#ms mead

[wilhemina-venable]

I'm sorry if I hurt you. It will happen again.

[evilluciferisevil]

The world is ending and I’m the wrong place 1

Pairing : (evetual) Wilhemina Venable x reader

Prompt : Wrong person, wrong place, wrong time. The world is ending, and you took someone’s place to survive, and it wasn’t even your fault. You didn’t want to, you would’ve happily died, but that didn’t happen. Is outpost 3 worth living? Is there someone to live for?

Chapter 1 (this one) - You arrive to the outpost, only to find out, you weren’t supposed to be there. You also meet everyone, and 

Warnings - Angst, mentions of self-harm, mentions of anorexia, suicidal thoughts, sexual content, mentions of past abuse, possible phobias, traumas

Words : 1484 

A/N : In this the reader enjoys dresses, makeup (How much, isn’t specified), etc. She’s also orphan (though adult now). But hair, eyes, skin etc isn’t defined, so it’s a free read for anybody. 

Part 1, 

You knew there wasn’t anything out there. It didn’t make sense. If there were other outposts, why hadn’t you heard anything from them? You knew it was all some cheap hoax. So what was the point in keeping going on?

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Three months ago you arrived into the outpost. All you knew, somebody mistook you for somebody more important, so you were accepted as a purple. It shook you to your core to know, you could’ve died out there, and yet somehow your life continued, simply because of a mistake. It was all like a big joke to you. One casual Thursday you were sitting in your apartment cross-legged on your bed, slender fingers running along the length of the keyboard of your laptop, trying to write yet another job application when your door flung open. You slowly tilted your head up to see what had happened, but that was when someone snatched up the computer from your lap and threw it at the wall, only to return his rough hand to pull you up. Another set of hands, gentler, were also around you as you were forced on your feet and out of your crappy apartment. For some reason you didn’t resist. It wouldn’t matter anyways. Once again, you repeated to yourself that there was nothing and nobody you were leaving behind, so this new place couldn’t be much worse. Oh, how you were wrong. 

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

You had been put to sleep with gas and you couldn’t remember much. You had awoken in a small, tidy room. A very small coffee brown bookcase was in the right wall of your room, alongside the same colored table. On the table was a feather pencil and an ink bottle. A rather long scroll was rolled open before the neatly placed items. Lifting yourself up from the bed, you were taking steps over to the chair in front of the table. However, before you did that, you caught a glimpse of a stand alone mirror in the other corner of the room, so you changed your direction of steps and stood before of the mirror, with a puzzled expression. On you weren’t the cozy clothing from before, no. You were dressed in what looked to be Victorian style clothing. So that caused the pressure in your chest. Ruffling through all the petticoats, the corset and the drawers you hummed. The purple dress was lovely. Perhaps, not the one you’d go for, but still, lovely. You nodded at yourself and opened the huge wardrobe doors. Going through the coffee colored cabinet, which matched everything in the room, you found all you would need to survive. By now, you had figured out that there would be no electronics and you were fine. I mean, who would pick up if you called? Previously you barely had three contacts, and even they were for necessities. 

After going through the small room, even the little bathroom attached to it, you were ready to read the scroll.

“Welcome to Outpost 3, Maryann Howells...”

Something wasn’t right. Your name wasn’t Maryann Howells. That was your landlord’s daughter. How’d they mix you with her? You two were complete opposite. First off, her she was rich, and most certainly didn’t live in the smallest apartment whole Los Angeles had to offer. Well, the mix-up had happened, you could still change, right? The second thing you started to wonder, what that why were you in an outpost. You didn’t want to be here, Maryann could come and fetch her place, you’d happily give it to her. 

“...As you should be aware, the world has ended. Well, most of it. Your father, however, bought you a place here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you wish, as long as you follow my rules...”

And so began the long list of rules, which mind you, were ridiculous for some part. But, what caught your attention, was the loopy signature. “Ms. Venable”. What a curious name. She must be rather rich, or fancy or - 

Knock at the door. You dropped he parchment to the table and turned around to see a short black-haired woman in the doorway. 

“Miss Mead, my name. Follow me.” The woman spat, and started walking. You picked up the parchment and followed after her. After the long, dimly candle lit hallway, she knocked on a wooden door and waited for some permission to open it. A hollow “enter” could be heard and ms. Mead opened the door and lifted her hand to signal for you to go inside. That you did. You nodded at her on the way, but she just glared at you. 

Eyeing around the room you scanned everything quickly, before a cough caught your attention. Swiftly you turned your body to face the stranger in the room. Standing in front of a wooden desk was the most beautiful creature you’ve seen. Fiery red hair was neatly pulled in a sleek hairdo. Black lacy dress covered her whole body, hitting the floor, not by an inch, but perfectly. Her hands were covered by black gloves that looked to be a part of the dress. Those same hands, that had the perfect black manicure, were resting atop a raven skull cane. You could also tell she was wearing a corset and heels, no way she was that tall with great posture without. And you were right. Another cough to pull you out of the daydream. 

“I am ms. Venable, and you are not ms. Howells.” She stated the obvious, and her voice was like of a siren’s. You needed to hear more of it. 

“That I am not. I am ms Y/L/N, Y/N to be exact. And to answer the obvious,no, I have no idea why I am here.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

It was obvious ms. Venable liked you. Three months had passed since she and you were introduced. Those three months that had felt the best for her, had felt the worst for you. Of course, Venable had had her battles within her head, but even she couldn’t ignore feeling love. Love for you. It was weird. Usually, she’d hate people like you. You were basically a nobody. None of the purples, even less the grays, had found out anything about you. You seemed, and were, closed off, wary and perhaps even shy. It bothered her. And the fact that whenever she seemed to speak to you, you didn’t seem scared, or even intimidated. And somehow you found the audacity to speak against her, if she was being ruthless, mean or otherwise... Venable. But then again, perhaps she didn’t love you. Perhaps, she just needed you to crack your shell. You hadn’t realized Venable acting a bit tougher around you, or the way she tried to steal long gazes from you. The way she looked at you when you were reading a book, thinking you were alone. Th way she always spared you from every punishment, others already had been through multiple times. All you had realized, was the feeling of being trapped, like a rat. You couldn’t leave the outpost without someone noticing, and most likely getting executed on the spot. The feeling of being paranoid of all the people surrounding you. Everyone... Except Venable. Something about her fascinated you. But you had come to the conclusion, she would not open up about anything, unless you did. So you didn’t. You let her be just like everyone else. Nobody mattered, nothing mattered. 

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Even before learning the world was ending, you had felt empty. You had nobody. You grew up in the system, all alone. Your parents had abandoned you, nobody adopted you due to your mental illnesses, no matter how well hidden you tried to keep them. The scars and your bony figure never let you forget about everything. Yet, something kept you from ending it all. There you were, sitting on your bathroom floor, looking at the very old fashioned blade filled with blood, thinking how smoothly it would cut your arm open. It would take no time. and your body would be discovered in the morning. It would probably take only a few more cuts around your body to pass out. There were plenty bleeding cuts on your legs, your arms, your stomach, name it. Just as you were about to press the blade on your wrist, you heard a gasp and receding steps. Perhaps it was a grey, and now they were on their way to tell Venable. You thought about running after them, but to your disappointment, you realized all the blood and still bleeding cuts. Plan B, clean up and pretend as if nothing ever happened. 

And that’s what you did, pretend like nothing happened. It was the next day, right after lunch, half a cube of that horrid jello, that ms. Mead came to the library. 

“Ms. Venable demands your presence in her office, now.”

[stupidocupido]

tous les mêmes

tous les mêmes, a Split (2016) AU. 

Three witches wake up in an unknown place after being attacked by a man. Abused and scared they wait in a locked room for what’s next. The one who took them is not like others, because he is not really one person. Stuck in his body are multiple personalities. All waiting for the worst one to come out...

I came up with this idea about a year ago as a joke during a convo with @/avesatanormalpeoplescareme (gone but not forgotten lol). She actually kinda came up with the ending, so I have to give her credit for that! 

This fic is also published at the archive. 

Warnings: non-con, dubcon, sexual content, kidnapping, violence, stockholm syndrome, told in fragments, christian!reader, virgin!reader

Involves: jim, michael, duncan and xavier (and some more) 

Tous les mêmes 

one Her head is throbbing, her muscles are sore. Her eyes are still closed, she is afraid to open them. There hangs an iron like smell in the air, the air itself is pressing on her loins. Her hand goes to her neck, her fingers automatically close around the silver cross that is hanging there. 

The weak cough that is coming from her left makes her eyes finally snap open. She immediately scans the room for an exit. There is only one, and it is closed. There are no windows either, their light comes from a single fluorescent light bulb on the ceiling. 

It feels like she’s underground, but for all she knows she can be in some sort of garage as well. 

There is another cough, and her eyes finally find the source of it. It is fellow witch Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt. Sitting with her on the bed is Mallory, another witch. She sits up straight now, watching the other girls. 

“Where are we?” Coco asks. 

What a dumb question. As if they’re not locked in the same room. She remembers the attack. There had been a fight, someone had attacked them from behind. Her hand goes automatically to her cheek when she thinks about earlier. Her skin feels painful and is burning. She can feel dried up blood where it hurts. 

The other two girls don’t look too good either. Coco her blonde hair is a mess, her blouse is ripped, and the skin around her left eye is blue. Mallory looks even worse, her lip is split and there is blood beneath her nose. 

Mallory does not ask questions. She places an calming hand on Coco’s trembling shoulders. “That does not matter, what matters is how we get out.” 

“Good, you girls are awake.” 

Three heads turn around to watch where the sound comes from. 

A tall blonde man watches them from the opened door. His grey blouse seems expensive. His hair is kept back with lots of gel. He is the one who attacked him, he is the one who took them. But somehow, he looks different now. 

She doesn’t know what it is. But when his eyes fall into hers, she needs to resist the urge to grab for her necklace. His stare is so intense, almost as if he is trying to find her biggest weakness. She stares back at him, trying to remember his face for when they escape. 

When he looks away, her stomach feels heavy and her head is weirdly light. 

“Don’t bother trying your magic on me. Magic doesn’t work here.” 

He is looking at Mallory’s fists now. 

“You. You seem feisty, I choose you.” 

Mallory is the strongest of the three of them. But without her magic she is just a small girl with not a lot muscle to defend herself from her much taller attacker. The man grabs her, a nasty grin on his handsome face. Mallory struggles, but he is too strong for her. So she screams, the first thing she learned. “Pee yourself! Pee yourself!” 

Coco tries to free Mallory from their kidnapper, but she’s not strong enough. And when the door closes, it’s just the two of them. Coco is trying to get the door open, to save her friend. Her nails are scratching the iron and she’s screaming Mallory’s name. She is still sitting on her bed, frozen and afraid. 

It’s a minute later when the door is smashed open again. Coco falls on the ground. A crying Mallory gets pushed into the room again by their kidnapper. He looks disgusted, Mallory her legs are wet. The door closes with a bang and it’s the three of them again. 

Much later is Coco still holding the crying Mallory. She is stroking her back, whispering words she cannot hear. She feels like she is watching someone else’s tragedy from the rusty bed. And it always had been like this. At the academy where Cordelia only has eyes for her star pupils. 

She is nothing like them, even though she so badly wants to fit in. She is an unusual duck in a group of swans. She belongs in the water; yes. But she does not belong with them. 

two They’re trying to come up with a way to escape without having to use magic. They can be smart, there must be a way to trick their capturer. They had of course tried using magic, but he had not lied. Nothing worked, it seemed all they had now was their fists and intelligence. 

“Maybe we can distract him. If one of us can escape it’ll be enough.” Mallory tries. 

“We don’t know where we are! Maybe we are in the basement of some cult. How can you be so sure there aren’t other doors behind this one?” She shakes her head, there must be another way. 

“Then what do you propose? That we wait around for Cordelia to get us? We may be dead by then.” Coco’s voice is annoyed. She shrugs, she doesn’t know what to do either. But running doesn’t seem like the best option. 

When the door opens again the witches stop their whispering. He is wearing a long black dress now. His hair is styled in a different way. His eyes scan their faces and the way they look. 

“Don’t you kids look awful, oh sweet Satan! I knew he wouldn’t be able to control his urges.” He shakes his head. His voice sounds different than before. It’s higher pitched, it almost has something feminine. 

The three witches share a look, none of them know what is going on. Maybe he is playing with them to confuse them. To make them weaker, to make them easier to take when he is done playing. 

“He knows he is not allowed to touch any of you. I will talk with him.” He shakes his head again. 

Then his eyes fall upon her face. She feels herself getting cold when his eyes are staring her up and down. Is he going to take her now? 

He comes closer, there is concern in his eyes. She can see how Coco and Mallory look at each other and then at the door he had left open. 

He leans down, so that they are on eye level. She does not move away when his hand goes to touch her face. Long fingers trace the cut on her cheek. His fingers are cold against the throbbing skin. His blue eyes are filled with wonder as he leans in closer to examine the wound. “Don’t you worry my dear, I will take care of you.” 

“Who are you?” It’s a way to keep him distracted, but she is also genuinely interested. Why is he acting like he is someone else? 

“Oh, silly, I am Ms. Mead of course.” 

His eyes are so blue, that she is taken back by them. Now his hair is not being kept back by gel, it gives it the chance to be in its natural state. His blonde curls are wild and beautiful. He does not look crazy to her, not like someone who would kidnap three girls. But he knows they have magic, there must be something more. 

There is something about his face that feels familiar. Maybe it is because it straight comes from the paintings how they image heaven to be like. 

He is studying her as she is studying him. There is something about him that is not right. But there is also something that is very right. Something familiar, something that reminds her of Cordelia and nights of studying magic spells. 

“Coco! Run!” 

The spell is broken, he is someone else now. Something changes in his eyes, she can’t exactly pinpoint what it was, but something is different. He stands up so sudden it hurts her head. She scrambles back on the bed, afraid for what he is going to do now. 

But he does nothing, he stays very calm. Too calm. He turns his back on her, facing the opened door where Coco ran through instead. He looks more annoyed than panicked. 

“Did you really think I don’t have this whole place locked down? After every door you will find a new one.” 

A desperate cry is the proof of his words. He leaves the other two witches without giving them another glance. And when the door closes behind him, the echo from Coco’s screams can still be heard in their room much later. 

three “Where is Coco?” Mallory her voice is sharp. He looks more optimistic than normal. He is wearing earrings and shorts now. Another personality? So far, they had met three versions of him. The one who took them, Ms. Mead and now this one. 

He walks towards Mallory, squeezing her cheek. “Coco is where all good girls go to.” His voice is amused. This character seems to be more of a tease than the others. 

“And where do good girls go?” Mallory is not afraid and she damns her for it. Why can’t she be quiet?  He laughs loudly, finally letting go of her cheek. 

“I don’t know, ask Billie Eilish.” 

He looks around the room. “Pff, this place is a mess.” He places his hands on his hips, he is looking at her now. She rolls her eyes, finally showing some sort of emotion. But it is Mallory who once again says something. 

“Didn’t you know that kidnappers don’t hire cleaners?” 

She sends Mallory a look. Does the girl have a death wish? Normally she would understand Mallory’s confidence. She is the future supreme after all. Mallory is popular because she is kind. Confident because she is loved and fearless because she is powerful. But she is none of that right now. 

He looks Mallory up and down, his smile almost mocking her. 

“You all look hungry, let me make you girls a sandwich. The best chef in the world taught me how to do so.” 

He opens the door again, gesturing with his hand that they should follow him. They both stand up from their beds, she walks behind Mallory away from their prison. 

Where their room is dimly lit, the hallways are anything but. The place is sterile, and everything is white. It reminds her of a hospital or maybe even a lab. There are a lot of doors, but none of them indicate Coco’s presence. She wonders if the other witch is still here. She doesn’t want to think about other options. 

The kitchen he leads them to is really messy. But here the floor and walls are white as well. There are again no windows. This makes her think they might be underground after all. However, it is clear that this place is huge. 

He gestures them to sit down at the table. He turns his back on them. He is gathering bread, peanut butter and jam. Her eyes stay on the large knife in his hands. He uses it to put everything on the bread. 

“What is your name?” She breaks the silence. She watches how he cuts the sandwiches in half with the large knife. The chairs they’re sitting on are very uncomfortable. Mallory moves in her chair. She’s watching the knife as well. 

He looks over his shoulder, showing her his white teeth. “Xavier.” 

When he turns his back to the counter, he has two plates in his hands. He had made them peanut jelly sandwiches. She stares at the bread, wondering if it might be poisoned. 

Mallory is the first one to bite into the food. So she follows. Slowly she chews on the bread, it doesn’t taste like it’s poisoned. 

“And?

Do you like it?” He watches them eat. He seems to be impatient for an answer. 

Her and Mallory share a look, before nodding. “It’s delicious, you should become a professional.” She is being truthful; the food is good. But perhaps it is also because it’s the first thing she ate in a while. 

“Neh, I want to be an actor. You girls want another one?” He is looking at their empty plates. 

Mallory smiles very careful. She can see something building in her dark eyes, she is planning something. “That would be amazing, thank you.” 

Xavier moves to the counter again. He takes four slices of bread, throwing them on the cutting board without a care. 

“The trick is to use just a little bit more jelly. And always put it on white bread.” While Xavier is working on the sandwiches, Mallory had stood up from her chair. She is moving quietly away from the table, to stand behind it. 

She makes eye contact with her. Shaking her head, pointing with her head towards the big knife he has in his hand. But Mallory ignores her. Her hands wrap around the chair, pulling it from the ground. 

She throws the chair against his back with all her strength. He falls down against the counter, the knife still in his hand. He lets out a painful gasp. When he turns around, Mallory is throwing her plate in his direction. It hits his chest, it breaks in three pieces when it falls to the ground. 

Mallory wastes no time, sprinting towards the door. It is not locked, but she can see from here that behind the door is another hallway. 

Xavier looks at the door and then at her. His cheeks are flustered with anger. 

“Go to your room.” His voice is murderous, his eyes are flaming. 

“NOW!”

He shouts when she doesn’t move. She is too afraid to not do what he told her to do. So she runs from the kitchen, runs through the white hallways and lets herself fall on her thin mattress. 

There she prays and cries for her sisters. She prays for Mallory to get out and for them to be saved. She prays for Cordelia to find them and for Coco to still be alive. 

It’s hours later that she stops mumbling to her god. Mallory doesn’t return and neither does he to lock the door again. 

With cheeks that are wet and a throat that is sore, she watches how the lights in the halls turn off. Will she ever get out of here? 

four His feet are bare, he is wearing a yellow shirt and his hair is messy. He is sitting in the opened door, watching how she slept. Or more like how she pretended to sleep. 

“What is your name? I am Michael.” He sounds very young, his head is tilted like a dog that is waiting for a treat. 

She tells him her name. He does not stand up, instead he moves his knees to come closer to her. He is holding something in his hands. She can’t see what it is. 

“What is your favourite colour? Mine is red.” She frowns at his question. What does he want? 

“I don’t think I have one.” 

He lets out an annoyed sound. “Who doesn’t have a favourite colour? You’re weird.” She tries not to feel offended, not when he is acting like a young child. But what if he is that young child? What if this is her way out? 

“Michael, how old are you?” 

“Ten, how old are you?” 

She laughs, surprised with his answer. It doesn’t look like he is playing her. He seems to think he really is a ten-year-old boy. 

“A little older than you, I am afraid.” 

“Oh. Will you play a game with me?” He shows her what he had been hiding from her.  It’s a small red racing car. It looks so small in his large hands, it isn’t right. She looks up to watch his face instead. She swallows, her stomach empty, her throat begging for water. But she knows it is better to amuse her captor and his many personalities. 

“I am too thirsty to play games, Michael.” 

She can see something change in his demeanor; like a child who does not get what he wants this grown man is about to cry. She wonders, how can he be so dominating and small at the same time? 

How can he be grown but still look like a child? She grips his hands before he can cry. His eyes immediately go to where she holds him. 

“Maybe you can get me some water? We can play after.” 

But Michael shakes his head, already moving away from her.  “I don’t think Duncan will like that, but maybe Ms. Mead can bring you some.” 

She grabs his arm before he can truly leave her. “We can play later then. Maybe tomorrow night?” 

He looks down at where she is holding him, but when he looks up again, he is smiling. 

“As long as you don’t tell the others I was here!” 

She smiles, letting go off his arm. “It will be our secret.” 

five “How many of you are there?” He had brought a box with toys the next night. She’s sitting on the thin mattress now, he is still on the floor. The cars and the dolls they were playing with long forgotten. 

“About ten. But Duncan and Ms. Mead are the strongest ones.” 

Duncan, Ms. Mead, Xavier, Michael.

That are four, will she ever meet the other six? Does she want to meet the other six? Michael had picked up a game console from the ground. It’s an old Gameboy, she used to own one that looked exactly like this one. 

But Michael doesn’t turn it on to play, instead he is watching her necklace. “Do you believe there is a god?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then you also must believe there is a devil.” She feels uncomfortable, she doesn’t like to think about there being one. 

“I guess there must be evil as well.” 

“He is in us. They’re trying to lure him out. That’s why the three of you were taken. But I won’t let them hurt you! We’re friends now!” 

He is offering her the Gameboy. She can feel her stomach turn over. She thinks everyone has something evil inside of them, but the literal devil? But she nods, taking the game console from Michael. 

“Yes, we are friends.” 

“I don’t think you are a good friend.” A different voice, his smile is even different now. She let’s go of the game console, it falls down to the ground. 

He is eyeing the cross that’s hanging just above her breast like Michael did. 

“I bet you are one of those virgin girls who say they gave themselves to god. But I know you are a freak, ready to be ripped apart.” She knows this personality; it is the one that took them. Duncan, the cocky fuck boy.  If they weren’t captured Madison probably would have liked to fuck him, just to degrade him. 

Her hand goes to the cross hanging just above her breasts, she refuses to answer him.  The steel is warmed by her skin, it feels comfortable in the palm of her hand. A beacon of hope, she does not dare to pray now. But when she is alone, she does. 

“I bet your cunt will be so tight when I take your virginity. I bet you will bleed, I bet you will scream for me.” Duncan comes dangerously close to her bed. She looks away from him, watching her knees, she tries to control her breathing. 

The mattress sinks where he sits on it. She wants to move away from him, but his hand is cupping her cheek, forcing her face in his direction. “Will you be a good Christian girl for me? I can be your god.” 

She moves her head away from him, shifting her body to the other side of the bed. 

“You are no god.” 

It is the first thing she says. It makes Duncan laugh; his body is shaking with it. Duncan his laugh is different from Ms. Mead’s and even Michael’s laugh. He moves closer to her body, gripping her leg. He is too strong for her. 

“No, we are the devil. And right now I want to taste one of god’s fruits.” He pushes her down, she screams. She tries to hit him, but it has no use. She closes her eyes when his hand grabs her breast. She prays to a god, who does not seem to care. Why her? Why was she taken? 

“I bet you like this, I bet this is what you pray for when the door closes.” With his other hand he opens the blouse. Impatient he pulls at the buttons, he almost tears the fabric apart. His cold hand goes into her blouse, his hand is pushed into her bra. His nails press into her flesh when he cups her breast. She cries out in pain, her body struggling against his. 

Duncan his breath is hot against her skin, his hand kneads her breast. She tries to escape, but it has no use. His mouth is placed against the pulse in her throat, he sucks at the skin very lightly. The moan she lets out because of his motions stiffens her. 

And then suddenly he moves away. His breathing is uneven, his hair is a mess. “I am sorry, I am sorry. Please forgive us. He knows he is not allowed to touch you; but sometimes he has urges.” Another personality, she does not know this one yet. 

“Who are you?” She asks, closing the blouse Duncan had opened so forcefully. He gives her a weak smile. 

“Jim.” 

six It is Jim who opens the door the next time and all the times after. She can see it in the way he walks and in the way he smiles. Even his face is softer than the other personalities. Where she tried to manipulate Michael first, she now knows she should try Jim. 

In the beginning he doesn’t talk a lot about himself, but he is very interested in her. Everything she tells him; he seems to care about. Always asking for more and more. From her favourite colour to what she likes to drink before she goes to bed. From her first love to her worst fears. 

She tells him, because there is nothing else to do. She can’t escape him anyway. Whenever she thinks she has a chance, Jim slips away from her. 

Jim only starts telling her more about his past after a few days. He was the first one. The only one. But due to circumstances at home he had turned to drugs. Maybe it was the trauma of having an abusive mother, a father that doesn’t care and a sister that doesn’t understand him what caused all of this. Maybe he took too much drugs and created someone who cares. Someone who understands, someone who will never leave him behind. 

His parents had died during a tragic fire, where their whole house burned to the ground. His sister had decided to leave it all behind. Travelling the world for her to never return. Leaving him alone and unloved. 

She can see him now, alone in a burned house with no one who cares about him. The only one he had was himself, so maybe that is why he decided to create people who would care.

Or maybe all of it is real. Maybe there are personalities trapped inside this man. He did know they were witches. Maybe he is cursed, maybe that is why he took them. Hoping that the three of them could help him to become just Jim again. She doesn’t know why she is here. But what she does know, is that she feels sorry for Jim. 

He needs to be loved; he does not deserve to be sad. 

“All I ever really wanted to do was surf.” His smile is so sad that it burns. It might have been weeks, it might have been just a couple days. But he is all she knows now, the only friendly face, the only one who cares about her. The one who knows what others don’t, and the one who was willing to ask for more. When she is with him, she no longer is just a duck swimming in the same direction as the more majestic swans. With him, she is something entirely rare. He makes her feel like she is like there is no one else like her.  

And when he tells her with eyes filled with years that he wants her to be free, she isn’t so sure if she wants to be. He tells her that he had tried to free them. But when he even thinks about not locking the doors, they take over. 

But the thought alone is enough, he does not want to steal her freedom. He wants her, them, to be free. And she wants that for him as well, she wants him to taste what freedom is. She wants them to taste it together. 

She can heal him; magic can make him whole again. She can make his days bright and they can just do what he always had wanted to do. 

So she is the one to kiss him when he tells her his favourite colour is blue. Long but soft, eager to heal all that once burned with pain. To kiss his aching away and make him forget about the others. Her fingers are digging in his hair, the taste of him on her tongue. He smells like the sea, and it feels like she’s in falling into deep waters. 

They kiss and kiss, until her lips grow sore and her panties are wet. 

When he leaves, she slides the cross between her index and middle finger. Asking god why something forbidden feels so right. 

She thinks of blue and how he described it. How it is the sky and how it is the sea. How it is sadness and how it is honesty. But to her, it is only his eyes. And that might be her new favourite thing. 

seven “I want you to be free, really.” He is grabbing her hand, as if he is afraid his words aren’t enough to convince her. But she doesn’t need much convincing to know that he is being truthful. She moves their intertwined fingers up to her face. She pushes her head against the back of his hand, a small smile is playing on her lips. 

“Maybe we can start small. Why don’t we go to your room?” 

He takes her to the kitchen, her hand in his. He opens the door, behind it there is another hallway. This place is so much like a maze, that she wonders if it was built to keep people in. Maybe it was built to keep them in, but it could also be built to keep him in. 

This hallway is not empty. There are all sorts of electronica lying around. She even spots an ancient computer screen. There are multiple doors here as well, but he is leading them towards the one opposite the door they came from. He does not give her the chance to take the place properly in. He almost seems desperate in his movements. Almost as if he is afraid another personality will take over if he’s not fast enough. 

Behind the second door is grey concrete stairwell that goes up. This place is badly lighted. It reminds her of the stairs that are in underground parking lots. 

It maybe takes them five minutes to reach the top. And at the top there is another closed door. He unlocks that door and when he opens it, her eyes need to adjust to the bright light. 

She knows better to ask what kind of place this is. But it seems like her earlier guesses where right. They are in some sort lab. The third door had led them to some sort of welcoming hall. There is one desk standing in the weird room and it’s empty. Maybe it’s night. She can’t really tell the time anymore. 

The fourth door he opens, leads them finally to his bedroom. 

It’s not a big room. It almost looks like some sort prison cell.  His bed is placed against the concrete wall. There are no windows and the walls are empty. There is a small dresser opposite the bed and there are toys on the floor. They’re Michael’s, she recognized the red car immediately. 

Jim closes the door behind them, she pretends she doesn’t notice that he locks it. 

“They’re still alive.” He suddenly tells her when they sit down on his bed. 

She is ashamed for not asking it herself. She had only been thinking about him and how she could save them. Never thinking about the wellbeing of Mallory and Coco. 

Jim frowns.  “You don’t look happy. They’re kind of your sisters, right?” 

She shakes her head. 

“I don’t think I ever really belonged with them. I love them and they love me. But it’s never as much as they love each other.” 

Jim is silent for a while. She doesn’t mind the silence; she has a lot to think about. Being a witch is everything that her faith taught her to be wrong. So it was real shock for her to discover she actually is what her parents consider a sin. She hasn’t spoken with her parents ever since she moved to New Orleans. The other girls are all that she has left. 

“Maybe we all are just trying to find something to hold onto. You your faith and perhaps the other witches. Me the others inside of me.”  Jim his voice is soft, he is not looking at her, he’s watching the wall. She grabs his hand, forcing his attention on her once again. She let’s go when she has his attention. 

“Do you ever feel alone?” She asks. 

“All the time, even though I never really am. There is no one who can truly understand what it’s like to be me.” 

Her smile is sad, because he is right. She will never understand what it’s like to be him. But in return he will never know how it is to be like her. 

“I feel so empty most of the time, as if something is missing. As if a part of me was taken when I found out I was a witch.” 

“Because of your faith?” He looks at her again. She shrugs, not sure what exactly is what makes her feel like this. 

“I guess so.” 

Jim is silent, when he speaks again his voice is very soft. 

“It feels like you understand me better than anyone else ever has.” He is looking at his knees. His sad tone breaks her heart. She grabs his hand again, her other she brings to his face. She is touching his chin, forcing his head up. 

“Maybe it’s because they never tried to.” She whispers. He opens his mouth to immediately close it again. He leans closer, her hand still on his face. 

There is an urgency in his kiss that never was there before. She doesn’t mind it, welcomes it even. She feels like a walking cliché, but with every kiss he gives her, she wants more. She moves her legs up the bed, allowing him to push her down on it. 

Her hands creep up under the shirt he’s wearing. His skin is smooth beneath her exploring fingers. He almost has no scars. She expected there to be burns, because of the story how his parents had died. But there are none. Maybe he had been safely outside when it had happened. 

He helps her take his shirt off, he throws it next to his bed. She can feel the heat of his skin through her blouse. And it’s not enough, she wants to feel his skin against her own. He is fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. One by one he opens them, exposing her skin to the cold air of his room. 

He kisses her again, leaving wet prints of his lips on her skin. He goes lower and lower, until he is at her pants. When he looks up, she only nods. 

She wiggles from her pants, leaving her in only her underwear. 

Jim does not stare at her body, instead he looks at her face. He places his warm hand on her stomach, he slowly moves it down. He moves his hand until it is between her legs. She feels heated, with him being so close to where no one was before. The only thing between their skin, is the thin cotton of her underwear.

He never loses eye contact. When she doesn’t stop him, he looks away. He starts to rub over her underwear. First only his thumb. But when her body starts to relax, he removes his thumb with index and middle finger. He moves in a slow steady pace, which feels really good. 

She had touched herself before. But being touched by someone else is different. It’s a good different, she decides. But maybe that is because he knows what is doing. Not too much pressure, but he’s also not too soft with her. It’s almost as if he knows exactly what she wants. 

“Oh Jim, it feels so good.” 

He takes this is as an invitation to slide her underwear down her legs. He continues his rubbing, but it feels even better now. His fingers slide easy through her wet folds. It didn’t take him much at all to make her this wet. 

Maybe it is because he is so careful, maybe it is because she’s so turned on, but it doesn’t feel as weird as she thought it would be when he pushes one finger inside of her. 

His finger is obviously larger than hers. At first that’s the only thing she can think of. How it feels to have him inside of her. But when the feeling becomes somewhat normal, she can focus on the pleasure it brings her. 

She doesn’t even really notice he had added a second finger. Her hips move shamelessly into his touch, her soft moans are filling her own ears. She didn’t know she could make sounds like that. But it only feels natural. He is so soft with her, so sweet for her. Her hands grab for the sheets. The cotton clenched in her sweaty fists. The soft moan she lets out sounds like his name, when the feeling of release washes over her. 

His palm is wet because of her, she almost feels ashamed when she sees it. Jim brings his hand to his face, sniffing her scent in. It is a bit weird to her, but in a way it’s also very hot. 

He is pulling his pants down now, exposing the bulge in his boxers. A jolt goes through her body. She did this. She isn’t sure why she likes it so much. Maybe because this means she has as much control over him as he has over her. 

“Lie down.” She orders him. He does what he is told, watching how she is the one exploring his body now. She doesn’t kiss him like he was kissing her, she only gives him a very light touch. Her index finger tracing from beauty mark to beauty mark. When she arrives at his underwear, she looks at him again. 

“Do you want me to touch you there?” 

“Fuck, yes.” 

He pushes his body up so she can remove his underwear. His cock springs free, almost hitting his stomach in the process. She has never seen one this close before. She is fascinated by it. By how soft and vulnerable it looks. She wonders how it feels like. Does she need to be soft with it, or does he prefer someone who is rough? She looks away from it, afraid to make him feel uncomfortable if she stares for too long. 

“Can you show me how to touch you?” Her cheeks grow hot, she feels embarrassed that she has to ask. Jim sits up a little, leaning on one elbow. 

“Give me your hand.” 

He brings her hand to his cock. “Just wrap your hand around it.” He feels warm in her hand, and she likes how it feels. He wraps his hand around hers then. He starts to move their hands down and up. Up and down, down and up. Until they fall in a pace he apparently likes. 

When he removes his hand from hers, she keeps up the pace he had set. She moves her hand like he showed her to do. A bit hesitant at first, but she grows more confident when he lets out a low moan.

She decides to test it a little. She goes a little slower, to go faster again when he lets out another moan. She leans closer to it, so she can place her free hand beneath the moving one. 

With every sound he lets out, she grows more confident. Her hand goes down to cup his balls. She once had one of the witches talk about them and how they should not be forgotten. 

“Stop, or I’ll come.” His voice is sharp, it almost sounds pained. She removes her hands immediately, afraid she did something wrong. 

She turns her head to watch him. When looks up to her it’s as if nothing else really matters anymore. He loves her and she thinks she can love him. They’re all God’s creatures and she was taught to care for them all. She never felt like this before. Is it her wanting to fix him? Or is because she really loves him? And does it really matter? 

“Kiss me.” She doesn’t know what else to say, not when his body is trembling under her touch like this. 

He obeys, he crawls on top of her so he can kiss her. His skin is so hot against hers, it makes her feverish. She wants all of it, she wants to be burned by his skin and touch. She wants to burn to ashes with him. Collided, connected, together forever. She wants all of him, she wants him to have all of her. 

His cock is hard and ready against her stomach, he must want her as badly as she wants him. 

“Jim, I am ready.” 

“Are you sure?” She can feel him against her entrance. And she knows she’s ready for this. She reaches her hands out to touch his face. His beautiful, angelic face. She moves her hands from his face, bringing them slowly to his back. 

“Yes, I want this.” He kisses her again. Her nose, her cheek, her mouth and her throat. She sighs, her finger spread on his skin. He enters her very slowly. He kisses her when she lets out a gasp when he’s fully inside. 

And for a very blissful moment she feels whole again. There is no pain, only a dull ache. The feeling of being one, the feeling of being with someone you love. She never thought she would give herself away in a situation like this. But it is happening right now, and it feels so good. 

Jim his eyes are closed, his body is trying to stay still. His hands are placed on the pillow on both sides of her head. She can see sweat dripping between his furrowed brows. “You feel so good, you’re so tight. Please tell me it does not hurt.” 

Her hands move up, her fingers intertwined with his curls. “No, you feel very good, it does not hurt.” This is all Jim needs to hear to start his movements. 

Tears fall from her eyes, not out of pain but because all the emotions that are swirling around her head. What is she doing? Why is she doing this? But all of her doubts shatter when his hips fall down on hers once again. 

A surprised moan comes out when he hits a spot. She did not expect for it to feel good. “What was that?” He immediately asks, his voice worried. 

“Do that again.” She says breathlessly. 

Jim circles his hips in a way, the thrust harder this time. It hurts a little, but it is not an unpleasant feeling. It reminds her of the feeling that comes with pushing on blue marks. She used to do that a lot when she was younger, the pain it gives is dull enough. Only this feels better, this is the best kind of hurt. 

Her nails are scraping his back. The skin destroyed beneath her nails. Suddenly his movements become rougher, the voice he speaks with now different. 

“I knew you were a freak!” 

This is not Jim, this is someone else. She tries to push him off, but he won’t move. Her nails curl into his skin. “Go away, I don’t want you here.” 

She finally is able to push him of her. He laughs when he falls down on the mattress. She feels dirty, she feels used. But above all of that she’s angry with him for ruining the moment she had with Jim. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell your god that you’re a dirty slut.” It’s too much, she had enough of him and his taunting words. 

“You pathetic excuse of a personality, you’re worthless. You’re nothing, no one will miss you when you fall from the light.” 

“You fucking bitch.” Duncan harshly grabs her wrists. His eyes scream murder, but she doesn’t care. She pulls herself from his grip. “I am not scared of you.” 

She spits in his face. A feeling of triumph masters her, when she sees how shocked he looks. 

But then, something changes. 

A low growl breaks from his throat as all the colour is drenched from his face. Veins become visible when his skin grows paler and paler. The lights in the room are flickering, she is getting cold. The blue of his eyes disappears, leaving his eyes black and soulless. She slowly moves away from him, until her back hits the wall. 

He no longer is Duncan, he no longer is like any of the other personalities. He is the demon from all her nightmares. He is the devil, he is all that is evil. She wants to scream, call for her Jim to come back, for any of them to come back. But nothing comes out. Her mouth is opened in a silent scream, when the demon leans closer to her. 

He pushes his nose against her throat, smelling there where her she can feel her own heartbeat. His skin is dry and as cold as ice. His cold hand takes hold of her shoulder to push her down. The scream finally comes out. A raspy sound that does not sound like her own voice. But at least something is coming from her. She screams, but no one can really hear her. 

His claw like hand is placed upon her mouth, silencing her immediately. His body is pressed against hers keeping her in her place. She struggles against him, but it has no use. Behind her is concrete, in front of her is the demon. 

She can’t move, she can’t escape. It’s teeth are scraping against her skin. It’s breathe is hot and stinks of blood. This is the moment she will be killed, she is sure of it. Its mouth is at her ear now. He will rip it off, he will eat her alive. 

The tip of its toxic tongue licks her jaw. A shudder goes through her body because of the sensation. Her nipples harden because of the small gesture. She damns herself for responding to it like she does. Hell will swallow her whole if the demon will not. 

It nips at her skin like she is something sweet that should be savoured. Her back arches when his mouth is at her throat. Her body moves in response, rubbing against the demons. 

Its teeth sink in her skin, she cries out in pain. Blood pours from the wound, wetting her throat, it drips upon the mattress they lie on. It feels strangely good. Maybe it is because she’s close enough to dead to feel heaven. 

She falls down on her back when he leans away from her. Whimpers fall from her mouth, her hands automatically go up to touch the wound. She tries to close it, but she doesn’t think it has any use. He will kill her anyway. She starts to cry; she doesn’t want to die like this. Naked and afraid, eaten alive by a demon. 

He climbs on her, ready to bite again. His hands are placed on both sides of her head. Her own blood drips from his chin on her face when he leans closer to her face. 

He licks the wound he had made and she lets him. This isn’t a terrible way to go. One bite and she will be gone. Her eyes close, tears are still falling from them. Cold hands are wrapped around her throat now. At least she will die loving someone. Jim, Jim, she could not save him. 

Her eyes snap open when the beast let’s out a howling sound. What is she doing? When did she become something helpless, when did she something that no longer craves for control? She always finds a way out, so why doesn’t she find one now? So she pushes back, with all her strength. Until the demon falls on his back and she’s on top. 

She looks down on him. His face is covered in her blood, the flickering lights in the room are mirrored in his black eyes. The veins she can see beneath his skin remind her of storms and their lighting. 

But she sees something else too. He is still Jim, only his face had changed. He may think it’s another personality, she thinks it’s not. It is still him. And she loves her damaged boy. She is a witch and she must be able to tame this demon. She has god on her side, she can cast the evil from this boy. Love will always conquer, good will always win. So she will conquer him, she will defeat evil. 

“You’re not like this. Please listen to me, I know there is good in you.” Her hands are cupping his face and he does not fight her. If he was truly evil, he wouldn’t have allowed her to take control. 

“Please, let me help you. Let me save you.” 

He doesn’t answer her, he grabs her arms instead. He rolls the both of them over. She’s on her back again. She tries to turn them over again, but he pushes his whole body against her. She wiggles, trying to free herself from his weight. But she can’t. 

She wants to believe it still is Jim, but with the way he is watching her it’s hard. Drool leaks from the corners from his mouth, eyes too dark to see real emotion in them. 

He forces her legs open with his knees. Despite the fact he seems to be only hungry for her flesh now, she can still feel how hard he is. His erection is placed against her pelvis. She only has to move her hips a little for him to be between her legs again. 

Tame the beast, conquer the devil. Maybe she feels too much for him to not sin. So she moves her legs, grabs his head and pulls it down. Warm lips meet cold ones, she kisses him until she no longer can taste her own blood in his mouth. 

The demon kisses her back, his sharp teeth clashing with hers. She moves her hand between them, taking hold of his cock. 

She tries to tell herself that all he needs is love, that he just needs to feel warmth. But she is only half convinced it will really work. 

She guides him between her legs, his hips almost move automatically when he is where she wants him. 

He is inside her again, but this time it’s not like the first time. He does not wait for her to adjust, does not ask her if she’s okay. His body is heavy, but his weight is the last thing she thinks about. She knows she has to be gentle, to let him know there is still good in this world. But she really can’t bring herself to do so, not when it feels so good to be like this. She pushes his face away when it leans down closer to hers, instead she pushes her face against his shoulder. 

He moans, he groans, he growls. With every animalistic thrust she feels herself slipping further and further away from all that is good. This is sinning, her body moving with his, the pain it gives turns her on. This is everything god forbade her to ever participate in. Her body is wet with sweat but also her own blood. It makes it easier to slide over his body. Her cheeks are wet with old tears. 

His skin is turning hotter with every thrust, but he is still not her Jim. So she bites him, her teeth piercing through his dry skin. She bites until he bleeds, until she almost chokes on his blood and tears are falling from her eyes again. 

She’s not surprised to be the first one to come, because she knows it’s a sign. She has chosen her faith and she cannot return to anything she had left behind now. She screams Jim’s name when her climax hits. Maybe to taunt the beast, but also because she hopes it will bring him back. 

He pulls out before he can cum inside of her. Instead he spills over her stomach. 

He does not move from her, instead he looks down on her. The demon almost looks amused. It’s teeth are showing when he leans down to touch the damaged skin of her neck. His fingers trace the wound he made, almost as if he wants to make sure it’s real. His fingers go lower and lower, until they’re wrapped around the cross of her necklace. He brings his face closer to hers now. His lips are touching her earlobe. 

“You can’t save us.”  His voice is raspy, low and it gives her goose bumps. It feels like all her hope is gone, as if someone snatched out the fire inside of her. He pulls the necklace from her. The cross hidden in his fist. 

He leaves her naked and alone in his cold bed after. She is trying not to cry when the door closes. 

eight She is alone when she wakes up again. Her body is covered in bruises and the sheets are a brownish red from her blood. Her hand goes to her throat, where she can feel the imprint of his teeth. She is aching everywhere. Her back is hurting, she can barely sit up without wanting to fall down again. 

She whimpers, not wanting to cry again. He didn’t return after he had left her. She wonders if he even is himself again. Maybe he was right after all. There are other personalities, it isn’t it just a disorder. He is cursed, the demon she saw yesterday wasn’t him. Why would it take the necklace? Jim wouldn’t do that. Jim wouldn’t hurt her like the demon did. She is sure of it. 

She feels dirty and used, but most of all she feels something else. She tried so hard to save him. Maybe she needs to save herself first before she can save him. 

She gathers her dirty clothing, putting them on again. When she’s fully dressed, she walks very hesitant towards the door. What will be behind it? Will it even open? 

The door isn’t locked and behind the door is the empty lobby. She starts to walk around, trying to open other doors. But they’re all locked. Except his bedroom and the door they came through yesterday. 

She decides to explore the empty desk that’s standing in the middle of the lobby instead. The papers on the desk tell her that this building belongs to Kineros Robotics. But what’s in a name? She sits down on the chair. The person who normally sits here really has a thing for purple. Because almost every personal item is in that particular colour. She opens one of the drawers and it’s immediately the right one. There is a key that looks like it belongs to the front door. 

Bingo, she can escape. 

But why is she hesitant? Why does she feel like she would betray him if she leaves? Maybe he feels bad about what happened last night. She must find him first. And she must find her sisters, she needs them now more than ever. But she needs him for that as well. He is the only one that knows where they are. 

So she goes downstairs again. But the kitchen is empty. But the door to their hallway is opened, so she goes that way. Maybe he is in her room? 

There is something different. Two doors in the hallway are opened, while the one to her room is closed. There is a blood trail from one room to the other. She slows down her steps. Her gut is telling her to run away right now. To leave him and never look back again. But dumb like she is, she ignores the feeling. She stops when she is in front of the first opened door. 

The first thing she sees is Coco. Her whole body is covered in blood. It looks like she was attacked by a beast. Or a demon. She ignores the voice in her head, slowly she walks closer to the room. She can hear faint sounds now.

The room looks exactly like the one she was being kept in. Her body stiffens when she sees them. He is leaning over Mallory. His hand is in her chest, he pulls her heart from it. She sees how he brings the organ to his mouth, and he bites. 

She backs away from them until her back hits the wall. He is eating her heart like it’s the most delicious thing ever. Mallory’s dark eyes are still opened, staring at Coco’s body next to her. But she is not alive. They both are gone. Her hands grab for something to hold onto, she feels like falling down. Both her hands touch the wall instead. Her heart is beating furiously in her chest. She covers her mouth to let the scream she wants to let out in. She needs to throw up, she can feel the bile coming up. 

The moan that comes from the demon makes her snap out of her panic.  She moves away from them as quietly as she can. Making her way to the kitchen. The only thing she is thinking about is how to get away from here as fast as she can. 

The desk in the lobby is still empty. But she doesn’t waste time. She’s running towards the large door, the key she stole earlier in her left hand. 

The door opens easily and when she is outside, she lets out a breath. It seems to be the end of the day but the sun is still up. She runs from the building, not looking back until she is sure she’s far away from it. When she turns around, she can still read the letters on top of the building. Kineros. 

All she is thinking about, is Cordelia. Her sisters are killed, she needs her supreme now more than ever. 

She asks the first person she sees on the street for their phone. The woman gives her a weird look. Probably because she looks terrible. With shaking fingers, she types in Cordelia’s number. And when she takes the call and hears how the supreme says her own name, the witch finally feels safe again. It’s going to be alright; she’s going to be fine. 

nine Back in Kineros the blonde demon smiles to himself, his face still covered in blood. He is Jim, he is Xavier, he is Duncan and he’s even Ms. Mead. But most importantly, he’s Michael. 

They all are real, really made up by him. He knew he had to do something drastic to lure Cordelia away from the sacred grounds of their New Orleans academy. She would never come to him without a good reason. Cordelia had killed his adoptive mother and he will make sure Cordelia will meet her end. 

Soon there will be no witches left to mess with his devilish plans. He plays with the cross he stole from her. No witches, except her. He will keep this one. Something to bring with him to his new world. Michael will not forget the way she so easily had given him all of her love. He is not without cravings after all. 

But first, destruction. He will kill them all as gruesome as he had killed the other two witches. They will never know what is coming their way…

..............................

pfew, thank you for reading! 

if you speak french, or maybe listen to stromae, the title of the fic already gave away the ending. tous les memes means ‘all the same’. 

shout out to chef bertie, the chef who taught xavier how to make the best sandwiches.

..............................

tags: @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @ccodyferns @thechildofmay @queencocoakimmie @queenie435 @isoldedax @bethskarsgard @littledemondani @theghostoflangdon @boofy1998 @bademliimagnum @gold-dragon-slayer @venusxxlangdon @nana15774 @isoldedax @napping-is-my-favorite @anacerta @vampirefairyestelle @wroteclassicaly @icylangdon @peachesandfern @hecohansen31 @melodylangdon @leatherduncan @michaelsapostle @michael-langdon-appreciation @hadesruinseverything @themiswrites @blakewaterxx @rocketgirl2410 

[yahim0491]

[devilishlypretty]

behind the scenes rare family photos of michael and his ms. mead :)

[carnalpleasure]

dude!!! i was reading about Kathy mf Bates on wiki and under relatives, Finis L. Bates is listed as her grandfather.

GUESS WHAT THE L STANDS FOR

FINIS LANGDON BATES.

[thestylestour]

Sarah Paulson this whole season of American Horror Story

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I’VE BEEN SPELLING MEAD’S NAME WRONG THIS ENTIRE TIME—