Female actresses smoke cigarettes

Been alternating between rage and weeping for the past 48ish hours. My S.O. basically gave me an ultimatum to quit vaping, which I've been doing for about five years. Prior to that I smoked cigarettes since I was 18. I've been hooked on nicotine for nearly 20 years. I want to believe that the emotions I'm feeling are from withdrawal. I'm scared that I'm going to feel like this forever- maybe these are the emotions good ol’ nicotine has been helping me soothe away. And without nicotine anymore, maybe I'm just going to feel like this always from now on. Please be gentle guys, only the encouraging words. I feel like a total piece of shit for feeling this way. I feel so weak, because of how hard this is. Im mad at myself for being so dramatic but i feel so overwhelmed. I literally can't see one positive or upside. My S.O. will (hopefully) lay off? Nag me less? Part of why am crying is just the realization of how little self-respect I have left, and how little respect he must have for me to put me in this position. Please pray for me.

This isn’t a dream I had, but the first thought I had before I opened my eyes or even realized what reality I was in. What I am- or who. Or the truth in memory, or in general. Oddly I remember recalling some type of quirk, something about smoking a cigarette in a tissue- something about a tissue. Was this still me dreaming? Intertwining my reality with my unattainable consciousness projecting onto me, battling almost. Something about a cigarette…a damn tissue, a party trick? “He does this, it’s just something he does..” the truth of this, my mind scrambling to find the factual information , personally I can’t recall but unwilling- I witnessed my mind trying to uncover. Almost funny aside the fact of the seeing the inside of the machine…as if we were never supposed to. Trying to recite my own thoughts, digging through false narrative, reasonings and life’s spend- I still cannot recall. But what I do know is I can still vividly see the cracks in his hands- and the exact shape of his finger tips. The cracks of his hands- and all the shadows gathered in between his fingers as well. His fingertips- pinching the cherry of the cigarette. Burning. To end it all and to feel absolutely nothing. I know this detail to be true. An example from experience, and not blurred from innocence before being thrown back into the harsh depths of real life…his brutal truth. My truth, being between the stage of a dream, life and memory, delusion or death. Regardless of humor in experience and as unfathomable as the fluidness life is- just as water. For those moments…still dreaming- consciousness creeping it way on to me and wrapping endlessly its claws around my throat: I wished that this life I woke up to, had been a nightmare, just as I forever experienced before. So ready for it all be gone and to laugh it all off looking into your eyes. For it to finally fade away. As if marking off the days on a calendar, only to forget what it was all for. I recall your vivid green eyes.

I grew up with smoker parents. My father was basically a chain smoker so I was quite put off it for the majority of my childhood.
I’ve held true to my childhood promise up until escaping but to put it lightly I’m unsettled by my behaviour around smokers. If I pass someone by on the streets with a lit cigarette I purposefully draw in a breath or two as I walk by.. and I really like it. Which is also odd because growing up, like all kids, I hated the smell. I’ve caught myself thinking about buying a packet, too.
I understand that it probably just reminds me of home or whatever, but I’m now seeing things online about secondhand smoke causing a nicotine addiction although I’ve avoided it ever since I left the home.
I’m asking this question in good faith with no expectations.
If actually possible, how serious is this? Is there any way to reverse it? (I’m desperate)

Long story less long 😝 I really miss having a more serious girlfriend. But I can’t really have a traditional monogamous relationship (nor would I want to) because I’m an OF model, and constantly hook up with other women (and potentially men, in the future) for content.
I’m a midwestern woman. Very live and let live politically. Pretty soft spoken but friendly. I have a degree related to fitness which is a passion of mine but not something I require of others.
I like to bake. Be outdoors. I’ll travel anywhere for pretty much any excuse 😆
I’m big into sports. Football the most. I watch a lot of movies. And feel just as comfortable at home cuddled on the couch or playing a board game as I do dressed up at a fancy restaurant on a Saturday night.
I don’t have any kids or pets. I don’t mind if others smoke or drink, but I rarely partake in either. And never cigarettes 🤮
If you’re a woman, who likes women, contact me. Include a picture of yourself in your message. I’d love to meet. And even if you’re not local, I do travel a lot, so who knows.
https://imgur.com/a/jcLJLHh

Caution: The following files may contain the following Graphic Contents Violence, Drugs, Suicide, and Death Viewer discretion is advised
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Memory Transcription Subject: Kroven, Venlil civilian
I'll show them. I can strike it big, I'll show him.
Smoking my ember then taking a shot of alcohol, I go for another pull. Playing an online casino I found [6 months] ago.
If I win I can blow this place up and buy a new home, buy all the alcohol I want, smoke up ember till I drop, show my dad I'm not a loser. I'll show him, I'll show them all.
This is my only chance, using this computer, in this game. "You're addicted" he said, suck my ass I'm not, I can stop whenever I want. I just need to win my money back, I can win more than I lost.
Just needs 3 pairs of gold coins that's all, I've won it once, I'll win it again. I just need 3 pairs, strike it big, if you think about good things good things will come. ONE i got one, and ANOTHER YES FUCK. PLEASE JUST GIVE ME ONE MOOORE~~~
Bzzt, you lost
"FUUUUUUUUCK"
Trashing my house once again. Hitting everything I see except for the computer, the only thing I have. This is my house, I don't care. This stupid fucking life, I hate all of it, why can't things go my way, I wish for one thing in my life and stars won't give it to me.
Slowing down, getting tired of all the thrashing, I tried to steady myself. "Calm down, calm down, my ember, I need another shot". Ember, Alcohol, where is it, found it, fuck... this is the last...
While my hands are shaking, hurting for clawing and throwing useless stuff on my room, I chug the remaining alcohol and smoked half of the ember.
Looking back at the computer, look like I'm on my last pull too.
"Ha. Haha. Ahhahahahaaha! Fuuuuck what am I doing, if it weren't for this stupid game I could have had a wife right now. My father could have not disowned me..."
Looking back at the monitor, my last money... You know what, fuck this...
Fuck this house, fuck this chair, fuck this bed, fuck dad, fuck everything, I'm going all in, if I lose I'll just kill myself, I got nothing in the first place.
"Everything, I'm betting everything, even if it cost me my life."
Click
The game is spinning now, guess that's settled, all or nothing. First stop, gold coin, yeah right, of course, then next will be a- huh? Another gold coin, that's two. Is this it? ... Meh that's probably another blunder, this game always does this.
Turning back from the screen, I grabbed my last half of the roll. Smoking it. This will be the last day I'll live. Where did I put that rope? Did I also sold it?
You win!!!
Huh!? HUH!? OH MY STARS NO WAY!!!
Getting close to the screen to see it better, then started jumping around like a kid.
"No way no way no way to way ha! Hahahahaahaha! 3 gold coins! I won! I'm rich! I ca-"
My chest hurts. My whole body stopped, as I put my hand to my chest and fell to the floor.
I can't breathe
"He-"
Huh? I can't- speak.
"He-"
Shit shit shit shit shit this isn't real this isn't real.
I try to move but to no avail.
Damn it damn it c'mon! I just won, I can't die just yet, move stars damn it move!
My body started twitching, still trying to move, like being tied down by my own body.
Please please please, I'll never do this again, it hurts, please someone save me!
My mouth started foaming, my whole body hurts, I can't swallow, I can't breathe, I can't-
Dad, dad help me, where are you, I'm scared...
My vision starts to darken.
Dad please I'll never do this again, help me please...
My hearing starts to loosen.
Dad... dad...
I'm sorry...
...
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Memory Transcription Subject: Hlumi, Venlil Exterminator
Listening the woods pop as it burns down. Taste of burned ashes in my mouth. Watching their house burn into dust. Another victims of a predator attack, and we weren't able to stop it.
"Sir, I got the full report." Bhono, female venlil, one of my underlings, she's a good exterminator, but a bit careless.
"Go ahead"
"The house have- had a total of 4 residents, Slov, male gojid, Fremma, female venlil, Vlin, male venlil, and Threk, male krakotl. Neighbours says that they saw 2 figures wandering inside the house, probably shadestalkers because of it's colour. Only 2 bodies was seen inside the house, Fremma and Threk was uncontactable. We suspect that Fremma and Threk was dragged out by the shadestalkes to be eaten later. We're trying to find out where are these beast nested."
She hands me her pad so I could read the report myself. "Thank you, Bhono. When the fire dies out we can go back to the office, take a rest."
"Thank you, sir" she tail wag a sign of respect and headed back.
Her report is good, even collecting information from those who saw it. Details about the victims are properly indicated. Only one thing is the problem with this report.
That's not what shadestalker victims looks like.
"Hey, you seem pretty occupied there.", Quirn, a gojid exterminator, she's just below my title, sharing the office together. Following the footsteps of her brother.
"What is it to you?"
"Nothing much, just heard a new news about that death powder. It took another life of someone, just next town over."
'Death power'. That's the nickname we gave to the red-orange dust we found on some cases of people dying alone in their home. It makes people act weirdly, it makes them joyous, impulsive, restless. We don't know where people get it, nor what it even made of, but we have to stop it.
"Really" signaling a sign of interest.
"Yeah, it's a pretty sad story, heard that the victim's dad was crying while hugging him, despite being dead for estimated [2 days]."
Listening to the news, it's sad, but it's nothing special, just another paper to a stack of unsolvable cases. Watching the house burn down, the fire slowly dying on it's own. Quirn stars another conversation.
"Hey, you think we'll find them."
"Hmm?"
"Those who hunted the people of that house"
"We'll find those predators. We have to."
"Don't act like you don't know, the residents of that house, they weren't killed by shadestalkers."
"I know, but we still have to call them predators". Pointing an ear to the onlookers.
She take a look, focusing in the conversations of civilians.
"Those poor people".
"Those shadestalkers are a bunch of hell spawns, universe would be better without them".
"I know right, hope the exterminators burn all of those beast".
*"Wasn't Fremma a former PD patient?".
"Even if she was, she doesn't deserve being killed by a shadestalker."
I continued. "They won't believe if you tell them a sapient killed them. Even the exterminators themselves." Pointing an ear to our guild colleagues.
Over there is Rossur, a male dossur, sitting on Krasim's shoulder, a male krakotl, and Bhono, having a conversation.
"What would you do if you found those shadestalkers?" Bhono asked.
"Burn them of course! I'm going to protect this town from those foul beast." Rossur replied.
"I don't think we have a flamethrower fit for your size" Krasim joked, with Bhono laughing at it.
"Shut up, I can burn a predator, just watch me, they'll make a statue of me!"
"If you want a statue I can make one for you, life sized even, I mean dossur sized" Krasim joked again with continued laughing from Bhono.
"I'll take that, those shadestalkers are dumb anyways, I bet I can lure one to a trap".
"Yeah, good luck with that". Bhono replied, laughing.
Quirn understanding my point, I continued our conversation "I think we're the only two that knows the errors of this place, trying to rally people to our cause with no proof will just make you be thrown in a facility. Considering what the guild did to that stampede [13 years] ago".
Quirn lets out a defeated sigh. "...Do you think we can somehow bring justice back for them? For those they killed... For my brother."
"I don't know. We're prey, it's hard to think what a sociopath is thinking unless there's a sapient predator friendly enough to tell you. And the only creatures that can do that is the Arxur."
"Know a way how to talk to one?" Quirn jokingly said"
"Live a normal life, predators comes to people who's having a good life".
"Heh, Pretending you're a normal one while you talk about death and murders calmly."
"I don't have one. It's hard to live normally once you meet a predator."
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Hello, please click the link below to take part in my Masters Health Psychology project if you are a cigarette smoker.
https://derby.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_9u8lowRJvVmMDA2
This study aims to examine the impact of message framing and pictorial labels displayed on cigarette packaging and how this influences smokers' intentions to quit. The objectives are to:
-Explore how messages influence smokers’ intentions to quit.
-Investigate the role of images in conveying anti-smoking messages and their impact on smokers’ intentions to quit. Thank you in advance :)

Hello, please click the link below to take part in my Masters Health Psychology project if you are a cigarette smoker.
https://derby.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_9u8lowRJvVmMDA2
This study aims to examine the impact of message framing and pictorial labels displayed on cigarette packaging and how this influences smokers' intentions to quit. The objectives are to:
-Explore how messages influence smokers’ intentions to quit.
-Investigate the role of images in conveying anti-smoking messages and their impact on smokers’ intentions to quit. Thank you in advance :)

Hello, please click the link below to take part in my Masters Health Psychology project if you are a cigarette smoker.
https://derby.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_9u8lowRJvVmMDA2
This study aims to examine the impact of message framing and pictorial labels displayed on cigarette packaging and how this influences smokers' intentions to quit. The objectives are to:
-Explore how messages influence smokers’ intentions to quit.
-Investigate the role of images in conveying anti-smoking messages and their impact on smokers’ intentions to quit. Thank you in advance :)

Hello, please click the link below to take part in my Masters Health Psychology project if you are a cigarette smoker.
https://derby.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_9u8lowRJvVmMDA2
This study aims to examine the impact of message framing and pictorial labels displayed on cigarette packaging and how this influences smokers' intentions to quit. The objectives are to:
-Explore how messages influence smokers’ intentions to quit.
-Investigate the role of images in conveying anti-smoking messages and their impact on smokers’ intentions to quit. Thank you in advance :)

Asian female transferring student looking for room available around UCLA campus starting from August or September for next 2024-2025. Tend to sign long term lease.
Budget is around 900-1100 with parking spot.
About me, I’m majoring in biochem (premed) I’m pretty friendly and chill. I like exploring new restaurants and food, but most of my time is studying. I don’t smoke and drink but I like party.
If anyone looking for roomie or sublease, hmu!

Any tips to make id easier. I'm on day 5

My boyfriend(31M) and I(34F) have been together for over 3 years. We live together and have discussed marriage and starting a family. For the past two years, he has struggled with addiction. For as long as I've known him, he has had an alcohol problem but a series of events at work caused him to eventually start taking pills. At the worst point, he was taking upwards of 10 pills a day.
It caused financial problems and he would tell me he wants to stop taking the pills. After threatening to leave on several occasions, he finally decided to quit and did it cold-turkey. It was a stressful few weeks but we worked through it. Unfortunately he relapsed. I got extremely hurt and angry and wasn't sure how to voice my feelings, so I resorted to hurting him, as I was feeling hurt. I called him a loser and an addict and that he would never change.
We eventually worked it out but then he lost his job. He chose to take that time during unemployment to focus on his sobriety and I couldn't be happier for him. But he was never truly sober. He had cut out the pills but never the liquor, drinking a pint to two pints a day. He was spending all of his unemployment money on liquor and cigarettes, and never contributed to the rent. I voiced my frustrations with him but also felt that I needed to let him have his time. He was still struggling with his addiction and I felt guilty for all the name bashing in the past.
But once his unemployment ran out, he kept coming up with excuses to not find a job. He was smoking weed occasionally so he knew he wouldn't pass a drug screen for a job. His grandmother passed away and he needed to go to Florida to help with the funeral plans. I supported him through everything. I made sure to pay all of our bills and have food on the table. Oftentimes, I would come home from work and he'd still be sleeping, which would cause an argument. I'd resort back to the name-calling, i.e. loser, deadbeat, bum, etc. I always felt bad after the arguments. I love this man with my whole being. I want a life and a future with him but I feel like I was in this alone.
I finally worked up the nerve to leave. He started a new job and called out one day during his first week. I was absolutely livid. It had been almost a year of me paying for all the household expenses, while he focused on getting his life back on track and sober. He told me he was tired. I lost it. Again called him a loser and a deadbeat and no good for nothing. And I left. Went to my parents. Part of me just wanted him to see what it would be like having me gone. Part of me wanted to actually leave. But I love him and I want to work it out.
He now is telling me that it's over. That he's tired of all the emotional and verbal abuse I have forced on him the past 2 years. He's tired of me going to my parents every time we have an argument. He's tired of me confiding in my friends about his addiction. He says we could've worked it out had I stayed, but I chose to leave the house and leave him and go to my parents.
I told him maybe we just need some space and we can come back in a few weeks and figure out what we want, maybe even see a counselor, but he says that he doesn't believe in therapy and just wants to be done.
Now I can't help but feel guilty and ashamed that I left. Perhaps I should've stuck around a little longer and trusted that he would be okay at his job. Perhaps I shouldn't have called him all those names all the time. Perhaps I should've just been there for him.
Tl;dr- addiction and name calling destroy relationship

May 4 2023 I had been separated from my wife of 17 years for 6 months. She had already moved on and was surrounded by the friends I thought I had. I was very much alone. Every time I tried to talk to someone about it, family, counselors, strangers, all i got was platitudes, "You will be ok, this too shall pass." All i could think was, I have never been alright, what the fuck would you think its magically gonna be ok?
It had been going on like this for weeks. I gradually gained and lost ground and ended up in about the same spot. I grew up listening to 80s pop (yea i know) and tried to reconnect to that kid, the last iteration of me that was really happy. I had hoped by reconnecting to the music I had largely forgotten over the decades. The old ballads, the boy that still believed in love and destiny. While i still remember the words to "Something To Believe In", it did not help.
It was a Thursday, I woke up, sent my kids to school and was knocking back energy drinks to try to get some work done. My team had been carrying me for a while at that point, and that does not sit right with me. Its usually the other way around. I sat there thinking that is this was all there is, if human existence has a distinct beginning and a distinct end, then nothing really matters. I got this weird buzzing in the back of my skull. All of the grief, heartache and pain I had been ignoring for decades, hit me at once.
As i lie on the floor, unable to think, barely able to breath, one thought cut though all of it. "You can be done. Living on is expected, but the world will keep spinning after your gone. You're going to fuck your kids up anyway, no sense in watching it. You can be done." That thought "You can be done" got me off of the floor. I buttoned up my projects best i could, took Friday off and said my final goodbye to my team, some of whom i have worked with for 15 years. They had no idea.
"I can be done"
I put my best suit on and took my daughters out to eat. Nothing fancy, but they generally do not get to order whatever they want, and I wanted them to have one last memory of me before i left. I dropped them off with my son, kissed the youngest one goodbye and left, for what i knew was the last time. "I can be done"
I drove to our old house, to look at the tree we planted. It was tall and strong in the breeze and offered little in the way of hope. Stopped at a bar I had been to a dozen times, still no one to talk to. and then I went home. Not to my kids home, mine. The crappy apartment I spent 15 years in growing up. It was someone else's obviously by now, but i went to sit by the cornfield I used to smoke at. "I can be done"
Smoked my last cigarette, watched my last sunset and apologized to the boy I had failed all these years. The one that was broken here, and never really found his place, or his people. The plan was simple enough, drive to the highway, top the car out and hit something solid. To say I was exhausted at this point is an understatement.
I stopped by the gas station by the interstate, got a bottle of water, and sat down in the car. This. Was. It. I could be done. But i was so tired. The phone chimed, and a dude I had not talked to in weeks popped up. "You ok?" Two words. They should have been the last thing i ever read. I still do not know why did not just pitched the phone out the fucking window and been done.
But i did not.

I’ve been coughing this stuff up for months now with no signs of it getting worse . Doctors have said I was fine and I was also given an x ray on my lungs and they said everything checked out normal . No congestion going on or anything that alarmed them. I have had a history of acid reflux . Over the years I stopped taking medication because it’s mostly gone away on its own. Just don’t know what could be causing this . I get this sensation of a build up in my throat and that’s what makes me cough this stuff up . It’s just little bits like this and nothing more . I don’t smoke cigarettes. Only weed

In need of a roommate in small duplex who is okay with a great Dane & cat rescue Female preferred roommate needed. House is furnished but bedroom is not except for the desk. The bathroom is shared. Age doesn't matter as long as you love pets. 2 bedroom one bath small duplex with yard. Rent would be $400 plus shared utilities as they are billed. You are welcome to use my furniture, kitchen utilities, pots, silverware, towels. I don't care if you smoke just do it outside. Yard is fenced with little porch. I would be covering the cost of lawn care. I'm looking for a roommate to move in ASAP in Red Bank Tennessee. Room comes with a nice computer desk & has a closet. I have a 1-year-old Great Dane and a cat that I adopted in our neighborhood. She's very chill and stays out of the way and hangs outside most of the day. You would have to bring your own mattress as room is empty besides the computer desk. Wooden floors, dishwasher, Keurig, washer and dryer and microwave

I acquired a really nice vintage mount today but its felt mount needs to be replaced and has pretty significant cigarette smoke damage.
I think it needs some restoration TLC above my skill level.
I see Vancouver Taxidermy gets really good reviews - has anyone worked with them before? Any other taxidermists in the area one would recommend?

Last year, at the end of the August, I have decided, that I need to lower the nicotine intake and was trying for few days but figured out, that I was constantly in that stupid withdrawal period because I was always craving for another cigarette. So I have bought the Allen Carr's book and right after I have finished it quit cold turkey after 18 years of smoking. First 3 days were the worst, after that the cravings started subside. The things that really helped me to overcome the cravings were sunflower seeds, a lot of water and exercise (10 push-ups or squats each time I had stronger craving). Since then I was able to go socialize, have few drinks and didn't feel the need for cigarette. To all of you doubting yourself that you will be never able to quit, I was there, I was doubting myself and thought that I will be never able to quit and will be the "until the death make us apart" guy but here I am, smoke free for more than 9 months 💪 Fingers crossed for everyone deciding to quit or already at their first days, you can do it.

For anyone who wants to see how things began.
https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/S97b2fqIjx
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

For anyone who wants to see how I got into this situation.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/s/R0DAycoVIm
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

In college, my senior year, I lived with 2 of my friends and their other friend that I didn’t know so well. When we all moved in, I got their first and got probably the best room. Followed by my other two friends that got the next best set ups. Bad roomate, we’ll call him “M”, got the last room, it was by far the least desirable.
First couple months were fine, everyone loved everyone and things were smooth. Some of us would take turns cooking dinner for the house. M would not. About 1-2 months in, M and another roommate got into it over roommates dog. During this time, I was walking back and forth from the kitchen to the living room, eating my Jimmy John’s sandwhich. Just going back and forth talking and eating. When I was in the living room, listening to them go at it, M storms out of the house going through the kitchen.
M grabs the meat off my sandwhich, over half of it was left, and leaves the house. After some laughter, I go back into the kitchen to finish my sandwich, the f-ing meat is gone. I’m in disbelief. 1-sandwhich is ruined. 2-I had nothing to do with the situation and I was actually on M’s side. Everyone that I knew thought that was so funny. When I asked M he said “the dog took it”. That is when I started hating the guy.
This was just the beginning of a long 10 months.
M did not go to school, he did not work. All he did was play Fortnight for 18 hours a day. Not a joke, would sleep from 4am-10am and would play fortnight all day/night.
Now that’s not a problem right? Here we go:
Roomate had an aderall prescription, he would offer me some, I would ALWAYS decline. Wasn’t my thing. M would go through his room when we were gone and steal his adderall. When roommate would ask M about it, M would blame it on me. I made it very clear that when he offered me I declined because I didn’t want. M called me a liar behind my back, I called back to the Jimmy John’s sandwhich incident and immediately got a different response.
Roommate had a 1 of 1 Bong he won in a raffle. We would only hit it on occasion because he was about to sell it. If roomate didn’t want it out , he’d put it in his room. That night, I get home from the bar and go to bed, roomate stayed the night at his a girls house. M came back, took his bong that he was hiding, and M broke the down stem of this 1of1 2k$ bong. M left it on the ground of his room.
The next morning I’m awake when roomate gets back from girls. I hear yelling and stomping down the stairs. Roommate opens my door and said “we knew it would happen”. When Roomate confronted M, M said I was the one to take it out of his room and left it in the living room. For the next few hours, M was getting ripped for taking his bong and breaking it. Eventually he coughed up the money to get it repaired.
What’s next?
Other Roomate, call him O, had another clean nice bong. Where he would not hit tobacco from, M would hit tobacco out of it, and blamed it on… yours truly.
At this point, all M would do was play fortnight for 18 hours a day. It was honestly pathetic. Didn’t socialize, it was unhealthy.
One thing that everyone did that I wasn’t thrilled about was some cigarettes inside. Only time I accepted it was when everyone was drunk. Who cares. My buddy M, would smoke cowboy killers at 3am playing fort night and yelling “he’s on me he’s on me. He’s coming in my box”….. I took school very seriously, I politely say “listen dude. This will be a long rest of the year if you keep behaving like this.
We are still just getting started.
A friend of ours worked at the meat counter of a grocery store. We would get filet mignon for the price of a chicken breast, then he’d throw a few more filets in the bag. It ended up being 4 filets for like 10$. We’d do this like once a week. M would never participate in these “team dinners” instead he’d buy a $2.49 frozen white pizza and eat about 1 a day.
Who cares ?
Well, when we cleaned up and put the left overs in the fridge, Midnight M would raid the leftovers. Guess who he blamed it on… the boy.
This whole time, M did not pay rent, hahahahahahahahaha. Fortnight, chain smoking cigarettes inside, yelling “he’s coming in my box”at 4 am, smoking all the table weed, stealing aderall, stealing leftovers, stealing JJ’s sandwich meat, all while only paying about 2 months of rent
The leasing office calls me and says why haven’t you paid, because they already called M and M blamed no rent on me. I’m yelling at the leasing office calling them idiots saying read the ledger, I apologize and say what can we do to get him out/or paying.
Since it’s a joint tenancy we are all liable.
The end of the year rolls by and he owes 7k in rent, this is because all the fees and owed rent. I ended up leaving and moving back home over the summer, the lease ends and everyone leaves.
About a year later the leasing company serves us and sues us for the owed money. For the first hearing, we all show up, no M. It’s because “he never got handed anything by any sort of official”. That’s not how it works haha.
After countless attempts to get his rent money before we get sentenced. I agree with my Roomate we have to just bite the bullet and take the sentencing. Since the three of us were standup young men, we agreed to split it 4 ways. Even though all of the balance was M…
So there it was, paid in full, charges dropped. Not a single apology or thank you or explanation. Nothing.
M and the other roommates live in the same city and d not keep in touch with M.
I texted him once calling him a bad word…
But that’s the end
I will probably never see m again … but he owes me and I want to strangle him if I don’t get paid.

So, I watched a live awhile back, J Foy to be exact, and he down right said it’s not uncommon for “creators” (I use that term loosely) to pair up and plan and write a script of sorts for upcoming months for content in order to make bank. He himself is one of those that thrive on drama and idk why but was actually being honest. I mean he said, “ uh yeah we can lie and make up life scenarios on this platform but it’s ENTERTAINMENT! Therefore you owe us by gifting us!” It’s no different than a cable bill or a movie ticket he said. He actually was passionate about the fact that he thought viewers owed him for watching him and was quite offended once when he wasn’t gifted in battles.
People with actual talent and can make quality videos and have something to say and contribute don’t need drama for SM income. But there is a side of Tiktok ….well you know the lazy, attention hungry, entitled, and delusional bunch that rely on the lowest standards to make income through SM. Most relevant in this case is the addicted wether to drugs, booze, financial assistance , or attention it’s an addiction. They “create” drama for a buck. I think these women are financing addictions.
This life of these 3 women being so in love w/a person one day and then the next thing you see is they’re at each other’s throats throwing out dirty laundry and all the things happened in a span of 3 months between middle aged grown ass women who all claim they’re strong and independent females that don’t give a fuck. All the while there are several cash grabs and videos and lives that happen as we watch. I mean I don’t know about y’all but after a relapse, heartbreak, or a 13year job loss for a career the last thing I’m gonna do is be on camera in front of strangers on the internet. Ok Nan hasn’t asked for anything but she must be in an I owe you situation where she’s a best supporting actress. Lol. Not her turn this time or most likely she’s an attention whore.
I think Traci saw her job ending weeks ago if not months. That would explain how calm she was today over termination. That’s how Mikki knew today. An alcoholic spiraling can’t make the mornings and 2xs in a rehab situation in half a year and absences at work add up quickly to an employer. Most likely she was told of when her last day would be. Nan lost her job had to find a new one recently and mikki seems to always be in need. Thus a script was written and The 3 stooges love triangle was born.
The only reason I’m putting energy into writing this is because I despise manipulation for profit. These women are sick and they’re users and take advantage of lonely people in their chats. It’s gross. I’m happy Traci lost her job. She’s a liar and took advantage of people that look up to her that follow her.
I do believe Mikki when she said Traci said her followers owe her. Jfoy said that’s a drama creators mindset. Traci, Shame on you. Mikki you lied for money with Traci. Nan, you’re a master manipulator and a jezebel.
If this has been a fictional or partially true story bottom line is they’re all gross and need to examine their lives. STOP using people ladies.

Leonardo Team: OH NO!!! A FICTIONAL CHARACTER SHOULDNT BE BLOCK BY OUR FILTER WE WILL FIX IT BLAH BLAH BLAH.
Me: ok....
After a week and test this characters and what do i expect? blocked because it says "known person is been used as a reference?" WAHAHAHAHAHAHA and leonardo says fictional character isn't supposed to be blocked .SO who is the idiot who set up your so called moderation filter? he/she should be fired for being the greatest idiot making filter for your app.
Tested Fictional Character is block if you use any word like "Sexy" "hot" "bedroom" "shower" of anything with a little bit of nsfw you add and boom it's blocked! HERE ARRE THE SAMPLES SINCE YOU LIKE TO ASK EVERYTIME.
Lola Bunny = BLOCKED
Tifa Lockhart = BLOCKED
Aerith = BLOCKED
Sakura = BLOCKED
Blackwidow = BLOCKED OH WE ALL KNOW WHY THIS ONE IS BLOCKED WAHAHAHAHA
Jessica Rabbit = BLOCKED
Samus Aran = BLOCKED
Cereza From Bayonetta = BLOCKED
Betty Boop = BLOCKED
Daphne Blake = BLOCKED
Velma Dinkley = BLOCKED
Lara Croft = BLOCKED
WonderWoman = BLOCKED. BECAUSE ONE CELEBRITY PLAYED IT SO THEY BLOCKED IT! HAHAHAHA
Gwen Stacy = BLOCKED
Nico Robin = BLOCKED.This one laugh my ass off from one piece seriously? KNOWN PERSON?!! WAHAHA
Harley Quinn = BLOCKED
April O Neil = BLOCKED SERIOUSLY NINJA TURTLE Female character?!
Emma Frost = BLOCKED. JUST BECAUSE OF THE WORD EMMA WAHAHAHAHAHA!! IF YOU REMOVE EMMA AND JUST LEFT FROST IT WILL GENERATE HAHAHA WHAT A LAUGH!
Pepper Potts = BLOCKED
CHUN LI = BLOCKED
JEAN GRAY = BLOCKED
SCARLET WITCH = BLOCKED. You know leonardo is really scared because one actress played this character. so they just blocked it HAHAHAHA this is getting better it really just shows how lame leonardo ai filter is.
Cassandra Cain = BLOCKED
Jessica Jones= BLOCKED. Actually the word "JESSICA" IS ALL BLOCKED HAHAHAHAHA.
Lois Lane = BLOCKED. I Laugh so hard as well because the system told me i use a known person as a reference hahahaha. im having fun doing this.
Anita Blake = BLOCKED
Zatanna = BLOCKED. THIS ONE IS ALSO A LAUGH IS THERE A CELEBRITY PLAYED THIS CHARACTER FOR LEONARDO TO BLOCK IT AS WELL? HAHAHAHA
Scarlett From GI JOE = BLOCKED because of the word "Scarlett" Hahahaha i need to stop laughing.
JUBILEE = BLOCKED
Erza Scarlet = BLOCKED its because of the word scarlet. I know why they blocked it because it reminds of a celebrity anyone? HAHAHAHA
Nobara Kugisaki = BLOCKED just because its a full name they don't bother fixing the filter seriously.
Yor Forger = BLOCKED "Known Person as reference so its blocked" HAHAHAHAHAH Spy Family Seriously?!
Himiko Toga = BLOCKED Just because its a full name HAHAHAH
You want me to continue? or FIX YOUR STUPID FILTER!!!!!!!