#nobody can stop me from yapping into the void

[raccoonconnoisseur]

My theory about a potential Helena pregnancy subplot in Severance S2, why I don’t think she would have planned it, and what it could mean for the characters:

Okay so a lot of people are theorising that Helena could be pregnant after the tent scene in S2E4 and that her entire reason for going down to the severed floor was to get pregnant because she’s an only child and single and she’ll be expected to produce the next Eagan heir.

With the theme of pregnancy throughout the show and all of the baby imagery in the title sequence I think she could be pregnant but I feel like if she is it wasn’t intentional. Here’s why:

It’s obviously entirely possible for somebody to get pregnant after having sex just once but the chances of it happening is pretty small (from what I could find online it appears to be about a 25% chance each month if you’re having REGULAR unprotected sex around the time of ovulation - thank you Huggies website - so it’s even lower if it happens just once). Lumon and the Eagans are meticulous - there’s no way they would send her off to sleep with somebody in the woods just once and cross their fingers she would end up pregnant (it would also just kind of be lazy writing/way too convenient)- they would have a whole ass operation going so it would happen regularly until she conceives.

I think they sent Helena down instead of Helly not because she wanted a baby but just because they couldn’t trust Helly R - they knew she’d tell MDR the truth and it could spoil everything. She already hated herself and tried to end her life before she knew she was an Eagan and it would only triple that hatred now she knows who she really is. On top of that MDR had been working fine before she joined, then within a couple of weeks of her arrival, the team is going rogue trying to do the OTC? She was too dangerous to let back down there - they knew Mark would demand Helly back but Helly is feisty and will not budge from her goals of fucking shit up.

So Helena was to go down to the severed floor instead and impersonate Helly (which would also allow her to spy on them and what they’re up to while still tricking them into thinking they had more freedom - remember one of the first things she does is point out the missing cameras). But then she found out about Mark and Helly with the security footage and Helena - who has been raised in a cult-like corporate hellscape, who was manipulated and moulded from birth to be the perfect future heir and was never allowed to be herself - was genuinely jealous/intrigued because this version of her who she doesn’t even see as a real person, who just existed for a publicity stunt, has built more genuine relationships in just a few short weeks than Helena has in 30 years. She went down as a mole and genuinely came out preferring who she was down there. I think she was genuine when she told mark in the tent that she didn’t like who she was on the outside - it was a rare moment of her letting the act down he just didn’t know it.

So how does this link back to pregnancy and babies? Well as mentioned, the title sequence is full of babies and baby imagery. We see a baby Kier emerging from the snow at Mark’s feet at the end of the title sequence (emerging from the snow where it was maybe conceived?) Baby Kier - a baby Eagan. While I don’t think it was intentional on Helena’s part, I think she could end up pregnant and it could be a massive turning point for both Helly and Helena.

We know Mark and Helena meet up again outside (the diner scene in the trailer). Now he’s reintegrated he knows who she is both inside and out. So their outies (or outie Helena and reintegrated Mark I guess) must end up having some kind of character arc. I’m wondering if he’ll confront her about why she pretended to be Helly and ends up getting dragged into the whole situation now he knows a child is on the line. Half of him still wants Gemma (who I think it truly dead but that’s a matter for another time) but the other half of him genuinely wants Helly and - because of the way reintegration messes with your time perception as Petey explained back in S1) they are equally as strong feelings.

So for the even more out-there, very unlikely way I could potentially see this going: I’m wondering if it’s possible Helena deciding she doesn’t want her child to be exposed to the same cult-ish, toxic upbringing she experienced - wanting her child to be given a good life, the chance to be their own person and not just a pawn for a corporate entity - and so she chooses to help the innies out and expose the company in a parallel to how Helly R did at the end of S1 - this time it really is Helena speaking. In a way (although she was still a terrible person and did some really awful things) she finally does something good and proves she isn’t just a one-note evil stereotype. Then I could see her potentially deciding to either reintegrate (I think less likely) or permanently sever herself (more likely) because she prefers the person she is when severed than in the real world - essentially killing Helena Eagan and the Eagan lineage for good and instead giving the innie - who she didn’t even see as a real person at first - a life she could never have.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

it’s deadtime in the US and europe which means it’s high time for me to yap into the void about headcanons again…

i have this recurring one about modern woodland nymph creature lando but in a contemporary london setting. he’s lived a long time but is frankly quite bored and out of practice with his magic, and mostly does small scale magic tricks and occasional enchantments to get by unnoticed. (i haven’t decided who exactly oscar is yet, but maybe): oscar is his new neighbour who moves in, and keeps to himself. lando thinks he’s cute and he’s nice to the neighbourhood cats who talk to lando about him. so lando does things like cast minor spells on oscar’s struggling plants and talks and sings to them from upstairs when he thinks oscar isn’t home, and anyway that kind of singing is the type only his own kind can hear so lando is like whatever nobody is gonna clock it.

until one time, they run into each other on the stairwell or something and lando is so flustered that he trips on a step. and oscar stops him and his massive bag of groceries from falling… but oscar does it from five steps down, and he’s too far to reach lando and how did lando just stop mid-tumble?

then the grocery bag and its contents are just rotating in the air between them. (a bamboo toothbrushes spins gaily with lando’s packet of oats and a newspaper that he bought, cus he likes simple human pleasures like crosswords.)

they’re both frozen to the spot. and as an apple floats into his peripheral vision, lando puts two and two together, and says:

“holy shit. who are you?”

[prac-ticalproblems]

maybe you SHOULD yap about his god complex, fill the void in the discussion market

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

GRAAAAHHHHH ‼️‼️‼️‼️

ENGINEER GOD COMPLEX HEADCANONS

He strikes me as expectedly quiet about his delusions of grandeur.

He believes himself to be better than everyone around him in the fields that he is in, and is MUCH too confident to ever doubt

He takes critique, and takes it well when he knows the second mind is aware of the complexity of whatever he’s trying to get to!

But it’s a 50/50 shot if he actually take the advice and fixes it or he just keeps tweaking things until he gets to the idea he already formulated the first time.

I’d more so say, hes extremely cocky. Ego is higher than the roof. Probably surpasses such.

He can handle being wrong, of course! Probably the first to say that he was incorrect about something in a polite manner.

He can’t handle a loss though. He needs to get the upper hand. Whether that’s being the bigger man, or having the smarter mind, he ends up on top, at least to himself.

Do NOT play against this guy in any fighter game. He will either kick your ass with every single cheat code he deciphered in the last hour, will come up with the craziest chain attack that kills you instantly,

or lose terribly and start lecturing about technological advancements.

Because good for you that you know how to spam fireball, but did you know that in 20 years, these graphics will be obsolete and you won’t have an inch worth of footing doing that for every game?

He seems very bluntly aggressive, said in a statement sort of way. Very off handed sort of comment.

“Looks like the other team could use a skill dispenser..” “…that catch your eye, son?” “Awh, you don’t seem like a happy camper!” “Nobody likes a squatter!”

But inside? Oh for sure. 100% big in his head. He’s got such a thing for power. Having the upper hand, or even just being considered a person of influence? Dude. Hell yeah.

When people considered him a ‘father figure’, he probably just let it happen because that pushed him into the influence over others he already projected onto himself.

(Not that he doesn’t eventually fit right in with the role and love his team as much as any of the rest of his team mates. He learns to feel right in that sort of ‘god. I have to stop them from tearing this place to shit again’ sort of dynamic)

It makes people listen to what he has to say. And by god, does he love to yap.

[all1e23]

Home [One-shot]

Characters: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Warnings:  Jealous & possessive Bucky.

Summary:  Bucky runs into his ex at a winter carnival the MC is helping host, but she didn’t come alone. 

A/N: Bucky is pretty possessive, but honestly, I lowkey love it. If you don’t like that kind of thing, probably skip it. He’s still incredibly soft because I can’t write Bucky, and he not be the softest. 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though. Thanks!***

Bucky doesn’t think he has ever been this pissed in life. She always did know how to get a rise out of him, though, and if they were still together, he would have assumed this was some ploy to make him jealous. Y/n did that on occasion. She would flirt with one of the guys from another charter, or some punk sitting at a bar, and it always ended up the same way. Bucky would lose his shit. He would scare the dude off, with or without bodily harm, take her someplace private and reminded her who she belonged to. It was just a game -- one they both liked to play. 

This wasn’t one of those times.

Things between the couple ended three months ago, and seeing her still stung. Bucky’s tried to numb the burn with whiskey, club girls, and throwing himself headfirst into club business, but none of it worked. No matter who or what was staring back at him, all he saw was her.

Bucky’s eyes fell back on Y/n, who was sitting at a picnic table on the other side of the schoolyard. She looked bored. The punk nobody she brought with her was yapping on and on, and she looked as if she hadn’t heard a word he said in the last twenty minutes. Y/n sure as shit never looked like that when Bucky was with her, and if she had, he would have fixed that with a little-extended visit to the photo booth.

“Want me to toss ‘em?” Steve asked as he walked up next to Bucky. “She knows better than to bring him around to any club business.”

Bucky shook his head. That was unnecessary drama they didn’t need. 

“Nah, It’s alright. I don’t think she knew it was club shit. Clint’s new old lady was planning the damn thing. Don’t think she put two and two together.” Bucky took one last drag from his cigarette and tossed it into the dirt, rubbing it out with the toe of his boot.

Steve looked over at his best friend, observing him. Bucky had yet to look away from the pair, and Steve didn’t like the glint that was forming in his eyes. “VP, you know you can’t start shit here. It’s a winter carnival. At an elementary school. Kids were everywhere.”

Y/n finally looked up and caught his eyes, letting their gazes linger for just a moment. Fuck, he missed her. She quickly looked away as if she heard his admission. Bucky watched as she leaned over, whispering something to the accountant she brought with her and headed towards the empty gymnasium.

“Buck? You listening to me? We don’t need any extra attention on the club. Not with everything we have going on.”  Bucky heard him, he just didn’t care. Nothing else mattered next to Y/n. He’d burn the club, Steve, the whole God damn town for her.

That’s why their love was so dangerous. It was too bright, too consuming. Bucky would kill for her if he had to. He’s come pretty damn close, and if it came down to protecting her, he would do it without thinking twice. Sometimes Bucky wondered if he loved her a little too much. It didn’t matter if he did, Y/n could destroy his entire life, and he would come back begging her to do it again.

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you, Prez.” 

Bucky watched as Y/n stepped into the gym all by herself and closed the door. He started towards it and punched Steve’s arm as he went by, nodding his head towards the guy she had come with.

“Buck, what the hell are you doing?” Steve yelled after him.

He looked back at the taller man and grinned. “Gettin’ my girl back, Stevie.”

The crowd was pretty massive thanks to all of Laura’s campaigning and flyers, so it was easy for him to disappear into the mob of people. He navigated around the crowds of parents and kids enjoying the festival and slipped into the gym without anyone taking notice. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, and when they did, Y/n was nowhere in sight. He was sure she went in here, but maybe she bolted. 

Y/n was good at taking off when things got tough.

“That didn’t take long.” Y/n’s voice called from behind him. Bucky whipped around to find her leaning against the wall next to the bleachers, and the raging fire in his chest started to cool. 

“Yeah, I was never much for being patient.” Bucky murmured as he stalked towards her.

“I didn’t know this was a club event.” She whispered, regret filling her features as her eyes dropped to the floor. “If I had, I wouldn’t have come. I know you don’t want to see me. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be gone.” 

Two dirt-covered black boots appeared in her line of vision, and a finger curled under her chin, tilting her head up to meet his pretty eyes, though they didn’t sparkle the same way she remembered.

“Who said I don’t wanna see ya, sweetheart?” He asked as he took another step towards her, pressing himself against her. Y/n shrugged and helplessly melted into the warmth of his chest. 

“Just figured. Pegs and Pepper said you’ve been all over the club girls. Figured you didn’t want me here messing up your game.”

Well, that explained was why she was out with Joe Six-pack out there. If he could use some random girls to get over her, then she could do the same, she was going to prove to him and herself just how over him she was. It was all his fault Y/n had some other guys hands on her, and they both knew it.

“They really gotta keep their mouths shut,” Bucky grumbled as he leaned forward and nudged her nose with his, his lips ghosting over hers. “Those girls mean nothin’. I was just trying to fill the void you left when you walked out.” 

She shuddered at the smallest of touches and now was no different. It had always been like that, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way he affected her. Bucky grinned and caged her in with his hands on either side of her head. 

“How’s your date with Mr. Sweater Vest out there? You didn’t look like you were having fun.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes at him, “It’s fine. Thank you. He hasn’t threatened to punch anyone the entire night so better than I am used to.” Bucky chuckled and pushed his hips against hers, firmly pinning her to the wall. 

“Funny. Here I thought you liked it when you made me jealous? I guess all those times I pinned you against the wall outside the clubhouse weren’t as good as I remember. You sure did sound like you liked it. If I remember correctly, your voice was awful hoarse the next day.”

Of course, Bucky was trying to get her riled up. He was trying to make her forget all the logical reasons why they broke up and get wrapped up in all the good stuff, the honeyed words, and fire filled touches. Bad sex was not on the list of reasons why she left, and neither was her heart, but she needed more than that this time.

“Bucky…” She squirmed against the wall and looked up at him, “What are you doing? What is this?”

“I want my girl back.” He told her easily. 

“You honestly gonna tell me you’re happy without me? Because I’m a fuckin’ mess without you, baby. I’ll step back from the club if that’s what you want. Sam can take my VP patch, and I’ll come home at five every day and do the whole normal family bullshit. I’ll stop going on runs. I’ll do whatever you want, but I can’t promise I’m not gonna beat some guys ass if he hits on you. I can only change so much darlin’.”

Y/n laughed and shook her head at his declaration.  It was just so… Bucky. “I never said I wanted you to walk away from the club. I just want to know that I come first sometimes.” 

Bucky grinned brightly, the moonlight shining through the windows of the gym and lighting up his handsome face. 

“Doll, my world begins and ends with you. You’ve always been first. I’m sorry if I didn’t show you that enough, but I’ll fix that too if it means you back come home. I’ll make sure you know just how important you are. You’re home, not Steve and not the club.”

A comfortable silence settled over them while Y/n processed what he was asking, and she had to think about the date sitting out there, she needed to get rid of. That wasn’t going to be fun, and he was her ride home. Talk about an awkward car ride. Of course, Bucky could read her better than anyone, and he was already way ahead of her.

“He’s been taken care of.” 

Y/n arched her brow with a disapproving glare, and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Steve and Sam just escorted him out and let him know he’s not welcome at club events, and if he touches what’s mine again, I’ll break his hands.” 

The second he told Steve he was going after Y/n, it was the okay the club needed to escort the guy back to his pretty little Honda Civic.

Y/n relaxed a bit, despite the threat, and her hands slid up around his neck. If she asked him to, Bucky would leave him alone, and she knew that. He was hotheaded, but he wasn’t a bully. 

“We still have to talk, you know.” She tested warily, eyeing him for any sign of deception, “We can’t just jump back into a relationship, and I’m not even sure if I want to.”

They both knew that was complete bullshit, Y/n knew they would end up here the second they locked eyes across the crowd. She’s always belonged to James Buchanan Barnes, and a few months apart couldn’t change that.

Bucky nodded in agreement and rested his hands on her hips, that charming smirk on full blast. “Yeah, I know. But for now, how about I take you for a ride, babygirl?”

[spookyspaghettisundae]

All Eyes on You

Maybe it could have been a regular weekend for me, but there’s no way for me to tell if I was the one who screwed everything up. I was a bit hungover from the night before, so my head weighed a ton and every source of bright light made me cringe in pain—whether it was the fluorescent neon tubes overhead or the daylight streaming in through the store’s front windows.

Every single beep of the cashier running items over the scanner at checkout was like a tiny knife being stuck into my skull, over and over and over again, even though I was fairly far away from it, browsing the unnecessary amount of different brands of laundry detergent.

I grabbed some random one that had nice soft colors and chucked it into my shopping cart. It caused the whole thing to shake and rattle and a person pushing past me gave me a dirty look.

Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t have wasted any thought on this, but today was different. Now, everything was different. Now, as I looked up, and past that guy shooting me the disparaging glance, I realized that everybody in the store was looking at me.

“Feeling watched” would have been the understatement of the century.

It was so weird and jarring that I forgot about the effects of my hangover for the next few minutes. In part because my heart was racing, in part because my mind was going wild with conspiracy theories and rampant paranoia.

Although I pretended to not care or not notice, I could tell that everybody in the store was looking at me at one point or the other. Normally, I would have chalked this up to something silly, like one of my friends having written something on my forehead with a magic marker while I was passed out.

But with what had happened the night before, I knew better. I knew something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

It didn’t help that some of these people would pretend to not be looking at me, either—furtive glances, eyes quickly darting down to study a shopping list on their phone, or to act like they were looking over grocery items on the shelves. Anything to avoid eye contact with me.

I know what you’re thinking. Just allow me to dial back and explain before you make up your mind.

The night before, I was feeling pretty depressed. I was still pretty new in this town and knew nobody around there. Just some backwater town in the middle of nowhere. The rent on the apartment I had found there was cheap, and the commute to my workplace only an hour which was a vast improvement over my last home.

So I grabbed some beers, drove up to a lonesome little picnic area on the forest’s edge that I had seen on the first day I had visited town when I went to go scout out the apartment a few months ago, and decided to chill out there and watch the sunset after a tedious Friday at work.

The whole day had dragged on at a snail’s pace and I just wanted to unwind and not stare at any screens for a few hours.

I sat there, nursing my first beer, sitting on top of the backrest of the bench like a rebel, when I spotted a mansion near the forest’s edge. I mean, I had seen it before when I first took a drive through this town, but it was only now that I noticed a few funny details about it. And when I say “funny,” I don’t mean the amusing sort.

It had a large red brick wall encircling the entire yard—and that place was as big as a football field. The large mansion matched that appearance, also featuring red bricks and sandstone and wood in its construction, and a lot of unusual details like a tower built into the corner of it. Everything was overgrown with lush green ivy, and there were some nice-looking trees on the property.

So far, so idyllic.

The weird part were the men in green camo clothing, carrying what I think were assault rifles. They patrolled around the inside of the walls, so it was no wonder I hadn’t seen them when I drove through town earlier that year, but being up on the hill at the forest’s edge gave me some elevation and allowed me to see over the walls somewhat.

They were all pretty big-looking dudes. I pegged them for soldiers or something like that—though my imagination wandered to this being a mafioso’s estate and these guys being some well-armed thugs.

It would make sense for some gangster boss to be living well out on the countryside where everything’s nice and quiet, right?

I downed two whole beers and while I had been trying to distract myself with unpacking everything that had happened over the course of the week—both at work and in my personal life—my curiosity got the best of me.

I had to know what the hell this mansion was.

With a simple plan in mind, I packed up everything, and drove back down from the picnic site, now taking a detour so I could casually roll past the mansion. A large steel gate obscured any way of seeing into the mansion’s premises, which was frustrating. In my mind’s eye, I had expected one of those metal fence gates that you can see through, but this one was just a solid surface instead.

Tossing out my original plan, I parked my car across the road by the grass, got out, and walked over. You may be thinking that I was crazy, and I can assure you I am. I was always a bit of a tomboy growing up, and I possessed a fearlessness that got me into trouble every now and then—and because I always got away with playing dumb or innocent, I always got away with my shenanigans and I never learned. Not until this day.

I pressed a button by the gate that I figured to be a buzzer and waited.

Within seconds, a small metal slot opened on the gate, from which a man wearing sunglasses peered through, and it was so sudden and swift in response to my pressing that button that I nearly choked in surprise.

“Yes?” asked the man behind the gate.

“Uh, I was, uh, I was,” I started stammering until my wit finally kicked in. “I was up at the picnic site up here to relax and I had no reception on my phone whatsoever, but I need to make an important call. I figured I could ask here if I could use your land line, or something?”

I slung out my phone and waved it around like a magic wand while flashing this man a dumb smile and shrugging. He looked over his shoulder as if he was responding to someone behind him, but he didn’t say a word. I think he looked up at the picnic site and I could feel the blood draining from my face. Because he turned, though, I saw a weird tattoo on his neck: just a single eye.

Not like I know anything about ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, but if I had to describe it, that’s what it reminded me of. No fancy elaborate details, just a simple eye. Wide open.

His head turned back with a painful slowness. I could sense the gears churning behind his forehead.

“My phone’s got reception just fine,” said the man. “Here, you can borrow mine.”

I guessed my charm had worked its magic. He held out his phone through the small slot, offering it to me.

Realizing way too late that all of this was a terrible idea, I glanced at my phone and flicked its display on, then chuckled—way too nervously, I presume, “Hey, look at that! I got a bar back. Maybe it was just up at the woods that was not working out for me. Thanks, though.”

The guard slowly withdrew his phone and even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could have sworn he was glaring at me. I smiled back at him, hoping to disarm any ill will, and started getting really scared about this being some sort of gangster hideout.

“Have a nice day,” he said. But it sounded more like a threat.

He shut the slot with lightning speed and I turned to leave, holding up my phone and pretending to make a call. I yapped away into the void of the non-existent phone call, cringing at my pathetic attempt at emulating a one-sided conversation and the resulting blandness, until I had gotten into my car and slammed the door shut behind me.

My palms were sweaty and cold when they clasped the steering wheel and stick, and I drove away. I was pretty rattled for the rest of the evening although I got back home without any further incident. On the whole ride home, I kept looking into my rear-view mirror to see if I was being followed. And in my paranoia, I thought that some people on sidewalks were shooting me looks, but I dismissed it at the time.

Back at home, I drank the rest of my beers and distracted myself with lousy TV shows until fell asleep.

Then I woke up the next morning, sporting the splitting headache, and decided that things couldn’t be so bad. Because, hey, when it feels like gremlins are pounding the inside of your skull with a jackhammer and your brain’s a funny soup, a lot of worries stop existing. With that state of mind, I went to do my grocery shopping for the week.

And now—this. Everybody watching me. In the confines of my own head, I was calling myself names and cursing myself out for being such a paranoid idiot. There was no reason to be afraid.

But my heart wouldn’t stop racing. Even outside, as I put my groceries in the trunk, I knew that even the people driving in and out of the small parking lot were looking at me.

Watching me.

Worse: I saw that tattoo again. On someone’s forearm. Some lady returning an empty shopping cart to the storefront. She never looked at me directly, but with my back turned to her, I had felt a burning gaze transfixed upon me.

What the hell was this? As an avid reader of strange fiction and horror movie enthusiast, I immediately thought they had to be some sort of cult. What if this entire town was run by a cult? Stranger things have happened.

This was all so surreal. I felt very small and like I was just a passenger in my own body. Everything tingled. My fingers felt numb.

I drove home and shut myself in for the rest of the weekend. I tried to distract myself with TV and video games and even talking to a friend who lived halfway across the country, but nothing helped. I couldn’t help it. I kept thinking that this entire town was crazy and that I was being watched now. I even started getting paranoid if they could tap into my phone or hack my computer, so I avoided telling my friend about anything I had witnessed here.

Just shot the breeze about how life had been for her lately, and put up a good show in pretending that everything was normal on my end.

Come Monday morning, I snuck out of my home and got into my car. Paranoia got the better of me again, so I started checking my ride quite thoroughly, not caring if I would be late for work that day. I had watched too many stupid shows to not think that someone might have tampered with my car. I checked to see if the brakes were working, if there were any bugs, pawing underneath my seats for foreign objects, you name it.

I’m not any sort of professional and if anything was there, I probably missed it. But hey—I tried. Still, I found nothing.

After wasting half an hour on this exercise in futility, I drove off. I never felt so exhilarated to go to work as that day. Because work, for the first time, felt like an escape from something worse. It also felt like an escape from my own head, because I was questioning my own sanity. Surely, the whole town couldn’t be in a cult, right?

I cranked up the music on my radio and sang along to a song I normally hated. And I felt good. For a short while, at least.

It stopped when I drove down the road I usually take to leave town to go to work. A nice narrow road meandering through the wooded area, just like the ones you see in horror flicks.

There was a roadblock in the way once I rounded a curve, with a small jam of cars lined up in front of it. Two police cars obstructed the path and there were some officers standing beside them, one of them talking to the driver in the car at the front of the line. My heart sank, plummeting right into my gut region. I could feel my belly pulsing with my accelerated, anxious heartbeat.

I wonder—does everybody get as nervous as I do whenever I see cops nearby? It’s not like I’d ever done anything wrong, but it had always made me nervous. Even under normal circumstances. Even before this weekend.

But today was different. The events of this weekend had multiplied my paranoia—they had mutated it. If this whole town was run by some weird cult, what if the cops were in on it? What if they were looking for me?

Right when one of the cars was let past the roadblock and drove off, I panicked. I steered out of line and made a U-turn, swerving back onto the road with screeching tires and driving off. It took me a few moments to realize in retrospect that this made me grind my teeth and may have been a stupid move, but I started speeding up and driving away.

The trembling started when I saw a cop car show up behind me, half a minute later. They let the siren wail at me for a split second to grab my attention, and used their blinker to signal me to pull over.

With growing dread, I planned to play along, but step on the gas if things went south.

Even with all the adrenaline rushing through my body, and my attempts to stop my trembling by gripping the steering wheel way harder than natural, I gently steered the car as best I could, driving it onto the roadside and letting it roll to a stop. But I kept the engine running.

A police officer emerged from the car behind me and approached. His hand was resting on the gun at his hip and I wondered if my running motor had anything to do with that.

Or because of this damned cult. Or whatever the hell was going on here.

I rolled down my window once he had arrived there and he looked me up and down. My resolve crumpled and I cut the engine as a token of good will.

“License and registration, please?” asked the police officer in a gravelly voice.

His whole posture was rigid, like a statue—his body language tense. So was I.

Remembering what can go wrong in such an encounter, I carefully leaned over to retrieve the documents from my purse and hand them over. I could feel him watching me all the while, and for the first time in days, I felt like someone watching me was the appropriate action, given the circumstances.

I handed the cop my license and papers and he looked them over, his hand now finally away from the gun, and taking off some of the edge. He studied my face after inspecting my ID.

Then he handed back everything.

“Pardon the interruption, ma'am. Have a nice day,” he told me, and swiveled.

Right when he was walking away was when I saw the tattoo on his neck. The eye—staring at me. Almost as if the damned tattoo itself was watching me.

I never believed in the supernatural or UFOs or any such bunk. But my paranoia was really taking me for a ride now, and I questioned everything I believed in.

When I revved up my engine again and drove off, I still felt the officer’s eyes on me.

Anyway, now you know. That’s how—and why—one day, I bounced from that awful little town, leaving all my belongings behind. How I drove halfway across the states, and started a new life after changing my name.

I’d tell you the town’s name so you can avoid it, but I keep seeing that tattoo in my nightmares. In some of them, it’s like people have an extra eye on their body where there shouldn’t be one, in place of that tattoo. Like the skin breaks open and some bloodshot, weird eye stares at me. Always the same eye.

I still feel watched out in public sometimes. Hell, sometimes I even feel like someone’s watching me at home. I know I should talk to a therapist about this, but I’m afraid they won’t believe me. Or worse.

I got an anonymous call from someone telling me not to talk about what I had seen, but I had to get this off my chest, and maybe nothing bad will happen if I don’t tell you where this was.

—Submitted by Wratts