’s not your girlfriend." His grin widens, though it’s shaky, testing Minho’s limits.

Minho’s smile is thin, more like a baring of teeth, as he releases Mingi’s chin and stands up, towering over him. "That’s because I want to do it properly, Mingi. I’m not a disgusting piece of shit like you. I don’t want to rush her. I don’t want to destroy her life" Minho’s voice grows colder, more dangerous, as he looks down at Mingi like he’s nothing more than a roach beneath his boot.

"You didn’t break her, Mingi. You made her your downfall. You made her build a mask so indestructible that even you couldn’t break it. And now she is the reason your end is coming. You made her your downfall"

Mingi’s grin falters, the first sign of real fear flashing across his face, but he tries to hold onto his arrogance. "I always come out on top," he sneers, though his voice is weaker now.

Minho chuckles darkly, a sound that sends a chill through the air. "In prison?" he says, his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. "You’ll be a bottom, Mingi. You’ll get a taste of what you did to all those girls. But here’s the thing, you won’t be drugged up. You’ll remember every detail. Every second of it. You’ll know exactly what you put hundreds of girls through." Minho leans down again, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "I’ll make sure the men in whatever prison you end up in know what you did. You know what they do to monsters like you in there, don’t you? Maybe they’ll even tape it."

Mingi stares at Minho, real fear finally settling in his eyes. His breath comes out in shallow gasps, and he doesn’t have anything clever to say this time. He knows Minho’s serious.

Minho’s grin spreads, a flash of something almost unhinged in his eyes. "Now you’re scared, huh?" he taunts, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Good. I want you to remember something when you’re rotting in your cell, getting what’s coming to you every single day. Your youngest victim, that child, grew up. And she’s the reason you’re going to prison. Hayun put you in there. She orchestrated all of this, Mingi. She’s the reason our friends raided your storage locker, and the cops are on their way right now."

Mingi's face pales as he realizes the gravity of his situation. The smug confidence he’d carried all this time begins to crack, replaced by something that looks a lot like terror.

Minho doesn’t stop. He’s enjoying watching Mingi’s world collapse around him. "When you’re sitting in your four-by-four cell, being someone’s bitch, I want you to think about that. Think about how Hayun, your youngest victim, became the one who orchestrated your downfall. It’s fucking karmic, isn’t it?"

He taps the small camera button on his shirt, the one recording everything. "Smile for the camera, Mingi," Minho says, his voice sharp with satisfaction. "You’re going to be famous and then you’re going to be someone’s bitch. And this time, no one’s coming to save you."

Mingi glares up at Minho, but he’s trembling now. The bravado is gone, replaced by the crushing realization that his time is up.

Minho straightens up, casting one last look of disgust down at Mingi before turning and walking toward the door. He doesn’t say another word as he steps out of the apartment, leaving Mingi gasping for breath on the floor.

Minho steps out of the apartment, the weight of everything that just happened pressing on his chest, but when his eyes land on Hayun sitting on the curb, everything else fades away. Without a second thought, he strides toward her, grabbing her hand and pulling her up into his arms. He wraps her tightly against him, his forehead pressing against hers. The familiar warmth of her skin grounds him, calms the storm still raging inside his head.

Jisung, standing a few feet away, immediately averts his gaze, giving them space. He doesn’t say anything, just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at the ground, letting them have this moment.

Minho’s voice comes out soft, gentle, but there’s a fierceness in his words. “He’s done, princess. He can’t hurt you anymore, okay? The police will handle everything now, and he’ll rot in prison. He’ll fucking suffer.”

Hayun closes her eyes for a moment, letting his words sink in, her breath steadying in his arms. “Good,” she whispers, her voice quiet but resolute. “He deserves to suffer.”

Minho pulls back just enough to look into her eyes, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face. “Now, we figure out who killed Yuna,” he says, his voice firmer, more determined. “And who killed my sister. We’re not stopping until we get answers.”

Hayun nods, her eyes meeting his with a fierce determination of her own. “We won’t stop,” she agrees softly. “Not until we know everything.”

Jisung steps forward then, shaking off the heaviness that’s been clinging to the night. He claps Minho on the shoulder, his voice a little lighter now, though still laced with exhaustion. “But right now,” he says, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips, “we celebrate a fucking win, okay? We’ve not had many of those, and this one? This one’s a big fucking deal.”

Minho chuckles softly, his arm still wrapped around Hayun, pulling her in closer. “Yeah,” he agrees. “We fucking earned this one.”

Hayun glances between the two of them, her lips twitching into a small smile. “You guys celebrate,” she says, stepping back slightly, her tone suddenly more thoughtful. “I’ll meet up with you later, okay? There’s… there’s someone I need to see.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, concern flickering across his face. “Who?” he asks, his voice low but cautious.

“I’ll tell you later,” Hayun replies, her tone gentle but firm. “I just… I need to do this on my own.”

Jisung narrows his eyes but nods after a moment. “Alright,” he says, though his voice is tinged with curiosity. “Just be careful, Yunnie.”

Hayun gives him a small nod, then turns back to Minho, meeting his gaze. He studies her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of hesitation, but he doesn’t find any. Finally, he nods as well.

“Call us if you need anything,” Minho says quietly. “We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hayun smiles, a little more genuine this time, and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “I know,” she says softly. “I always know.”

With that, she steps back, turning away from the curb as she heads off down the street, her mind already turning toward her next move. Minho watches her go, his heart tight in his chest, but he doesn’t stop her. He knows she needs this, whatever it is, just as much as they needed the victory tonight.

Jisung steps closer to Minho once Hayun disappears from sight, letting out a long breath. “You think she’s okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now, laced with worry.

Minho glances down the street where Hayun had just been, his jaw clenched. “She will be,” he says, though he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone. “She’s stronger than any of us give her credit for.”

Jisung nods slowly, but there’s still a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “I just hope she’s not walking into something we can’t help her with.”

Minho doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he takes a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs before he speaks again. “Whatever it is,” he says softly, “she’ll tell us when she’s ready. And when she does, we’ll be there.”

Jisung gives him a tight-lipped smile, his usual playful demeanor gone, replaced by something more serious, more resolute. “Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “We always will be.”

The two of them stand there for a moment longer, the weight of the night still heavy on their shoulders, but beneath it all, there’s a sense of something else. Hope, maybe. A small victory in a war that’s far from over.

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

@ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam @tr-mha-fan @candycurshidkwhatthehell

@heeseungspookie @smigcrazy

[loveandleases]

Is the Clarke's family that wealty? How about MC's family? Was financial stability once of the reasons why MC's parents are happy that Jade is with Chris?

Yup, the Clarke's are very well off due to generational wealth. (Thanks to a combination of stocks/bonds, real estate and of course the family law firm.)

Clayton "Clay" Clarke (patriarch of the Clarke family) took over the family law firm in his early 20's and has run it successfully since. He expects the same from Chris and Kara. Which is why Chris currently works at the family law firm, gearing up for when they will one day take it over.

MC's family is middle class, and MC's father does have a small investment in stocks including those of Clay's. So financial stability is part of it, especially due to MC's mother's spending and their father's bad business ventures.

The families are close, they have been since MC and Cam were kids. Partly in thanks to Aunt Em, since she was Cam's nanny and she has a bit of history with Clay.

[cassetteinability]

hidden camera / 931 words

tw: incest duh

@microcest

I really thought I had kept it micro this time oops

Mind if I crash at your place tonight?

Everything okay?

Yes.

I just need a break from my roommates.

Sirius let out a chuckle that his brother wouldn’t be able to hear through the phone. Regulus’ roommates were always a handful; Sirius idly wondered what they could be doing to drive Regulus mad enough to need a break.

I’m still out of town. You have a key, right?

Sirius and his own roommates were on vacation in a small beach town for the week, leaving their large apartment entirely vacant, save their kitten.

Yes. I'm on my way over there now.

Take my bedroom

Sirius dropped his phone into the cup holder of his folding chair and ran back toward the shallow ocean waves, knowing Regulus wouldn’t need anything else from him.

****

“Sirius!” James called from the sand. He was bent over and drying his hair with a towel, his voice barely carrying over the sound of water crashing and birds cawing. “Your phone!”

Sirius pushed against the water as he made his way back to the beach, worried that Regulus was having issues getting into the apartment.

“Who’s blowing you up while you’re on vacation?” James asked, handing Sirius his own towel once he was within reach. “You just got like twenty pings.”

“Reg asked to sleep at our place tonight,” Sirius said, swiping his phone open once his hands were dry. It was a series of notifications from their doorbell camera as well as the camera he had hidden in his bedroom.

Sirius didn’t typically keep a camera in there, but James had asked a neighbor to take care of the cat in their absence, and Sirius wanted to be sure his bedroom remained unexplored.

“Looks like he got in okay,” James said, looking over Sirius’ shoulder and watching the video clip of Regulus pushing into the front door. James clapped him on the back before collapsing down into the sand and cracking open a beer from their cooler.

Sirius nodded his head, only half paying attention to his best friend as he continued scrolling through every video. He had never used the nanny cam before this trip, and it was significantly more sensitive than he had anticipated. It seemed to go off every time Regulus moved, capturing thirty second clips before it was triggered again, capturing another thirty second clip.

The first clip was of Regulus setting a duffel bag on the floor at the foot of Sirius’ bed.

The second clip was him unpacking pajamas.

The third was of him stripping his jeans and t-shirt off.

Sirius tried to close the app, tried to stop himself from watching his baby brother undress; he excused himself from his friends’ presence instead.

The seventh video clip was of Regulus scouring Sirius’ room in nothing but his underwear. His slender body was pale in the dim light of his bedroom, long fingers trailing over the glass of each and every photo lining his dresser. Sirius zoomed in on the footage and watched as Regulus’ fingertips made contact only with Sirius’ face, nail grazing over every set of Sirius’ lips.

Sirius felt his breath catch in his lungs as he watched, a sudden longing filling the space where the air was now gone from.

In the twelfth video, Regulus began rummaging through Sirius drawers.

He found the toys in the space between that one and the next; the thirteenth video clip began with a dildo poised at Regulus’ lips.

“Fuck,” Sirius whispered, sitting in the wet sand at the edge of the shoreline. The bulge in his swim shorts would do nothing to deter his friends’ questions — if not spur the questions on entirely.

He let the cold water lap at his legs in an attempt to steel himself before focusing his attention back to his phone.

Video sixteen, and Regulus was entirely naked.

Nineteen, and the dildo was filling his hole. The camera angle was perfect, the view absolutely filthy and delicious — obscene in the best way. He cursed himself for not splurging on the nanny cam that came equipped with sound.

By video twenty-three, Sirius’ hand was pushing into his own shorts, fighting the way the water made the fabric cling to his skin.

Sirius watched with rapt attention through every subsequent video, eyes glued to his brother’s face, to his hands and his dick and his legs. Sirius spilled into the receding ocean waves with a low grunt, just seconds before Regulus finally came. Their heaving breaths pumped at a matching pace, and Sirius was sure their hearts would be beating the same rhythm as well.

Guilt crawled up Sirius’ spine, filling his veins with it even as he sat sated, high from the weight of his orgasm. He shook his head, willing the shame of what he had just done to not eat him alive for the duration of his beach trip.

That was, until video thirty-four.

The clip where Regulus stared knowingly into the camera and winked, a self-satisfied grin splitting his beautiful face. He tossed Sirius’ favorite throw blanket over the camera, casting the frame in absolute darkness.

Sirius barked out a disbelieving laugh before exiting the nanny cam app and pulling up his text messages. He’d be damned if he didn’t tell Regulus what a brat he was for doing that to Sirius right there on the beach.

If he didn’t beg his little brother to take the blanket off the camera so he could watch him do that again and again.

If Sirius didn’t demand that Regulus still be there in his bed when he got home from his vacation in three days’ time.

[vanfleeter]

Locked In // JTK

Characters: Jake x reader, son Warning: Pure fluff Author's Note: I hit writer's block with this, so I hope it's good.

Summary: Whoever said having kids would be great, lied.

Finishing up the dishes in the sink, Jake turns the running water off and grabs the hand towel off the counter to dry his hands. He begins to wipe down the counters when he hears a tiny voice calling for him from upstairs. “Daddy? Daddy, can you hear me?” He smiles and drops the towel on the counter and makes his way over to the stairs.

“Yes bud, I can hear you.” He calls up the stairs.

“Can you come up here? I need your help.”

Climbing the stairs to the second floor, he gets to his son’s bedroom and grabs the doorknob only to find it locked. He sighs and knocks on the door. “Tommy, you know the rules. You can’t lock your door.”

“I didn’t lock it.” Tommy says through the door. “I only closed the door, Daddy.”

Jake takes his phone out of his pocket and pulls up the nanny cam app. He can see Tommy standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “Okay bud, can you do something for me? It’s super simple.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Do you see the doorknob?” He says. “This silver thingy.” He adds jiggling the doorknob.

“Yes, I see it.”

“Okay, turn the lock.” Jake says. He feels the knob trying to turn. “No, no.. Tommy, the lock–not the knob.”

“Which one is the lock?”

Jake sighs. “The little silver flat thingy on the knob.”

“Flat thingy..” He hears Tommy ponder. “What?”

“Oh..” Jake lays his head against the door. He looks down at the video feed on his phone. “Turn the-” He sees Tommy turn in a circle. “No, Tommy, not your body–the lock.”

“But I don’t know what the lock is Daddy.”

“Tommy, turn–” Tommy turns around in a circle again. Jake groans. “Stop turning around in a circle. Reach for the knob.”

“But you said not to turn it.”

“No–” Jake sighs. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

“Where can I go?” Tommy calls through the door.

Heading back downstairs, Jake goes into the garage and grabs the toolbox. He heads back upstairs and stands in front of the door. “Daddy, I have to pee.” Tommy calls through the door.

“Well bud, you’re just gonna have to hold it.” Jake sets the toolbox on the floor and opens it. He retrieves a small screwdriver and a hook.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” Tommy asks.

“Trying to unlock the door.” Jake says as he digs into the doorknob.

Coming up unsuccessfully unlocking the door, Jake lays his head against the door and sighs in defeat. Hearing the front door open downstairs, he stands up from the floor and drops the tools back inside of the toolbox.

“Honey!” He calls.

“Yes Jake?” You call up the stairs.

“Your son got himself in a little predicament.”

“What kind of predicament?” You say as you hang your keys on the wall and begin to make your way up the stairs. Once you get to the second floor hallway, you find Jake standing outside of Tommy’s closed bedroom door with a toolbox resting at his feet. His hands rest on his hips as he impatiently taps his foot on the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Well uh, somehow Tommy locked himself in his room and he doesn’t quite understand how to unlock the door.”

You lean up against the door and jiggle the handle. “Tommy?”

“Yes, mama.”

“Baby, how did you lock the door?”

“I don’t know.. All I did was close the door.”

“Tommy, look at the knob, okay? Do you see that little flat lock in the middle?”

“Yeah..”

“Can you turn it?”

“I can’t..”

Jake inhales deeply as he leans against the opposite wall from the bedroom. You bend down to the toolbox and pull out one of his drills. You hold up to him and he raises his eyebrows. “What do you want me to do with that?”

“Drill through the door.”

Jake shakes his head. “I can’t drill through that, there’s no way.”

“Then what else do you suppose we do?” You say tossing your hands in the air. “Call the fire department?”

“And be embarrassed because our kid locked himself in his bedroom?”

“Jake, we have to do something.”

He sighs and pushes his body off of the wall. He grabs the toolbox and sets it off to the side. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and backs up back to the other side of the hallway. Picking up on what he was about to do, you step out of the way.

“Tommy?” Jake calls.

“Yeah daddy?”

“Step away from the door, go sit on your bed.”

“Why?”

“Just go sit on your bed.”

As Jake readies himself to slam into the door, Tommy reaches for the doorknob. He reaches for the knob and finds the little, silver flat thingy that Jake was talking about.

Daddy will be proud that I figured it out.

Twisting the lock on the door, Tommy pulls the door just as Jake flies through and lands on the floor with a loud thud. He lets out a deep groan as his body curls up in pain. Tommy giggles and points at Jake.

“See Mama? Daddy is a pirate! Did you hear that battle cry?!”

You hold in your laughter as you rush into the room and help Jake up from the floor. “Have kids, they said. They’ll be fun, they said.” Jake grumbles as he holds his shoulder. “Of course, as soon as I decide to bust the door down, he learns how to turn a lock.”

You give him a pity pout and kiss him on the cheek. “Alright, Tommy, let’s go get Daddy some ice for his shoulder and then I can look for door knobs that don’t have locks on them.” You grab Tommy’s hand and lead him out of the room.

“Maybe he just shouldn’t have a door?” Jake suggests as he follows closely behind them.

_______________________________________________________

taglist: @losfacedevil @joshkiszkaenthusiast @emilykamo @em-gvf01 @katiegvf @twistedmelodies @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @writingcold @gold-mines-melting @lightmylove-gvf

[angelsanarchy]

Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 02 -> CH 03

"He looks just like Rusty and he keeps following me." "Unless you're walking through pet sematary, I assure you that's not Rusty."

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr @thatsthewrongwallcraig @icarus-star

"How was therapy?" Shanda asked as Jack walked through the neighbor smoking a cigarette.

"He recommended getting fresh air instead of staying locked up in the house. Naturally I'm having a cigarette and talking a walk." Jack smirked.

"I'd say that's progress, somewhat." Shanda laughed. Jack knew she really didn't want to leave him by himself but it had been a few days and he honestly felt fine. He didn't mind the silence when he was writing and when the silence made him anxious, he turned on a playlist to start boxing things in the upper levels up.

"I was checking with work and I think I might be able to make it back for the weekend-" Jack cut her off.

"Shan, please stop trying to fuck your own life up to babysit me. I am following all the rules, being a good little patient and working on myself. I don't want you to waste your life freaking out about me." Jack loved Shanda. They had been through a lot as kids and now as adults. He wanted her to be happy and live the life she wanted to live and she couldn't do that if she was taking care of him.

"Jack, you're my best friend. I'm going to worry." Shanda defended.

"I know that and I love you for that but I promised you that if I ever got those feelings again, I would reach out. I'm not going to let myself get that bad again." Jack knew the meds were working because his mind was usually at ease. It was his body that wasn't working out.

"How about the sleeping? How's that going?" Shanda asked.

"I sleep a lot more and I'm trying to eat more but everything makes me nauseous. I need to find something to supplement my lack of vitamins or something because sleeping half the day doesn't help when you're trying to meet deadlines." Jack placed the cigarette between his lips to run his hand through his hair.

"What about the sleep walking?" Shanda was the only one who knew about his sleep walking episodes. It was something that bonded them as kids because everyone else thought they were weird for having such vivid sleep walking episodes.

"None that I know of but I did put up some cameras just to make sure. I'm thinking about putting a few inside just in case. Basement cameras, maybe one in the kitchen." Jack could hear whining but couldn't quite place where it was coming from.

"You should get those nanny-cams they have for elderly people so I can check on you when you don't answer my calls." Shanda joked making Jack laugh.

"That would just give me motivation to figure out my dick dysfunction to scar you." Jack had been medicated since he was hospitalized and he hadn't been able to get a single hard on since he started. At first it didn't bother him because nothing was really piquing his sexual interest but now his body felt far past pent up.

"It wouldn't be the first guy whose tried to jerk off at me. Remember I live in New York." Jack heard the whining again and stopped walking.

"What the hell is that?" Jack looked around in the open field he was standing in trying to follow the sound.

"What's wrong?" Shanda asked.

"I keep hearing something whining, like a dog or an animal of some kind." Jack started towards the trees and heard it again.

"Are you sure? Maybe you're just hearing feedback through the phone." Jack knew what feedback sounded like and this wasn't it. He got all the way to the tree line when a small white dog popped out of the woods and strutted up to him.

"Holy shit..." Jack put his cigarette out on his shoe and stuffed the butt in his pocket.

"What?! What is it? Did you find the noise?" Shanda sounded concerned.

"Rusty?" Jack knelt down to the dog and he didn't move.

"Um...Jack." Shanda had the unfortunate experience of seeing the collateral damage that came from Jack's breakdown. Sadly Rusty was it.

"I know, I know. He's dead. I killed him but Shan..." Jack held his hand out and the dog still didn't move.

"I'm sure there are plenty of dogs that look like Rusty in that neighborhood. Your neighbors are upper class white elders. Just walk away from him." Shanda suggested.

Jack stood up and looked behind the dog, not hearing anyone call out for him or come popping through the trees to retrieve him. He also noticed it didn't have a collar either. He tried walking away but now the dog was following him.

"Did you walk away?" Shan asked curiously.

"Yeah but I mean I can't seem to-" The dog had run up to him and was no jumping on his legs.

"He looks just like Rusty and he keeps following me." Jack knelt down to pet the dog now that he was engaging with him.

"Unless you're walking through Pet Semetary, I assure you that's not Rusty." Shanda reminded. Jack missed Rusty more than anything. Rusty had been his comfort through a lot of his life and knowing that he was a victim of his mental break broke his heart more than anything.

"I can't just leave him out here by himself. It's going to get dark soon." Jack got back to his feet and picked the dog up.

"Jack, please don't do anything that's going to set you back. Just ask some of your neighbors. They'll probably be able to tell you who he belongs to." Jack started walking back to the neighborhood but wasn't really ready to go interacting with his neighbors. He didn't see the point in getting stuck in the cycle of everyone talking to him about his dead parents and decision to move into the big house by himself.

"I'll just take him home tonight and call Nancy at the vet. She might be able to figure out who they belong to." Jack scratched the dogs head and started towards the house, ending his phone call abruptly with Shanda. He kept his eyes peeled for anyone running around frantically looking for a lost dog but no one ever came outside.

"Come on little buddy. Let's get you something to eat. You look tired." Jack rooted through some of the groceries Shanda had left behind for him and could only find a bag of goldfish. He grabbed Rusty's old dog dish and took him upstairs. He cleaned him up in the sink before plopping him down on the bedroom floor.

"Sorry buddy, I only have this. It's not much but I wasn't really expecting company." Jack sat on the floor next to the bowls, one filled with water and the other with goldfish crackers. The pup sniffed them both and started eating the goldfish. Jack pet his back softly.

"That's a good boy. Good boy." His heart hadn't ached for much while he was hospitalized but sitting here with Rusty's doppelganger made his heart hurt. He made a mental note to mention getting a new dog to his therapist.

[untilmynextstory]

Elia Week 2024: Day 1: Elia + Her Children, Jealousy (Modern AU)

Summary: When Rhaegar first mentioned it, she brushed it off. However, when her children conspired to drown her husband, she realized maybe her husband was right. Her kids were exposing their jealousy. 

Motherhood was a glorious, frightening challenge. Elia had sunk her teeth into it and didn’t look back on it. Every day was a discovery when she had two little dragons discovering the joys and wonders of life. 

With the physical discoveries came the internal ones. She found her children to be very expressive of their feelings. She never had to guess what her children felt, which she thought was surprising, considering her husband worked hard to keep his emotions under the service. 

Her oldest child, Rhaenys, was the most expressive of the two. Her young, rambunctious daughter was like a wrecking ball. It was hard to keep her still in one place, especially now that Rhaegar had gotten her a large black kitten that she affectionately named after the fabled dragon Balerion from one of her father’s many fable tales of their ancestors. 

The young toddler and cat were always close to each other. Elia supposed her daughter having such a small friend helped with the transition when Aegon, the spitting image of Rhaegar, joined the family. 

Aegon wasn’t so energetic as much as he was curious. 

Elia and Rhaegar quickly invested in nanny cams and plenty of baby gates. Aegon had been an overachiever, as he was walking at nine months. 

Now, at six and four years old, they become persons with vibrant personalities. In her opinion, their growing too fast meant their relationships with each other shifted. 

When Rhaegar first mentioned it, she had brushed it off. 

It was common for the kids sometimes to get moody or pouty when Rhaegar and her showed each other affection, and the kids sometimes weren’t included. She had become accustomed to little bodies wedging between them, or if she went to kiss Rhaegar, her two babies would quickly demand one, too. 

If they were going somewhere, the kids wanted to stay with her—each of her hands held in possession of theirs. 

They only wanted her to read them stories and tuck them in at night. She took that one slightly more seriously, but she thought it all a phase. After all, Elia worked from home and was the kids’ primary caretaker while Rhaegar worked. They were growing and realizing their father had odd hours of work and would be gone for a couple of weeks for work. 

And it wasn’t always that the kids would be more demanding of her. She noticed it was more evident once Rhaegar came home from a long trip. She thought it was a byproduct of them getting used to the fact that they needed to share her. 

She should have listened to her husband when he thought their children were plotting against him. 

She had gone into the house to grab a drink, and when she returned, she found two toddlers in floaties with all their might trying to submerge their father under the water of their newly installed pool. 

She didn’t know whether to laugh as she stared in bewilderment at her precious babies, who looked up alarmingly at being caught in their plot. 

Now, her kids were waddled in large beach towels and looking up at her with large deer eyes. The sight was almost comical. Yet, they did just try to drown their father in the pool. She was grateful that only she was around to see them even attempting such a thing.

Rhaegar went from alarmed to amused once he hacked out all the water he inhaled. Who knew her tall,  lithe husband could be taken out by two small children? 

She pressed a kiss to their foreheads before sitting down in front of them. She had respectfully asked Rhaegar to wait in the living room. 

“Do you understand why what you two attempted to do was wrong?” She asked gently. Who knew she would have to have a talk to her children about premeditated murder? 

Both children frown but don’t speak. 

“You could have seriously hurt your father,” she added. 

Rhaenys offered a deeper frown while Aegon bit his lip. 

“Is he okay?” Aegon asked softly. Between Rhaenys and him, Aegon had very much inherited the physical traits of their father. Her son had the same look as his father when he realized he had made a mistake he couldn’t take back. 

“He is okay but a little hurt that his two babies would try to hurt him.”

Tears began lining Aegon’s wide eyes while Rhaenys clutched onto her towel. 

“Is Kepa mad at us,” Rhaenys asked, horrified. 

Elia frowned. “No, just hurt, sweetling,” she answered, pushing back some of her daughter’s hair behind her ear. “No one is in trouble, but you two must tell me what happened.”

The two looked at each other before Rhaenys sighed and moved off the bed and into Elia's arms. Elia kissed her forehead.  

“Kepa is always kissing you,” Rhaeyns stated with a pout. Aegon nodded in agreement. 

“You don’t like Kepa kissing me?”

Both scrunched up their noses. “It’s gross,” Aegon stated seriously. 

“I give you two kisses all the time,” she replied. 

“Yeah, you’re supposed to. You kiss Kepa too much.” Rhaenys replied. 

“You think so?”

Both kids nodded their heads.

“You know I love both of you so much, but just because I show your Kepa love doesn’t mean I love you a little less, like when your father showers you with hugs and kisses. That doesn’t mean he loves me any less.”

“So you’re not going to have a new baby?” Aegon asked. 

Elia’s eyes skyrocketed to her hairline. “What?”

“Vissy said when Kepas and Munas kiss, it makes babies. We don’t want another baby,” Rhaenys stated stubbornly. 

Elia shook her head before kissing her daughter’s forehead. She grabbed Aegon and hugged her children tightly. 

“You two will always be my babies. Nothing or no one will change that. Now, I want you to apologize to your father with many hugs and kisses.”

AO3

[fandomwe1rd0]

Made a fanfic from Rick and Morty's first meeting when Morty was a toddler, set in pre-canon

This was inspired by the fanfic "The Littlest Buddy" by Lol_doescrime. Check it out! Also before anyone says anything ik this is ooc but this was Rick before canon so shut up-

Rick told himself he wouldn't do this. But he was weak. He had to see his baby girl again. He set his portal gun to Prime's dimension, hoping to run into him during what he was about to do. He wasn't going to do anything bad! He was just going to...take a peek into Beth's room to see how his little girl has grown. That sounds really creepy. It was just going to be a quick peek ok? He wanted to see how his daughter grew up, sue him. 

Rick went to Prime's dimension. He walked over to the door and attempted to open it. Of fucking course it was locked. What did he expect? He pulled out a device from his pocket and unlocked it. He opened the door and closed it behind him as quietly as he possibly could, locking the door behind him. He looked around at the family photos. He heard that some Ricks stayed with abandoned adult Beths, exploiting their daughter's abandonment issues for free rent and food. Those Ricks digusted him. He'd give anything just to be around for his daughter's childhood. But that was impossible now. He saw a wedding photo of Beth with a light brown haired man. Jerry, he thinks. He doesn't really remember. He hasnt exactly heard good things about him, but Beth looked happy in the photo, so it didn't really matter. He saw a photo of a girl with orange hair and of a very young boy with dark brown hair. 

Rick tiptoed through the hallway, god he felt like such a creep, he saw a door at the end, he hoped it was Beth's room. He opened it and saw Beth. She was so grown up...she was laying on her bed with blonde hair laying on the pillow with subtle waves in her hair with pink pajamas. She looked so relaxed...he heard a man mumble her name and cuddle her. It was Jerry...his child found love...his grip on the doorknob tightened, his knuckles white. He missed so much...her graduation...her wedding...he shook his head and closed the door behind him slowly. He couldn't watch this. He wanted to reconnect with her so bad...but that wasn't his original daughter...his original one was...his shook his head vigorously as tears from in his eyes, as the memories came flooding back. Her confused face right before she... "It's all your fault." His inner voice sneered "You could've done something. But all you did was sit there. You idiot. You fucking-" SHUT UP! 

Rick turned around to leave but saw someone gawking at him. It was a small kid, he had to be very young, a toddler at oldest, he still had a dipper on. His eyes were wide and his lips were parted slightly. He had brown hair that looked like a helmet and had a yellow shirt with a dipper. Him and the kid just stared at each other.

This had to be Beth's kid...this wasn't the ideal way he wanted to meet his grandson. The kid tilted his head in a way that was admittedly cute and spoke "W-" Rick quickly stopped him, clamping a hand around the child's mouth before he could think and shushing him "Shh!" He didn't want the kid to get him busted. He didn't want to explain to Beth why a strange man was in the house watching her sleep. God he really did sound like a creep. Rick sighed and whispered "I'll remove my hand from your mouth but you have to stay quiet." His grandson nodded and he removed his hand from his mouth.

Rick's grandkid kept staring at him and Rick took their small hand and led them to their bedroom. It was weird for a kid to have their own bedroom, but they did have a nanny cam (which Rick did make sure to disable) He saw his crib and Legos scattered all over the room. Rick sighed, guess he should introduce himself, he got down to their level "Hey kid, what's your name?" The kid blinked looking confused, then made an cute "O" shape with his mouth, showcasing his bucktooth and spoke "M-Mowty! Morty!" Rick smiled, Rick wished his stutter was that adorable. He heard some Ricks talk about their Mortys, they mainly just seemed like a sidekick, something about brainwaves "Nice to meet cha' Morty. I'm Rick. Your grandpa." Morty smiled "G-grandpa! Grandpa Wi-Rick!"

Rick gasped slightly, turning his head down in an attempt to hide the tears in his eyes (like Morty could notice) and nodded, ignoring the way his throat tightened. Morty went over to Rick's pockets and pulled out a gun, which Rick quickly retracted "Oh no buddy, that's dangerous." He took out a toy that was originally made for Beth. "You'll like this more." He turned off the light and turned on the toy, planets and stars were shown, and Morty looked around with his mouth agape "Wowwwww...." Rick smiled "It's been a while since I've shown anyone my inventions, so I'm glad you like it." Morty nodded "I w-w-love it grandpa!" Rick flinched slightly, still not used to being called that. Damn kids were trusting. He remembered when he was trusting. He got his entire family killed.

Morty took the old man by his hand and lead him to a drawer where he pulled out a picture. "D-dis is my family!" He pointed at the drawing with stick men. One was a tall one labeled "Daddy" The other was a slightly shorter one with yellow lines (which Rick assumed was meant to be hair) labeled "Mommy" and the last one was orange lines labeled "Sister" Rick pretended to be interested, nodding slowly "Wowwww look at this, little Picasso!" Morty giggled despite not knowing who Picasso was. He walked over and got a blue crayon, and started drawing while laying on his stomach. Then he took a yellow crayon, and drew another one. After he was done, he proudly displayed it to Rick, practically shoving it in his face. "L-look at it!" It was a small yellow stick man labled "Me" holding the hand of a tall blue stickman "Grandpa Rick" Rick clenched his fists as he fought the tears that threatened to spill. "G-great work little buddy." Rick complimented, ruffling the young boys hair as he laughed. The kid took the grown-up's hand again and led them to a small bookshelf. He pulled up a book and practically shoved it in his hands. "C-can you read me a bedtime story Grandpa Rick?" Rick's grip tighten on the book and he nodded. The kid looked like he was barely able to keep himself up as Rick read the book to him. Rick occasionally put on silly voices while reading the book, making the toodler laugh.

Afterwards Morty yawned "I'm tired." He reached his arms out to Rick smiling and Rick picked the kid up and placed him in bed, tucking him in and, before he could stop himself, his parental insticts took over and he placed a kiss on the toddlers forehead. Causing them to giggle adorably. Rick couldn't help the smile that spread across his gace, "Night buddy." Morty yawned "Night grandpa.." Rick attempted to leave, but Morty grabbed his hand and let out a whine like a dog. Fuck. Rick sighed "I guess I can stay here for a bit longer buddy." Morty let put a tired smile and Rick stayed until Morty fell asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly. The old man took out his memory eraser and pointed it at the kid. "I'm sorry." He mumbled partially to the kid, partially to himself. He didn't want Morty talking about his grandpa to his parents. He couldn't be in their lives. He's no good to anybody until he finds the fucker that killed his wife.

He erased Morty's memory ignoring the tears rolling down his cheeks. He got a vial and put it in his pocket.

He was about to leave the room, but the drawing Morty made caught his eye. He ripped out the part that had him and Morty, folded it up, and put it in his wallet. He took one more look at his daughter all grown up before he opened a portal and left.

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 9. Eyes

Prev - Masterlist

Content: CYOA format, poll options, Female cast, being spied on, hidden cameras, overstimulation/ overwhelmed, fear, pet trope, giant/tiny, cages, dubious handling/ dressing, doll house play, selective mutism, poor vision, (let me know if I missed any?)

Pov: Hamster, then switched to Ashley for the poll.

Poll winners: Take her to bed with you to sleep, and set up a nanny cam.

ART, WRITING, and POLLS UNDER THE CUT

—

Ashley takes you into another room to look for something, and you can feel her reaching around in a drawer with her spare arm. She’s pressing you against her chest in a protective hold, and for a second you feel safer from the tiny man. She finds the little black box, and carries it beside you. Close enough that you can make out the incognito lens on it. You have no idea what it is, and brush off the confusion with the fact that you simply do not care about what she’s doing. She places it on top of the fridge, and fiddles on her phone for what feels like forever.

Finally she spouts a small, “Aha, got it set up!!” Then takes you to the bathroom to do her nightly routine. She tries to put you down again and when you cling to her finger she tuts, “Hon, I’m right here. Don't worry, I'm not leaving you. I can’t keep holding you, you have to let go.” Her voice is soft, and you have no choice but to trust her. 

You let go and feel a cushioning underneath you. The walls of your enclosure are made out of wicker. You’re in a picnic basket. Alone. Your breathing quickens until you hear Ashley’s voice still close to you with running water in the background. 

Eventually Ashley lifts up the whole basket and takes you to her bed. “Don’t worry my girl, I’m right here. Did a mouse try to get into your cage or something? Or was it just a bug that scared you? Are you scared of falling again…?” 

You shake your head slightly, and Ashley gets understandably more concerned. As she should be! She assures you again that you are safe and that the basket is to keep you even more safe so she doesn’t crush you or have you fall off the bed. 

All the reassurance seeps into your skin and finally your nerves calm enough to drift off into a restless sleep. 

The next day Ashley dresses you up into a frilly lolita dress with fabrics that fall over one shoulder to cover your cast. “We’re going to get you a gift today, Love,” she says while pushing you into your carrier travel case. It straps around her shoulder, and she takes you into town in it. The case is transparent but you can only see blurs of light, and hear the overwhelming sounds of busy city life. People can definitely see you however, and you’re complimented on how cute you are over a million times by strangers. 

Ashley goes into an office of sorts, and takes you out to hold you, showing you off to another person. The two talk for a long time about glasses, fittings, and other things you drown out from the conversation. Until finally you’re being placed on the counter to do a few vision tests. After that Ashley pulls a pair of goggle type glasses over your eyes, and you close them while she adjusts it around your head. She takes a picture of you for her blog as soon as you open your eyes, and holds the phone out to you.

You can see it… You can see clearly. You can see everything! It’s like magic! 

You can see the screen, the picture of yourself looking bewildered with your new glasses. You can see Ashley’s blog for once with all of the photos of you on it. Without hesitating you push your whole hand against her screen to make the pictures scroll quickly, seeing all of the model work you have done for her over the past few months. You’re beautiful… It causes your cheeks to flush and you smile for the first time in days. Giddiness rises in your chest. 

“That's you!” Ashley chimes and pockets her phone. “My sweet angel, we’ll have to thank your fans later for helping me out. Maybe a cute photoshoot with your new glasses-“ She rattles on while she plucks you off the counter. Now that you can see her, you notice the star shaped stickers on her face, along with scabbed up blemishes that aren’t covered. When she talks her front teeth show, and her eyelashes are longer than your arm, you’re sure of it. You gaze at her face for as long as you can before being placed back into the carrier. 

The ride home is too overwhelming with your new vision, plus the sounds, and jolts of the carrier bouncing off Ashley’s hip, so you close your eyes tightly until you get back home to be let out. You’ve almost forgotten about that scary boy, and go into your cage without a fuss. A yawn escapes you as you look down at the fluff surrounding you. It looks soft, and comfortable. Perfect to curl up in now. 

You startle when Ashley gasps, and to your surprise you can actually see her from across the room for once. She’s staring at her phone in disbelief. On the screen is an image of the dark haired boy who threatened you before. 

He’s been found out… He’s really going to kill you now. 

—

—

And what should you do with Hamster for the next few days?

LINK TO POLL OPTION TWO!

—

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @dramat1ques @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @whither-wander-whump @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @copperyote @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @sunshiline-writes @whump-in-the-closet @coyotehusk

[captainsantiagos]

I’m so curious about how Blair is going to fit into this story honestly like it’s established something fishy is going on with the nanny cam but WHAT?! And I feel like Aaron was like small time for whatever she has cooking and now she’s got Tim?? It can’t be anything good.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

The horrific Fool Me Once-style nanny-cam footage that exposed an abusive wife: Secret camera footage shows battered husband threatened with a knife, beaten and cowering in a foetal position during wife's 20-year reign of terror

By: Stewart Carr and Kevin Donald

Published: Mar 15, 2024 

Sheree Spencer, 45, terrorised husband Richard at their East Yorks home

C5 documentary 'My Wife, My Abuser: The Secret Footage' airs Monday

Chilling never-before-seen footage from a nanny cam has revealed the moment a battered husband cowered on the floor while his wife hurled abuse at him and brandished a knife in their home during her 20-year reign of terror.

Damning videos of Sheree Spencer's attacks on husband Richard at their seven-bedroom home in Bubwith, East Yorkshire, were captured on cameras the couple had installed to monitor their children.

And explosive clips from police interviews show Sheree casually lying about her husband being the abuser, only for her face to turn ashen when confronted with the footage. 

On one occasion she defecated on the floor and forced him to clean it up, and on another she beat him with a wine bottle so hard it permanently disfigured his ear. 

Sheree, 45, was jailed for four years at Hull Crown Court in March 2023 by Judge Kate Rayfield, who told her: 'This is the worst case of controlling and coercive behaviour I have seen.'

Now, Mr Spencer is sharing his story in vivid detail in Channel 5 documentary My Wife, My Abuser: The Secret Footage, which airs on Monday.

And today, MailOnline can reveal Sheree went to desperate lengths through the courts in a bid to stop the documentary being broadcast. 

[ Damning clips of Sheree Spencer's attacks on husband Richard at their seven-bedroom home in Bubwith, East Yorkshire, were captured on cameras the couple installed to monitor their children ]

[ The hidden nanny cam gave a vital way out for battered husband Mr Spencer after he endured years of physical and verbal abuse from his wife, that sometimes left him 'broken' in a foetal position ]

[ Sheree's reign of domestic terror finally ended in June 2021 when the police were called to their family home by a concerned welfare worker ]

[ Footage showed furious wine-fuelled tirades, in which Sheree would call her husband 'fat boy,' 'a pussy' and 'dumb dumb' and inflict bruises and scratches ]

The footage, obtained from the nanny-cam, gives a chilling real-life echo of Harlan Coben's Netflix adaptation Fool Me Once, starring Michelle Keegan. In it, Keegan plays a woman who installs the small camera to keep watch over her young daughter, only to recognise an eerie figure from her past creeping into her home.

Mr Spencer felt his harrowing experiences should be seen to raise awareness of the type of abuse men can suffer in their daily lives at the hands of violent partners but Sheree tried to block it.

He told Mailonline: 'Sheree tried to stop the documentary being broadcast in the crown court but failed, then she applied for a prohibited steps order through the family court, which luckily was rejected and thrown out at the first hearing.

'The broadcast has been delayed due to the legal challenges for about six months, but now it is finally going to be shown.

'I'm hopeful that the film will be well received and will make a difference.'

The hidden nanny cam gave a vital way out for battered husband Mr Spencer after he endured years of physical and verbal abuse from his wife, that left him 'broken' on the floor in a foetal position.

Mr Spencer had met his wife in a nightclub in 2000, and the pair married on a Thai beach in 2009.

After they welcomed the eldest of their three daughters in 2015, Mr Spencer installed the nanny cam so they could keep watch over her.

Instead, footage showed furious wine-fuelled tirades, in which Sheree would call her husband 'fat boy,' 'a p**sy' and 'dumb dumb' and inflict bruises and scratches that he would need to cover with make-up before going outside. 

Mr Spencer told The Sun: 'We had two [cameras] — one in the playroom and one in the bedroom. They were there for reassurance, to keep an eye out because it's a big house.

'It was on something like a 28-day roll, where if something new came in it would delete the old footage.'

When police finally became involved, Mr Spencer handed over 43 images of his bruised face, taken on different dates following savage assaults he had suffered. 

[ Equally explosive clips from police interviews show Sheree casually lying about her husband being the abuser, only for her face to turn ashen when confronted with the clips ]

[ Mr Spencer, now happily settled with a new partner, decided to take part in the Channel 5 documentary to help other abused men speak out ]

[ Mr Spencer handed police 36 photographs he took of himself, showing cuts and bruises to his face and body ]

[ Sheree Spencer, 45, was jailed for four years for making her husband Richard's life a living hell with daily beatings and verbal attacks that left him cowering on the floor in the foetal position ]

[ Richard Spencer, pictured, secretly recorded video and audio of his wife's attacks on him for years. When police became involved he handed over 43 images of his bruised face and body ]

A police officer tells the documentary: 'This has been going on for such a long time, that this is who he is. Withdrawn and broken.'

Mr Spencer says: 'I just wanted the abuse to stop. I was in a situation and there was no way out.'

Hull Crown Court heard that mother-of-three Sheree had carried out most of the attacks on her husband in the family home.

Sheree worked at the highest levels for HM Prison and Probation Service and bragged to friends that she had the ear of former Prime Minister Boris Johnson.

She was a project manager in the department's directorate of strategy and performance.

A former friend said: 'She would brag about being only two down from the Prime Minister in her field and had meetings with Boris Johnson, who she spoke of as though he were a friend.

'She was bragging about her high flying career while subjecting her poor husband, a lovely man, to daily abuse, degradation and humiliation.'

It was described as 'a great irony' that Spencer had done so much work aimed at investigating the effect of custodial sentences on the family.

Within months of becoming a couple in 2000, Richard Spencer endured her violent rages, which happened whether she was drunk or sober.

The worst of the assaults on him happened in April 2021 when his wife attacked him with the empty wine bottle.

Mr Spencer, who stands at 5ft 10in, told the court that although he was bigger and physically stronger than his petite wife, he did not fight back when she began to attack him.

He said he became almost immune to the physical abuse she meted out, even though she would cause him immense pain by sinking her teeth into him.

But he said the mental scars left by 16 years of her hate-filled attacks were what would leave the most lasting effect.

Sheree's reign of domestic terror finally ended in June 2021 when the police were called to their family home by a concerned welfare worker.

Her arrest that day on suspicion of assaulting her husband opened a door into the hell he had kept private for his entire married life.  

Mr Spencer said: 'In trying to block the footage being shown, she continued trying to exert control even from jail, but fortunately justice prevailed.

'It’s astonishing to me that she’s living a relatively easy life in prison, having been moved to an open jail after six months of her sentence.

'The judge in her case described it as the worst case or coercive control she had ever seen, so why she was considered for open prison so early is beyond me.

'She is due for release next February but she is able to go out for family and friend meetings and has been working in a cafe.

'It doesn’t seem a just sentence for someone who committed such serious offences.'

Since his ex-wife's imprisonment, Mr Spencer has joined a campaign called ManKind Initiative, which supports male victims of domestic abuse.

He has also found love again and told media he is happily settled with his new partner. 

Speaking to media after Sheree was jailed last year, he said: 'I have become resigned to the fact that I will never fully recover from her abuse and that it will have a permanent damaging impact on mine and my family's life.

'Sheree's abuse towards me evolved and escalated over time, she used repeated acts of physical assault, threats, verbal abuse, and humiliation to punish and exercise control over me.

'The abuse was hidden from the outside world, including friends and family. Sheree manipulated me into believing that I was a responsible and willing participant in the abuse. She remorselessly proclaimed that I deserved to be punished, and that it was a justifiable consequence of me disappointing her in some way.

'Little by little, I lost my independence and willpower and just accepted that was how my life was going to be. I complied with Sheree's demands, and she controlled most aspects of my everyday life, including things like what activities I could participate in and when, which room I could sleep in, and even which toilet I could use.

'Gradually I became isolated from family and friends and was left deep in debt causing me to feel trapped.'

'After a while, I learnt to cover my face with my hands and curl up into a foetal position to try and avoid sustaining any visible facial injuries, so that I could still take the children to school and nursery.'

==

Abstract

Objectives. We sought to examine the prevalence of reciprocal (i.e., perpetrated by both partners) and nonreciprocal intimate partner violence and to determine whether reciprocity is related to violence frequency and injury.

Methods. We analyzed data on young US adults aged 18 to 28 years from the 2001 National Longitudinal Study of Adolescent Health, which contained information about partner violence and injury reported by 11 370 respondents on 18761 heterosexual relationships.

Results. Almost 24% of all relationships had some violence, and half (49.7%) of those were reciprocally violent. In nonreciprocally violent relationships, women were the perpetrators in more than 70% of the cases. Reciprocity was associated with more frequent violence among women (adjusted odds ratio [AOR]=2.3; 95% confidence interval [CI]=1.9, 2.8), but not men (AOR=1.26; 95% CI=0.9, 1.7). Regarding injury, men were more likely to inflict injury than were women (AOR=1.3; 95% CI=1.1, 1.5), and reciprocal intimate partner violence was associated with greater injury than was nonreciprocal intimate partner violence regardless of the gender of the perpetrator (AOR=4.4; 95% CI=3.6, 5.5).

Conclusions. The context of the violence (reciprocal vs nonreciprocal) is a strong predictor of reported injury. Prevention approaches that address the escalation of partner violence may be needed to address reciprocal violence.

Abstract

This annotated bibliography describes 343 scholarly investigations (270 empirical studies and 73 reviews) demonstrating that women are as physically aggressive as men (or more) in their relationships with their spouses or opposite-sex partners. The aggregate sample size in the reviewed studies exceeds 440,850 people.

Abstract and Figures

The first part of this article summarizes results from more than 200 studies that have found gender symmetry in perpetration and in risk factors and motives for physical violence in martial and dating relationships. It also summarizes research that has found that most partner violence is mutual and that self-defense explains only a small percentage of partner violence by either men or women. The second part of the article documents seven methods that have been used to deny, conceal, and distort the evidence on gender symmetry. The third part of the article suggests explanations for the denial of an overwhelming body of evidence by reputable scholars. The concluding section argues that ignoring the overwhelming evidence of gender symmetry has crippled prevention and treatment programs. It suggests ways in which prevention and treatment efforts might be improved by changing ideologically based programs to programs based on the evidence from the past 30 years of research

[emmashouldbewriting]

Yeah, I understand W’s wishes and PR of being ‘househusband’, present parent. But I also didn’t think it was wise to abandon everything.

He leaked that he went to visit K everyday and did the school run everyday, but yeah, I mean, he could have done at the very least 1-2 engagement in one day these 3 weeks. He wants to give an example of being a family man, and it’s ok…. But being paid by taxpayers, he also needs to give the example of caring about the job (specially when his PR is all about being down to the earth, ‘I will be a different King’)

The comparison with Cam isn’t fair tho, she doesn’t have small children. But that doesn’t mean that everything W does is right and he isn’t giving any example of ‘wanting the job’

yeah like, let's be real. you cannot be both a regular person and take off work for god knows how long while still getting paid. it's not how it works. most people don't have hired help. he does. and has apparently done the school run in windsor and visited her every day in london, sooo the eco-king PR isn't looking that great either. just... give up the school run to see your wife sooner and get some work done. i promise the kids won't die if their nanny/security/grandparents drop them off for a week.

and yes. you cannot compare the situations because they are fudamentally different.

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Hello! I don’t know whether your open to writing about irondad content so if not just ignore this but I had a small prompt.

I can imagine Peter and Tony working on a new suit for ages and after finishing it, Peter decides to try it on. Tony goes around prodding the suit and making sure it’s okay, not realising Peter squirming. Once he does notice, he just has that signature grin and decides to exploit his new knowledge.

I don’t know if this is something you would be comfortable writing, just ignore this if not!

Upgrades

Summary: See prompt above :)

(Oh my goodness! I love Irondad! 😭 All of the fics I've read with them and all the clips of their interactions together is really sweet ❤️ Don't know how well my Tony Stark will be, but I'll give it my best ❤️ Enjoy Anon! :))

Tony switched a couple wires before securing them in place. "Alright, that should do it."

Peter looked up from his web shooters. "Is it ready?"

"Almost." Tony sealed off the final section. "Ready to test it Underoos?"

"Yes!" The young teen hurried over to his mentor.

"Alright, go put her on and let's check it out."

Peter quickly slipped into the new suit. It fit like a glove without being super heavy. The last few models had been restricting and hard to maneuver in, but this one was perfect!

He came back out to show Tony. "Mr. Stark?"

The older man turned. "It's Tony kid. Atleast the suit looks good. How does it feel?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "It fits like a glove, thank you."

"Might have made the technology, but I wasn't the only one to work on it. Now come on, let's test everything out." Tony prepped his pad. "First up, communication."

Peter pulled on his mask and immediately connected with Tony's ear piece. "Check one, two."

"Loud and clear underoos." The older man typed something into the pad. "Now the fun part."

"Defense shield?"

"Fire it up kid. Let's see if this works."

Peter cheered as he readied his suit. The idea of the defense shield had come from watching Star Wars. When Peter and Tony had had a movie marathon, the young teen noted the use of diverting power to a concentrated area that was under attack for extra protection. He had asked Tony about applying the same idea to his suit when in battle.

At first, his mentor had shied away from the idea. The ship was bigger than the teen which meant the margin for noting a problem and adjusting for it was smaller. Also, that power transfer might fry several circuts within the suit. However, the idea the kid could defend an injured area easily with just a few tweaks of his suit's power did give him some comfort.

He agreed to the idea as long as he had a connection to the suit so that he could also help monitor power supply and divert the power if Peter was unable to. The younger teen had protested the suggestion because he thought Tony would use it as a nanny cam to keep track of him, but when he had explained why it would be important to have those things in place, he had reluctantly agreed to the compromise.

After much time together and many many tweaks, they both had gotten more and more excited. Now came the moment of truth.

"Alright kid, now pull a small amount of power to your chest," Tony directed.

Peter nodded. "Karen, direct 20% more of all the suit's power to the upper body."

"Directing power now."

Peter turned to Tony when he heard a beeping coming from his screen.

"Transfer complete."

The older man grinned at his mentee. "It worked!"

Peter pumped a fist into the air. "Yes!"

"Now do the same thing down to your feet."

"Okay! Karen, direct 30% of all the suit's power to the boots."

"Directing power now."

Tony's screen beeped again.

"Transfer complete."

The transaction went back and forth with Peter directing more and more power to different areas of the suit. Once they were done, Tony had the kid sit on the table so he could double check the systems and wiring.

"Alright, the adjustments I made should hold up to the increase in power."

Peter took off his mask. "Wouldn't it be easier to check it without me in it Mr. Stark?"

"For the millionth time kid, it's Tony. But with you in it we can quickly test any adjustments I make."

The young teen shrugged as he settled on the table and Tony began to examine the suit.

Peter absentmindedly hummed as he tried to stay still so Tony could focus.

However, it was hard to do so when a pen proded him in the side.

Peter flinched to the side. "Eep!"

Tony started. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, no! It's just tender!"

Tony's eyes widened as he immediately squeezed the same area. "Did those circuts burn you?"

Peter wouldn't respond.

"Peter I . . ."

Whatever question he was going to ask died the moment he caught sight the teen's face. The bright grin immediately gave away what was going on.

A grin overtook Tony's own face. "No way."

Peter's own eyes widened. He recognized that look. "Mr. Stark---."

Tony wrapped his arms around the teen. "I told you kid, it's Tony."

The next sound to fill the room was a squeal as Tony dug his fingers into Peter's sides. "Noho wahait!"

"No way. This is adorable!" Tony spidered his fingers across Peter's stomach. "How did I not find out about this sooner?"

The young teen's blush grew darker. "Ihits nohot adorahable!"

Tony pinched his mentee's cheek. "Hard to argue with a face like that kid."

The young teen scowled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "We've gohot soho many thihings toho do Mr. Stark! No gohoofing ohoff!"

"When did you get so boring kid?" Tony scurried his fingers into Peter's neck. "You should let loose more often."

Peter squeaked and turtled into his shoulders. "Nohoho!"

"I don't know where you get this stubbornness from, but it's probably from me."

"Mihister Stahark!"

Tony quickly squeezed Peter's side. "Try again."

"Ah! Tonyhy!"

"There we go." Tony pulled the young teen into a hug as he dissolved into a puddle of giggles. "So you can learn."

Peter playfully groaned. "Noohoho."

Tony ruffled the kid's hair. "Come on blushy, let's finish up the suit."

As the older man turned to grab his pad again, he felt a small hand curiously squeeze his side.

The older man squeaked and whirled back to see Peter trying to appear as innocent as possible.

Tony smirked at the young teen. "If you wanted more, all you had to do wahas ask."

Peter blushed as his nervous giggles picked up.

The older man set the pad back down. "The adjustments can wait a little longer."

Peter squealed and fell back on to the table as Tony immediately jumped on him.

Needless to say, they didn't finish testing the suit that day.

[sorry-imma-scorpio]

i am a pomegranate ripped by ungrateful hands. their fingers are coated, lips red with my blood. they have consumed me in my entirety, but will i ever be free? ﮩـﮩــﮩ٨ـﮩــﮩ٨ـﮩــﮩﮩ٨ـﮩــﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ﮩ٨ﮩ٨_______________

illicit affairs by Taylor Swift - analysis by me

"Lyrics" and my analysis

--- have fuuuun ---

"Make sure nobody sees you leave / Hood over your head / Keep your eyes down / Tell your friends you're out for a run / You'll be flushed when you return."

I am not allowed to walk alone at night not for my own safety but because these people go into fucking cardiac ARREST when they cannot control my actions

“-------- and the Babysitters" was funny at first but not anymore. I am tired of being babied and watched through a fucking nanny cam by my own government spy of a roommate.

"Take the road less traveled by / Tell yourself you can always stop"

When I walk, talk, or even breathe I have to do everything in secret. I cannot tell anyone anything at all. Everything has to be kept under lock and fucking key because I am “too unstable” and I need to be checked in on. I NEVER ASKED FOR THEIR HELP I ASKED FOR A FRIEND. Just because I am crying or upset does not mean that I need someone to be my therapist. The advice was appreciated but it was not necessary. Walking over to hang out with you guys and immediately being drilled about how my day “really was” because “it was okay” was not answer enough made me feel like a burden to the point that I had to completely shut everything off and everyone out. I have become a group project that got neglected.

"What started in beautiful rooms / Ends with meetings in parking lots"

Giant room with a lot of windows. Talking about how I knew that it was going to snow because I can feel it. You can smell it (Thank you, Lorelai Gilmore). Sunset pictures.

“Where’d -------- go?” “To take a picture of the sunset.” “That’s the -------- I know.” Well who is this one? Do you know this ------ or do you think you do? The last conversation we had was you comparing me to a depressed orca which is honestly worse than my joke about you calling me a whale. (I was pacing in his kitchen and he brought up that I was like an orca in too small of an enclosure. Sad. I understood that. But he thought that I didn’t so he got all up his own ass defending himself).

"And that's the thing about illicit affairs / And clandestine meetings / And longing stares"

SHE WAS GOING TO HIDE IT FROM ME IF I DIDN’T FIGURE IT OUT ON MY OWN!!!! She would have rather lied to me than tell me this. She held me. Rubbed my back. She consoled me as I cried into her lap about how I was doing mentally

"Leave the perfume on the shelf / That you picked out just for him"

She was wearing his favorite perfume as she did this. I was literally breathing in the sweet, vanilla scent of her lies and deceit. Every breath I took filled my lungs with the freshness of her betrayal, literally as fresh as the wound in my back. The knife was jagged, and rusted. She left this out in the rain. She left it there until the blade was saturated with acid and would burn unscathed skin. And then she opened my back, no, I opened it to her. I exposed my softness and vulnerability as a form of trust, and like a hostile wolf, she tore through flesh and ripped my organs from my body. Clenching my heart in her teeth and biting down. Squeezing the very life out of me until there was nothing but a shell left. Nothing but a husk of who I once was.

"So you leave no trace behind / like you don't even exist"

Where are your texts to me? Your calls? Thoughts? Questions? Because I can tell you where they are not- in my own messages. You have my phone number, you know where I live. But when I delete social media for my own reasons, all of a sudden I am a problem and an issue.

"Take the words for what they are / A dwindling, mercurial high / A drug that only worked / The first few hundred times / And that's the thing about illicit affairs / And clandestine meetings / And stolen stares / They show their truth one single time / But they lie and they lie and they lie / ...a million little times"

Why am I so dependent on this friendship? To the point that it is like my drug of choice and I am a fatal addict. My own perception of myself and the world around me is so twisted and intertwined with your lies and talks of peace - giving the thought of a requiem. Yet I am not the one who has died but my spirit has. I am singing at a funeral tomorrow only it is my own. I will write, perform, and applaud my own eulogy to a near-empty audience. Chiron will be the only attendee, and he will offer his coins to me.

"Don't call me "kid" / Don't call me "baby" / Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me / You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else / Don't call me "kid" / Don't call me "baby" / Look at this idiotic fool that you made me / You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else"

“Kiddo”. After I told him not to. “Consent is sexy” you fucking liar. How am I supposed to feel like a person when you are always infantilizing me and I cannot deal with being parented by someone who did not birth me. You did not raise me. Were you there when I was sick with deadly strains of the flu? Did you hold my hand when my aunt Marjorie passed away? Where were you when I searched every part of my best friend’s house because I was terrified that she might kill herself? There is only one answer. You were not there. Neither of you are my parents so don’t fucking act like it. This part of the analysis was going to be purely “kiddo” because that nickname wasn’t quality when an older family member would call me that. So why the fuck would it work for you? It doesn’t. I cannot be infantilized as I am not an infant. I am not a child who needs to be put down for a nap because I am throwing a fit. 

This is not overreacting. 

This is not me being a child.

I am not being an asshole.

Just because I no longer look at you like you hung the moon and carved my face into it just to call it beautiful. Just because I no longer look at you like this and I look at you like the friend that you are. 

I am being an asshole.

Make this make sense.

You guys were my biggest supporters in -------. I have a few other friends but none that rallied quite to the point of this. I have now come to realize that you are not passerines flying to my window to wake me peacefully in the morning. But you are shrikes lifting me into the air just to drop me upon jagged rocks. With the unspoken hope that I would crack. That I would break open and you would be there to clean up the mess. Because lovebombing is in more than relationships. It is in friendships. It is in bonds created by shared interests. I have not been lovebombed because that would imply that there was no meaning to the words the entire time. I would like to believe that you guys truly care or at least cared. But the way that you work behind my back? The way that my roommate is your confidante. Your eyes in the room. Why have I had to become media trained overnight? I do not need to hide from the masses but you make me feel like I need to change my appearance and move in secret. I feel like I need to become a spy in a foreign country except the foreign country is my own home. My own room. My own mind. Why do you have free access to my own thoughts and feelings where I cannot access them? You can joke about my condition. All day every day. But when I do it, I am a recovering alcoholic joking about cracking open a cold one with the boys. When you do it, it’s funny. But when I do it, it’s worrying, I need an intervention, and I cannot be trusted to be alone. I call you because you conditioned me to. I didn’t call my mom. Or my dad. I called the two people in the world who knew how to break me the most.

"And you know damn well / For you I would ruin myself / ...a million little times"

This one could speak for itself. You could walk all over me. Spit in my face. But for some fucking reason I can't move on. I can't leave. I am trapped in this house and it is on fire. I am a fly on the wall of my own friendships within my own life. If I tried to escape I would simply be throwing my body into the glass of a double-paned window. Shattering the side I make contact with, breaking everything. The battering will bruise me. The sun will bleach me. I will be destroying myself and everything I touch. For I am King Midas, and my Touch of Gold is that of death.

[whatiwillsay]

I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been sick, Cam! I know you’ve referenced getting sick a lot while traveling on the pod and I wanted to encourage you to wear a high quality mask (KN95, N95, KF94, choose your fancy) at least in the airport if you don’t already. I can take a long time to recover from being sick so I’ll probably never stop taking that extra precaution when I travel but everyone’s risk tolerance is different. I know it’s not fun to wear a mask on a long flight but the ventilation on planes is fairly good so your risk of catching something is higher in crowded airports, train stations, etc. In flight, try to get the fan on the ceiling to blow on you to improve ventilation. You can also get a small HEPA air purifier for under $50 that charges in a USB if you want really clean in-flight air. I know you’ve encouraged good Covid practices previously when it was more prominent in the news so I hope you’ll be willing to take this on board. Also, even if Covid is less of a concern, being sick is no fun no matter what you have! The number of people I know rn with months-long coughs is too high. Especially if you’re headed to or coming back from a trip, the last thing you want is to be exhausted. Sending warm holiday wishes, I hope you feel better soon!

i did mask up on this trip because i was already sick when i flew. this time i got the bug from gabbie who got it from our roommate who is a nanny. but yes i don’t mind masking and try to do it when i travel, especially ofc when im already sick! masks don’t really bother me so i always wear one if ive got one. probably should do it even more!