#This game was such a miserable experience and I was only watching him play it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hellfirexhoe · 2 years

Text

at the lakehouse | eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the gang spends a few nights at the Harrington’s lakehouse, chaos ensues

4.5K words

warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI, reader is same age as eddie, swearing, drug use (weed), strip poker, me not knowing how poker works, bad writing, mutual pining, friends to lovers, wax play, knife play, fingering, oral (m&f receiving), risky sex, unprotected sex (make good choices), creampie, jonathon probably outside taking pictures idk i forgot he existed

Searching through the Harrington’s kitchen drawers with Eddie in the pitch black was not how either of you guys imagined spending the first week of your summer, but the offer of a secluded lake house with a hot tub was pretty hard to turn down. Steve had however not been able to predict that the night you guys would arrive would be the same night of a massive blackout.

“Anything?” You speak into the darkness and you slam another useless drawer shut,

“Uh-uh,” Eddie opens another cupboard, “How do they not even have torches?”

You shrug, you open another drawer, and in the darkness you can just make out the thin white tapers of a few candles,

“Gotcha!” You spin around grasping the candles in one hand while your other hand goes into Eddie’s pocket where he keeps his lighter,

“Hey! Just because the lights are out doesn’t mean I don’t know that’s you groping me, princess!” You roll your eyes at him while you light up the candles, Eddie watches as your face becomes illuminated, taking in your lips, cheekbones, thick lashes that frame your eyes, the eyes that suddenly meet his,

“uh, everything okay there Eddie?” He coughs to clear his throat and drops his gaze to the floor,

“Mhm- yep totally fine,” You shrug it off and carefully walk your candles back to the coffee table as Robin and Nancy come downstairs, clutching much larger candles, Robin has a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she speaks,

“Guess where we found these!”

“Robin, don’t. I don’t want to think about it anymore.” Nancy groans

“No fucking way. Parental Harrington’s bedroom?” You laugh as Nancy gives a pained nod,

“It could be innocent, but they were right on the night stands.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of candlelight to set the mood.” You all look over at Eddie who hasn’t looked up from the joint he’s rolling,

“And what would you know about setting the mood?” You grinned as you teased him, you guys discussed everything, including sex. Eddie’s lack of input in these discussions had lead the group to believe he had no experience in that department, but no one had wanted to embarrass him by making him confirm it.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Steve appearing from the garage,

“Oh nice, where did you guys find those candles?” Steve gestured to the candles still in Robin’s hands, causing all four of you to start snickering at him. Eddie takes that as his cue to head out to the deck and smoke, you follow, as fun as it would be to watch Steve’s horror at the candle revelation, it would be more fun to get high with Eddie.

“So what was that about setting the mood?” You ask as you take a drag, trying not to leave lipstick on the joint, and as always, failing miserably.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Eddie wiggles his brows at you as he takes the joint from you. You don’t want to pry, he’s your friend and if he doesn’t want to share this information then you can’t force him, so you settle for smoking and trying to ignore the pit of jealousy that has formed at the thought of Eddie with anyone other than you.

You’re both lightly buzzed by the time you return to the living room, flopping down on the beanbag next to Eddie,

“So I’m guessing movies are out of the question?” Robin gestures to the tv,

“Unless you can pull a generator out of your ass, then yes Robin, movies are out of the question. We’ve got board games somewhere around here.” Steve moves up from the sofa and begins to rummage in a cabinet, you hop up to help and Steve smiles at you gratefully,

“Since you’re the only one to help, what do you think?” You scan the cupboard and spot a small deck of cards, a devilish smile forms on your lips “Oh I don’t think you’re going to like my suggestion Steve.” You grab the deck and hold it up to the group flopped on the sofa and bean bags,

“Strip poker anyone?”

“I’m in.” Eddie speaks before Robin and Nancy have even registered what you’ve said. Perv. You think as you look over to your friends, Robin shrugs,

“Alright, no full nudity and no orgies though guys.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You tease but nod at her, “Nance? Steve?”

Steve is watching Nancy with an indecipherable expression, when she agrees she is staring at him, as if they’re having a silent conversation.

“Harrington! You in or out? Nancy’s already seen what you’re working with, why don’t you enlighten the rest of us?” Eddie throws some popcorn at Steve’s face,

“Yeah fine,” Steve settles between you and Nancy, taking the deck from your hands to shuffle.

Eddie is the first to lose an item of clothing, so he takes his jacket off, earning boos from you and Robin,

“Patience ladies, please.” He raises a hand comically. More hands are dealt until you are somehow wearing the most clothes, sitting in a bra and skirt, while everyone else is in their underwear.

“Right I think we’re all suitably uncomfortable now. Y/n wins!” Nancy gestures to you with flourish while you take a bow, trying not to spill out of your bra. “Next game?” Nancy starts shrugging her clothes back on, everyone quickly follows suit, not wanting to be the odd one out who’s happy to sit in their underwear with their friends, you cast a quick look over to Eddie while he’s pulling his shirt back on, slightly disappointed.

“Twister?” Robin jokes, “We’ve seen the goods, now we feel the goods?” This earns a groan from the group,

“Absolutely not,” You all speak in unison,

“Fine, lets play never have I ever,” Robin smiles over at Steve “I’m sure you can find some alcohol somewhere around here.” Steve hops up to his feet and disappears into the kitchen, coming back with a bottle of vodka and some beers tucked under his arm.

“Ground rules, if you need to puke, either run out to the lake or to the bathroom. I am not cleaning up after lightweights.” Steve pulls out the authoritative mother hen voice you’ve heard him use with his little nuggets many times. You grab a shot glass and level it, waiting for everyone else to get ready.

“Right, who’s first?” Nancy looks around the circle you guys have formed around the coffee table,

“I’ll go. Never have I ever had sex in a public place.” Steve and Nancy’s drinks don’t move from the table as he speaks, but you, Eddie and Robin all take your drinks and stare at each other in stunned silence as you set your drinks down,

“Robin? Care to elaborate?” Robin shakes her head, scrunching her face at the vodka burning her throat, “Nope, that’s not part of the game princess, but I’ll share if you will.” You shake your head,

“I’ll plead the 5th” Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Eddie’s ringed fingers tightening over his can, reflecting candlelight. His jaw is tensed until he notices you looking at him and immediately he resets his body into neutral. You wonder if he had lied and was nervous that he’d be caught.

“Ohhhhhh me next! I’ve got a good one!” Robin starts clapping her hands excitedly as she stares you dead in your face, oh shit, you think, Robin knows all of your secrets, you break out in a slight sweat as your mind races - what is she going to say?

“Never have I ever... got my nipples pierced.” You groan as you take another shot, no one else drinks but Eddie is tensed again, trying not to look in your direction. You relax into your seat, of all the dirty secrets Robin knows, she picked the one you really don’t give a shit about.

“Okay, if that’s how we’re going to play I need to swap my drink to the beer, I cant be doing endless vodka shots.” You push your shot glass to the centre of the table and grab a can instead. “My turn then? Never have I ever had a sex dream about Steve’s mom.” Your turn to stare down Robin, who cackles and takes a shot, winking at Steve,

“Sorry Harrington, the blouses get me hot.” Steve makes a disgusted noise as the rest of you erupt into laughter, “Okay, first of all, fuck you y/n, that was a secret,” Robin speaks softly, letting you know she’s not mad “and second of all, it was one time, many months ago.”

“Robin, that doesn’t make it better!” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, “Okay, lets move on from this conversation. Never have I ever, gone skinny dipping.”

Robin and Eddie drink, “You know, we could all go now...big lake, pitch black no one would see us?” the corners of Eddie’s eyes crinkle as he flashes a smile that you could only consider to be dangerous.

“We’ve all been drinking Munson, not the safest idea. Plus you and y/n are still buzzed, I can see it in your pupils.”

“Alright dad, we’ll save the skinny dipping for the morning, all the better to see you with.” Eddie winks at Steve.

The game continues on for a few more rounds, the questions becoming tamer as you go, you’re getting sleepy now and yawn, Eddie noticing this pulls you onto his lap and tickles your ribs to wake you up some more, earning a squeal from you as you writhe around on his lap.

“Wake up, not time for bed yet.”

“Actually, it might be.” Nancy gives a yawn and then holds a finger up to Eddie “Don’t even think of tickling me.”

“Relax, that’s just for y/n, she gets the special treatment.” You both laugh, it was true that Eddie was a lot more physical with you than his other friends, you just put it down to the fact you’d been friends for so long that it just seemed comfortable. But last time he’d got physical with you he’d popped a boner and that kind of shut it down, he’d barely hugged you since then, even though you’d told him it was okay, and that you knew it meant nothing, just hormones.

Your friends say their good nights and start heading upstairs, leaving you still on Eddie’s lap, arms around your waist. You lean back on his chest, settling into him and sighing contentedly.

“Comfy princess?” Eddie asks sweetly, teasing you,

“If I say yes would you get the wrong idea?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes, so comfy.” You grind your hips on the pretense of getting more comfortable, making him take a sharp intake of breath. Eddie’s arms tighten around you, holding you closer before he places a gentle kiss on your neck, then you feel him freeze and let you go.

“Shit, sorry I - I just forgot who I was with.” Eddie stumbled over his words as you turned to look at him,

“Who the fuck do you think I am? Gareth?” You lift his dropping head gently by his chin, smiling at the blushes that now cover Eddie’s cheeks, “Eddie. It’s fine, you can kiss me.” His brown eyes meet yours, then drop to your lips, biting his own. He wants this badly but doesn’t think you could possibly mean it, you’re just fucking with him surely.

Impatience takes over and you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, freeing it before kissing him, your hands in his hair as his return to your waist, pulling you closer. Eddie moans into the kiss, the sound traveling straight to your pussy, making you wet and you start to shift your hips, seeking some friction. Eddie’s hands grip you tighter, cold rings pressing into your skin, forcing your hips down further, granting you some friction against his jeans. You come up for air first, panting, hands now gripping onto his shirt, not willing to let him get away. Eddie’s hands are still rocking your hips, he’s looking up at you with a breathless smile, fuck he’s never looked so pretty.

“What’s on your mind baby?”

“Just thinking about how pretty you look right now.” The flush that spreads across Eddie’s face is adorable,

“Pretty? No that’s all you pretty girl.” You pull Eddie to you, needing to kiss him again, as your lips connect your hands find his and you shift them so they’re resting on your thighs, under your skirt, this time Eddie pulls away,

“Are you sure this is okay? I know we’ve both drank a bit and smoked, I don’t want to do this if you’re not clear headed.” Your heart flutters as he checks in with you, making you want him all the more because you know he’ll keep you safe, he won’t push you further than you want to go. You nod,

“Eddie, I want this. I want this so fucking badly.” You rock your hips against his, and your hands travel to the bottom of your shirt, lifting it above your head as he traces circles on your thighs. Eddie saw your bra earlier, and had to play it cool, this time he lets his eyes widen and his mouth drop open at the sight of the smooth skin, nipples poking through the thin fabric, begging for his attention. His hands trail up your waist, to your back, and rest just below the clasp,

“Can I take this off??” He looks up at you pleadingly,

“Please, things been killing me all day.”

“Oh well, we can’t have that.” Eddie unclasps your bra and in a swift motion throws it somewhere in the room. Before you can cover your chest with your hands his mouth is at it, kissing the newly exposed skin, running his tongue over your nipples, making you moan. You gasp as you feel teeth closing on one of your nipples before he starts sucking, you glance down at him, seeing his head buried in your chest, his other hand toying with your breast and the sight makes you cry out in pleasure again, this is all you’ve been waiting for years, and its finally happening. Eddie’s hand slips between you two and starts rubbing your pussy over the fabric of your underwear, he can feel your wetness soaking through and releases your nipple from his rough sucking to groan,

“Fuck. Did I make you this wet baby?” He hisses at you and you moan in a pitiful way as he doesn’t stop teasing,

“No, use your words, I want you to tell me that I made you this wet.” Trying desperately to keep control of your voice you answer in the most pathetic whine,

“You, Eddie, you made me wet. You always do.”

“Always?” Eddie raises an eyebrow at you as you realise what you’ve just told him. “Think about me a lot do we?” He’s found your clit and is slowly stroking it through the fabric of your panties, you pant and moan, praying he doesn’t want an answer,

“Kitten. I asked you a question.” He starts to slow down his stroking, letting you think and speak. The new nickname makes your pussy twitch, and you bite your lip.

“All the time.”

“When you’re with other guys?” Eddie kisses your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh and sucking, leaving an angry purple mark behind, marking you as his.

“All the time.” You repeat struggling to keep your moans under control as your best friend continues his relentless assault on your body. Eddie seems satisfied with this answer and pulls himself away, you almost cry out for him and seeing your face he smiles,

“Shh, hang on, I’m not going anywhere, just want to get more comfortable.” He starts undressing himself, leaving you still in your skirt and soaked panties. You cant help but gasp softly when you see the erection his jeans have been holding down. Eddie smirks when he notices your line of sight,

“See something you like?” You nod and get up to your knees, pulling the underwear that covers him down and wrapping a hand around him,

“This okay Eds?”

“More than okay.” You pump him in your hands, still marveling at the size of his cock, Eddie starts to buck softly in your hands as his tip leaks precum. You look up at him, smile sweetly and let him watch as you lap the precum up,

“Jesus christ, you have no idea how hot that looks.” Eddie is hissing under his breath, watching you, completely transfixed. Loving the dumbfounded look on his face you take the tip of his cock into your mouth and then sliding down further until your purple lipstick is staining the base of his cock. You clench your thumb in your fist, holding back your gag reflex, a trick you had heard about a few months ago. You had yet to practice it and were pleasantly surprised to learn it worked. Eddie’s cock started to twitch in your throat and you had to pull back, tears streaming from your eyes from the effort of not gagging. Barely waiting to catch your breath you took Eddie’s cock all the way to your throat again, Eddie was biting his fist, desperately trying to hold back howls of pleasure as you bob on his cock. Your jaw is aching and your face is covered in mascara stains from your watering eyes by the time Eddie is begging for you to let up.

Eddie falls back onto the sofa, cock twitching and panting heavily,

“Where did you learn that?“ He pants, struggling to catch his breath.

“You really want to talk about that right now?” You smirk as you use your fingers to wipe your tears away. Pussy absolutely dripping for him by this point.

“Good point, come here.” Eddie pats the sofa next to him, as soon as you sit he drops to the floor between your legs, pulling your skirt and panties down smoothly and placing a kiss to your pussy, before using his fingers to part your lips and lick a stripe from your tight hole to your clit, your thighs shake at the contact, you’re no virgin but no guy has ever gone down on you before, they’d make an excuse and skip straight over it, so the sensations Eddie is creating is entirely new to your body and you fucking love it. Eddie is buried in between your thighs, sucking on your clit as he teases you with a single finger, loving how your pussy clamps down on him, a vice grip that makes him almost cum all over the sofa without even being touched. You cry out and grab Eddie’s hair, pushing him closer, realizing you must be close Eddie begins to up his speed, sucking harsher, fingers curling against your g-spot faster until that knot in your stomach comes undone and you squirt against his face, another new sensation for you.

Eddie kisses your thighs as he comes away, face dripping with you and a devilish smile on his face,

“Oh, my kitten squirts?” He looks at your flushed face, “That’s never come up in conversations before. I know plenty about how many guys have made you cum, but no ones made you squirt before have they?” He taunts you playfully,

“N-no. No one.” You pull him up to you, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue, moaning when you do.

“Do you have any idea how fucking crazy I’ve been driven hearing about how many orgasms you’ve had that should have all been with me?” Eddie wraps a ringed hand around your throat and stares into your eyes, “I had to start fucking around so I wouldn’t go crazy with jealousy.” He’s rubbing his cock against your pussy, soaking himself in you, making you want to cry and beg and scream to be fucked, and he knows he’s making you this needy, you can see it in the smirk he’s wearing as he rubs harder.

“Eddie - please please fuck me.” You whisper, barely able to speak with the hands around your throat. Eddie lets go of your throat and pulls away slightly,

“I want to have more fun with you first, kitten. I want to know what else I can do to you that no one else has.” Eddie picks up a candle from the table and looks at you, your confused expression answering his question. “Does my kitten want to play some more before we fuck?” You’re torn, your pussy is clenching around literally nothing, desperate to be stuffed with Eddie’s cock but more playtime sounds equally fun, and you’re so curious to know what’s on Eddie’s mind,

“What are you planning to do with the candle?”

“I’m going to drip hot wax on you and get you even hotter.” He answers simply. You nod enthusiastically,

“Yes please.” He places the candle back down for a second, retrieving his bandana from his jeans and ties it comfortably around your eyes, then plants a kiss to your cheek before you feel him shift and grab the candle back from the table,

“Okay kitten, nice big breaths for me.” You obey and gasp as the first drops of wax hit your skin, burning for a few delicious seconds before it cools. Eddie chuckles at your reaction,

“That feel good?”

“So good,”

“Lucky for us it seems the Harringtons are kinky, these are special candles, they’re designed to be used for this.”

“Mm, remind me to write them a thank you note.” Eddie drips more wax onto your stomach, a line to your pussy beginning to take shape. As you brace for the next heat to be there you’re surprised when the slight burn is at your nipples,

“Gotta keep you on your toes.” Eddie responds to your surprise “Plus no way I could make a masterpiece out of a line, I’m more creative than that.” Your nerve endings are on fire as you’re so unsure of where on your body the wax will hit next, ever drip makes you moan for more, until the next drip you expect is instead a warm pair of lips on yours, hands removing the blindfold and rubbing your cheeks,

“Did you enjoy that?” Eddie asked as he rested his head on yours, you nodded, trying to kiss him but he pulled back, “Not until you admire the artwork.” He gestured down to your body which was coated in drips of wax, forming no particular pattern, but thanks to the colour made it look like you’d taken a huge cum shot.

“Eddie it looks like I’ve been rained on with cum,” You hiss at him as he smirks,

“That’s the point, kitten. That was the artistic vision.”

“How do we get this off?” Eddie produces a switchblade and grins at you, “Fine, just don’t cut me.”

“Never, kitten. Not unless you ask nicely.” He’s careful and quick, removing the wax with ease and you manage to remain unscathed throughout the procedure, once he’s done you realize you were holding your breath and finally let it out.

“Now, do you want to play more, or do you need me inside you, filling you up?”

“I’m done playing.” you wrap your legs around his waist and he slips his cock into you, its much bigger than you anticipate and you jerk at the slight pain, your breath catching again.

“Nuh-uh kitten, holding your breath will make it worse, take a big deep breath for me.” Eddie coaches you, taking the breath with you as he slides in further, he’s right, the breathing helps your muscles relax and allows him to bottom out inside you. You moan as you feel your body adjusting, pretty sure no one’s ever been as deep as Eddie is right now, Eddie seems to read your mind,

“What’s up kitten? Never had a cock this far in you before?” You shake your head and he looks so fucking pleased with himself as he pulls himself back, veins dragging against your soaked walls and make you cry out in pleasure. Eddie grabs your panties off the floor and holds them up to you,

“Kitten, if you can’t keep it down I’ll have to stuff these in that gorgeous mouth of yours. What’s it gonna be?” You consider being quiet, and decide that the way Eddie’s going you’ll be cockdrunk in minutes and have no control over what noises you’re producing, so you open your mouth and let Eddie stuff your panties in.

“Fuck you have no idea how fucking hot you are.” Eddie ups the pace, balls slapping against your ass as your pussy tightens around him, trying to stop him pulling all the way out. Your back arches up as you moan around the panties in your mouth, you’re so close to cumming around Eddie’s cock, your eyes are rolling back in your head and there’s drool from your mouth running down your chin, to Eddie you’ve never looked quite so beautiful as now. Eddie kisses your neck up to your ear,

“Cum for me kitten, let me feel that pussy milk me.” He slams in harder and faster, tipping you right over the edge and making you squirt around him, taking you both by surprise. Eddie is now soaked in you, you’ve covered his stomach and thighs, you can feel it as he keeps slamming into you,

“Kitten, I’m getting very very close, can I finish inside you? Please?” Eddie whines in your ear, he knew that no one had ever been allowed to do that to you either, you spit the panties out of your mouth to be able to whisper in his ear,

“Eds, cum in me, please. This pussy’s never had cum in it before, I need it filled.” You whine and moan as you speak, Eddie relentlessly chasing his release, with a few more thrusts he’s finishing inside you, you moan at the sensation inside you, hot thick cum flooding your soaked pussy. Eddie pulls out and swears when he sees his cum leaking out of you onto the sofa,

“Oops?” He laughs as he rests his head on your chest, waiting for his heartbeat to settle.

“Eddie?”

“Mmm, yes kitten?”

“You’re all mine.”

“Yes I am kitten, I have been for a long time.” Eddie looks up at you, so much love in those brown eyes that you feel you could melt. “Now, as much as I am loving this very sweet moment with my new girlfriend, I think we need to clean you up, clean me up and possibly buy Steve’s parents a new sofa.”

You laugh and feel more mess get forced out of you by the motion,

“Christ you look like a fucking goddess right now, but no more laughing, lets get you to the bathroom.” Eddie scoops you up and carries you into the small shower room, climbing in with you for “support, honest. what do you take me for?”.

#eddie munson #eddie fucking munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #munson-trashcan #stranger things smut #eddie smut

3K notes · View notes

dovithedarklord · 4 months

Text

Stucked - Part 4

You're trapped in a game and a new threat is lurking.

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

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Tags: Mentions of death, Mentions of blood and gore, Blood and Violence, Sexual Scenes, Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Not Beta Read, AFAB Reader

Trigger Warning: Contains blood and gore, violence, some body horror, and some dubcon (lightly). Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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

Author's Note

The story gets more complicated and violent, so be prepared!

I've been watching way too many horror movies again, and I was sick too, so I gathered some firsthand experience for some of the sensations our poor MC has to face. But now I feel much better, can't say the same about her... Well, there's that :D

Have fun! :D

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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

The sound of soft laughter fills the walls of the house, painted golden yellow from the fire, and the lingering shadows of your companions loom over the carved wood like nightmarish demons. And with each step, you get closer and closer to the deceptive cheerfulness that unfolds below, which flows like a sick play around the laid table. As if an idyllic moment was snatched from a comedy movie meant for children and families, every minute of which is full of perfectly written laughter and undisturbed joy, but every giggle crawls into your ear canals on the slimy legs of a disgusting maggot, to bury itself in your brain and push you closer to madness with each minute.

You sneak closer to the stairs with careful quietness, unable to take your eyes off the scene unfolding in the middle of the spacious living room, because you're afraid that if you draw attention to yourself sooner than necessary, you won't have a chance to escape. Although the treacherous little voice in your head warns you that all your chances of disappearing from this terrible, artificial world were lost when Simon closed his arms around you.

And you reflexively look for the blond man, and as soon as your strained gaze finds his burly figure sitting at the table, terror envelopes your stomach in an icy grip. Every bit of him is deceptively calm, and he rests next to Johnny in his chair with such careless relaxation as if he always belonged there at the birthday dinner. But you see the waiting danger in his eyes, which makes him look like a wolf killing some time before finally tearing his victim to pieces, who doesn't even know that they willingly laid their neck in his open jaws. And it seems cruel how the two girls engage in a light-hearted conversation with the two men amid wild gesticulations and cozy delight, because you know exactly that each carefree sound that leaves their mouths is a precursor to a painful scream in the dead of the night.

Every member of yours is protesting against going down, and your legs tug you back like leaden weights, as you try to drag your body, heavy with fear, forward. As if with each step, the thread that binds you with weak fingers to the fleeting promise of survival is unraveling a little more. You'll have to go down though. Because if you hide, you risk the wrath of the game. You need information to get a new clue, and if you don't join this miserable charade, you'll lose any chance of finding anything. You have to do it even if every cell of yours screams agonizingly with dread.

The polished wood of the stairs creaks as you slowly descend the steps, and the eyes of the two men fixate on you almost on command, like two hungry vultures before which the delicious meal has finally appeared. And you realize bitterly that it's not so far off from reality, because you're probably only a few hours away from someone quenching their thirst with your still-warm blood after they've hunted you down like an animal.

NO! Enough! You can't think that! Even though this wretched place wants to make it difficult for you to win, you must not let it get its way, because then you'll wither away in this quicksand of raw flesh and screams, stuck in endless suffering. You must not let it win. You won't let it win.

Your determination eases the trembling that shakes your knees wildly, and as you reach the bottom of the stairs, you straighten your back out, because these two bloodthirsty monsters must not see that they were able to plant the seeds of hopelessness in your mind. Even if this bitter feeling has taken root, you should not allow them to find morbid joy in it. Because that would be equal to your defeat.

"The birthday girl is finally here!" Pam exclaims enthusiastically as she turns back to you to look at you, and for a moment her kindness breaks your heart as you let her spring up and lead you to the empty chair at the head of the table with tender, friendly love. You don't deserve a minute of her attention, even if there's nothing real behind it. A fictional creature, whose empty shell is filled with life by the game, just so that it can take this temporary existence away as painfully as possible. But still, as she pushes you down to the chair with a warm smile and squeezes your shoulder excitedly, your throat tightens painfully with pity. You gave up trying to save them a long time ago, you forgot the compassion you felt for them, yet now your brain, overloaded because of the impossible events, allows you for a moment to feel sympathy for them. "The best place belongs to the celebrated!" She chirps, and when she's certain that you've made yourself comfortable, he strolls back to her seat, with such an unworried spring in her step that you recall quite cruelly how quickly this lightness turns into desperate fear as she runs for her life. And despite this sugary-sweet show, it'll happen soon enough.

And even to you, it's strange how the whole dinner scene begins with such familiar movements, even though Simon has intruded on the well-known story as an uninvited guest. And this might be because he only occasionally interjects a short comment into the smooth flow of events, otherwise not disrupting the dialogue that you have already heard torturously many times. If he does answer, the game bends the threads of its own story so smoothly that, in spite of the new change, you end up in exactly the same place where you have always been. And this fills your soul with such fiery hope that suddenly every cell of yours ignites with the wild desire to act, because if the presence of the masked man doesn't lead the story in a completely new direction, then there is a chance that the clues will still be there where they were before you discovered them... And that makes the doubts clinging to your gut seem to withdraw, and you feel that you can finally breathe for the first time since discovering the book.

"It's so nice of Johnny to put together this dinner, isn't it?" Rebecca chimes in, lifting another bite into her mouth with her fork, carrying her gaze around on the myriad of appetizing dishes displayed on the table with real delight. And you tear yourself out of the continuing web of your thoughts with a startled wince, in which you've been immersed far away, already browsing through the series of clues you've found so far. You run your confused eyes through the group at lightning speed, and when you meet the girl's puzzled expression, you reluctantly turn your attention back to them.

"Yeah... It's very nice of him." You blurt out your scripted, well-rehearsed dialogue, and although your tongue almost goes numb under the weight of the lie, you’re able to force the faint line of an authentic-looking smile on your mouth.

Although everyone seems to calm down, you see sparks of interest in Simon's eyes. And as you carefully look at him and your gaze intertwines with his, you see the unmistakable lines of a smile appearing around his eyes in the warm light. But there is nothing comforting about this gesture, because an almost condescending kindness emanates from his every cell, and this makes him look like no more than a spectator of an unfolding sad comedy. And if he really knows that you're not from here, then all ot this is really nothing more for him than watching a movie up close, the end of which he's perfectly aware of. But you can still surprise him. Because you won't let him think he's in charge. You just have to find a clue…

And you jerk back, almost startled, as Johnny's face swims into your vision, thus hiding the sight of his friend from you, and the change happens so suddenly that you just stare into his cheerful blue eyes, blinking with bewildered surprise.

"It's nothing! I'd dae anythin' for my wee lil' Bunny!" He utters enthusiastically, and although his words don't sound like lies, fear snakes into you along his deep voice. Because this sentence has never appeared anywhere before, and it's so new to your shocked brain that you're unable to register how one of his tanned hands slowly slides onto your fist gripping the fork, wrapping around it like an anaconda on its prey. And even though his touch is light as a feather, you feel as though he's squeezing you in a way that makes all your bones crack, like a couple of dry tree branches. What's this again? Why does the story diverge if it has followed the main storyline so far?

"You're such a lucky girl! I would sell my soul to be treated so well by someone!" Pam sighs longingly, and as she folds her hands in front of her chest with feigned offense, your confusion deepens. Because suddenly this whole horrible interlude takes a turn that is completely unknown to you. Up until now, it's been Pam who has had any sort of romantic streak, because she's the one who gets killed for living out her lustful passion. Thus far, you've never been the center of attention in this way, not even at any level worth mentioning, and the realization that now this is just another complication and death flag cuts into your brain like a knife. And suddenly you feel that the taste of the food turns to ash in your mouth, the dryness of which drags the waves of nausea up your throat.

"Is there something wrong?" Rebecca's worried question cuts through your shock, and as you realize that every pair of eyes is staring at you, you’re filled with the desire to escape. But you don't even dare to move, because you're afraid that every irresponsible action you make will trigger an avalanche that will have harsh consequences.

"I think my stomach is a little upset. Maybe I caught something." You try to explain yourself weakly, and with every nerve you attempt to force authenticity into your features, slowly releasing your hand from Johnny's grip. You have to wait to see what else changes, and to have the slightest chance to search for hints later. Because if you're not careful enough, you lose all hope of even finding a clue.

"Oh, poor lil' Bunny." Johnny grumbles, and although there is some pity in his voice, a hideous undertone lurks behind the sympathetic words that make goosebumps prickle on your skin in an instant. And maybe an outside observer would think that there are indeed wrinkles of kind concern on his face, but you see the joy in his eyes. Like you've just given him something he's been waiting on pins and needles for. "Let me help ye!"

And you soon understand how he wants to help you. Because, as the chair cries out with an ear-splitting scream, when he pulls it uncomfortably close to you, then it's too late for you to escape. The wolf has already found you, and you can do nothing but watch with stunned helplessness as it starts to devour you.

Not a single sound can escape your mouth, as your protest gets stuck under the lump that jumps into your throat, and you freeze in fear as one of Johnny's big hands slides over your back with easy naturalness. And as his warm fingers begin to draw slow, soothing circles on your back, as if he really wants to drive away your growing sickness with his gentle touch, but you go as still as a statue, completely unmoving. You're unable to turn away from the man, whose gaze is fixed on you with such intense attention, as if someone had hypnotized him. But you already know better than that. You see those ice-blue eyes gliding across your face, and you know that he finds his joy in the frightened curve of your eyebrows, the motionless panic of your eyes, and the quivering line of your lips, like a hungry hyena feeding on terror. And as, during his seemingly innocent adventure, one of his fingers almost imperceptibly slips under the clasp of your bra, crumpling the soft material of your t-shirt, that hungry grin appears on his mouth, with which a beast flashes its teeth at its victim. And the scene in the kitchen takes shape in your brain so quickly that you're unable to hold back the frightened whimper that erupts from you.

"There's no need for that... I'd rather rest." You try to oppose meekly, carefully choosing each of your terrified words, and when you pull back from the man's suffocating proximity, his palm spreading over your back prevents you, holding you back as easily as if it wouldn't be more to him then just a minor inconvenience. And you’re probably right, because even though you can see the cords of the sculpted muscles dancing on his arm from the corner of your eye, his whole body still remains in your personal space with unmovable carelessness.

"Dinnae be silly!" Johnny silences your protest, and from the curve of the smile on his lips, the tentacles of anxiety growing inside you cling to every single cell of yours. Because it suddenly becomes painfully clear that you've fallen into a trap and you don't even have a chance to flee. "I'll help ye... ye'll let me, won't ye?" He inquires, but there is something very certain about his question, as if he asked it just for the sake of fun, because he already knows the answer anyway. And why wouldn't he act like that? He slyly lured you into his arms, and now it's time for him to enjoy the fact that you’re exactly where he wanted you all along.

And although your brain is feverishly working on excuses that you can use to escape, like a frightened little rabbit running from wolves, the man gets to work much sooner. His wandering hand on your back crawls up your spine with the deadly slowness of a snake, and as his fingers dance along each small bump, you instinctively get a chill from the condescending tenderness that mixes with his touch. And you feel how the tiny little hairs stand up in the wake of his fingertips, and fear spreads through all your limbs, as if a paralyzing poison had been injected into you. And if resistance had even crossed your mind, then all your stray thoughts disappear immediately, because as soon as he clamps his hand on the back of your neck to lock around it, you freeze as terrified as if you had turned to stone.

You see the cheerful sparks in his eyes as he recognizes how obedient he has made you become, and you helplessly let his free hand, which has been resting on the table until now, come to play on the feeble stage of your body. And although you’re unable to take your eyes off his face, you catch in your periphery as he touches your knee almost teasingly, and you can't suppress the trembling that moves inside of you as his fingers begin to slither toward your thigh. You can feel the heat emanating from him even through the material of your pants, and you swear that the imprint of his palm almost burns into you as he stops to grip the soft flesh.

And like a wild animal about to feast, he flashes all his teeth with the grin that moves to his face, and as he rests his forehead on the crook of your neck, the treacherous warmth in your stomach rises in addition to fear when, following the hoarse laughter that rises from his throat, as his hot breath fans over the sensitive skin.

You turn your eyes to your surroundings in desperation, but all hope is gone when you see the expression on your companions' faces. Because the mouths of both girls are frozen in languid smiles, and they're watching the obscene moment unfolding in front of them as if it were the most natural thing in the world that someone climbs on you in the middle of a birthday dinner. Like they're watching the finale of a romantic movie, not Johnny slowly eating you alive like a starved dog. But it makes you even more upset when you glance at Simon as a result of a thoughtless reflex, because you immediately regret that you dared to look at him at all. The man continues to rest in his chair with undisturbed calm, and as he carelessly throws his hand on the back of the chair and tilts his head to the side, he follows the wet path of Johnny's mouth as his lips travel to the pulsing veins on your neck with such morbid interest, as if it were nothing more to him then some light fun. And you realize with alarm that you can't hope for help, because the game is more than happy to let this whole horrible situation continue, even if it goes against its own rules...

And when you feel the blunt edge of one of Johnny's canines drawing his mark into your skin with almost mocking fondness, that something that has so far locked your body in a paralyzed shackle snap. Because now you know for sure that nothing will happen the same as before, and your only chance to survive is to disappear from here right now. An unknown strength of determination moves into you, and you tear yourself out of his arms so unexpectedly that even he flinches back in surprise for a moment as you spring up from your chair.

"That will be enough! I better rest." You break the stunned silence, and although it's impossible not to hear the fear hidden in your voice, the decisiveness grows much stronger. And despite the fact that you feel that this small rebellion is already disturbing the apparent calm of the game, you don't care. You have to escape, because if you don't get out of their sight, your hours are numbered. And you can no longer allow yourself to die irresponsibly, no matter what lies ahead.

But just as you would take advantage of Johnny's surprise to free yourself from the prison of his thick arms, someone who has been watching this madness as a silent spectator until now finally joins the events. Simon leans forward in his chair with nerve-wracking slowness to look up at you with his elbows on the table, and that's enough for the sinister spasms of panic to close around your stomach in a violent embrace. Because you see the light that dances in those dark eyes... And they tell you that you made a big mistake, and he'll punish you for it with the greatest pleasure. He warned you, didn't he?

"Sit down." The man motions his head towards your chair, and his statement sounds much more like an instruction than a request. You'd be foolish to think he's only making suggestions when you see how menacingly his hoodie stretches over his broad shoulders as he hunches over the festive table. "The party's about to start." He adds, and you don't like the amusement in his tone at all. Like he’s already amused by something, which you have no idea of yet.

"I don't want to." You squeeze it out of yourself, and although you try to put confidence on your face, it doesn't escape the masked man's attention as you force down the stomach acid pushing up into your dry throat with a frightened little swallow. Because you can see his mouth open under the dark textile covering his face, as he follows this small movement, and from the play of the light of the fire, it looks like he's grinning...

But before you can even decipher what kind of storm might be brewing, you're distracted by something completely different. And as you feel Johnny's hot breath penetrating the thin fabric of the t-shirt covering your belly, you turn back to him in fear, but it's too late. You were too irresponsible, and you lost sight of the monster, in whose claws you have been writhing on the fading edge of safety. And now, as his big hands find the round curve of your hips and his fingers playfully grip it, you already know that the fragile chance of your escape is drifting further and further away from you. You're not deceived by the innocence with which the man settles his chin on your stomach, nor by the way those beautiful sky-blue eyes stare up at you, because you feel the certainty with which he hides the escape route with the coverage of his strong body.

"And then what will happen to them?" Johnny asks, and the worry that enters his voice hits you unprepared, and the confusion instinctively takes over your features, as you take in the way the line of his troubled eyebrows meet. And from this tiny little move, his concern seems quite genuine, and it only pushes your mind even deeper into your ever-increasing shock. What the hell is he talking about?

"With whom?" The cautious question breaks out of you, because your brain, which is buzzing with stress, is unable to understand who he could be aiming at. But you don't have to wait long for him to clarify and dispel the doubts from your mind, because as his head finds a comfortable resting place on your belly, as he turns back to the table, smoothing his face against you, you immediately understand who you have forgotten about until now.

"With your friends." He answers easily, removing all the care from his tone, which he has smuggled into it so masterfully so far. There is something stomach-churningly intimate about the way he nuzzles your navel with his nose, and the way he almost burrows into the warmth of your body, which makes every cell of you instinctively scream for help. And as his arms close around you in a slow but deadly sure embrace, even though you don't fully see the horrible expression he's wearing because he's hiding in your clothes, your eyes find his reflection in one of the elegant glasses. And on the delicate surface of the glass, the corrupted, bloodthirsty smile that spreads across his lips is distorted almost like a nightmare.

"What are you talking about?" You hesitate, scared, and your voice comes out of your mouth like a pitiful whisper that it seems quite distant even to your ears. And you're unable to tear your gaze away from the glass, because you see the man's crooked smile widen further and become a twisted snarl on the glass, which suddenly brings back all the memories of when you were on the other side of that grin. With this exact expression, he plunged a knife into your beating heart and watched as the light of life faded from your eyes. And this makes you realize that, even though you waited for a soothing play, the time for bloodshed has long come.

"Dessert is comin' now." Simon joins in, and this simple little sentence sounds deceptively harmless from his mouth. But as he turns to your companions opposite him, who have been sitting in their seats in a happy stupor until now, you realize that you won't be the target now. However, this doesn't calm you down one bit. "Pam." He almost snaps at the girl, in a tone that sounds like he's asking a trained dog to show off the latest trick it's learned. And you're horrified to learn that the analogy couldn't be more accurate, because Pam shoots up with such enthusiastic joy, as if her owner had really dangled a reward in front of her nose.

"Oh, right away!" She gushes cheerfully, and for a split second, you can't understand why she reaches for the huge knife resting next to the cake so suddenly because of the fear sitting on your brain. You just watch, paralyzed, as she places her left hand on the table, and as the warm light glints on the cold metal of the blade, something quite uncomfortable grips your insides. And when the girl turns to you and her gaze sinks into yours, you see nothing but the bottomless emptiness shining in those bright eyes, as if all the life that the game had so graciously instilled in her had disappeared.

But even though she looks like a lifeless puppet, the sound of the knife piercing through bone is very real, as the next moment she cuts off her index finger with one simple and swift movement. The sick crack almost echoes in your ears, as if someone has just started slicing a deliciously fresh carrot, but as blood gushes out of the wound in rich drops and paints the snowy white of the tablecloth crimson, you know that your eyes are not fooled.

"What…. what the hell..." You stutter, and you feel your brain getting short-circuited by the sight. Because Pam just pulls out the knife buried in the wood of the table with unflinching glee, so as if nothing had happened, she raises it again and strikes the next finger with it. Moved by the force of the attack, the severed digit rolls away, plowing a trail of blood in its wake, drawing a grotesque painting among the multitude of bowls resting on the table. This awakes the pulsing nausea in you again, and you clasp your palm over your mouth to try to hold back the rest of your dinner, which starts gnawing up your throat. However, Pam doesn't even seem to perceive the outside world, the wide smile on her face stretches into a grotesque grin, and her teeth are pressed together with such force that you can almost hear them crack.

"Why dinnae ye sit down, hmm?" Johnny's voice breaks through your shock, and you startledly tear your eyes away from the horrible serenity on Pam's face to turn to the man again, because suddenly even this seems like a better idea. But as he glances up at you from under his dark eyelashes, and something quite predatory flashes in his eyes, you know that the dinner slowly soaking in blood would have been a more soothing sight. "If yer gonnae be the dessert, then she can stop..." He offers, and your stomach turns from the sugary kindness that sits in his words.

And when his arms holding you in check slowly let go of their hold, you'd think you finally can catch your breath for a moment, but much sooner the air gets stuck in your lungs, as his fingers grasp your thighs with almost painful force, and you can feel their marks soak into your skin like fresh purple bruises. His face is pressed against your lap, and his tongue sticks out of his mouth to draw a wet path along the small seam running in the middle of your pants, and you can feel the heat emanating from him even through the rough material of your jeans, then you would try to back away in alarm, but you don't get far. His grip locks you in place much more firmly, and the treacherous tingle that awakens in your frozen body pushes you towards dizziness when he finally finds that tiny sensitive bud through the fabric, which makes you tremble and grip his broad shoulders in terror. And a deep, almost animalistic growl erupts from Johnny's throat when he catches this instinctive little movement.

Another tears you out of the paralysis towards which you drift more and more surely, and as Pam, laughing joyfully, sweeps the stump of her ring finger away in the puddle of blood on the tablecloth, you're already glad that Johnny is so willing to let you cling to him. When you catch Simon out of the corner of your eye, you're unable to stop yourself and almost automatically direct your gaze to him. And you would swear that you have never seen a more beautiful man, because the lustful look with which his dark eyes fixate on you, while one hand caresses his stomach lazily, is not entirely of this world. You follow almost in a daze as his fingers dance leisurely along the bulging hardness of his pants, and only another snap brings you back to the present before you allow yourself to be lured into the trap they want to drag you into in such a vile way.

No matter the two men's angelic faces, no matter the sinful power emanating from them, it penetrates your paralyzed consciousness too strongly, as the sea of blood spreading across the table slowly reaches you and begins to drum in heavy drops on the floorboards. Because only monsters are capable of such horror, and it awakens the desire to escape in you enough that your heart rate, which is accelerating in dread, finally pumps out the adrenaline in your body so you can act.

You reach for your glass resting on the table so unexpectedly that you manage to surprise Johnny when you smash it on his head. And you know that it won't do him any serious damage, but the pain lasts just long enough for him to release you in the middle of a tortured hiss, and you can take advantage of this to get out of his arms so nimbly that by the time he comes to his senses, you're a safe distance away. No matter how much a faint sense of guilt awakens in you, when you turn your back on everything and sprint towards the stairs, for leaving your companions at the mercy of the beasts, the survival instinct raging inside you drives this weakness to the hidden corner of your skull much sooner. Because these bastards were trying to use this, and they wanted to take advantage of this to catch you...

Even through the pounding of your heart in your ears, you can hear the laughter that comes from Johnny when you reach the top floor, and you know exactly what that voice promises you. There's nothing in it but cruel amusement, and that just helps enough to speed up your steps towards your room. And as soon as the small abode finally envelopes you, you slam the door behind you with such force that its loud bang almost shakes the house. But for once, you don't care if you make noise, because the chase has already started, and there's no point in being subtle.

You lock the door with trembling hands, but you know that you won't be able to keep them out for long, because you've experienced Johnny's power enough times. That's why you rush to the closet resting next to the wall with lightning speed, and you push against it clenching your teeth, because it might delay them for a minute longer. The furniture sways with a creak, as it slowly obeys the violent urging, and as you shove it with your shoulder again and again with angry desperation, it finally gives in and falls in front of the door with an loud crash, spilling all its contents to the floor. And although a sharp ache shoots through your arm as you step back to examine your makeshift barricade, all pain fades when you hear heavy footsteps stomping up the stairs in the sudden silence. They're coming after you.

And you immediately search for a new way out, and as soon as your gaze settles on the open window, you already know what you have to do. Because even though you know that there are enough dangers out there, the uncertain darkness seems friendlier than waiting here to see what kind of retribution you'll receive for interrupting the two men's fun.

And when the doorknob turns for the first time, you're already outside on the narrow roof, and you only take one last look at the door, which is slowly beginning to shake wildly, before you disappear in the cold night.

And only one thought screams in your head: You have to survive the night.

106 notes · View notes

lurkingshan · 4 months

Text

Japanese QL Corner

ICYMI: There are so many Japanese qls airing weekly, so I’m going to start posting this little round up at the end of each week. Most of these shows are on Gaga and I highly recommend watching!

Chaser Game W

We've reached the stage with this one where I'm just gonna say we should keep watching for the ratings and enjoy the pretty gifs.

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna 2

I got to watch episodes 5-8 of the new season this week, and I promptly lost my mind over how good this show is. It somehow got even better between seasons; the creators have some things to say about the experiences of women under heterosexual patriarchy. I already wrote about Kasuga's family trauma storyline and how much it meant to me, but these episodes also gave us Nomoto's ongoing queer awakening and journey to define her sexuality, the introduction of a new queer bestie in Yako, a better understanding of Nagumo and the careful and steady deepening of her relationship with the gals, a new confidant for Kasgua in Fujita, and Nomoto and Kasuga inching ever closer to defining what they are to each other. The world of the show and the support network around our leads continues to expand, and I am loving every moment. This drama is excellent and I cannot implore you enough to go to @furritsubs and catch up.

My Strawberry Film

Kicking off the last Drama Shower show of the season! This is a high school story featuring a classic trio—the Pining Gay, the Chaos Bisexual, and the Budding Lesbian. Obviously, I love them. I like the mood of this one—it's quite a tonal shift from the last show in this series—and the color grading is blue, blue, blue. And there's a mystery afoot as they try to track down the beautiful girl captured on film. Looking forward to more!

Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka

I continue to love this show, though I am not entirely sure how I feel about the turn things took with Mizuki this week. I did not really want this to go the full blown love triangle route; I am more interested in a version of this story where Sakae and Soga try to figure out these adult complications from the foundation of being in a relationship, not with the constant interference of a third party. So few dramas are willing to get the couple together early and let them face things together rather than constantly playing the will they, won't they game, and I was hoping Sukidoya was going to be one of them. That said, I like that Mizuki is sticking around in the story because he's an interesting character, and I like the conflict with Soga's job (we have a preponderance of Japanese shows about unreasonable work conditions airing atm) and the temporary nature of his time in Osaka. That he's worried about eventually leaving tells you all you need to know about how much he likes and respects Sakae. If he felt casual about him he would not be worried about complications that far down the timeline. Let's see where they take this love triangle thing next week; I'm hoping it will be brief.

Perfect Propose

Great episode this week, and I love the way they continue to deepen the backstory for these two. Hiro being the first person to need Kai rather than pity him makes so much sense for their dynamic and why Kai would be so attached to him. And of course, when Kai returns the situation is the same; Hiro definitely still needs him. I love that they took a source of shame for Hiro and turned it into a reason why he and Kai are so compatible. Kai wants to take care of him—and he's not the only one! Loved seeing Hiro's coworkers express concern for his well-being and recognize how this job is grinding him down and breaking his spirit. It was so validating to hear from another high performer that the job is miserable and he should quit. It has nothing to do with failure; as Kaneko said, it's about seeking the life he truly wants. He sees Hiro's talent and knows he will not be able to flourish in this hellish work environment, and I thought it was so kind and compassionate of him to try to help Hiro see that. Also shoutout to Hiyori for sitting her ass back down and missing the last train when she realized prime gossip was about to arrive to her table, she's just like me fr.

Ossan's Love Returns

We are clearly in the drama spiral for the season now, and this show seems to be coming for my beloved Kurosawa. Thanks, I hate it! But the show found its humor again this week even as the sad plotlines for the side characters continued, and I was very happy to see it back in top form. I loved this story with Maki and Haruta caring for Goro for the week, and how it affirmed for them that they are actually not interested in having children. I told @bengiyo and @twig-tea when we saw last week's preview that Maki seemed like the type who wouldn't like children, and I was glad to see that affirmed by the show, and crucially, that he didn't change his mind via the power of Goro's cuteness. Not all people want to be parents, and it's so nice and refreshing to see a loving couple decide they just want to focus on each other, and that you can like kids and spend time with them without needing to have one of your own. I loved, too, that we got some focus on Chizu's struggles as a single mom, and her family rallied around her and made it clear she has support. Takegawa's sudden not-at-all-selfishly-motivated interest in polyamory was hilarious, as was Chief's journey to figure out what was causing his stress—until it wasn't, of course. I was glad Chuoko was with him when he got the news. And I am really hoping that rooftop kiss was Kiku's goodbye, and we will be seeing him move on from Izumi soon.

Bonus: Kimi no Koto Dake Mite Itai

Shoutout to @my-rose-tinted-glasses for giffing this show and reminding me I still hadn't seen it! It was not accessible to me back when it came out and it fell off my radar for awhile. I watched today and thought it was just delightful. A short, sweet, warm hug of a friends to lovers high school bl with two very lovable leads. I highly recommend checking it out.

#japanese ql corner #chaser game w #tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #my strawberry film #sukiyanen kedo do yaro ka #perfect propose #ossan's love returns #kimi no koto dake mite itai #i want to see only you #japanese bl #japanese gl #shan shouts into the void

99 notes · View notes

jxsterr · 5 months

Text

ghhghgb pre calamity zelink but zelda grows a quiet rebellious streak after her father forbids her from engaging with sheikah technology and link volunteers as her ‘grew up as a regular village boy so of course he’s a terrible influence’ sidekick so they sneak around and do all sorts of things kids their age do because they yearn to feel at least a little bit normal despite all the pressure on their shoulders. also because i’m still hung up on why the hell his royal cap was in her room

i’m a slowburn truther but hear me out

i’m talking about link soothing an upset and understandably frustrated zelda as she rants about how unfair being forbidden to engage in something she enjoys by suggesting they simply just sneak out and enjoy it anyway. by telling her that he knows the patrolling routines well enough from being around the other guards so often that he can evade them. that he’d take the brunt of it if they were ever caught and watches how stars burst in her eyes at the prospect. he tells her that if rhoam is willing to void her of any sort of hobbies, any kind of relief from the stresses of her duty that they will simply make it themselves

so they learn to sneak around. he takes her out late at night to marvel and prod at the inactive guardians, jotting down notes and making sketches of the mechanisms as he keeps watch for her. she sneaks into the guards quarters to see him whenever she’s been too caught up in prayers and duties for him to be around. he sneaks into her bedroom to sprawl out on her bed while she dishes the castle gossip idly or drags him into her study and miserably details her struggles at growing a silent princess herself. they essentially become each other’s source of respite

but you know what i eat up the most?? them having the thought that. damn. they’ll never get to experience what a lot of kids their age get to because of their positions and responsibilities. they’ll never get to experience proper physical affection from another person, or steal wine from the kitchens and deal with the consequences of being a little too overzealous with it, or even experience what it’s like to be kissed. they’re just two kids desperate to feel normal just for a little while

so they’re like fuck it. the world could genuinely end tomorrow so why not start ticking off the list. they’re two people stuck in a shitty situation against their own volition who’ve grown close because of it and trust each other with their lives. why not help each other live a little

so they do it. they let tentative fingers tangle themselves whenever they dare stand near, cuddle on zelda’s bed after a long day until they fall asleep by accident and have to figure out a gameplan to get him the hell out without being suspicious about it, steal a bottle of wine to take turns drinking from on the battlement between her room and her study and cough at how damn strong it is because they didn’t realise you had to sip it, and exchange lingering kisses behind the safety of her bedroom door because why not. they lose even when they’re playing good, so why not take a little bit of control of their lives and do something for them when the calamity could appear at literally any point. they may as well live every day like their last when there’s so much to lose and nothing to gain.

it doesn’t even matter if they catch feelings from any of it anyway because they can figure it out if they even get past ganon. nothing is for certain when her cursed powers refuse to answer her so what the hell does it matter. so what if it starts with kisses that only occur occasionally when they’ve stolen wine again and their hearts can’t seem to stay off their sleeves for long enough to realise just how close zelda is sat next to him. so what if they use it once while completely sober to reassure the other in a last ditch attempt to calm them down and it just kinda sticks. so what if it becomes a game of how many they can sneak in small fleeting moments where every second counts and they only just about avoid getting caught. it’s a little bit of fun and goddess knows they need something good for once

they’ll figure out what all of this means after everything—and that’s if there’s still anything to come back to

#yes this is incredibly self indulgent shoot me #also idk what happened to the formatting i am sorry #zelink #legend of zelda #link #loz link #loz zelda #zelda and link #princess zelda #zelda x link #loz breath of the wild #pre calamity #zelink analysis

82 notes · View notes

napakmahal · 7 months

Text

“ Did all this happen because I left?”

Pause girlies because this is actually kinda serious. I just got out of a depressive episode and just really wanted to give the depression girlies a lil treat. Remember: you need other people in your life when you have depression. Make friends not resources. I love y’all (angst)

How can something be so painful yet so numb at the same time? The human brain is one of the most complex systems in the universe, aside from the universe itself. How it can feel so many polar opposite things simoultaniouly, and in that creating an entire civil war within itself. How could the brain, the thing meant to be in charge with your care and wellbeing one day just decide to decrease its own activity and make you miserable? It was the worlds greatest betrayal.

You’d been lying in your bed for the past week, and you might have gotten up twice a day. Once to use the bathroom and the other to get some food and bring it right back to your bed. Everyone said it wasn’t a big deal because you were young and you were probably just in a bad mood because of your hormones. Hormones were evil enough to suction blood from your reproductive organs (usually) once a month, they couldn’t possibly be cruel enough for this.

On your overheated and whirling computer was an endless loop of lousy reality T.V shows you’d watched over and over. There’s been therapists that have said that in these times of depressive episodes, you should revert back to adding some life and movement back into your brain. Which meant doing things like crossword puzzles, working out, math games, and reading 200+ page books. All things that you could totally do and things you liked to do. But not right now. Now all you wanted was junk food and shitty TLC shows. Not some slow burn, or some huge mystery TV show that required you to remember tiny details from the beginning of the season. Reality TV was entertaining, effortless, and on loop but you’d be lying if you said everytime you heard the freaky eaters intro a little more of your brain died.

That’s the funny thing about depression. Because even though you can feel yourself slipping and drowning in total misery, there’s nothing anyone can do to save you. So you get stuck in this endless loop of self detructive behavior hoping that the pain you experience on the outside is enough to kill the thing on the inside.

You were clinically depressed, and nothing nobody did was ever going to change that. But these episodes weren’t always like this. For a while, episodes were bearable. Your ‘friend’ made them better.

You’d known Hiro for a while, meeting him on the downtown bus during sunset on a spring saturday. You thought he was cool, he thought you were pretty. But the whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing seemed uncomfortable and the labels meade things weird.

Granted you were each others first kiss. The two of you had tried to convince each other it was just because you got asked out to your eighth grade formal and you wanted to be prepared. It also didn’t help much that the more you described the dude that asked you out, the more Hiro wished he hadn’t skipped all those grades.

You never told anyone about that. Sure you could say it was a one time thing but it was hard to use that as a defense when you’d made out with him because you were bored under the dock near the beach during the summer carnival, and when you were just playing video games in his room, and when you were sitting on the steps of the museum of Japanese artifacts while sharing a soda, and the time you two were at the skatepark after it closed and you two were making out- only except that time he’d taken off his jacket.

Sure you were both fifteen but you watched people make out in the hallways at school everyday. Kissing didn’t seem like this massive thing. Hiro grew up isolated from the true highschool experience, he didn’t know. All he knew was that making out with you was cool and pretending he only did it because he was bored (and not because he would swear on his teen hormones that he loved you) was even cooler.

His aunt and brother had liked to tease you for it, but that’s all it was: teasing. The two of you would never live down the torment you’d likey face if they found out about your “I’m bored, let’s make out” sessions.

Speaking of, your mom didn’t really know you and Hiro were like that. She was only partly sure you liked him and you only thought that because one day after she caught you being particularly smiley that night after having him over to stream a new song she came into your room, played with your hair and said: “So you and Hiro are friends? That’s nice, he’s seems nice. Just, make sure he doesn’t make it worse.”

That was also kind of a silly depression thing: People and their influence could make it worse for you, others, and even themselves. Bad influence already makes bad people, but bad influence on people with depression tends to make them miserable, desperate, and self loathing.

But contrary to what your mom had said, Hiro didn’t make it worse. He made it better and she would soon figure that out after you’d tried texting him multiple times despite knowing he was at an expo outside the city. And he’d respond as fast as he could with the best messages, but when he’d go dead silent for almost ten hours each day it just dampened your mood. You’d kept reminding yourself not to be selfish, that your lack of ability to be happy shouldn’t stop people from living their lives. But from the hours of 7 a.m. - 5 p.m. you were left with no friend and a fat headache.

——————————————————————————

The intro to a show you couldn’t remember the name of played for the tenth time that day, drying out your eyes and causing an endless headache. You were surprised you hadn’t at least gotten a stomach ache from all the Tylenol you’d been taking. Someone knocked at your closed bedroom door before gently opening it.

“Y/n,” Your mom squinted through the darkness of your closed blinds and at the glowing computer screen. “There’s someone here to see you.”

With your back faced to her you couldn’t say anything other than a low, “Oh.”

She left for a bit as you continued to lay there, helpless almost dead. Thinking about death is something everyone does up to a certain extent. Questions like: How will I die? What comes next? Are ghosts real? All normal.

But when you and people like you thought about death it wasn’t like when other people thought about death.

Suddenly, your door creaked open and you didn’t even have the energy to look back but you just knew. Hiro had looked around at your depression room and sighed. He hadn’t even been around you for more than thirty seconds and he already wanted to cry. This was bad- so bad. The boy gently crept up to your bed and sat down. You felt the dent of his body in your mattress and still didn’t move.

“How are you?” His voice was quiet.

You responded barely above a whisper, “Fine.”

“When’s the last time you left this room?”

You didn’t even reply. At that moment, breathing was too much work. Having to think about the air going through your lungs and exhaling it out was a chore.

Hiro leaned over your body and shut the laptop closed before moving it off your head and placing his body in it’s spot. You two were now face to face, laying on your bed like the lovers of valdaro. It was bad this time and everyone knew it. Guilt had been eating him alive since he read the shift in your texts. How could he enjoy himself at this expo while you were there suffering?

“Did all of this happen because I wasn’t here?” He whispered.

You grabbed onto his hand. “No. I’ve always been like this.”

“Do you promise?”

“I swear it.”

“But it’s never been this bad before. If I was here then-”

“You couldn’t have done anything.” You cut him off. “Hiro I’ve been like this all my life. And you shouldn’t feel obligated to hold yourself back because I’m not normal.”

Once while playing around at the park at midnight you told Hiro that a therapist you had said these episodes will wax and wane. In the good there will be bad and in the bad there will be good. But there would never be moment where it would just be good. You’d be this way for the rest of your life, sad, in pain, and left with a feeling of mania and worthlessness. And there was nothing he could do about it.

“Do-” Hiro’s voice started to shake and a tear from my eye scurred across his face. “Do I at least make it any better?’

The thought of making it better by being there would in turn make him feel a little less guilty about not being able to be with you all the time.

For the first time in a week, you gave him a weak smile. No teeth, just lips. Before you leaned forward and gave him a prolonged kiss. In return, he brushed your hair from your face and started petting your head.

“Yes,” You whispered. “You do.”

#baymax #big hero 6 #big hero six #hiro hamada #tadashi hamada #bh6 x reader #disney #fanfic #hiro hamada x reader #napakmahal

73 notes · View notes

sealz888 · 5 months

Note

Gage for the ask me anything! If you don’t do DLC characters then Nick Valentine please and Butch from FO3❤️

Thank you for requests! Another Anon sent me an ask with 2/3 of the characters and with Old Long Fellow so I'll post that soon for them. In the meanwhile, please enjoy. CW for Butch: Child abuse. Triggering content below the cut.

Nick Valentine

Ever since he was a young boy he's had a knack for investigating.

First got into introduction to it was family game night, where they had one of those fake investigation game thingies. He got it pretty fast, much to his families dismay. They got some more, and he only got better.

Started to watch detective and crime shows and movies and he'd often pick up on the culprit quickly. Listened to true crime radio shows too.

When he was 16, his neighbour hired to him to investigate if her husband was cheating on him. He found out and got photo evidence. The husband was cheating and he got paid handsomely for finding out.

Frequently corresponds with DiMA, exchanging letters and parcels. He tries to visit at least once a year. DiMA still tries to convince him to stay.

One time while they were staying, DiMA found one of those investigation games. A whole bunch of Synthes and DiMA tried to figure it out, Nick sat there watching and helping whenever he could. He ending up bringing it back to the Commonwealth with him.

Pre-War Nick was pretty close with Jennifer's nephew, becoming an uncle figure. There bond only got got stronger after Jenny got murdered. Nick and Little Shaun now share this bond.

His internal fans speed up and get really loud when he's flustered of caught of guard. If it's really quiet and you get up nice and close you could almost hear a mechanical heartbeat.

Porter Gage

I haven't played or watched too much on Nuka-world, so forgive me if I have anything off.

Gouged out his own eye. He was dared to prove his courage, loyalty and balls.

His brother is Red-eye. They were both adopted into the same raider family. They also have sister and another younger brother who were birthed into the ranks. The Sister and brother died in one of the raids, but Red Eye and Gage made it to Nuka World.

Doesn't like the taste of Nuka-Cola, drinking it so much as made him miserable. He's so tired of using it to marinade meat. He's so tired of the same fizzy texture. He's so tired of the taste, the colour, everything.

Tends to help out with agriculture and farming considering his roots.

Is debating betraying the SoSu considering their status with the Minutemen, dissatisfied at the recent information. He's also planning a full scale invasion of the Commonwealth.

He also wanted Nuka World too himself as well, so he has Red-Eye spy on SoSu.

Butch DeLoria

Content Warnings for Child Abuse the cut.

His dad ran off to Vegas. Growing up his mother would warn him about gambling, Chems and alcohol. Also bares a striking resemblance to his father, his mother resents him for it.

When he was a young child, he'd often ""run away"" from their room and ask to sleep for the night. He'd end up frequently having sleep overs with other kids and spend more time at theirs than his'.

Was really hoping to get a mechanic on the G.O.A.T and absolutely hated being a barber at first. However, he really like doing his hair and got really good it, so he excelled in his training much to his dismay.

Opened his own barber shop in Rivet City and people from all over, and I mean all over come to see him and to get a haircut. His skills are insane.

Listens to a lot of Elvis and can do a few of his dance moves.

Big comic book nerd despite bullying a lot of kids in the vault about comics. He's a grognak kinda guy I reckon.

Helps MacCready out too and knew him as a kid. He often visits little Duncan and brings him lollies, sweets, sodas and comics. He'll read Duncan the letters MacCready sends him in silly voices to get him to laugh.

Big ol' softie, wants a wife and to settle down in a family but his past experiences and absent father makes him second guess himself. He has a dog though.

He got counselling from James to deal with his trauma. Also apologised to the LW and Amata too.

Happy to leave the vault and never come back!

Continued below cut

He'd run to the guards and overseer and tell them about everything, most of the guards wanted to help him and would let him stay around them. They did everything in their power to get him help.

but when the overseer confronted his mother about she denied everything and said that he was lying.

He was not. Could you hear it.

33 notes · View notes

utilitycaster · 7 months

Note

I have a DnD question that is only tangentially related to mechanics: how do I get a DM new to the game to just play the game, without immediately homebrewing things. Long story short, I'm playing in a campaign with some friends who are all very new to DnD, including the DM. Since I'm the only person who has some experience with it, the DM often approaches me and asks about ideas he's had. In the beginning it was only mechanics and worldbuilding questions, but lately he has begun homebrewing things, including wanting to change the way that multiclassing works. Most of his ideas seem phenominally bad to me, since it's not just homebrewing a class or a spell, but changing how the game works altogether (e.g. multiclassing and levelling, turn-order based combat and a few other things. His newest idea was just giving characters extra attack despite what their class says). I don't want to keep telling him that all his ideas are bad and even suggested that it sounds like he doesn't really want to play DnD and maybe look into another system, to which he only replied that he already spent too much time working on this campaign. I'm kind of at my wits end but maybe you or your followers have a suggestion what to do?

You need to tell him straight up and fairly bluntly that his ideas are bad and that he either needs to stop and find a different system, or that you will leave.

I err on the side of "be blunt to get the point across" anyway, and one of my most cherished beliefs is "people who try to disrupt or reform things without first gaining a fairly thorough understanding thereof are some of the most irritating and short-sighted idiots around," so do understand that's coloring my opinion, but like, if someone is not receptive to gentler hints, it is ultimately kinder to say "here's the deal: this is a terrible idea." It is in my opinion better to have someone mad at you for feedback they solicited than to hold back out of concern for their feelings and then watch them crash and burn (or to hold back out of politeness and then be miserable or resentful because you were in fact unhappy with their choices).

I think if you want you can try to guide him to the answers himself (eg: "can you explain why you are changing multiclassing? can you explain what you believe this achieves") and I think you can offer to help him find a game that fits his needs better, but ultimately you need to say "you're making bad choices that destroy the game balance, it's unfair to the players, and the effort it takes to switch to a system that meets your needs is worth it." And then if he doesn't, if you're not having fun, you need to quit and find a different game. Which sucks, and is a last resort, but like...there is, and never has been, a magic solution that communicates exactly what you feel to someone that also ensures they won't get upset. If you have consistently been giving someone honest constructive feedback that they have solicited, and they disregard it? That is not someone you want to game with until they get their head out of their ass, and it's okay to get harsh if kind constructive criticism isn't getting through someone's thick skull.

#answered #dhwty-writes #this feels. oddly relevant to the current cr ep #cr spoilers #(for that tag)

27 notes · View notes

hikarisora101 · 1 year

Text

Gunvolt’s treatment in cannon bothers me to an unreal degree aka I’m get to rant about this series because I’ve never seen a series treat it’s mc worse

Spoilers for literally the whole franchise

I’ve had some time to think about it and calm down since gv3’s story and come to terms with it and something never sat right with me. And then it hit me. Gunvolt is the most punished character in the series and there is no good justification for it.

Drama tracks pre asg1

The things we learn about gv in the drama tracks are depressing. For reference, I recommend you watch the translations provided on slider’s YouTube channel, since they’ll be my main source for this section.

From what we can tell in the tracks that gv’s childhood pre quill is for lack of better words, absolutely crap. He was one of the subjects of the gv project, and only two that were successful, the other being Asimov. As far as we know he never had a name or at least was never referred to as such only being called subject 78.

As far as we know (because gv cannon likes raising more questions than answers and you have to DIG to hell and back just to find some answers) Gv’s time in sumeragi was miserable until quill decided to make a surprise adoption.

Asg1: and now things get worse

Then asg1 happens and we meet Joule, the other most punished character . Things go well for the pair until the end of the game. There are two ending, the Asimov kills gv and we move to the ix timeline and the gv lives but now Joule lives in his head ending.

The ending where he lives end in the simplest of terms is Gv killing what his basically his father and basically has to leave his friends behind with out a word and now has Joule living in his head. There’s not much of a happy ending here, bittersweet at most but hey at least he gets to live.

Asg2: everyone say hello to Quinn and Xiao

In one of the drama tracks where Gv meets Quinn, Gv and Joule are not having the best time. Joule’s not having a great time considering that y’know she’s basically a ghost and gunvolt himself isn’t having it any better. Now is how he treats Joule here great?

However, keep in mind that he’s only a year older than she is and feels like he failed her and has to deal with quill and sumeragi being after him. Not to mention he killed his foster father in an act of revenge. So yeah everything kinda sucks.

Then Quinn happens and she fills the role the of the anchor to Gv’s mental state in a sense in that in order for him to get better he has to come to terms with what happens and let Joule go.

And that partially happens through Michiru (I can’t spell her eng name for some reason) since no matter who you play, Gv ultimately makes the choice to let her go. And it’s for the better because an argument can be made that Joule staying around in her current state isn’t healthy in the slightest. Not helping that before the prayer fight, he internalizes what happened as failure, that there was a failure on his part. Even though, he really didn’t have much control over Joule’s powers getting snatched and Copen wasn’t really helping matters much either.

By contrast Gv never seems to talk about what happened in the previous game, never even referring to Asimov by name only calling him “mentor”. Not helped by him having nightmares about his near-death experience and as far as we know is more content with just leaving it in the past. Which is fine but I wish it would have been brought up at some point.

Honestly, it feels kinda weird that we never get any sort of interaction with Joule that has him or Joule take a moment to talk about what happened. Neither of them talk about their experiences with sumeragi, or the whole Asimov situation. It also doesn’t seem like he ever got closer in that case and I don’t feel like he ever did.

Asg3: the reason this post exists

Now we get to asg3 which is the reason why I made this post, because it’s kinda frustrating in every way.

First we learn that gunvolt’s powers went out of control. One of the conversations have him point out that it could be due to the AB spirits. However due to this he ended up hurting Quinn, afterwards he turned himself in to sumeragi.

Now gv3 does make it a point to say that sumeragi isn’t that bad which is a problem due to all of the child experimentation. Gunvolt himself also makes it a point to bring up that the scientists don’t represent the whole of sumeragi, which while fair kinda feels weird because those scientists were part of a whole project that probably had the company’s ok.

Now gunvolt has been a dragon for decades, which is the story’s justification for abandoning every other plot line

Now we get to a frustrating part in the story which is the duo refights. The problem isn’t that it can be interpreted that they’re a personified version of his guilt. The problem is that because their so late in the story that it feels like the neither the story or characters really press on it. Which sucks because Gv never seems to get closer with Quinn.

Skipping to the end because Asimov and Nova deserve their own posts. Gunvolt’s story ends with him being turned into a baby and going … somewhere.

Now why is this all an issue?

The core of the issue stems from the fact that most of these events happen nearly every time we see him. Every time he gains something he’s forced to lose it. The only times he wasn’t was when he let Joule go.

Copen in the IX timeline at least gets to be able to have some sort of stability and despite having to kill his twin sister at least gains something in the same respect. Compare this to gv where it’s gut punch, gain something, then it’s gone. Gunvolt becoming a villain wouldn’t have been better either.

His story is doesn’t feel fun to go through it feels unreasonably depressing. His story could’ve been better if you just let him be happy for longer than the start or the end of a game.

#long post #rant post #azure striker gunvolt #gunvolt #negative posting

32 notes · View notes

lucky-clover-gazette · 2 years

Text

one for the books

modern bookseller au • 4250 words • teen

this is my second and final entry for the 2022 @fsadventanthology! look out for more amazing art and writing from the fandom throughout the month of december. a special thank you to @vagueandominousvibes for organizing this event and accommodating my panicked pms as i completely switched ideas at the last second.

"It began with strictly customer-employee interactions—Mystery Guy asked Vio if he knew any good books about dragons, and Vio asked if he was looking for something more Middle Earth or middle grade (the answer was both). The first actual purchase the guy made was a TJ Klune book—Vio forgets which one—accompanied by an experimental and exceedingly gory graphic novel. It was around the two-week mark that Vio noticed he never asked Green, or Blue, or even Red for recommendations or small talk. This idiot identified the most antisocial employee of the bunch and decided yeah, this is the one I’ll tell all about my middle school Warrior Cats phase."

read it on ao3 or under the cut:

Not even the independent bookstore is immune to shitty corporate Christmas radio.

For eighty-five percent of the calendar year, Vio and his coworkers are allowed to play their own music at a reasonable volume. The store manager is surprisingly flexible in the music she allows in the store—while Green’s lo-fi video game soundtracks and Vio’s classical music fit the whole bookshop vibe well enough, Blue’s fixation with 2000’s pop-punk isn’t nearly as appropriate. But still, Zelda lets him play it, and when it’s really dead she’ll even give Red the aux, even though his preferred tracks rarely come without an explicit content warning.

That exact kind of freedom is easily the best part of Vio’s job, really distinguishing the Bookseller Experience™ from other retail positions he’s held in the past. Here he’s encouraged to offer personal recommendations to customers, and write shelf talkers for his favorite books, and curate perfect playlists for long seven-hour shifts. He’s still working, and it’s still retail, but sharing his oldest and deepest passion with every stranger who happens to walk through the doorway never fails to feel special.

Except, apparently, during the months of November and December. Can he put up a uniquely themed display of underappreciated novels? Nope, every surface is reserved for bestsellers and regional gift guide selections. Can he play his own music? Not when customers can be so easily lulled into purchasing special hardcover editions by the crooning voice of Bing Crosby.

This entire holiday season, there have been two Grinches in the bookstore—one on the designated Seuss shelf, and the other behind the counter. Vio stands there now, absolutely miserable in a purple sweater and his well-worn scrunchie, counting down the seconds until he finally can close up shop.

“Got any fun plans?” asks Red, his only other coworker at the moment. Zelda and Green are off visiting Green’s dad a few towns away, and Blue took the day off to do some last-minute shopping. Vio, meanwhile, hadn’t even considered taking off Christmas Eve. It’s not like he’s getting holiday pay or anything, but it’s better than sitting around alone in his apartment. This is the first time in his life that he won’t be able to make it home for the holidays—thanks, retail—and he’s putting on a brave face about it, but…

“I’m fine,” Vio says, tearing apart a post-it note in his chapped hands. He watches the snow fall through the show window, equally charmed and inconvenienced in anticipation of his walk home.

“I didn’t ask if you were fine,” Red said, completely genuine and even a bit concerned. “I’d ask if you’re okay based on that answer, but, well, y’know.”

“Sorry,” Vio says, shoving the shreds of paper into his pocket. He regrets wasting it with his idle fidgeting, too ashamed to relinquish it to the recycling bin.

Red stares at him with a placating smile. “Actually, can you do me a favor?”

Vio raises an eyebrow, the yes implied.

“Wrap my gift for Blue, please,” Red says, grabbing a softcover book from the staff hold shelf. He’s been obscuring it for a week with a poster for the newest Louise Penny mystery, out of his fiancee’s sight and mind.

Jesus Christ. Red is only a year older than Vio, and he already has a fiancee.

“Special order?” Vio asks, admittedly pleased by Red’s request. Vio is, hands-down, the best gift-wrapper among the bookstore’s staff. He takes every opportunity to go to his little corner and do his little process and curl his pretty little bow and incidentally avoid actually interacting with the customers themselves. Very few things can fully get Vio in the holiday spirit, but give him a stack of six hardcovers and a fresh roll of non-denominational colored ribbon and he’s Mariah fucking Carey.

“Yeah, and it got here just in time!” He hands the book to Vio, who takes a second to examine. It’s a manga—no surprise there, Blue’s the go-to guy for that section—with some vaguely gay shit on the cover that they’d probably display in June.

“It was on backorder for so long,” Red explains as Vio begins his meticulous wrapping process. “He still thinks it is, with the supply chain, so I know this’ll totally blow his mind.”

“Do you think he got you a book too?” Vio creases the white-and-gold wrapping paper and reaches for the tape dispenser labeled ‘FOR GIFT WRAPPING DO NOT MOVE.’

“Maybe! Probably! We do get a 30% discount, so it’d be silly not to do gift shopping here.”

Vio knows all about that. He had shipped his parents’ gifts last week, hand-wrapped of course, with a little note that he tried not to make too melancholy. Otherwise, he wasn’t really on the hook for gift-giving or receiving. All of his college friends had left town after graduation, and most of them are working retail as well.

“Thanks,” Vio says, his voice softer than he’s allowed it to be all day. He’s been stuck for hours in this mental place between ‘Christmas Eve means nothing to me because I’m alone,’ and ‘oh my god it’s Christmas Eve and I’m alone.’

“Thanks for what?” Red asks, passing Vio the blue spool. Vio measures it with expert concentration and begins the exhilarating process of ribbonification (not a technical term).

“For asking me to do this,” Vio says as he uses a pair of scissors to curl a little bow. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bummer all day, I know you probably don’t want to be here either.”

Red shrugs. “I really don’t mind, but I appreciate your saying so. I know it’s your first Christmas alone. I’d invite you to join me and Blue, but you don’t seem like the third wheel type.”

“No, I am not. And besides, you guys deserve a cozy romantic night together.”

“And you act like you’re so above Christmas stuff,” Red teases as Vio hands him the wrapped gift. “I bet you’d love to be all cuddled up with some cute guy by a fire.”

“Shut up,” Vio says, hiding his face behind his hand. Really? Is that all it takes to make his blush? Apparently so, and he hates it.

“I mean,” Red says, suddenly serious, “there is that guy. You know, the one who’s been coming in specifically to antagonize you for over two months.”

“He’s a customer,” Vio says, although of course he knows exactly what Red is suggesting. “He’s here for books, and I think he works down the street so it makes sense that he’d stop by often.”

“He must have been working a lot these past few weeks, then, and only on the exact days that you happen to have shifts.”

Vio didn’t know that part of it, and he’s sure his expression tells Red just as much. He still won’t take the bait, though, because the situation Red is suggesting simply isn’t something that would happen in real life. In a contemporary romance novel, sure, or a fanfic—but not in the real world, with an annoyingly handsome purple-haired enigma who can’t possibly be younger than twenty or older than twenty-five.

Not that Vio’s speculated about his age or anything, because that would be super weird. Even weirder would be for a service employee to hit on a customer, or vice-versa, so the age thing doesn’t even matter in the first place. There are just too many power imbalances at play between them, and so many unknowns, like the guy’s name and job and if he even likes men, or Vio specifically, because what a weird assumption to make based on vague flirtation—

“Okay, so you’re freaking out,” Red says, shaking Vio out of his… whatever that was. “And you’re shredding the wrapping paper.”

Vio looks down at his hands and groans. Dammit, again?

“Hey,” Red tries to calm Vio as he steps back from the counter. “Just try to relax. I’m sorry for teasing, I promise I don’t know anything more than you do. We’ve all just noticed, over the holiday season, that this guy seems particularly interested in your mystery book display, and, well, you. It’s sweet. We like when he comes in. We like seeing you happy.”

“That asshole doesn’t make me happy,” Vio argues, glancing over at the shop’s single current creative display. He’d adapted the idea from a popular Valentine’s Day tradition—blind date with a book—and the mystery titles, only described with a few selling points, have been selling surprisingly well. Customers seem to enjoy Vio’s bullet-point lists, giving them a clue right on the wrapping paper as to which books would be best suited for their loved ones. And Vio enjoys writing the short descriptions, especially for lesser-known books with particularly unfortunate cover designs. It’s a great little project, and in a lot of ways has gotten him through the sales season—except, there’s been one hitch.

Back in November, right around the time Vio had launched his new display concept, this random guy just started showing up to the store a few times a week. This isn’t abnormal customer behavior—every store has its regulars, after all—but this person in particular had uniquely annoyed Vio from the start. He’d just wander around the shop for like twenty minutes at a time, browsing every section in his stupid jacket with the stupid pins and stomping his stupid Docs on the carpet Vio had just vacuumed the night before, and forget the fifty-something customers who walked on the carpet before him, it’s always this person specifically who Vio resents for the mess.

And then the guy started talking to Vio.

It began with strictly customer-employee interactions—Mystery Guy asked Vio if he knew any good books about dragons, and Vio asked if he was looking for something more Middle Earth or middle grade (the answer was both). The first actual purchase the guy made was a TJ Klune book—Vio forgets which one—accompanied by an experimental and exceedingly gory graphic novel. It was around the two-week mark that Vio noticed he never asked Green, or Blue, or even Red for recommendations or small talk. This idiot identified the most antisocial employee of the bunch and decided yeah, this is the one I’ll tell all about my middle school Warrior Cats phase.

Once the display went out for the real holiday season, Mystery Guy had immediately gravitated towards it. He began to spend his entire visit poring over Vio’s descriptions, using what Vio assumes is prior knowledge and only sometimes the internet to make an educated guess. And every single time he’s visited since, he’s been able to clock at least three of Vio’s newly-added titles without fail.

Of course this nerdy game of cat-and-mouse has escalated over the past month, with Vio writing increasingly vague descriptions of the most obscure titles he can find. But Mystery Guy is apparently a fucking psychic, because he still manages to pin Vio down more often than not. He seems to enjoy messing with Vio, sometimes pretending to be clueless before pulling the title out of nowhere at the last second. Vio wonders how many tabs he has open in Safari, exclusively to search up niche books based on Vio’s descriptions. He kind of hopes it’s enough to crash the phone.

Vio has tried every genre on the shelf to stump this scourge of a customer—poetry, history, cookbooks, and most recently even romance, which is like his least favorite literary genre ever! He had to resort to fucking Goodreads to distinguish between these generic-ass books, each with a cover so uninspired it looks like it was designed using Canva in under eight minutes. It’s like every romance novel published after 2020 is a variation of one or more of exactly three premises—fake-dating, enemies to lovers but not really enemies, like they’re owners of rival bakeries or something, and/or Capital-H Horny. And because of the literal creature of darkness haunting his display, Vio has been forced to immerse himself in the world of trendy romantic fiction just to get ahead. The next time Mystery Guy visits the store, Vio will either finally outsmart him or literally tear him limb from limb.

He’ll have to wait for the new year for his victory, though. Undoubtedly Mystery Guy has better things to do on Christmas Eve than harass Vio. He probably has a partner, just like everyone else Vio knows, because cuffing season is real and people are desperate. Meanwhile, it’s like any potential suitor of Vio’s has to pass an entire emotional obstacle course to even be allowed to hold his hand, and there’s nothing Vio can tell his brain or body to make that less of a fucking problem. Him, cuddling someone in front of a fire like he’s in some lonely gay idiot’s cottagecore AU? Would admittedly be lovely, but not going to happen any time soon.

The sound of the store bell startles Vio to attention, and for just a second his heart lifts. But it’s just Blue out there, all bundled up in a parka and badly hiding a bouquet of roses behind his back.

“Oh, he didn’t,” Red says, already running to the door. He lets Blue in and envelopes him a hug, only groaning slightly when he makes contact with the thorns.

“Hi,” Blue says, passing Red the flowers and giving him a quick kiss. He cranes his head towards Vio, who just stands behind the counter like a moron. “Hey, Vio. Merry Christmas Eve.”

“You too.”

“What time is it?” Blue asks Red, although Vio’s the one in front of the computer.

“6:55,” Vio says. “If you want to take off, I can handle closing on my own.”

“Are you sure?” Red asks, his eyes sparkling as he already begins to pack up his things.

Vio nods. “I’m sure. It’s my gift to you.”

“Thanks, Vio,” Red says, clearly wanting to give him a hug but also aware of Vio’s prickly reactions in the past.

“Don’t forget the book,” Vio reminds him, nodding to the wrapped manga.

“What book?” Blue calls from the entryway as Red shoves it in his large reusable tote bag.

“You’ll find out later!”

It takes Red no time l to vacate the store, arm-in-arm with Blue, leaving Vio behind to wait out the last four minutes he’s required to keep the door unlocked. There’s no way a customer would come in this close to 7, not on Christmas Eve, not—

“Hey, Vio,” says a gut-wrenchingly familiar voice, somehow reaching his ears before the bell above the door. Mystery Guy leans in the doorframe, arriving with a freezing gust of air as he shoots Vio a grin. “Looks like you’re about to close, my bad.”

Vio rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re letting in the snow. You’ve got three minutes.”

Mystery Guy raises his eyebrows in genuine surprise, as if he hadn’t expected to get this far. He wears the same heavy black jacket as usual, with the pins Vio has never been close enough to make out, and wouldn’t you know it, his Docs are caked with snow and dirty rock salt. He steps fully inside and shuts the door behind him, matching Vio’s semi-defensive pose.

“Can I help you?” Vio asks, picking up a post-it note and immediately putting it back down.

“Maybe,” says Mystery Guy, walking over to Vio’s mystery book display. “Looking for a last-minute gift for someone. Wasn’t sure if I was gonna have the guts to make a move until like ten minutes ago.”

“Girlfriend?” Vio asks, putting a hand on his hip. Mystery Guy shakes his head. “Boyfriend?”

“Not sure yet.”

It has to be the stupid romance books giving Vio brainrot, making him think what he thinks must be happening.

“Well, what does this… person… like to read about?”

Mystery Guy considers. “It seems like a little bit of everything. He has pretty varied interests. They can get kinda niche, honestly.”

“How niche.”

Mystery Guy picks up one of Shadow’s newly-added books, weighs it in his hands, and scans the description Vio wrote. “Looks like… a combination gluten-free and keto cookbook themed around 90’s sitcoms.”

“80’s. That’s not his thing, though, he probably just thought it was too obscure for annoying customers to guess.”

He examines a paperback from all angles, as if trying to see through the wrapping, and then reads the description again. “A graphic novel—no, manga—based on a popular Nintendo franchise that he describes as, and I quote, ‘significantly gayer than anyone would ever expect it to be.’”

“Well, whatever Bowser and Luigi get up to in their free time is their business.”

This makes Mystery Guy smile, like really smile, and Vio feels like he’s winning and losing at the same time.

“And let’s see,” Mystery Guy says, reaching for a mass-market paperback with a disproportionate-looking bow, “romance novels, apparently. He appears to be a big fan, based on the not-at-all snide or derisive commentary on the tin.”

Vio wants to protest Mystery Guy’s accurate interpretation of his writings, but he’s too busy being impressed that the guy knows how to use ‘derisive’ in a sentence.

“Would you, uh,” the guy begins to ask, stopping himself halfway through the sentence. Gone is the confidence, at least during this pause, and he proceeds with obvious caution. “Would he not be interested in… romance? As a genre?”

Vio shakes his head. “No! I mean, yes! I mean, what?”

“Because I—fuck, it’s gotta be past 7:00 at this point, and I had this whole plan to be all charming and suave but then I ran late in the storm and it’s like I’m standing here now and regretting every decision I’ve ever made up until this point, because you’re basically a stranger and in a position where you can’t turn me away and sure, in a movie this would be perfect, but in real life I’m just acting like a total creep—”

“What’s your name?” Vio asks, crossing over the room to join Mystery Guy at the display. Closer to him, Vio can see that his gloved hand is shaking. “It’s not very fair that you’ve been able to see mine this whole time, while I’ve had no choice but to call you unkind things in my head.”

“Shadow,” Mystery Guy says, and it’s not like it doesn’t make sense.

“Okay, Shadow, I’d be happy to help you find the perfect book for your desired recipient.”

They avoid contact, both staring at the wrapped volumes on the display as if they’re the most interesting things in the world. Vio selects one and slides it into Shadow’s hand, hoping that a solid object to hold will help keep him steady.

“He might not be a fan of the contemporary romance genre,” Vio says, genuinely surprised by the levelness of his voice. Maybe talking to dozens of strangers a day about books has made him immune to social anxiety, just as long as the topic of discussion is literary. “But romance can be found in nearly any story, in one way or another. He… it sounds like he…”

Shadow clears his throat. “It’s you, Vio, you can give up the bit.”

Vio shakes his head. “Nope, I committed already, I’m seeing this through."

“Fair enough,” Shadow says with a grin. ”Now tell me more about this guy, he seems cool.”

Vio wants so badly to continue the banter, but knows for the sake of his own comfort he has to press pause. He turns to Shadow with a serious expression. “Honestly, before I really start talking about him… he’d probably want you to know that he has a few minor concerns. He’d like to maybe learn what you do during the day, like for work, when you’re not busy antagonizing your local bookseller. What brought you to this town, what your ulterior motives were for becoming a regular at the shop, if you had any at all. He… he just wants to make sure you’re safe, and he apologizes if that’s an offensive thing to question.”

Shadow nods, seeming to understand Vio’s hesitation. “I work at a gallery downtown, just a few minutes away from the shop. I moved here after graduating art school because this happened to be where I got offered a job. It’s lonely being in your early twenties in a college town, so sometimes it’s nice to just sit in a cafe or browse my local independent bookstore and feel like I’m a part of something. It’s pure coincidence that, on my first visit to this bookstore, I read several shelf-talkers written by some nerd named Vio who seemed to have similar tastes to mine. So I took out a few of his recommendations from the library—sorry, I don’t have the space to own books right now—and thoroughly enjoyed them. I wanted to talk to him more about books, maybe even ask for his number, but I am not a master manipulator so I settled for being a pest instead. From there it just escalated, because it’s cute when he gets all pissed off, and I enjoyed the challenge he created for me with the wrapped books.”

Vio exhales shortly. “So, uh… if you were to ask for his number now… would it be just as a friend?”

“If that’s all he’s interested in, sure.”

“It’s not,” Vio says firmly. “He, uh, told me so.”

“Glad to hear it. Does he happen to have any favorite foods, or beverages, over which we could hypothetically discuss our tastes in literature on this snowy Christmas Eve?”

“Pumpkin soup and evil root beer.”

“What the hell is evil root beer?”

“Normal root beer,” Vio explains, “served in a fancy glass so he can gesticulate during his pretentious literary diatribes.”

“The fanciest glass I have is a Garfield mug.”

“Works for me.”

Both Vio and Shadow smile, and finally they come face-to-face. They’re not going to kiss or anything—not yet, anyway—but they both can feel the potential. They gaze into each other’s eyes like they’re romantic leads in a novel Vio would give one generous star, and it’d be tacky if it was anyone else, but not when it’s them. And while kissing doesn’t feel quite right in this particular moment, leaning forward to gently touch foreheads just does.

“I live like five minutes away,” Shadow mutters, unable and unwilling to move. “I usually feed Pinecone—my cat—around 7, so maybe I’ll head out now, grab pumpkin soup ingredients at the market on my way, and you can come over once the store’s all closed up.”

Vio nods, slightly disrupting the forehead touch that feels so inexplicably cosmically correct. It’s like, in any conceivable universe where Vio and Shadow both exist, they will inevitably end up just like this.

“What’s your address?” Vio asks, allowing himself to close his eyes. God, it’s been a long day.

“I’ve got a shitty one-bedroom apartment above the Tower of Spirits liquor store. I stole half of my furniture off the street after the mass exodus of college students in June.”

“You’ve really been here since June?” Vio asks, disregarding the furniture part because for some reason it also feels cosmically correct. “You must have been so lonely.”

Shadow nods. “Lonely, I’m good at,” he says, finally pulling away. “Believe me when I say, I’ve had lots of practice.”

Vio nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

“It’s the not being lonely that really freaks me out,” Shadow admits, and it’s like wow, that’s some deep shit to say when Vio just learned his name ten minutes ago, but haven’t they technically known each other for months? Shadow has already read some of Vio’s favorite books, and for Vio that’s about as intimate as passing second base—hell, even third, depending on the book.

And it could have been a truly beautiful moment between them—one for the books, pun intended—if only the goddamn Chipmunks hadn’t started singing about Christmastime.

“Oh, fuck this store radio,” Vio says, retreating behind the counter and pulling the plug. “I’ll see you in like twenty minute, I can Venmo you for the soup ingredients later.”

Shadow looks like he wants to argue with the Venmo thing, but just shakes his head instead. “Sounds good.”

“Oh, and wait,” Vio says, grabbing a pen and a post-it note, “what’s your number?”

Shadow gives it, and Vio knows this is one piece of paper he will never absentmindedly shred. At least, not until he has a second to enter it into his phone, and then it’s totally fair game.

Vio hears the ring of the bell and goes to lock the door behind Shadow. Through the glass he watches flurries of snow punctuate the pitch-black sky—and in it, he sees his own dark reflection. It’s just him, of course, a blonde guy in a purple sweater and scrunchie, still visibly tired but noticeably less miserable than he had been an hour ago. He sees a guy who isn’t alone on Christmas Eve, who probably won’t find himself anywhere near a fireplace but will most likely end up cuddling his months-long crush by the night’s end.

He gives himself a smile and decides he can skip the vacuuming tonight. Call it a gift to himself, although several closing tasks still stand between him and Shadow’s apartment.

Vio turns his back on the darkness and gets to work.

#fsaa22 #fsaa #fs #four swords #vidow #vio x shadow #red x blue #vio link #shadow link #red link #blue link #my writing #this could probably be rated gen but idk

53 notes · View notes

quonka · 9 days

Text

The Art of Putting on Horror Ambiance in Order to Emulate Getting Hunted for Sport, in Hopes that the Adrenaline Produced Forces You to Lock In

Not to brag, but my attention span is pretty miserable. Even things I genuinely enjoy doing are shoved to the side and neglected in the favor of doing actually, literally nothing.

Knowing this fact about me then, it may come as no surprise that getting myself to do schoolwork is an actual herculean task that I either have to trick myself into doing somehow; or as it ends up being in most cases, have to be forced into doing by my own debilitating fear of the due date, now only one night's sleep away, and its consequences on my GPA.

Maybe this sense of fear, this sense of myself in direct opposition to an impending aftermath, is why having horror game OST's playing in my ears when I'm writing is so effective. Misery loves company.

"Anyone else hiding in the comments right now?"

I don't actually have an extensive history of playing horror games-- instead, my knowledge comes from watching them at probably too young an age on YouTube.

My main sources of horror game content came from Markiplier-- of course-- and a much smaller youtuber that at the time when I first watched him eleven years ago, went by Harshly Critical, but now goes by John Wolfe. Both men have played an extensive amount of indie horror games-- some good, and some really, really bad, and some just completely mediocre and forgettable-- and I watched them all. Or at least my fair share of them.

Baby's First Horror Game

The first horror game that I ever personally played, and actually beat instead of turning it off at the first sign of terror, was a game called Darkwood, officially released in 2017 by Acid Wizard Studio.

I didn't even play it off one of their recommendations either-- I had no idea this game existed in any capacity until one day in 2020 when I was scrolling through the Play Station Store, specifically looking for interesting horror games to try.

The first thing about the game that grabbed me was the horrific (in the best way) cover art, but what got me to actually buy the game and play it was its insistence on the minimal presence of jump scares--

At the time, and after the commercial success of Five Nights at Freddy's and its multiple sequels, a series whose staple was the jump scare; many horror game consumers became soured to that convention of the genre-- often calling them out as "cheap" and "out of nowhere lazy bullshit". This sentiment among the community was evidently common enough to be able to market one's game off of. I do remember thinking it was a bit pretentious-- giving off a major "I'm different from other horror games" feel-- but I guess it worked. because I did in fact purchase the game.

And they were absolutely in their right to claim their game as "an atmospheric horror experience that creates a feeling of tension without cheap horror tricks."

Dull of One Sense Sharpens Another

Despite the art on the cover, the actual game itself is pixelated-- for the most part. In fact, the only times when you aren't in immediate danger is when you're sat across from characters that look like this:

That is exactly what makes the sound and music design so genius though; it's that importance of it, that necessity. When the gameplay looks like this--

-- that is to say in a Top-Down perspective with generally dark and muddy, muffled colors; You have to listen for the threats, instead of just normally being able to see them in HD.

That's another thing too, as seen in the photo, there is a specific, defined area that is lit up where enemies can be seen. However, in the game, anything outside of that sliver of light-- anything behind you-- will not be visible until you turn around and shine your light on it. This leads to a lot of enemies inevitably sneaking up on you, and in this game's case where you have extremely limited health and stamina reserves (the red and silver bars in the top left corner), you have to learn to listen for them or else they will easily kill you.

I think then that the intense amount of focus I put into listening for sticks around me breaking, or for sounds of shuffling and growling, all on top of the general game's ambiance and soundtrack, conditioned my brain into focusing whenever the game's music plays.

The Buzzword

youtube

Darkwood, authored by Artur Kordas who had a large part in the development of the entire game, has a fantastic assortment of songs that all flow smoothly into each other-- and just they are designed to in the game, they fade into the background, providing a consistent atmosphere so that you can focus on the task at hand-- or at least so that I can.

There are also one or two songs that refuse to wash away into mood music. My favorite song on the album, "Underground", is a perfect example of this. It comes in with this slow and consistent, almost pulsating type of ragged noise, one that makes me picture an ugly, broken and dented, rusted, barely working trumpet, with an underneath layer that sounds like dragging stone against stone. Then around halfway through the song, an aggressive and exciting drum beat with hints of a metallic sound crescendos and crescendos, chasing the original set of sounds until it's all that's left-- completely overriding the grinding stone and leaving a thicker horn blare in replacement of the old one. This of course eventually fades into one of the common buzzing motifs found in many placing of the game's soundtrack, that's meant to signify safety, or hope.

This hasty, thrilling song provides a really nice break up and into the rest of the album, that is an even nicer subconscious reminder to my brain that there is danger if I do not promptly "pick up the pace" of my writing-- and further that there is safety on the "other side" of finishing my work.

Recommendations?

I have played many video games; some that have required a lot of my focus that aren't necessarily horror, but whose soundtracks really help me to concentrate; and I've played other horror games where the soundtracks end up more distracting than helpful. I've also played some games that are my favorites of all time, and I've put many, many hours into, where their soundtracks do absolutely nothing because they're just a little boring.

Darkwood is special in that way, where it lies in a neat, cohesive little combination that ends up perfectly suiting my need for background music when I write.

And I thought it was pretentious.

Does anyone else have specific videogame OST's that work like this for them? I'm always looking to discover new music, especially music that's ideal for studying and schoolwork-- and it definitely doesn't have to be horror; like I've said, I use multiple different genres of OST's to help me out.

Also, I feel like this goes without saying, but if you are looking for a horror game to play, I do recommend trying out Darkwood.

youtube

Or if you'd rather just listen to the soundtrack, I understand.

#blogs #music #videogamemusic #horror games #horrorgameosts #Youtube #Darkwood

2 notes · View notes

edandstede · 8 months

Text

i’ve never understood this idea that once you live with your partner, it becomes a chore. that you hate being under the same roof. it’s most often pedalled by the cishets too, which i could go into their norms vs queer love and how we experience these things differently but i won’t. but yeah, what’s up with this accepted state of hating being in each other’s space? like, i understand the occasional argument or disagreement, needing to make time for yourself, having your own room, of course being inseparable isn’t healthy 24/7, but i could never hate living with the man i love. it couldn’t even cross my mind.

we’ve been together for almost 12 years, lived together for 3, and i’ll never be bored. i’ll never resent being in his space, getting to share a roof and a home. it isn’t difficult. i don’t struggle to accommodate him, because loving him isn’t a job or a task. it’s something i do every day the same way i eat and drink and breathe. just is. we watch telly together and share a running commentary on some things that make us snort, we play video games together, he randomly starts dancing with me in the kitchen to the radio. we sit and do our little separate crafts together. he laughs and talks in his sleep and i see how long i can keep getting him to answer me. we hand over meals or cups of tea with a love or sweetheart or darling and we have done for years and i know we always will. we have our little routines and jobs we each prefer and we work out compromises for things and we go on enjoying our lives together. he makes me fucking howl with laughter on a daily basis, and i do with him. we cuddle up with our dog at night in a pile of blankets. it’s so lovely. like it’s just so fucking cool to have him around all the time and never have to miss him for long.

why the fuck do some people think you have to accept that one day you’ll hate this experience? that’s not normal. like, this shit is the best thing ever, it’s so much fun, every day i get to just hang out with my best friend! that’s a privilege! what do you mean i only have to open my eyes and the person who brings me the most peace and comfort in the world is right there? mate that is magic. who gets to be that lucky?

who we are now and how we act with each other vs when we were dating and living separately, there are only minor differences. normal differences. it hasn’t changed our dynamic, if anything we are more content and in love and settled. that’s how it should be isn’t it? sharing a home, that added layer of security and assuredness, that you’re a team, a family. it should make things easier, not harder.

it’s just bizarre to me and i’ll never understand it. i can’t relate to this popular belief that couples become grumpy and complacent and bitter and resentful just because of proximity, and that it’s bound to happen - that it’s inevitable. literally no couple is perfect but god damn do you even love each other if coexisting makes you that miserable? because it shouldn’t. it’s the joy of my life to get to do this with him.

#this has been on my mind for months. needed to vent it out #of course i get that some circumstances make relationships suffer #of course i do. but generally speaking #you should never feel like you’re dooming yourself to be ‘tied down’#the whole ball and chain thing needs to die #i’m having a blast actually #most fun i’ve ever had #quill to paper #personal

7 notes · View notes

tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 3 months

Text

In honour of finally getting a date for the new Taskmaster season, here's a clip of John Robins' approach to pointless games.

It's from a radio show feature called Made Up Games, which they started doing a few years into their radio show. At first they did Winner Plays On, a competitive quiz feature that was my favourite thing about the first 150 episodes, but they did eventually have to retire it as they were running out of topics. They replaced it with Beta Bet, a word game that I found great fun while it lasted, but they had to retire that because Elis was so bad at it (and John was quite good at it, but mostly Elis was bad at it) that John kept winning so easily. So because every good show needs some kind of competition, they replaced that with a feature called Made Up Games, which is a direct rip off of the Bored Games feature from the Russell Howard + Jon Richardson radio show, though those features were played nine years apart and I guess no one has a patent on the concept of inventing games so it's fine.

Basically, listeners write in with the little games they've made up, John and Elis play one per episode. In this episode, the game is to put a pile of coins on a receipt, and try to pull out the receipt without moving any coins. Most of the games they feature are less visual and therefore better radio than this one, but I cut this one out because it seemed so much like the sort of thing they do on Taskmaster (it's almost exactly the same as one of the season 6 tasks), and the way John handled it is so much the way I'm hoping he'll approach every task on Taskmaster.

I don't know what John Robins will show up on Taskmaster. I am currently immersed in the radio show circa 2018, and I realize I am familiarizing myself with the John Robins of the past, whom I hear is quite different than the current John Robins, a man who has quit drinking and maybe got his shit together. I have also expressed that I quite like the John Robins who was bitter and annoying, so I hope he hasn't changed too much, and we still get a bit of that on Taskmaster.

Having now tried to spend some time not drinking alcohol myself (and... not perfectly succeeding, but mostly succeeding, still keeping it up), I've got to say I'm pretty sure that not drinking alcohol doesn't necessarily make a person less miserable or less annoying. Quite the opposite in my personal experience. You can stop drinking alcohol and still be really really annoying.

And the level of annoying in the clip I posted above is really quite tame. I know it's too much to hope that Taskmaster John Robins will reach Winner Plays On-Brian May-gate levels of annoying. He'll probably have more restraint than that, being older and wiser. But I'd still be happy with the lower, more manageable "I beat you at this pointless game and need to make sure everyone noticed that I stared right at you while I did it" levels of annoying. I think that's a reasonable level of annoying to expect him to reach on Taskmaster.

This is actually an episode in which later on we got a very rare instance of Elis James slightly losing patience with the levels of annoying to which he's subjected on a regular basis, which I found quite funny, and I cut out and uploaded the clip before realizing it's not funny out of context. It's only funny if you've listened to Elis be unbothered by a million little annoying Robins comments over several years (Elis James is a saint, by the way, he's an all right comedian but deserves to win a Chortle Award in the category of Extreme Patience), and then this one fairly innocuous little gripe gets him to finally push back. But here it is anyway since I've already uploaded it.

I actually find it a bit weird that I'll be watching John Robins circa 2023 in a couple of weeks - I've been carefully going through all his stuff in chronological order (not just the radio show, but trying to listen to his other podcast appearances and watch his few TV things alongside the radio chronology), and I'll suddenly jump forward in time by five years. I just hope he's still competitive and snippy and annoying. Overly, pointlessly competitive, to the point of sacrificing making entertaining TV. I want everyone on the special secret little internet forums to fucking hate him. That's the kind of Taskmaster I like to see.

6 notes · View notes

yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit · 1 month

Text

The great regular sleep experiment 2024 part "haunted"

So, I slept from 10:30 ish am to 2 ish pm... I laid there a while trying to sleep more before giving up and checking the clock and seeing 2:45, The length of time I was laying there felt like an hour or two, so I am assuming I slept till 2, probably, but hat might be generous.

In general I seem cursed to sleeping 6 hours per day or less.

The other really annoying thing is that the last time I was this sleep deprived and this stuck on a firm schedule, I was in my early 20's, working at a call center and living with the guy I refer to as my ex husband.

... Which means I keep having dreams that we're reconnecting and having conversations about maybe getting back together and I DO NOT care for it.

That was the one relationship I had were I was never harassed for sex when I didn't want it, and didn't have to deal with little tantrums or displays when I didn't feel like being affectionate or visiting, and don't get me wrong, he's -overall- genuinely a sweet guy.

But I always got the distinct sense that he didn't even like me as a person, and was just there so I would support him and he could avoid his abusive grandmother and uncle. I tried to talk to him about things and take him at his word, but he always seemed so depressed and shut down in a way that read as guilt or shame to me. He never seemed to enjoy talking to me, or spending time with me, and he certainly didn't want sex, at least with me, even by my standards which is to occasionally entertain it as a thing you can do with someone that feels good if you're both in the mood.

I always, once I stopped believing what he was telling me about how he felt, wrote him off as not meaning to take advantage of me, and as feeling really guilty about it, to the point of being paralyzed and kind of stuck, or not even conscious of it... Which is why I broke up with him even when that meant losing my home, which was a one bedroom apartment with 525$ inclusive rent [curses T~T]...

But the thing is, I keep becoming aware in the dreams, stuck as a part of my psyche that has been dormant a long time when I am awake, someone who doesn't remember everything that happened since high school and 'her' early 20s. I keep becoming aware of myself as I am now and starting to ask the uncomfortable questions that come up whenever I look back on everything from my perspective now.

I would have a very hard time -these days- watching someone lie daily about wanting to be in a relationship with me, only to act miserable, avoid me, criticize me constantly, shut down in most conversations with me, act so miserable around me but so happy around everyone else that all our mutual friends assume I must be doing something to upset him, and who just lets his family shit-talk me to my face about being 'lazy' without saying anything to defend the fact that I work 10 hour shifts to support him while he sits at home and plays games all day... I would have a hard time watching that and not seeing it as being done -to some significant degree- on purpose, or at least while consciously aware that's what he was doing. Maybe I'm just a suspicious person now, or maybe it's the experience of people talking.

And I cannot stress enough that I never "nagged" him. I didn't express anything unreasonable like a guilt trip. I was on eggshells trying to be careful how I brought up him video-gaming all day and doing nothing to clean up or pitch in while I worked a full time high stress job. I always put things as gently as possible, tried and failed to set boundaries, made occasional, calm and conversational requests that he at least keep the house clean or learn to cook, or at least go back to high school before he couldn't anymore, if he wasn't going to get a job. If he could tell I was upset and that he was unfairly burdening me when he didn't have to, or that it was destroying my health, those were his own observations and judgements. I was WAY too gentle with him. I felt bad asking him for anything at the time, too much so to try to demand he stand up to unfair accusations about me and actually tell people I was footing all the work/chores and financial burden of two people.

It wasn't until about 3 years in when I seemed ready to kick him out that he went back to school and made local friends.

And that's when I started to see it. I started to understand why our mutual friends thought I was "hen pecking" him or maybe being verbally abusive in private? He'd go back to his old cheery but shy self around other people. He'd bring a friend from school to visit once and they'd be nice to my face but avoid me forevermore. He'd hang out with me and my old girlfriend and even though they both regularly shamed me for things like speaking too loudly in public... They'd get distracted and caught up and start loudly play fighting around the food court in the mall. They were BOTH only afraid of attracting the attention of strangers when they were being seen with me.

If I had my life experiences as of now, back then, and having lived with fine and GB myself [who coincidentally were his two friends from school, even though GB tried to lie to me about it and "bunny" we'll call him, wouldn't dignify my messages with an answer to confirm... and I swear I couldn't have known it was them it was their other two roommates who interviewed me and got me in there]... As of today -if I had to take a shot in the dark- I'd say he was cheating on me with Fine at the time, or at least that part of her bitchy animosity towards me, despite claiming to want to be my friend, has to do with my ex-husband being her type entirely and him not -quite- cheating on me. Or maybe guilt and a sense of obligation to make nice because he did.

If he had've just answered my message and told me honestly what his relationship was like with these two, about 6 years ago, long after he was out of my life and theirs, or that GB was the guy who was a complete bitch to me the whole time out of jealousy over Bunny 'getting to date someone like [me]' [by his own admission, look I'm face-blind okay?]... He could have saved me so much fucking trouble. I would have known I couldn't trust Fine to be honest with me about anything from the start [and that she'd start taking attached men home to fuck all the time], and GB never would have raped me, and I never would have been in the position I was in when the plague hit or when we got evicted.

But any time I had asked ANY of them about what was going on back then, they all just clam up and get avoidant or lie [tic tacs too if she ever knew him, which seems likely because she's been friends with the other two since gradeschool, absolutely would not admit to knowing anything about the situation even while cozy-ing up to me], so I am probably never going to get answers about any of it.

Unless my ex has the decency to fucking answer me and be honest about it all. That's the only way I get closure on just how badly the other three lied to and manipulated me. Or any of them. IG if any of the 4 come forward I have my answers about the other 3.

...So in the dream I do what I would do now, once I become aware as one of my current selves, or a sum of them, I ask him shit like whether he was cheating one me, ect...

And in the dreams he says 'no' but I can tell he's lying, at least in the dreams, I can parse what part of his responses are genuine and which ones are an act to cover some deep shame or guilt. And all in all it seems a little more clear that he was more conscious of what he was doing than I had ever given him credit for. Maybe that's my being cynical now.

But these are just dreams, they are never going to be a reliable account and they are never going to give me real closure.

So in effect, every other night or so I am just wasting about 3 hours of sleep talking to someone I don't even want to be talking to, trying to get answers that will never mean anything. I don't want to be doing that.

I want to be building a consistent dream relationship with someone I LIKE and can TRUST

The other half of the time I dream about being friends with youtubers because their faces and voice are the only ones familiar to me and -at least physiologically- I am desperately lonely. My nervous system knows I need human contact and is trying to invent it for me. Which is leading to the other most socially awkward dreams I could possibly have. I need to feed my brain what Piccolo dbz would look and sound like irl, and not animated, so my brain can attach to him, or my imaginary girlfriend instead. The youtubers thing is very para-social, it's always someone new, so no weird fixations, but I'm not sure it's healthy compared to alternatives... Better than my exs and ex friends though fr.

I have finally regressed through most of my shitty ex's to finally be unpacking the fact that I want to demand fucking answers from my ex husband... Which I ALREADY KNEW... I didn't fucking need my dreams to tell me that! I have messaged him at least twice begging him to just tell me who's lying to me... Which I hope means I'll never dream about the others again. But I still do not care for it and I want it to stop. That was shoved in a box because there's nothing I can reasonable DO about it. The ball is NOT in my court.

Send THEM dreams compelling them to be honest with ME ffs... [please]

Maybe if I reach out to him for answers I could make the dreams go away, but the last time I sent him a message asking for some clarification, he just never answered me.

These people have been haunting my life since my first apartment and I want them excised. I want closure on how full of bullshit they all were so I can improve my ability to read people socially -with feedback- in a way that seems essential to keeping myself safe from ending up in the same shitty situations on repeat... So I can get my unconscious mind to let got of that mystery and let me fucking sleep.

I also want fucking closure from my family and am -also- not getting that. I want closure from my ex girlfriend and I am not getting that.

I only ever wanted honesty so I could make my own informed choices.

So I would rather it not drag up dead versions of me and make me relive these times every night when I am trying to sleep more than 3 hours.

... Also had a dream with a haunted doll, unrelated, that had to do with men showing up in my living space and a woman forcing me to justify why I should keep getting to live there... Can't say I cared for that either... The haunted doll was good though, she was helping me prevent children committing suicide, so... The literal hunted doll was not the problem... Best part of the dreams really, other than being friends with Sabrina and Abigail of youtube [we were discussing their recent unemployment???].

Anyway, my point being, by putting myself back into the same sleep deprived state of my 20's I have ended up slamming part of my brain back into those memories, only instead of getting that part of my psyche back, she's still dead, and now I am haunted by endless social betrayal when I am trying to fuggen sleep.

And I don't know how to fix it.

Because at this point I can't sleep outside the sleep times if I try, no matter how sore and exhausted, and no matter how much I desperately need more than 6 hours.

I could never had predicted this experiment would go this badly. I had though that -at worst- I just wouldn't be able to stay awake to maintain the schedule.

I never should have started this.

I knew this was bad road.

I just didn't know how bad.

If I could sleep an extra 2-4 hours daily and not dream about people who aren't in my life anymore for a fucking reason... This would be fine. Successful even.

The problem is that regular sleep for me is this double edged blade.

I also think I forgot to mention trying to find a phosphorus supplement at walloworld, but they didn't seem to have any and I am still pretty sure coke is cheaper and that one can of coke on most days can't possibly have enough phosphorus in it to overdose.

Unfortunately, the atp theory panning out, in practice [still unconfirmed with blood work or anything but getting results??], for me means only that I am unusually productive for someone this sleep deprived and that is NOT A GOOD THING, I fear, because I keep injuring myself.

It's a lot like being VERY drunk but having so much more energy than I should for someone this sore, uncoordinated, and drunk... Not a great combo. Bad road.

At least my dishes are done and I keep feeding myself?

The cuts bruises, pulled muscles, and missing skin sure hurt a lot though...

#the great regular sleep experiment of 2024 #answer me bitch

3 notes · View notes