#the first picture is from some sketchy site | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reynalovesfiction · 14 days

Text

· 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 — Xu Hēiyǐng

[ Shapeshifter x reader ]

You figured a dating app would make love easier, until you encounter a catfish... Or maybe just a Shapeshifter?

Contains: Strangers to more? Kinda Fluff, first date, reader and Hēiyǐng met in a dating site, kinda cat fishing? Hēiyǐng needs a hug :((, bittersweet ending, reader is realistic (in some way)

A/N : Just realised that Hēiyǐng appears kinda ooc in here. But, drama so :P

Love sucks.

Let’s rephrase that: love is accessible to get, but difficult to attain. Whether humans decide from now on that their love is just casual intercourse or humans chase each other like they’re prey and predatory, love is something so simple, yet humans make it complicated. Strange how humans work these days. It’s like they wanted to destroy themselves to have a high at something. The rush or the adrenaline of having fun rather than commitment.

As a human yourself, you don’t seem like the ‘relationship terrorist’ other than your friends. You would call yourself a peacemaker of relationships. The one who yearns affection and genuine love. The one who would love to give people's flowers or receive the flowers. Anything you fancy, your longing for simple love makes you non-human.

Humans love to rush, Don’t they?

In the era of social media and apps, love has become online money for dating. Swipe left, and you have found your match. As a guilty pleasure, it affected you.

Employing affection for online banking and similar activities is not immoral, it is merely disheartening. But, if the people surrounding you are human as ever; go around chasing unnecessary highs for an exchange of someone’s love life and self esteem. It’s worth a try, right? How bad can it be?

Sliding to the left, your gaze remained fixed on your phone as you encountered some men. Arms stretched like a cat and eyes glued to your own phone. Most of these men and none interest you. The app was sketchy; some men edited their photos to the extreme, and some even had concerning information about themselves. Humans are strange creatures. But you’re human yourself. So, why bother complaining? You need a date somehow.

After swiping left a few times, you got a match. Shocked, you looked at his profile picture.

His eyes were ocean blue, almost as if you could swim into his eyes. The strands of his hair were wavy, like the beachy waves, representing the essence of the ocean waves. Your match’s skin looked like sand but felt nothing like the texture of it.

Strange, like he wasn’t real. He was an illusion or some sort.

Still, you are interested. You give him a shot. It’s now or never.

Months after speaking to him, you learn many things about him. His name was Xu Heiying. A strange name, considering that his face looked like a white person. He said he was mixed, wasian. Chinese-American. Make sense. But, it’s as if his Chinese genes weren’t there…

More about him, he is a fashion designer. He draws. He likes stray cats. there was so much information about him, you can’t seem to get him out of your head. He’s a shy artist. Very much your type.

You decided to meet him in a cafe. Your first official date with each other. The cafe wasn’t the first place you had in mind, but if it helps with Heiying’s nervousness, then so be it.

You arrived early in your ‘going out’ outfit. It’s an outfit you didn’t expect to wear in a cafe but it will be worth it, right?

Well, all hope was lost when Heiying made the appearance. He does look Chinese, of course. But, he looked nothing like the pictures. He looked nothing like what his profile said he was.

He had eyes made out of lavenders. His hair was straight like the stems of the flowers. His skin was fair like the scent of the sunset. His clothing options were rather bizarre considering he’s a fashionista but wearing baggy clothing. Along with some hairpins and accessories that didn’t fit the picture.

Did you get catfished?

“Hey…?” he smiled, “I’m Heiying. you’re…” he mentions your name after a bit of a pause, “Right?”

You looked at him in disbelief, like a female cat scolding her partner because he had a different scent on his fur. This isn’t what you expect. Sure, he’s more attractive than the photos he sends to you but he… lied to you about his appearance.

“I know it’s not what you expect but let me explain…” he began to sweat. But before he could say a word, you stood up from your seat.

“I need to go…” you mumbled, needing to walk away from this situation.

“W-wait!” Heiying called your name as he followed you out of the cafe. Is he actually trying to reason with you on why he just catfished you? You didn’t care about his reasons, you just wanted to leave. Taking the steps of the floors to the entrance of the cafe.

You open the door to the outdoors of the cafe, huffed at the disappointment towards Heiying. You can still hear Heiying from the back, still calling for you. To at least explain his situation. “Just… let me explain and you can leave this date without any care, okay?” Heiying sighed.

You turned towards him, “You may explain.” You let him talk. Even with the frustration in you boiling, you wanted his point of view too. You are understanding, but not a doormat. You know your worth.

“Thank you…” Heiying was relieved, “It was never my intention to catfished you… You see,” There was a large pause at his sentence. As if he told you, you won’t believe him. “I’m a shapeshifter…”

You furrowed your eyebrows then raised a brow, your mouth opened a gap. “Okay, you got me. I’m very confused…”

“I knew you would get confused…” he mumbled under his breath, “My shapeshifting abilities work differently than normal shapeshifters.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“I can’t control it, to be honest. My shapeshifting abilities only work on one strong emotion,” he gulped, “If I feel insecure, I shapeshift into someone else…”

At first, you were still confused on why he would do this silly thing. But, you do realize one detail about Heiying. At least, he’s honest. Sure, he may have catfished you into believing he’s chinese-american man but maybe he just made a mistake? Maybe he really doesn’t mean like that.

Though, that doesn’t mean your trust in him has been restored that quickly.

“I understand if you don’t want to continue this date with me.” Heiying sighed through his nose, looking down, “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

You sighed, giving him your own point of view. “I’m glad that you’re being honest to me, Heiying. I figured the Heiying on your profile is the time where you were insecure and seeing you in your true form means you still have confidence. I appreciate that.”

Heiying lifted his head up to you, his eyes shining from the sun.

“Because of your honesty, I would love to continue this date with you. But, that doesn’t mean I fully trust you because you still lied to me.” you added.

“I understand!” He exclaimed in excitement, “I’ll make up for it by taking you anywhere you want after our cafe date.”

“That’s sweet of you, Heiying.” You smiled, “Let’s get back inside, alright?”

The day went better than you expected. He brought you a cafe latte and he got himself an americano. And after coffee and longing talks about each other more, you both took the trip to the bookstore. Just to buy a book or two.

Maybe he isn’t bad after all…

#monster x human #monster x reader #monster x you #reader insert #teratophillia #monster fucker #monster lover #writers community #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #write #writerscommunity #oc x y/n #oc x you #oc x reader #[oc] : xu hēiyǐng

41 notes · View notes

tonibeltran · 2 months

Text

x. status -> closed for @hairpintvrns (deacon) x. location -> somewhere in oak gardens

The room Antonio’s chosen to dedicate to his smoking is depressing. He’d thought the size of it wouldn’t matter, so long as there were sufficient windows, but as he sits on one of the armchairs he’d procured from some overly-animated guy on Craigslist (“Whoa! Aren’t you the guy from Amethyst? What are you doing buying off some sketchy site? Can I get a picture? Legend!”) and blowing out of one of said windows, he’s starting to think it might be less helpful than he thought. It’s the smallest room in this godforsaken house, but when it’s only populated by an inordinate number of bongs and unrolled joints, the size of it feels a little suffocating.

He has to do it in a room that Moon doesn’t have access to, though, because he’s many things, but he’s not someone who would endanger his cat. No matter how often she meows indignantly at him through the door. “It’s for your own good,” Toni calls out to her every time, and every time she meows back at him like a jilted teenager. He sighs, figuring he’s been locked in here getting high for long enough — he may as well come out of there and give her the attention she so desperately craves. Just as he kneels on the armchair cushion to properly close the window, his nose wrinkles in distaste at an unpleasant smell that wafts in from the outside. “What the fuck,” he mutters, closing the window in a huff. He leaves the weed room, sparing a pet for Moon before making his way out to his front lawn.

He stands there, befuddled, taking a deep breath. The stench is not as prominent here, he notes. This may be a product of how high he is, to be honest, but the thought doesn’t stop him from following his nose like a hound, away from his front lawn and down the neighborhood’s sidewalk. He’s not sure just how far he gets into this sniffing debacle when he realizes he’s stopped smelling anything, and is instead stranded in some random house’s front lawn, probably looking insane.

Before he can flee, his peripheral vision catches sight of a familiar figure — tall, handsome, and the architect of many nights of pleasure. Deacon Edwards, of all people, stands near this particular front lawn, looking just as handsome as the day Toni had first laid eyes on him. It’d been intoxicating, to witness such a prominent figure simply be, something Antonio had a lot of trouble with even back in those days. He thinks if he really puts his mind to it, he can probably remember what Deacon tastes like, though that seems like an inappropriate thought to be having in the middle of the day on a stranger’s front lawn.

Treading carefully, he approaches the other, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Deacon?” he calls, making sure the sight of him is not also the byproduct of the weed. “Deacon Edwards,” he grins. “Either you don’t age or I’ve accidentally stepped through a time machine.”

#thread: deacon 001 #kisses u on the head #take ur time #don't match length #etc etc #drug use cw

7 notes · View notes

flyfish1999 · 6 months

Note

for your "send a character", I think minato arisato/p3 protag would be interesting!

gwaaaa tysm anon !!!!!!!!!! i can't believe it, but i don't think i talk about minato as much as i want to ^_^;; so thanks for the opportunity :D !!!

favourite thing about them: im suuuuuch a loser for silent protagonist investigation . i mean like, figuring out what type of guy the protagonist is from the options you're given and the options you're not !!!! like, the doylist reason you save yukari at the start is because it's a persona game and you fight and that's fun. but the watsonian reason ?!?!? when he can only just hold on long enough to fend the shadows off before he collapses ?!?!?!? he wants to make sure she's safe above him . even minato may think he's a blank slate but he's not ^_^ hope this helps

least favourite thing about them: ummm ^_^;; difficult much ... i have my complaints about the movie version of him, but i feel kind of bad that i cant really think of much else !! as you can see i can go on forever about what i like about him though ehehe ;; ! i suppose i really don't like his render for portable ! it doesn't really look or feel like him with the body language in my opinion. there is better art of minato holding cards :p

favourite line: in RELOAD, in june i believe, the dialogue for interacting with the mirror changes to: I see myself reflected in the mirror. I look more alive than ever. i had to turn off the game and go for a walk outside when i saw it for the first time lol

brOTP: the 2nd year SEES trio ^_^)/ !!!! yukari and junpei (esppp in the answer my god.) are everything to me !!!!!!! but also ... shinjiro + minato :] i like their quiet understanding of each other + what it might mean for minato after he's gone

OTP: looks up from my keyboard to stare directly at the ryoji and minato nuis holding hands on my desk. ryomina ....

nOTP: i'm not sure if i really have one ..! he fits cutely with everyone i tend to see him with in some type of way i think .

random headcanon: he put so many viruses on the dorm computer using limewire + going on those sketchy sites he got from the guy in escapade lol ...

unpopular opinion: i do not want him to come back from the seal. at all. yes i love him, yes it would be super interesting. but i think p3 has a perfect (imo very happy) ending, and it would be cool to see an elizabeth who cannot solve something with her brute strength, who has been forced to move on !

song i associate with them: odd one but line of best fit from death cab for cutie's you can play these songs with chords. funnily enough i got into dcfc from seeing someone on some random forum say minato looked like he'd listen to them, and i searched them up and became a fan ^_^;; maybe they were right ... lmao

favourite picture of them: sogabe ruined my life forever. glasses minato

thanks for the ask ^_^)/ !!!!!!!!!

#long post #:]c #glasses minatoooo ...

9 notes · View notes

joellesolo · 1 year

Text

Neurodivergency is wild, everyone.

The neurodivergent urge to NEVER throw anything away, even if it’s broken/torn/ruined in some way, JUST IN CASE it comes in handy.

I have a pajama rotation I have lived by for over five years, and my Thurs-Sun top between showers is this super comfy HU lounge tank. Well, a couple years ago it got a hole in it, so, I went to the HU site and replaced it (and in hindsight, should’ve bought like five of them). Fast forward to now, there are like, five dime sized holes in my current replacement tank, and I was spiraling (because that’s all I’ve been doing lately 🙃) because I can’t really sew, and I can’t just BUY a new shirt that’s a totally different texture (because I did that for my Tues-Thurs pj shirt and it’s been a year and I STILL don’t like the new one, too thick) so I googled how to sew and it was not going well, so I posted on facebook whining about the neurodivergent routines and clothing rotations I have, honestly just hoping someone would offer to fix my shirt for me 😅 (side note: I did try to find the actual shirt, first on poshmark with no luck, then on HU with no luck, then I found it on a super sketchy site which was cool except it was super sketchy and the link wouldn’t even open on my husband’s phone when I sent it to him so, that was a no go 😞)

And, someone commented explaining they totally get it!! and had knowledge of sewing and was trying to ask me about the fabric, if I could patch it, etc., and I’m like, no, it’s pretty lightweight, I don’t have any other shirt that’s similar otherwise it would solve my problem ha, and while they’re trying to talk me through it I get hit by this random thought:

“Wait, what if I saved the original one?? I don’t like to throw things out! I always save stuff! I could use the original as scrap fabric for patches!!”

So I went digging through three boxes of old clothes in my closet, was about to admit defeat, then thought to check my pajama drawer, and, it was the second shirt from the top. SECOND FROM THE TOP. It’s just been hanging out in my pajama drawer for two/three years, I didn’t toss it even though it has a hole!

And I was like, perfect! I can just cut up this one and then patch the other one and don’t have to worry about different textures! And then my brain took it one step further and went, wait a minute, the old shirt has ONE tiny little pea sized hole, the current shirt has five dime sized holes... why not mend the shirt that’s in better shape instead of cutting it up and trying to fix five fucking holes?!

So I threw it in the dryer with a dryer sheet (because it smelled like stale drawer) while I showered, and now I don’t even care about fixing it because it’s my SHIRT and it’s the proper day and it fits just right and is super lightweight and I will worry about mending it when the hole gets bigger (or when someone offers to do it for me 😅) 😂

So, yeah, that was a crazy/chaotic two hours of pure stress for no reason. And DAMN I hate my brain sometimes (like needing a pajama rotation!) but DAMN I love it sometimes (like saving a holey shirt!) and it was just a wild ride.

So here are the shirts, the original on the left (you can tell it was in a drawer cuz the fold lines while the one on the right was on a hanger 😂) and a picture of me being so damn proud of myself for essentially being a hoarder 😅

And if you ever, EVER, happen to see the Her Universe Jedi Napper Yoda Lounge Tank in a Medium on poshmark or ebay or any of those sites, please let me know so I can snatch it up 😂

14 notes · View notes

badgraph1csghost · 1 year

Text

How to Use a Computer, Part 6: Datahoarding and You

I know, I said that part 6 would be about how to mod your PC, but we're going to put that off for a bit. The future of the internet looks pretty sketchy right now, what with Hachette v. Internet Archive, RESTRICT, and KOSA. Right now, the US Government is desperately trying to censor as much free information as possible by any means, so I thought it would be good to discuss the basics of datahoarding.

First, what is datahoarding? Just what it sounds like-- you hoard data. To hoard data, you simply download it to your computer and save it locally. "Local" meaning "on your computer", as opposed to "off-site" which would mean a cloud storage server someplace. You might be tempted to store your datahoard in the cloud, but don't. We're trying to save data FROM the internet, not jockey it about between servers ON the internet.

There's a wide variety of data to hoard, and it may seem sometimes like there's too much; so, hoard based on your interests. If you're into Doom level CDs, hoard that. If you're into recipe books from the 1840s, hoard that. If you're into MIDI sequences, hoard that. I won't get too much into where to find that stuff, apart from the Internet Archive; but Reddit might know something about where to find specialised data.

Instead, let's discuss some helpful datahoarding tools, both physical and software. I briefly mentioned a pair of extensions in the Firefox section; SingleFile and DownThemAll; but I failed to mention that Firefox has some downloading abilities of its own; like Internet Explorer of old, it has the option to Save Image As, Save File As, and Save Video As. Unfortunately, "Save Video As" will not work on Youtube or any commercial streaming service. It will work on Tiktok, however. Both the desktop and mobile versions of Firefox have this ability, so if you see a nifty kind of video on your dash that you'd rather like to hang onto, either right-click with your 2-button mouse, long-click with your 1-button mouse, or long-press on your touchscreen, and select "Save Video As" or "Save File to Device". Hey! That was easy.

Incidentally, since we'll be encountering ZIP files a lot during our datahoarding endeavours, Firefox also has the innate ability to immediately distinguish between one of those malicious "website dot zip" links and a genuine ZIP file. If you find a link to something ending in "zip", hover your cursor over it and look at the bottom-left corner of the browser window. If it's a domain name, the information will look something like...

However, if it is a legitimate ZIP file that 7-Zip or Windows Explorer can open, it will look like this...

Now, of course, you'll still want to use a bit of common sense when you download anything. Just because it's a legit ZIP file doesn't necessarily mean that the files the author claims are in the folder are actually there. Firefox can't protect you from things you voluntarily install on your computer. Now then, here's a picture that you can practise datahoarding on. Right-click, long-click, or long-press on this image and select "Save Image As" or "Save File to Device".

Back to Firefox's datahoarding extensions. SingleFile will condense all the data on a webpage into a single HTML document and save it to your Downloads folder for offline review. It works better on some websites than others. Like Tumblr, for instance; it can't save your entire dashboard, but it can probably save pages of your blog, as long as it's mostly text and still images. SingleFile is better suited for webpages that are static, non-dynamic, such as Reddit threads and old-web pages.

If you want to save a Wikipedia article, you won't need SingleFile. A little-known function of Wikipedia is its ability to generate PDF versions of its articles. At the top of the article, directly below the Log In button, click on "Tools", and select "Download as PDF".

DownThemAll allows you to be more selective about the types of files that you want to download from a webpage. You can download audio files, pictures, videos, text, archive files (namely ZIP, 7Z, and RAR), binary executables (EXE and MSI, for instance), other kinds of files, or all files that it is able to download. You can also give it links to files that you want to download so you can create a queue. You don't have to actually be on the website whose server the file is stored on in order to actually download from there with DTA, which makes it helpful for FTP servers.

If you want to save a snapshot of your current screen; maybe you're on a website that you can't download from, maybe you're playing a game without a unified screenshotting system, whatever; press the Print Screen key on your keyboard. The key may say something like "Print", "PrintSc", "PrtSc", or "PtScr". This will allow you to take a screenshot of the current appearance of your screen and save it to the clipboard. Once you have it, open MS Paint and either click "Paste" or hold "Ctrl" and press "V" to insert the screenshot into the Paint workspace. At this point, you can either save it as it is, or do anything else to it that you would ordinarily do in Paint; add text, draw on it, crop it, stretch it, resize it, that sort of thing.

All of that having been said, datahoarding takes up a lot of disk space. Drive C is going to fill up mighty quick, depending on what data you're hoarding, and you're going to want an alternative storage device. That's why I cautioned against using a cloud storage service earlier; Google offers a seemingly unlimited amount of storage in their Drive service, but, like everything else they do, it's monitored. If you upload a folder full of Star Trek DVD rips, they're going to see that and they may lock you out of your account. Moreover, if you happen to be an American, they may volunteer that information to the FBI, as they've been known to do, and suddenly, you're the subject of an investigation. Fuck all that.

Remember when I talked about optical drives last week? This is where they really shine. Get yourself a spindle of 100 blank DVD-Rs and tell Windows to use them all like flashdrives. It'll take awhile for the computer to write everything to disc, but this is a better long-term storage solution than a cloud service and it's cheaper than a USB hard drive. Each DVD has about 4 GB of storage, which is adequate for about 20 episodes of a half-hour TV programme, every game ever released for every console made in the 1980s, and the entire World Book Encyclopedia, complete with pictures; and you've got 100 of them!

I know, I know-- every hobbyist datahoarder is calling me an idiot right now for recommending DVDs, saying "they don't last long enough". Mate, there's no such thing as a 100-year medium in the 21.2nd century. Not even your expensive 16 TB HDDs are going to last that long. The fact is, as long as you handle your disc media with care, they're on absolutely even footing with USB hard disk drives. The other fact is, the more storage you have on a single disk drive, the harder it's going to be to create a backup copy when the time comes. If your 16 TB HDD is going to fly apart tomorrow, you're never going to be able to back up everything stored on it, and you'll have a catastrophic data loss. At least with DVDs, 4 GB is easy to back up in a pinch, and they're easier to destroy in case your hoard takes you to the high seas and the local constabulary pops round for a visit. While you're buying things, also buy a box of CD jewel cases (the hard plastic ones with the hinge) because you'll need somewhere to store all these DVDs and the spindle is really not the best place for that.

Now that we're quite a bit down the page and certain people are not paying attention anymore, r/datahoarding is a gathering of hobbyist datahoarders who can turn you onto sources of data, Internet Archive collections, and websites that may have interesting stuff for you to grab. If your hoard is going to contain mostly game ROMs and ISOs, r/roms has you covered. Imagine being the guy who decided not to call the piracy subreddit “r/mateys”. Oh well.

Anyway, that's all we have for datahoarding. Join us next time as we discuss modding your PC (for real this time).

#how to use a computer #instructions #datahoarding

7 notes · View notes

wrongpublishing · 1 year

Text

BOOK REVIEW: Nick Cutter and Andrew F. Sullivan's The Handyman Method

by Elizabeth Broadbent, Staff Writer.

If you’ve read The Marigold or were lucky enough to sit through StokerCon’s panel on anomalous architecture, you know Andrew Sullivan’s a master of the trope. The Handyman Method (Saga Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster) pairs him with Nick Cutter (Rust and Bone, Cataract City) in a haunted house/DIY/the-sins-of-the-father-will-bite-you-in-the-ass novel out August 8th. With memorable characters and the same you-never-saw-this-coming hits as The Marigold, this work’s one more reason you need these guys on your must-read-list.

At first glance, Trent Sabor’s an average dude married to an average wife (Rita), with an average kid (Milo) and his plucky pet turtle, Morty. They seem, on paper, to be the perfect family. They move into the first house of a new development, Dunsany Estates. Their house, like them, seems perfect. It may be surrounded by dirt on every side, but it looks like everything they’ve ever dreamed of.

The cracks begin to show—literally—when Trent discovers a gaping hole in their closet. Incandescent with rage, he finds a YouTube channel, Handyman Hank, to help him patch it. Meanwhile, his son’s hooked up to his tablet watching Little Boy Blue. As the Sabors’ new home begins to show more cracks, so does Trent’s family.

Handyman Hank goes from a few vids to “a cornucopia for the Y-chromosome set” endorsing “a certain kind of man[liness]” which “does things The Old-Fashioned way.” Trent’s sucked in, for Reasons that I won’t reveal—you deserve, like Trent, to discover these cracks the old-fashioned way.

This novel’s concept feels both wildly imaginative—like so much new horror, with that Jesus-Christ-I-never-thought-of-that feel—and eminently relatable. Men lose their way; they turn to sketchy sources for validation. Spouses drift. Parents and children grow apart. It’s these metaphorical cracks in both relationships and identities that lie at the heart of this novel and its house.

And if you’re a sucker for prose (you are, if you’ve read Sullivan’s earlier work; my apologies to Cutter for an ignorance about his), you’ll swoon. It’s not showy, but it’s rich, beautiful, unforgettable. The image of little Milo “plant[ing] his hands on his hips with an exaggerated squint, a pint-sized foreman assessing a construction site”—I can’t get that one from my head. My kids are a little older now, but goddamn if I can’t picture that stance.

Those prose and images are a gift in a fast-paced novel like this. You’ll find yourself rereading, sometimes slowing down to savor those moments, like Trent’s moment when “his eyelids fluttered and his breath bottomed out—some kind of psychic brownout that interrupted the power grid of his brain.”

And once you get it, you get it, and you’ll want to read it again. You’ll flip through and see the pinpoint accuracy of their metaphors, the hidden mechanisms of characters’ motivations, and maybe that’s a sign you’ve got a real cracker of a book in your hands: you put it down and pick it up again. Then you’ll understand why Simon & Schuster picked it up.

You can pick up The Handyman Method in little more than a week, August 8th. Preorder it before it kicks to a second printing, third, or fourth printing—and it will. You’ll find this one on your Barnes & Noble shelves later this year, pinky-swear.

Buy the book:

Nick Cutter (website)

Andrew F. Sullivan (website)

#review #gothic fiction #fiction #book review #horror books #horror fiction #indie horror #horror lit #horror novel #domestic horror #new horror

4 notes · View notes

bvannn · 1 year

Text

Weekly Update July 7, 2023

Artfight is in full swing and I’m going ballistic with it. I’m trying to draw as many characters and as much variety as possible, though I’m still mostly attacking the other team, and still bookmarking more ghost characters than others. I’ve kept my queue full, it’s currently full through Sunday, and there’s a few pictures I haven’t queued up yet.

In addition, I’m trying to continue on TRGA. New test animation is almost completely keyframed, although my strategy for the sketchy lines effect did not turn out to be a good idea. However, I will try another plan, hopefully in the coming week, to try again. Once I find a plan that works, I should be set to go on the next steps of the main animation. I will try to export any clip studio assets I need for this plan tomorrow and Sunday, while filling in the tweens for the test. Side note using Jon for the test may not have been the best idea due to how many liquid pieces he has that need to be frame by framed but it’s probably good practice.

In other news I made a tiktok account. I do not plan on using it to browse tiktok, only to throw some speedpaints onto the site to hopefully divert attention here. And I’ll throw the test animation up there too once it’s done. I’d like to do more animation stuff as a whole but the big project takes priority. The first one should be the real hard part, everything else should be a lot smoother and faster.

I’d also like to try another shot at music, since I don’t know enough about tiktok to know what kind of sounds to throw over a speedpaint, so I just grabbed a random Touhou song lol. If I don’t work on animation assets tomorrow, I’ll try to do that. I’ll also try to look through tutorials for my DAW at work, since apparently I have free reign to watch YouTube or Streaming while I work (although I’ve only done it to watch the last Nintendo direct so far.). I have a plan for a fun big music project but chances are I’ll do something smaller first, assuming I don’t abandon the big idea entirely. We’ll see what happens depending on my motivation.

Right now I’m going to keep focusing on Artfight and the test animation, with each being my break from the other. At work I can try to focus on getting ideas and program knowledge for music, while bringing my laptop to work on animation on the breaks.

#weekly update

2 notes · View notes

unhingedwomandiaries · 1 month

Text

I just got banned from the Nirvana subreddit. Why? Well, someone posted this photo of Courtney Love as Jesus, holding Kurt like a baby Jesus. It was taken by some famous photographer who used it as his book cover, I guess. But the picture was beyond fucked up. I mean, are we really glorifying Courtney Love who is an objectively unattractive woman who probably had her husband whacked by depicting her as the Virgin Mary? That's insanity.

Now, I pride myself on being a fairly rational person. I don't buy into most modern conspiracy theories. I know we went to the moon, because we sang that hilariously inaccurate song about making "a lunar that was landing" in chorus class. Russia was first in space, but whatever. I'm not a Flat Earther or an anti-vaxxer or any of that nonsense. I'm mostly grounded in reality.

But I am 100% convinced of the "Allen Wrench" Cobain murder conspiracy theory. I remember finding this barely-coded Tripod site in the late 90s with actual receipts and undeniable proof. I was, like, eight years old, but the story haunted me. It went like this:

Courtney Love hired this maniac punk dude named Allen Wrench to kill Kurt. She went through El Duce from The Mentors as a middle man to make the connection. See, Courtney allegedly offered El Duce fifty grand to do the hit himself, but he didn't have the stomach for it. So he linked her up with his sketchy friend Wrench instead.

Wrench had always been this broke, alcoholic loser. But then, suddenly, he had enough money to buy a house, a truck, and a vintage Corvette. Pretty suspicious timing, right? Plus, Wrench is known to be pure insanity because he's a gun nut who's always packing heat and getting into crazy violent fights.

Anyway, El Duce ended up mentioning Wrench's name and involvement in a BBC interview about the Cobain murder. Two days later, he ends up dead. He was hit by a train right after leaving his house with Wrench. It's so obvious what happened, right?

From all the stories I've heard, I'm totally convinced Wrench killed Kurt for the money, then killed Duce to cover his tracks after Duce blabbed. I can't imagine why someone would fake such a plausible story.

There were other comments echoing my take, with people saying Courtney is no saint and nobody should be depicting her like Jesus. But apparently even voicing doubts about her innocence is too taboo for that sub. So much for their whole "come as you are" ethos of open-mindedness and acceptance. Whatever, I'm just gonna say "Oh well, whatever, never mind" to those Kool-Aid drinkers.

#diary #nirvana #reddit #social media

0 notes

majakovskiy · 1 year

Text

Web browsers and privacy

=== WEB BROWSERS AND PRIVACY===

Okay, so I've got some private messages after I've mentioned somewhere that Chromium, just like Chrome does some sketchy stuff with your data, namely in encrypts some fingerprint data and sends it to google, even if it's an open source software. So how to avoid having your data being sold? I mean it's a weird privacy concern, for some it's important to avoid Google, Microsoft, China, or whoever knowing your location, browsing habits, for others it's a nightmare fuel. So, you can comment that "I don't care about my data being sold, what's the fuss" and I respect that, after all it's your data, but let me remind you, that this is the point: it's your data. Much like your pictures, some people doesn't mind having photos taken of them in a public space, others do. Browsing habits, specific address, your history on the internet, just a few examples that certain companies may learn from your online behaviour, and our primary tool, the web browser is part of this economy. So what sort of niche, underdeveloped geekhaxor browser should you use to avoid your digital shit being sold, on the internet? Well, let's review what each of them does.

==Google Chrome==

According to Statcounter Google's browser has a staggering 63% market share worldwide. "Google knows your data" is not a surprise, after all they have their famous search engine, it has a lot of our data already on Drive, and knows our youtube behaviour as well. But to give you a more or less complete list, of what EXACTLY they gather from their users:- Google Chrome monitors your search history and uploads it to it's search engine. Okay, no surprise here.- Chrome monitors your computer usage: It tracks mouse movement, memory usage, what other programs you have open, and has a pretty detailed picture of what kind of hardware you run this browser on. I'm guessing that the mouse movement and memory usage is something that people are not aware of.

- Google Payment: If you use your bank card in Chrome, guess what, Google now knows who you are, what is your bank account, and what you spend your money on. (At least this can be turned off.)

- Chrome has a "suggestion service" which operates also as a keylogger. You can turn it off, but it's a weird sentiment that google also knows that you almost visited a site but decided in the last minute that you don't want to.

- Google Chrome actually listens to your voice through your microhpone. For long it was an urban legend but it's actually confirmed.

- Google stores your password. Yes, your facebook and other non-google passwords too. Yes, on their servers, not your local machine.

- Chrome has a lot of closed sourced components, and it's also self-updating, which means that the browser you're running can be changed by google while you run it, and having closed source components raises a lot of eyebrows in an era where most browsers are (mostly) open source.

==Safari==

Safari has 19.25% market share (as of the date this post was written). Safari tries to marketing itself as a privacy friendly browser, and actually gives the user a bit more control over the software, and for two years know it has a lof of anti-tracking techniques, especially against fingerprinting and targeted advertisement. But these services are not complete, and also it has it's own trackers inside of it. Apparently Apple wants to sell your data, and they don't want other companies to sell Apple's data. So yeah. Not much better.

==Opera==

Every time you open Opera it starts with a geolocation request with a precise timestamp. It also on it's first run opens a webpage which immediately redirects to the Opera homepage, but also learns your facebook login, makes a request to google analytics, and a bunch of other smaller fingerprinting shit. (my favourite is the HTTP request to yandex.ru which gives you a nice russian unique fingerprinting cookie). Also it makes a lot of requests to CXense which is another data selling company. Opera plays multiple sides apparently. Opera is also closed source, has it's own VPN which learns all your browser history and net traffic, and is bought by a Chinese company not long ago they don't just make money off you, they also report to the Chinese Communist Party.

==Firefox==

Firefox phones home everytime you open it, and every time you visit a new website. Firefox also uses Google Analytics, albeit not to that great lenght as Opera or Chrome. Firefox has a Safe Browsing feature which protects you from malicious websites, but also creates a more descriptive, and longer report on you and your computer and sends it to Google with a unique, hidden cookie. Occasionaly Firefox does a thing called "Health report' which reports your processors, video cards, operating system, and other data of your computer. If you use Firefox Pocket to visit stuff offline on different devices it creates a report so comprehensive about you and your online behaviour that it makes Google blush. It also has automatic updates, changing the browser code without notification, and as of 2019 included most of it's user tracking features to near-Google levels without the Pocket. So yeah. What's important to note here that Firefox's spyware stuff can actually be disabled, so given the necessary time and effort you can configure it in a way that none of this shit applies. PM me for details if interested.

==Vivaldi==

"Better Opera than Opera". It's quite a comfy browser but it uses a lot of google's stuff, and also fingerprints your device and reports it to both Google and Vivaldi servers. This fingerprinting cannot be blocked nor disabled.

==Brave==

The meme privacy respecting browser. It's not. it doesn't block ads, it's replacing some website's adds with it's own. It's protecting your data from other companies so they can sell it themselves. They also have some sketchy cryptocurrency-advertisement-adblock whatever thing going on, I haven't researched it, but it's really suspicious from a browser that advertises itself by being the most privacy respecting stuff ever. In a short sentence: It's a scam.

==Waterfox==

Waterfox has the record of "Most HTTP requests on first run attempt while not even being connected to the internet nor have the user tried to visit any sites." If you're curious, it's 55. Did not investigate any further.

==Chromium==

Yeah, the Open Source Chrome. So it makes about 9 requests to Google Analytics and other Google stuff when you first open it, and makes occasional fingerprinting attempts on your computer and person.

==SRWare Iron==

Developed in Germany, another "privacy respecting browser". Hehh, sorry it beats Waterfox. It makes ~500 unsolicited connections on it's first run on an offline computer with no user interaction. It also redirects your searches through their server. I won't even go to details, they try to be google with way worse technology, and selling everything they can learn from you.

==Pale Moon==

The fallen hero. It's quite comfy, but it's getting old, and actually out of the box it tracks a lot of stuff from you, it's also auto-updating, but like Firefox it can be turned to a really safe one.

==GNU IceCat==

A fork of Firefox. It actually makes no unsolicited connections when you first open it up, could it be the chosen one? It actually has a lot of safety features going for it, cleverly avoids Javascript traps and uses https-everywhere by default. It's a Richard Stallman tier blob of pure "free as in freedom' software and privacy focused autism.

==Tor Browser==

The OG meme. Not really good for everyday use, but then again if you want to reach autism levels beyond Richard Stallman this is the way to go.

==Otter Browser==

Okay, so it's "Better Opera than the one claiming to be Better Opera than Opera." IT ALSO MAKES ZERO UNSOLICITED CONNECTIONS. Fully open source, but not much else to go for it. It's a pretty comfy design, only recently reaching 1.0 so as of now I'm not really sure where are they going apart from apparently being privacy friendly, and nostalgic for an age of Opera it may never had.

OKAY ENOUGH WITH THE PURE AUTISM AND EVER MORE FRINGE UNSTABLE UNDERDEVELOPMENT BROWSER I JUST WANT TO SURF THE INTERNET LIKE A NORMAL PERSON WITHOUT MY SHIT BEING SOLD TO ANYONE. What can I do?

Use Firefox with some recommended modifications, or Pale moon with recommended modifications, or Ungoogled Chromium with some extra steps and you'll be fine. If you feel a bit more wonky, give GNU IceCat or Otter Browser a try.

#privacy browsers

0 notes

carinewillejohansen · 2 years

Text

Brief 5 - Internet archeology

Week 2

During the second week of our course on creative internet and coding, we delved even deeper into the fascinating world of website development. Our main task for the week was to design a website that has a theme or history that strongly correlates with the internet. To make the project more engaging, we were put into pairs, and I was fortunate enough to be paired up with Jimmy - we have jokingly been called the "Dad" and "Mom" of our friend group, given our personalities and what we usually are responsible for.

At the start of the workweek, we took advantage of the first day to reacclimate ourselves to the process of coding after having some downtime over the weekend. Although we were aware of the task at hand, we allowed ourselves some time to ease back into the flow of programming.

The following day, we gathered together to brainstorm and generate ideas. Drawing from our own personal experiences, we focused our brainstorming session on the topic of unrestricted access to the internet during our formative years. Alongside our own insights, we also consulted ChatGPT for their input on the matter. As a result of our collaborative efforts, we were able to generate a lot of potential ideas to pursue.

The Mindsweeper

One of the ideas that stood out to us as we brainstormed was "The Mindsweeper". As fans of the classic game Minesweeper, we thought it would be a unique and nostalgic twist to turn it into a web-based experience that evokes a sense of exploration and discovery. Instead of mines to avoid, we envisioned a virtual landscape filled with long-forgotten websites, some of which might contain content that is now considered inappropriate for minors.

Our idea was to create a cluster of hyperlinks that users could click on to explore this virtual world. Each hyperlink would represent a square on the game board, and clicking on it would reveal a new website or piece of content. We wanted to retain the same basic format as Minesweeper, with a grid of squares that players could uncover one by one. However, instead of numbers and mines, the squares would contain different types of content, ranging from nostalgic web pages to more adult-oriented material.

In terms of gameplay, we decided to forego any interactive elements and instead focus on the sense of exploration and discovery. Players would simply click on squares to reveal what was hidden beneath, and they could continue exploring until they had uncovered all the content. We believed that this simple, intuitive gameplay would be both fun and engaging, while also evoking a sense of nostalgia for the early days of the internet.

Overall, we felt that "The Mindsweeper" was a unique and compelling idea that combined elements of classic gaming with modern web design. We were excited to explore this concept further and see how it could be brought to life as a fully-realized online experience.

Here is some pictures of the site and the code:

And of course we had to add some sketchy adds hehe

#kreativtinternett #brief 5

0 notes

gingersnaaps · 3 years

Text

one-way ticket

hanamaki takahiro is not unemployed, contrary to popular belief. he just doesn't tell his friends what he does for a living.

wc: 3.6k

tags/tw's(PLEASE! PLEASE! READ TY): explicit n*fw, dubcon to noncon/RAPE, yandere vibez, manipulation, abuse, lotsa degradation, slight dumbification, some internalized misogyny?, fingering, cunnilingus, penetration, sex worker!reader, porn producer + talent makki, fem + afab reader

additional disclaimer: probably incredibly inaccurate portrayals of sex work + the amateur porn industry. this is very far removed from real life, in case you couldn't tell

a/n: written for @seijorhi's deal with the devil collab! not proofread as always <3

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

When you first see the ad, blue and pixelated and in all caps - HOT GIRLS WANTED!!! FREE FLIGHT INCLUDED - you hesitate for just a moment. You’re not stupid. You’ve seen the stories, read the warnings, heard all about the cautionary tales of girls who clicked the wrong button at the wrong time on some sketchy, underground site. You know what happens to girls who think they’re all grown up, who get themselves into deep, deep shit.

You know better than this.

Then you take a look outside your window, eyes flickering over the sleepy, rural backwater outside the thick glass pane, and the hesitation vanishes.

The email you draft up is short and concise - I’m interested. Email me back. - and attach three images: one where you’re winking, lips curved up in a sly smile, one with a very low-cut top, and one of yourself in the tightest, shortest dress you own.

You hit send too fast for the second thoughts to settle in, and close your laptop before you can press the undo button.

Now, in his time as a producer, Hanamaki’s filmed and worked with his fair share of pretty girls. Sweet little things with long hair and doe eyes, glamor girls with the perkiest, gravity-defying tits, girl-next-door types who sport glasses smeared with cum - he’s seen it all.

But there’s just something about the way you look in your pictures.

He can’t quite put his finger on what it is, Maybe it’s the innocence that the images exude, despite how lewd they are. Maybe it’s your face - god, you have the perfect face for porn, don’t you - or maybe just your big, round eyes, full of hope and promise and naivety.

You’re too good to let other men handle. The minute Hanamaki lays eyes on those pictures, he wants you to himself.

He replies to your email, keeping his tone casual, and when you respond right away, he allows himself a grin. Beautiful and easy? He’s too lucky, really, considering the way you just fell into his lap.

He buys the plane tickets within the week. He knows you’ll take him up on his offer. He knows exactly what girls like you are like, the way you’re all looking for something bigger, something better - anything at all, as long as you get to escape the drudgery of the small towns and the suburbs. It’s terrible being stuck in the same place for so long, and even worse when faced with the prospect of spending the rest of your life there. Girls like you long for something more than just a family and a white picket fence, and he’s all too familiar with the sweet sense of desperation that desire comes with.

After all, it’s his job.

When you step off the plane, eyes scanning around the sea of strange faces, it takes you a while to pick out Hanamaki. His strawberry-blonde bangs cling to his forehead, damp with sweat and curling in the humidity. When he finally catches your gaze, he flashes you a lazy smile, eyes sparkling with humor, and waves you over.

“Hey. Told you you wouldn’t get lost,” he says.

You manage a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well… never been this far away from home before, so you know how it is.”

He knows very well how it is.

“C’mon,” he says, reaching out a hand to carry your luggage for you. “Let’s get you settled in - the sooner the better, right? After all, we’re gonna be roommates.”

He winks at you, carving out a path amid the crowd to the nearest exit. There’s a strange, unsettling feeling in your gut, and it suddenly hits you - you’re alone. You’re by yourself. There’s no family here, no friends, none of the familiarity of your hometown.

All you have is Hanamaki, and as he twirls his car keys around on his finger, his eyes narrowing playfully, you’re seized by the unshakable feeling that you’ve fucked up.

“This is the ‘Yes and No’ list, by the way,” he says, pointing to a dense section of tiny font. “Just mark off the things you wouldn’t be okay with doing.”

The thick wad of paper he’s dumped in front of you is apparently the contract that’ll dictate the next few months of your life. You can’t really be bothered to read all of it, and you skim through most of the non-disclosure bits before you arrive at the section you’re most interested in: the terms that dictate your limits on set.

You swallow uncomfortably as go down the list of sex acts, one by one.

Creampie - Yes

Blowjob - Yes

Throatfucking - No

Facial - No

Bondage - Yes

Degradation - No

There’s a whole bunch more after that, each described act sicker and more depraved than the last, and you can feel your stomach churning unpleasantly as you scrawl a hasty signature at the bottom.

“And once you’re done with that, we can get the cameras rolling,” he adds, patting your shoulder. He leans down, breath warm and sticky by your ear. “You’re gonna be a star.”

You feel sick.

When you first arrive, you’d let yourself be lulled into this false sense of security and comfort. He took you out to dinner every night, brought you into clubs you’d never even dreamed of before, treated you like an absolute princess. You’d almost forgotten what you signed up for in the first place. You’d almost forgotten that deals go both ways.

“Nervous?” he asks. You nod hesitantly.

He knew full well the answer to that. All girls are nervous at first. Sex is something that’s supposed to be intimate and private, and even if there’s no emotional connection, there’s always an inherent vulnerability that comes along with stripping all your clothes off. It’s not natural for cameras to be recording someone cumming and drooling all over the sheets.

But that’s just part of the fun, isn’t it?

He can’t help but focus on how exposed you look, all scared and pitiful as you apprehensively eye the camera. He sets it up with a few practiced motions, clicking the record button, and ignores the strain of his cock in his pants. He’ll get to that part soon enough.

“Don’t worry,” he assures you, climbing onto the bed. There’s a glint in his eyes that makes you very worried. “I’ll be gentle this first time.”

After that - well, he can’t make any promises. His self-control isn’t always the best.

He puts a pillow under your head, laying you down so the camera can capture a better angle, and hooks a finger under the waistband of your shorts.

The feeling of his skin brushing against yours sends a sudden wave of nausea through your body. It all feels wrong; his hands shouldn’t be touching there, your shorts shouldn’t be coming off, his lips shouldn’t be pressing against yours, no matter how soft they feel -

“So sensitive,” he purrs, trailing a finger along your damp, clothed pussy. You squirm involuntarily, little gasps and moans pouring from your mouth as he massages your clit. “Putting on a show for your future audience?”

The little bit of resistance left inside you shrivels up and dies.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. You don’t remember much except the heavy feeling of your chest, as if the four walls of the room were squeezing in on you, constricting your airways until your breaths are quick and shallow and desperate. There’s a word for that you don’t remember until much later - panic.

His fingers roam over every inch of your exposed skin, lips pressing against your thighs and pussy, coaxing your hole with gentle, teasing touches until it drips for him. You don’t remember anything at all except for the slick, wet trail of cum pooling between your thighs at the end of the night.

As for Hanamaki? He’s having the time of his life. There’s nothing quite like that moment of initiation - that first time - and he savors every single delicious reaction he pulls out of your body, every little twitch and shiver, all the lewd gasps and moans. You might be blanking out, but he’s hyperaware. He loves corrupting sweet, pure girls like you who’ve gotten in over their head, and he especially loves watching the realization set in.

He thinks this one is gonna go viral.

You wake too early the next morning, shivering in the cool air. The window’s open, and you can hear the sound of birds, the rustling of the trees, the faint hum of traffic in the distance. It feels calm. Peaceful.

Well, as peaceful as it’s possible to feel, considering you’re a few thousand miles away from home. You turn over onto your side, wincing at the feeling of soreness between your legs.

Then you hear a moan.

It’s a shameless one, loud and unabashed, and it’s coming through the paper thin walls that separate your room from Hanamaki’s. There’s a brief moment of annoyance - couldn’t he have gone and taken a shower? Couldn’t he have done it in the shower? Or maybe just kept it down, perhaps?

There’s a noisy mix of grunting and squealing, the audio tinny and distorted, and you realize he’s watching porn. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise, really, but the annoyance quickly turns to disgust after a few seconds pass.

“F- fuck yeah, baby, just like that, just like that, you’re doing perfect don’t stopdon’t stopdon’t stop - right there, good girl - “

There’s a soft moan, coming from what you assume is the porn he’s watching - it’s your voice.

“- god, you’re so fucking good to me, so pretty and perfect, gonna make you all mine, mark you up, gonna ruin you, sweet girl - “

You dive back under your comforter, trying to muffle both your ears, but he’s so fucking loud the neighbors can probably hear him. It’s useless to try and block out his gross, overdone moans, the wet squelching of his hand pumping his dick, the heavy breathing that makes you feel sick.

Why did you ever agree to his offer?

You stay under the comforter for what feels like forever, trying to steady your breathing, squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as possible. You find yourself frozen long after he’s done jerking himself off, long after the pitter-patter of the showerhead turns on and then off again. You want to stay there forever.

A knock sounds at the door, and you swallow nervously when you hear the telltale creak of the hinges.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. I made us breakfast. Gotta keep your energy up if we want to film something else fun later.”

You stay silent.

“Hey,” he says, footsteps shuffling closer. “You there? Hello?”

He’s mere feet away now, concern apparent in his voice. You squeeze your eyes even tighter, as if you were one of those toddlers who lacks any understanding of the concept of object permanence, because maybe if you pretend he’s not there -

“Geez, you’re really all knocked out, huh?” he says, lifting the comforter off of you. “You alright?”

Your eyes are reddened from the silent crying, your fists clenched at your sides, and your throat feels dry and scratchy.

“Hanamaki,” you say, voice shaking. “I want to go home.”

There’s a moment of silence that seems to stretch on for ages. He sits down beside you on the bed, taking your hand into his lap, and strokes his thumb over the back soothingly. He chuckles softly, and something that feels vaguely like fear settles in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re joking, right?”

Your eyes fly open, and you jerk away from his touch. “No, I’m not. I want to go home. I don’t want to do this.”

“Shame,” he says, shrugging. “They usually last a few more shoots. A few more months.”

He moves the comforter back so it covers your body, pulling it up to your chin. It’s a mockery of comfort, a parody of compassion.

“I just have one question,” he says, eyes narrowing. “Go home to where?”

“Back where I came from. Where you ordered the stupid fucking plane ticket from. My boring hometown, where my parents and friends and family live. Home, Hanamaki. Don’t play dumb.”

There’s another brief moment of silence. It’s as if he’s thinking, processing - or maybe the time he’s taking is for your sake.

“Your idea of home is a bit more fragile than you think, you know.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

He sighs, kicking his feet up onto the bed. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and loads the video that the two of you had filmed yesterday - the same video he’d been watching this morning.

“I give it a week before your friends find out. Your parents, a month tops. That’s the best case scenario.”

His words feel like a punch to the gut, and you’re pretty sure something breaks inside you when he turns the phone screen and you see yourself on there. Your face, your hair, your body - it’s undeniably you.

“We’ve got a few thousand views already. Once something’s on the internet, it’s on there forever. And everybody watches porn. You know that, right?”

He takes your hand back into his lap, but this time, his grip is iron. His fingers grip your wrist so tightly it hurts, and when you try to pull away, you realize just how much stronger he is than you.

“You won’t be going anywhere.”

He waits another day or two to film the next scene he’s got planned out. You’re still moping around the house, all sad and sullen, slamming the door in his face whenever he goes to graciously check in on you. It looks like you’ve settled on giving him the silent treatment, but at least you’ve stopped trying to steal his car keys. Another few weeks, and you’ll get over yourself. He’s sure of it. You’re a big girl, after all.

He’s got big, grand plans for you. You’ve got something special - you’ve got what it takes - and he’s not stupid enough to waste talent like that.

In fact, there’s something a little more niche that he’s been waiting to try ever since he first laid eyes on you.

He sets up the camera in his room, adjusting the focus and exposure to his liking, and inserts a new memory card into the empty slot on the side. He might need the extra storage tonight. His equipment really isn’t anything fancy - it’s more than enough for his purposes - but for just a moment, he wishes he had something a little fancier to do you justice.

“Come on in,” he says, straightening out the sheets one last time. “We’re using the fancy lube today.”

You push open the door and enter the room, shooting him a withering glare. It’s a bit hard to take you seriously in that gorgeous lingerie he bought for you, though, the matching set stitched with all white lace and smooth silk. You look gorgeous. Angelic, even.

He doesn’t have to use chains or rope to keep you in place, although he’s not discounting such methods at all. There’s a certain threat in the way he keeps your bedroom door locked at night, the way he forces you to eat dinner with him everyday. You’re not a guest; you’re a prisoner, and one with nowhere to run to.

Hanamaki pulls you in for a soft, light kiss, lips brushing experimentally against yours, and deepens it to something slow and sensual when he feels you start to squirm. He presses your shoulders down into the mattress, climbing on top of you, and his touch feels like fire where it burns a path across your skin. You feel that familiar sensation of dizziness, of lightheadedness; every ministration of his skilled and purposeful, a deliberate attempt to steal the oxygen from your lungs and leave you choking on your own ashes.

His lips begin to make their way down your neck, glossy with spit and swollen from the kiss, finding your pretty tits, laving over the skin of your stomach, trailing downwards until he gets to your throbbing clit. He can feel your arousal, even through the fabric, and he presses the flat of his tongue to your slit.

There’s a soft, broken moan somewhere above him, and he feels a sudden rush of victory. He starts lapping at your pussy, pushing the tip of his tongue to mold the wet lace to the outline of your cunt, his fingers trailing up and down your inner thigh as he eats you out. He innocently nudges aside your panties after soaking them through, peering up at you from between your legs, and flashes a crooked smile.

“You’re gonna cum for me, pretty slut, whether you want to or not.”

The nickname sends a brief jolt of confusion through your gut - he’s never called you anything like that before, even when he’d threatened you. It’s demeaning, base, wrong. You’re not - you’re not that kind of girl.

He can see the turmoil on your face, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on.

“Bet I can make you moan like a whore, too.”

He doesn’t give you time to react, flicking his tongue through your tender, dripping slit, mouth slurping greedily at your swollen clit. He loves eating girls out, loves the taste, loves the scent, loves the reactions - the poorly stifled moans, the useless attempts to still the twitching and jerking(they’re the natural physical reactions to pleasure, after all), and the pathetic, unstoppable orgasm that he gets to wring out every time.

Your face is flushed with heat, blunt teeth digging into your tongue, eyes squeezed tightly shut. You’re trying to think of someplace else, something else, anything at all except the man in between your legs - but it feels so good. You can’t ignore the pleasure that the licking and sucking ignites, can’t distract yourself from the tightness twisting in your clenched cunt that threatens to burst at any moment.

He pulls away.

“Hmm,” he says, sitting up, brushing a thumb over your pussy. “Wanna see you go stupid on my cock today instead.”

“Hanamaki, I -”

“What’s the problem, sweetheart?” he asks, maneuvering you easily into his lap. “You’re not a stupid whore? Not a dumb slut? Not my sweet little fucktoy?”

You can feel the outline of his cock pressing against the softness of your thigh, hard and long and terrifying. Your throat feels suddenly dry.

“Hanamaki,” you say, voice breaking quietly. “Don’t say those things.”

He reaches out to caress your cunt, fingers dipping into your entrance, and you squirm backwards to get away from the touch. Still so sensitive, he thinks. So cute.

“I think I’ll say what I want,” he says, plunging two fingers deep inside.

It’s not hard to stretch you out, finger curling and stroking your little hole until you’re writhing around his dexterous fingers. You’re already aroused from the attention he’d given your pussy earlier, the mixture of your juices and his split soaking the entrance, his finger slipping in and out easily.

There’s almost no resistance when he pops the head of his cock inside your slick pussy, and he lets out a loud moan at the feeling of warmth that envelopes him. And since you’re so well prepared already, there’s no need for him to hold back, is there?

“Ready?” he asks, laughing. “Although the answer doesn’t really matter if taking cock is the only thing you’re good for.”

The pace he sets is fast and hard and unforgiving, each rough, sloppy thrust bottoming out against your cervix. Even as you cringe in pain, wincing as his skin slaps against yours, the delicious stretch of his cock against your sensitive walls still feels so good. It’s a dizzying mix of pain and pleasure, one that sends you into overdrive, heart pounding and legs shaking as you whimper.

“Hiro - ah! - please slow -” you cry.

He shoves two fingers in your mouth before you can finish, shutting you up and making you gag slightly. “Oh, so now I’m Hiro? Not Hanamaki anymore, huh?”

Each hard thrust is jolting you up and down on his lap now, his fingers digging into the skin of your tummy as he stuffs you full. Are those tears, baby? He thinks you look so pretty, sobbing and drooling for him like that.

“Fuck,” he moans, burying his face in your neck. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Cum with me, slut, c’mon. Milk my cock dry.”

Hanamaki really is a gentleman; he saves his load until he can feel you tightening around him, until your breathing starts to hitch and you’re squirming back and forth. It’s silent in the room except for the lewd, gross sounds of skin-to-skin contact, slippery and wet and exaggerated.

“That’s it,” he breathes, pulling you off his cock.

His cum is dripping out of your tired cunt, the thick, white liquid spread all over your thighs, staining his pants, wetting your sheets. It’s a pretty sight. One that he wants to see again - no, one that he will see again.

“Hanamaki,” you sob, your body shaking all over. “The contract said you wouldn’t say those things.”

Did it? Well, that’s too bad. He doesn’t really read those things too carefully. Boundaries and limits are so often flexible in these situations. At least, that’s what he’s learned over time.

He reaches out, grabbing your face with his fingers and squishing your cheeks together. It’s terrifying to be held so close to him, eyebrows raised and a nasty grin on his face. You feel so small, so vulnerable - completely at his mercy.

“Next time, I’m gonna use your throat and cum on your face.”

It’s a promise.

i really appreciate reblogs + comments if you enjoyed this!

554 notes · View notes

uvobreakmylegs · 3 years

Text

The Sixth Floor Game

heavy inspiration from the Elevator Game, as well as the Three Kings Game and a little bit of Silent Hill 3

demon!Shalnark

Warnings: blood, death, kidnapping

The Sixth Floor Game is a ritual that will put you into contact with otherworldly forces and, if done correctly, can take you to a world that exists outside of our own. To play this game, you must follow all of the instructions that have been written below. Take care to remember all of them, as one mistake could result in death.

First you must enter a dark and empty building that has an elevator and only five floors in between the times of 3 and 4 AM. The only items you can bring with you are a fully charged cellphone, an item of sentimental value to you and an offering for the demon.

It is not recommended that you give an offering that bares any resemblance to that of a clown or magician.

When you enter the elevator, you need to ride it up to the 5th floor and leave the offering just outside the elevator doors and then head back down to the 3rd floor. When you reach the 3rd floor, you then need to exit the elevator and use your phone to call the last person in your call history. The game begins when you call that number.

When the line is picked up, you must say “I want to visit the 6th floor”.

Be warned that at this point you may hear strange noises on the other end, as calling the number at this time and place has put you in contact with a demon. It is possible to gauge whether the demon is happy with your offering or not based off the things he may say, if anything at all. Do not hang up on the demon; you will go back up the elevator when he hangs up on you.

There are three possibilities awaiting you when you go back to the 5th floor to see what has happened to your offering.

If the demon doesn't care for your offering but hasn't been upset by it, you will find it in the same place as you left it outside the elevator. You must then collect the offering, go back down to the first floor and leave the building.

If the demon has been offended by your offering, you will find the offering destroyed in some way. Leave the building immediately if you find this, as it means that the demon is angry with you and will try to kill you if you stay too long.

But if the demon likes your offering, there will be no trace of it when you get back up to the 5th floor. If this has happened, you must close the elevator doors and then hit the button for the 5th floor again. This time, instead of the doors opening again, the elevator will begin to move up, taking you to a 6th floor that shouldn't exist.

The amount of time it will take to reach the 6th floor varies from person to person, but it should not take longer than two minutes.

When you reach the 6th floor, you will find yourself in another world. Accounts of what this other world looks like also varies from person to person. Some have said that the floor they entered was run down and wrecked to pieces in some parts. Others have said that the floor didn't look any different from the other floors. Regardless of the state of the floor, the one thing that is consistent is a giant glowing red cross that can be seen if you look outside. You will see nothing else outside aside from the cross.

It is not recommended that you to try to open any windows or try to climb down the building.

You are free to explore this other world until you are ready to leave. It does not matter how long you stay in the other world. When you want to leave you must simply walk back to the elevator and hit the button for the first floor. It is possible that you may come across the offering that you left for the demon earlier while you explore.

Do not take the offering back; it now belongs to the demon.

Reality on the 6th floor can be distorted and you may find yourself becoming confused. If you find yourself entering into such a state, take out the sentimental item you brought and focus on it. It will keep you from losing yourself and allow you to continue as you explore the other world.

Above all else, while exploring the other world, you must never look behind you. Even though the demon may have liked your offering, he also likes trickery and will try to make you turn around to look at him by making noise or by speaking to you. If you look at the demon you will be unable to leave the 6th floor and he will keep you there forever as he has claimed you as his.

It is not recommended that you speak to the demon even if you don't look at him.

Regardless of the outcome of your offering, when you have returned to the 1st floor you must exit the building and you cannot enter the building again for any reason until the time is 6 AM.

If you have upset the demon with your offering, it is not recommended that you try the game again.

There is no reward for playing this game. There is only the experience of leaving this world and venturing to one beyond our own.

This game is dangerous and could result in the death of the player, so please consider the possible outcomes of playing before you decide to do so.

You finished reading aloud the instructions displayed on the sketchy-looking site and looked to your friend Farah, who had her hands clasped together as she looked hopefully at you and the rest of your group who had gathered in her apartment.

“Well?” she asked after a moment, “what do you think?”

“.... Why does a demon have a phone?” you asked.

“Yeah and what phone company does he use?” Cliff asked after you, “or do demons have their own phone companies.”

“You're missing the point!” Farah exclaimed.

“And the point is....?”

“We need to try this!”

There was a collective groan throughout the apartment. The other one in the group, Carmen, rubbed their forehead as they told Farah “you're our friend and we love you, but I don't think any of us want to repeat that time we tried summoning ghosts in a public bathroom.”

“This is nothing like that!” Farah insisted, “it said that we need a building with five floors and an elevator! I promise, there won't be anything gross!”

“Where do we get a building like that?” Carmen asked.

Farah pointed to Cliff.

“You work security overnight at that one office building, right?”

“Do you seriously think I'm going to risk my job for this?” he asked.

“We won't do anything bad! We'll just play a game and leave some stuff on the top floor. If the demon doesn't like it we'll take it with us. It's literally in the rules that we need to clean up after ourselves.”

Farah stopped herself, but you could tell she wanted to continue about getting a chance to visit another world. She loved the supernatural and those kinds of urban legends, but she never wanted to try these things on her own.

Carmen sighed.

“Is anyone else even remotely interested in trying this?” they asked.

Neither you or Cliff said anything at first, and Farah's face began to fall as no one volunteered. Then, when it looked like Carmen was about to speak again, you tentatively raised your hand.

“It might be fun,” you said. At least in terms of memories of 'dumb shit you did when you were younger'.

Farah beamed while Carmen gave you a look that screamed 'I hate you'.

With you willing to give the game a chance, the other two ended up conceding to do the same, and Cliff had been convinced by Farah to let you all in a week from that day when he worked at that particular building. With his shift being 11 PM to 7 the next morning, there would be plenty of time for you to play the game and then let him get back to work. As long as nothing was messed up by the end of it, there would be no harm.

At first you were rather stumped on what to give the demon as an offering. Farah was the same, but she ended up deciding on a horror anthology book from the 1920s. Carmen just got a shirt they had been wanting since they were certain that this ritual wasn't going to work and they wanted to spend the money on something that was useful to them. Cliff went out of his way to get a particularly creepy clown doll. He claimed that he wasn't annoyed by all of this, but you found yourself questioning that statement when he sent a picture of it through the group text. You had no clue where the fuck he had found something that unsettling.

The night you all had settled on was approaching and you still didn't have an offering. It shouldn't have been that hard, and yet you felt like if there was the chance that you were going to run into some otherworldly creature, you didn't want to half-ass it and make it upset. If the supernatural was real it seemed better to try and keep it on your side.

You found yourself browsing a few online forums where people were discussing the game. Unsurprisingly, most said that the ritual didn't work, and the few that claimed that it did had written some uninspired stories about how the demon had told them how they were going to die or when the world was going to end, with at least one mentioning the coming of the Antichrist. When you scrolled down to the end of the page you were pretty bored of all of the comments you read and you were about to exit the page when one particular comment caught your eye:

the demon likes bats

It was buried beneath the comments of others, and nobody had interacted with it. Common sense would tell you that this was just more bullshit, but it just seemed like such a random thing to make up. Nowhere in the instructions had it mentioned bats, and no one else on the forums had said anything about it either. The user who had posted it hadn't interacted with anything else and seemingly just came on to put out that little tidbit. For that reason, you found yourself wondering if their ritual had been successful.

You leaned back in your chair while you considered the information.

Bats, huh?

And then by complete chance the next day, when you were in the mall trying to find something because it the date you'd set for the game was only hours away and you still had nothing, you spotted something through the window of a toy store: a pink stuffed bat plush.

It was rather overpriced, but if that comment was correct, then it should be worth it. If not, at least you got something cute out of it.

Surprisingly it was Carmen and Farah that had been less than impressed by what you had brought.

“I didn't realize you wanted to offend the demon too,” Farah commented bitterly.

“Maybe the demon likes pink,” you responded as you shrugged.

Nothing more was said about it as Cliff opened the front door of the building. In exchange for doing this, he made the rest of you go about the building to turn off all any lights that had been left on which you all grumbled about but agreed was fair enough. By the time you were finished scouring the building, it was 3:13 in the morning.

It had been agreed that Farah would go first, and the rest of you waited in a darker spot of the parking lot while she went in, watching the building to see if you could spot her movements through the windows. You had pulled out your phone, as you were the last person she had called. It would probably be proven pretty fast if this was real or not if she called you and it went through to you, though Carmen had said that they felt it was likely that Farah would probably not call and just say that she had.

You checked to make sure the sentimental object you had brought was in your pocket: a small, stuffed bear keychain that you had gotten as a present from a childhood friend. It was special to you, but you didn't feel like you'd be absolutely devastated if anything happened to it.

Farah came out a few minutes later, carrying her book and looking disappointed.

“It didn't work,” she said as she sighed.

“Did you call?” you asked.

“Yes,” she answered, somewhat indignant. To prove that she had, she pulled out her phone and opened up her call history. It listed her last call as being made to you only a few minutes ago. When you opened up your own call history, it showed that she had called you over an hour ago.

….. Okay. That was weird.

Carmen went next, and it was the same story with them, as they came out a little bit later still holding their shirt. Unlike Farah, they didn't seem too upset.

Cliff went after, holding that creepy clown doll and waving it around a bit as he walked to the elevator.

It was quiet again after that. You, Carmen and Farah waited patiently in the parking lot while the electric lampposts around you hummed. Cliff had been talking earlier so you hadn't noticed it, but it seemed eerily quiet outside. Usually there were bugs or other forms of wildlife at night that would keep things from being silent, but right now there was nothing; only the humming electricity of the lot and the occasional comment from Carmen.

Farah seemed anxious as she looked at the building, her hands playing with the charm on her phone while she waited for any sign of Cliff. The thing with the phone history seemed to convince her this was for real and she seemed nervous about Cliff's offering. Carmen didn't appear to be the same way and seemed more impatient, who'd begun to tap their foot as they waited.

“Did you hear anything when you called?” you asked the both of them. They looked at you, and both shook their heads.

“It was quiet when I called,” Farah said.

“Same here,” said Carmen. Farah smiled at that.

“That means that it's real, right?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Carmen wasn't the best person to be around when they were tired and cranky, and you could see that Farah wasn't trying to take it personally. But looking back to Carmen, you noticed a slight furrow to their brow, and the impatient tapping seemed to have increased. At first glance you would have assumed that they were just really done with this whole thing, but as you kept looking, it seemed less like they were annoyed and more more like they were apprehensive.

“Cliff's taking a while,” they commented.

It was taking Cliff longer than the two of them, you realized, and you were about to try and crack a joke about him making it to the sixth floor when you saw the elevator doors in the lobby slide open, followed by Cliff walking out.

More like storming out, actually.

“What the hell?!” he exclaimed as he shoved open the main doors.

“Don't shout!” Carmen responded, “this is your job that we're not supposed to be doing this at, remember? What're you going to do if someone calls the police on us?”

Cliff ignored them, looking to Farah as he continued “are you serious? You want this stupid thing to be real that badly?!”

He was holding something that he then thrust in front of Farah's face. It was the clown doll that he'd brought.

Or at least, what was left of it.

It looked like it had been stepped on repeatedly, the body broken and the head having been caved in. One of the legs were also missing, you noted.

“You.... You think I did that?” Farah asked.

“Who else!” Cliff yelled.

“I've been here the whole time!” she shrieked back.

“She has,” you added as you felt the need to jump in, “none of us have moved from this spot.”

“Oh fuck off,” he answered, “I needed to return this. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe you shouldn't have gone out of your way to be an asshole,” Farah spat back.

It quickly devolved into an argument between the two, with Carmen pulling you back when you tried to jump in again. It made sense why Cliff was upset, but Farah hadn't done anything.

“.... Should I not go?” you whispered to Carmen after a bit.

“No!” Cliff exclaimed, this time at you, “you should go! Do this stupid thing, and then let me get back to my work!”

“You're not allowed to go back in for the rest of the night,” Farah pointed out.

By that point Cliff was done, and he stormed off to another area in the lot. Carmen motioned for you to go while Farah quietly steamed. It wasn't the first time those two had fought, but the arguments seemed to be getting nastier every time they happened. Best to get this over with so they could be separated and have the time to cool down.

You walked through the darkened lobby of the empty office building, your path illuminated only by the streetlights outside. There was something about darkness and artificial light that somehow made it feel more foreboding, more dangerous. Even though you were an adult there were still thoughts that ran about in your head of creatures that you couldn't see awaiting you in the dark, and those thoughts made you tense a bit. It was such an irrational fear, but one your brain wouldn't let go of. The argument between your friends had only put you more on edge as well.

The elevator doors slid open, the bright blinding lights hurting your eyes for a second before they adjusted to them, and you stepped in the car, pushing the button for the fifth floor.

Fifth floor, leave the offering, then down to third.

There were some bits of Cliff's creepy clown doll that were in front of the elevator when you reached the top floor. It vaguely occurred to you that the instructions said to leave immediately if the offering had been destroyed, but it seemed like Cliff had tried to clean up some. Though that made sense, since he didn't want to leave a mess behind after his shift.

You pushed away some of the leftover bits with your shoe, and carefully placed the bat plush laying on its back in front of the doors.

Down to the third floor, then.

You checked again to make sure that the bear keychain was still in your pocket during the ride down, stepping out when the doors opened after you confirmed that it was.

Now to make the call....

There hadn't been anything saying you needed to wait until the doors closed to begin, but you waited anyway. When the double doors slid shut behind you, you hit the button on your screen to call Farah, the last person on your call history.

It rang twice before the call was picked up. Just as Farah and Carmen had said, it was silent on the other side. You cleared your throat before saying the words that had been instructed.

“I want to visit the sixth floor. Please.”

There was nothing that said you needed to be polite, but you figured it couldn't hurt.

You still didn't hear anything from the other end, and that silence continued for several more seconds. You held the phone close to your ear, straining to hear anything, any sort of indication that someone was on the other line. The “demon” was supposed to hang up first, you remembered, so you were stuck until something happened.

“.... That's actually cute.”

The male voice you heard on the other end was unexpected, but you didn't get a chance to say anything back before the phone call ended.

You stood very still for a few moments.

That.... That hadn't been any of the others who were still outside. Unless they had gone so far as to hide someone out there and have them answer the phone when you called Farah and all of this was just an elaborate prank. But none of them were really the kind of people to do things like that.

Remembering the instructions from the site, you turned back to the elevator and got on when the doors opened, pushing the button for fifth floor once again.

If the demon likes your offering, there will be no trace of it when you get back up to the 5th floor

The ding of the elevator signaled that you were once again at the top floor of the building, and when the doors slid back open and you looked to the spot where you'd left the bat, you found.... Nothing.

That space you had cleared from the broken bits of that doll was empty, the white tiled floor shining in the light that came from the elevator.

….. If this was all just a prank by your friends, you weren't sure if you'd be able to trust them after this.

The doors closed once again, and you took a deep breath before you pushed the fifth floor button.

The elevator began to move up.

There wasn't a sixth floor; you'd double checked that the building only went as high as five.

You told yourself to wait until the doors opened before you jumped to conclusions. You'd need to see this “other world” before you could say for certain that all of this was real.

The website said that it could take up to two minutes, but mere seconds later did the doors slide back open.

Everything looked normal. Just another floor of an office building.

Or it would have looked normal, had it not been for the fact that everything was bathed in a red glow that came from the outside.

Clutching your phone in one hand and the keychain in the other, you took a small, tentative step out of the car, looking to either side of you.

The hallways were empty. Nothing jumped out at you.

Slowly, you walked over to a window.

In the distance stood a glowing red cross.

…. This was real.

This was actually real.

It was almost too much to process for your shock-addled brain, and you had to wonder if anyone else who had been successful had the same reaction as you, to just stare dumbly at the scene before you.

It then occurred to you to get proof for when you went back.

You pulled up the camera on your phone. Or you tried to at least. Of all the times for your phone to act up, it needed to be when you needed to get a picture so people would believe you. The app kept taking forever to pull up before it would close and you repeatedly tapped on the screen as you tried to make it work. Somehow you managed to snap a few pictures of the cross before the camera closed again and you weren't able to open it back up. The lighting and your uncooperative phone made the pictures appear quite blurry, but one would be able to tell what they were looking at. No doubt some people would claim that it was fake, but it was enough to satisfy you.

You checked the time, finding it to be 3:30, if the phone was to be trusted. You wished you had checked before you came up here, but it was a bit too late for that now.

You stepped away from the window and went down one of the halls, looking all around before you remembered that the site said that you shouldn't look behind you. Or was that only when you heard the demon? Regardless, you kept glances behind yourself to a minimum as you made your way through the floor.

Aside from the red light that covered everything, it looked like a normal office floor, filled with different offices and supply closets and nothing that was particularly interesting to you. The one strange thing was that the red cross outside seemed to move along with you, as when you would move to a different room you would still be able to see it clearly outside. You went back to the windows a few times and tried to see if there was anything else outside, but all you found was an endless darkness with no signs of any kind of life or structure. Unsurprisingly there was also no sign of your friends down below, though it would have been hard to see where they were standing outside anyway given the angle.

The red light made you slightly sick after a while, and you tried opening up the flashlight option on your phone. But it refused to turn on. In fact, nothing on your phone was working now, and when you looked at the clock, the time was still 3:30.

Either time was being distorted or your phone wasn't able to function properly. Given how your phone was acting earlier the latter would seem to be the most likely option, but you also weren't sure what the rules of this place were. There was nothing that said that this world was bound to time in the way yours was.

The website had said that you could stay up here for as long as you wanted, right?

You began to see things out of the corner of your eye, little bits of movement in the darkness that dared you to look at them. You did a few times, mentally slapping yourself as you remembered what the instructions had said as you were now desperately trying to remember everything that had been written so you knew what you could and couldn't do. It was amazing and terrifying at the same time as you recalled what the site had said about possibly dying to this game, and at one point you felt so overwhelmed that you thought you were going to throw up. You managed to keep it down, but after that you decided that it was time to leave.

When you started to head back to the elevator was when you felt a headache coming on. It was mild at first, but when you went further along your route to the exit it started to hurt more, turning into a stabbing pain that jammed into your skull.

Had the website mentioned this? You couldn't be sure. Where were you even going again?

You stopped at an open door, leaning against the open door frame to rest. There was movement from inside the room, and without thinking you looked over to it.

The bat you had left on the fifth floor sat in the room in front of a whiteboard. A whiteboard that had been absolutely covered in drawn on hearts and your name repeated over and over.

…. The website hadn't mentioned that.

“Do you think it's a good place for him?”

The voice you heard came from a few feet behind you. The same voice you had heard over the phone.

You needed to get out. Now.

You brushed your hand against your pocket as you tried to stand up straight again, still fighting the pain of the headache when you remembered the little bear keychain.

It will keep you from losing yourself

With that thought in mind you pulled it out and focused on it, and the pain seemed to lessen by a good amount.

“You've got a thing for cute stuff, don't you?”

The voice came from directly behind you this time, like whoever was speaking was staring down over your shoulder as they were practically on top of you.

Don't look don't look don't look

You pushed off of the door frame, the keychain still in hand as you power-walked back down the hall. The headache was still there a little bit but it was nowhere near as debilitating as it had been before.

The voice whined from behind you.

“You're leaving already? You just got here.”

Don't speak. Don't look.

It was following you. You could hear the footsteps that trailed after yours, keeping up with your pace and almost being purposefully loud. Sudden noises accompanied the footsteps, making you jump and urging you to turn around. It was a natural thing to react to sudden sounds like that and you needed to catch yourself a few times from looking behind.

It was trying to keep you here and you didn't want to stay to find out why that was.

You turned several corners and walked down many halls, and the elevator wasn't anywhere in sight. That wasn't right. You had made a mental note of where the location of the elevator approximately was. As much as the headache was still messing with you, you should still be able to make it back. You knew where it was, goddammit.

…. Was it just you, or were these hallways getting longer?

A chuckle came from behind you.

“You didn't think I'd let you go that easy, did you?”

You started to run.

You weren't sure how long you continued like that – time didn't seem to be a thing up here. Around you the halls extended, stretching out and prolonging your time in this hell as you turned corner after corner and you still couldn't find the fucking elevator. The temptation was there to look behind and see how long the halls had become, but the laughter that followed you kept your eyes straight ahead.

Turning another corner, the doors to the elevator came in sight, and you let out a gasp of relief as you ran faster. Just a little bit more and then you'd be free.

…. The elevator seemed to be was moving away from you, messing with you just as the halls had done before.

You could hear him breathing directly in your ear as you ran. Still trying to freak you out, still trying to make you turn around. He hadn't touched you at all, though, and you wondered if there were rules for him that prevented him from doing so.

The attempts to get you to look back at him seemed to be getting desperate. If this thing was getting to a point where even he was desperate, you didn't want to know what the hell he'd do to you if you made the mistake of turning around.

Despite it all the elevator was getting closer. Escape was literally in your grasp-

And then something in the floor shifted that caused your knee to buckle and you were sent flying face down on the flat white tile.

The phone and keychain went flying out of your hands and there was blood in your mouth as you bit your lip. Your head ached again, though you weren't sure if it was because of him or because you'd just landed on the solid floor.

You lay there for a few moments, catching your breath as you tried to compose yourself.

You then became aware of the presence that was standing over you. He was quiet now, but you could feel his eyes burning holes into your back, as if trying to will you to look at him.

Pushing yourself up on shaky arms, you began to crawl forward, your hands searching for the phone and keychain that had gone flying and had vanished into the darkness, the light from outside now much duller than it had been when you'd first arrived.

Don't look don't look don't look

He can't touch you

He can't force you to look back at him

Just keep facing forward and-

A horrifically loud shrieking noise sounded through the hall. It was the loudest thing you had ever heard in your life, the noise so great that you felt the floor vibrating, and your hands immediately went to cover your ears to protect your hearing as best you could.

Don't you dare fucking look back

With your hands still over your ears, you crawled forward on your knees. It was slow and it had gotten so dark that you couldn't see the elevator anymore, but it was still progress. When your knee brushed against your phone you ignored it. Who gave a fuck about proof anymore? You just wanted to get out.

But you were still trying to keep a lookout for the keychain. It had helped before; if you could find it, it would probably make getting out easier.

You put out one hand on the floor as you blindly searched for your sentimental item, your eyes scrunching up in pain as the horrible sound continued.

For a split second your fingers brushed up against something soft.

You grabbed it.

Immediately after the shrieking noise stopped.

For just a moment, there was relief, even though you still had that noise ringing in your ears. But it took only another moment for you to realize that something was wrong.

You hadn't grabbed that bear keychain. It was larger and heavier.

Opening your eyes, you found that you were holding that fucking bat plush.

“Ah. You messed up.”

A hand reached from behind you and grabbed the plush out of your grip. A different hand was placed on your shoulder and you were spun around on the floor.

A fair-skinned man with what looked to be blonde hair stared down at you, one hand still on your shoulder as he waved the bat in front of you.

“You're not supposed to take this back, remember?” he asked as he smiled at you.

“No.... I didn't...” you trailed off.

“But you did, though! You grabbed and picked it up,” he said.

That wasn't possible. You had left that thing behind in that room that felt so far away now. But as you glanced to the side you saw that, to your horror, you were sitting next to that room again, the hearts still visible on the whiteboard. You were barely able to note that it had gotten brighter and that somehow the red lighting seemed less harsh before he was talking to you again.

“So you lost and now you don't get to go back,” he told you.

“No.... You cheated.”

It felt so juvenile to say that out loud, but it was all that could come out of you in your current state.

Strangely though, he didn't deny it.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, “I've never gotten a visitor as charming as yourself. When I heard you on the phone and saw what you left me, I just needed to keep you.”

He looked at the bat plush again and smiled at it as he sat down in front of you.

“Did you just pick this at random, or was it something else?”

You struggled to comprehend the question, and it took you a bit before you were able to blurt out “someone else said you liked bats.”

“So you mean you went to the trouble of looking up what things I liked? That's adorable. I love it!” he exclaimed.

You tried to subtly scoot away from him as he sat in front of you but you were noticed instantly.

“Where do you think you're going?” he asked. The look he gave you was so innocent.

“I-I need to go home. I want to go home,” you insisted.

“That's not an option, remember?” he asked, waving the bat around again.

You shook your head.

“You cheated. I should be allowed to leave because you did that.”

He laughed.

“There's no rule against cheating. As long as I didn't touch you it was fine. Don't be a sore loser.”

“Fuck you.”

You spat out those words in a bout of frustration, trying your best to sound strong, but it probably just made you seem more pathetic.

He only hummed at that, just staring at you for a moment.

It had been getting steadily brighter, the red going away with every passing second and you were able to make out different colors. The purple and teal on his clothes, the shade of blonde his hair was and the blue of his eyes were visible to you for a few moments.

He set the bat plush to the side, and the world began to darken again as red and black took over.

“That's okay,” he said, more to himself than to you, “you're scared and that kind of reaction is normal, so I'm not too mad.”

It was getting harder to see him, but you could see movement about him, things about his body changing. Horns that slowly curled out from his forehead. The tips of his fingers that darkened around long claws that took the place of his fingernails. Large, bat-like wings that unfolded from behind him and spread themselves.

You caught a glimpse of his teeth in the low light, and they looked sharper than they had before.

Panic shot through you as you began to scramble away from him, but your escape attempt was short-lived as something wrapped itself around your legs and pulled you back towards him.

A tail? Oh God that was a tail.

He was on top of you, and he caged you in his arms as he leaned down to whisper in your ear “don't worry, I'll go easy on you this time.”

You tried to push him away, but he ignored it.

“Oh! Before I forget, I should introduce myself shouldn't I? I'm Shalnark. Nice to meet you.”

With that, his lips claimed yours in a searing kiss.

Your friends had been waiting a while.

Farah and Carmen stayed where they had been directly next to the building while Cliff hadn't moved from where he had stormed off to. Farah had been getting upset as she had become convinced that you were being an ass to her as well with how long you were taking. It was all Carmen could do to try and keep her calm.

Because of his distance away and how distracted they were, neither of them noticed the state Cliff was in.

They only noticed when he began to violently cough.

With Farah still slightly bitter from their earlier argument, Carmen was the one to check on him, asking if he was alright as they walked up to him.

Cliff gave no answer as he had begun to cough up blood.

Carmen's hands fumbled when they pulled out their phone to call emergency services, and they yelled at Farah to go inside and get you. The sight of the blood Cliff was coughing up had Farah sprinting towards the building, throwing the front doors open as she made a beeline for the elevator.

Carmen didn't notice it at first when Farah fell to the floor. Only when the ambulance had been confirmed and they looked back to the building to see if the two of you were coming out did they see her body lying limply on the floor.

Ambulances and cop cars arrived eventually, and both Cliff and Farah were declared dead at the scene. The autopsy reports later would declare that they had been poisoned. A thorough search of the building would find no source of where the poison had come from.

Nor did they find anything from you.

Carmen had told them that you were in there, but when they searched they found no trace of you. No personal belongings and nothing to even indicate that you had entered the building. When the search for you grew beyond the confines of the office building, there was still no trace of you. You simply vanished into thin air.

The case would puzzle investigators before they would ultimately put it aside for other cases that needed their attention. It would only gain some traction online when the files were released to the public and certain parties saw that you and your friends had been playing the Sixth Floor Game. For some people it added weight to their beliefs that the game was real and needed to be avoided. For others it was just a coincidence.

Regardless of what they thought, you remained a missing person that would never be seen again, forever immortalized by your unexplained disappearance and an urban legend.

#reader insert #Shalnark #shalnark x reader #yandere shalnark #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter

1K notes · View notes

werenotadulting · 3 years

Text

Routine Procedure - Finale

Author's note - Hope you enjoyed!

Part 7 - Kate

If you'd asked her, Kate wouldn't have been able to tell what exactly had gotten her interested in it.

Maybe it was the idea of the power dynamic. She had always been one of those girls labeled as 'bossy' growing up, which was a misogynistic way of saying that she wasn't afraid to speak up and speak her mind.

Or maybe it was the subversion of expectations of a traditional relationship that did it for her. The idea that she was the one in control, the one making all the decisions.

Maybe it was the fact that it was so taboo and kinky that appealed to her. It didnt really matter, whatever the reason.

Kate was into being a Mommy Domme, and Kate found nothing hotter than having a diapered little bitch boy to call her own.

The ultimate fantasy was teaching the boy to love and trust his diapers. Make him associate orgasming with wet diapers and diaper changes. Create a leaking "accident" in public so he learns that while thicker diapers might increase the risk of being noticed, they save you from the embarrassment of wet pants.

Of course, she had considered bringing up her desires to Mike, but based off of past experiences, she didn't want to chance it. Mike was just too perfect of a guy to risk blowing it like that.

She had always been the dominant one in bed, with Mike eagerly submitting to her every whim, so she knew they were sexually compatible. It had never gone past light bondage though, and Kate was starting to get an itch that handcuffs and blindfolds just wouldn't scratch.

────────

It had come up entirely by chance, one day while she was scrolling through an obscure ABDL forum.

The post read: "Biomedical engineer here, and I think I've figured out a way to induce instant, semi-permanent incontinence."

The post was over 3 days old, and only had two comments on it. The first was from a mod, basically saying to take everyone's posts with a grain of salt. The second was from the OP, about 24 hours after the original post.

"I know it sounds like a fantasy, but I'm pretty confident it will work. I've had a career in medical devices for the last 8 years, specializing in the urology space. I don't want to get too deep into the details on here, so just PM me of you're interested."

Kate rolled her eyes.

Everyone in this community is so hooked on the 'I want to be instantly incontinent' thing, and all it ever ends up being is some silly fap content, she thought to herself.

"You know what, let's feed the troll and see what bites," she muttered.

Liv2DomU: ok spill, what's your magical method?

PrinceOfPadding: this for you, or someone else?

Liv: hypothetically, let's say it's for a boyfriend

Prince: Ahh okay. Very interesting. Well, like I said, I've worked in med device for awhile, and I've recently started my own company. I primarily work in the urology space, catheters, scopes, that kind of stuff.

Liv: hmm hate to break it to u bud, but catheters kinda already exist

Prince: oh sure, catheters exist, but my idea is to bridge the catheter world with the stent world

Liv: sounds idk...sketchy? illegal?

As she read more, Kate was beginning to think that this guy might not be as full of crap as she had initially thought. He had his own start-up, which had already launched a Foley catheter to the market. It was all above-board and legit.

Prince: so, for the aspiring incontinent-person-to-be, the ring is positioned with a catheter, and stays in place once the Foley is removed. Then overtime, probably a month at minimum, depending on the chemical makeup and customer desire, the ring breaks down and is naturally absorbed into the body. And they all sign a consent form saying they accept the risks of such a procedure.

Liv: so then once it's dissolved they are back to being being able to control their bladder?

Prince: that's the theory, yes

Liv: theory?

Prince: well, dissolvable stent technology present state takes like 18 months to break down, and the manufacturing of it is patented and kept under lock and key

Liv: so basically all you have to offer is a catheter lol

Prince: well no. I've got some good leads on dissolvable compounds, but I've got to do trials of the rings first to see if it would even work. I've promised free diapers for the first few months if people sign up, but it's been hard to get subjects

Liv: so these trial rings wouldn't dissolve?

Prince: nope

Liv: meaning my hypothetical boyfriend would be....?

Prince: permanently diaper dependent, yeah

────────

In the end Kate was curious enough that she was willing to hear the guy out.

He'd asked for a mailing address and her phone number. The first was to send proof that his company was real, and the second was just to keep in contact should she decide to proceed.

It all made sense, at least in theory. Foley catheters were safe, provided they were inserted by a trained healthcare professional. A normal person would get a normal catheter just like everyone else. But an ABDL would be signing up for what was essentially an intentionally faulty catheter.

Assuming they knew they were willingly signing up for it.

When asked about 'accidental' ring implants, Prince had basically said, hey, people really need to learn to read the fine print.

────────

I walked out to the mailbox. I've been expecting test results back from the scan I'd had a few weeks back. Opening up the box, I noticed a large envelope with my hospital's address on the front.

About time, I thought, grabbing the envelope and the rest of the mail.

I walked back into the house, where Kate was making herself a cup of tea.

"Anything good in the mail?" she asked, taking a sip from her mug.

I listed them aloud as I started to flip though the mail, "Looks like some junk mail, an internet bill, a brochure for some UroVention medical thing, and last but not least, my test results."

I dropped the rest of the mail on the counter and started to open up my scan results. As I was reading, Kate walked over and began sorting through the other mail.

"Oh good, they said it's benign, but they're still worried about the location. They're recommending removal, just to be on the safe side."

"Removal for something benign? That sounds odd, but whatever," Kate said, tucking something into her back pocket.

"I'm not too worried. It sounds like it should be a pretty routine procedure."

────────

Part 8 - Mike

I sat down on the couch, my diaper squishing underneath me. Kate had taken to putting two stuffers in my diaper, even though these Tykables could already hold a lot. The warm, comforting feeling of my wet diaper started to turn me on, just like it did every time I realized how wet I was or if I was about to get a change. Not that I could do anything about it, though.

I flipped open the laptop and signed in. It would probably be a good hour before Kate got back from the store. Apparently I was being downgraded from sippy cups to bottles.

Once logged in, I noticed that the screen was still up to the site where Kate had last been. It was another diaper order, this time a case of Megamaxes. I felt my cheeks start to heat up, seeing that Kate had chosen the pink color for the whole case.

I opened up a private window, and navigated to KinkLink. My profile on here was pretty bare. It always had been, just containing my age, gender, and some basic interests. I hadn't even bothered to post a picture when I set it up. I preferred to look at other people's profiles rather than post things of my own.

I was always intrigued by people's locations and how close they were to where I lived. One such person who I came back to check the posts of daily was a mommy domme, who it happened lived in my town. Her first posts, from nearly three years ago, were what had first caught my attention.

'Every night I dream about finding my perfect diaper slut. He will wake up to me rubbing his thick, soggy padding, the little bedwetter that I turned him into.'

'Picture this: You, in a wet diaper and nothing else. Me, in my black lingerie with a strap on. Do I have any volunteers?'

'Have no doubt, if you date me, it's diapers forever. There's no "only at home" or "but my parents are coming over". Maybe I'll just find a way to make you incontinent. Then you won't have an excuse.'

And then there were the pictures. She never would show her face, but she didn't need to.. She wasn't lying about the black lingerie. It left very little to the imagination. Then the next picture, where the bra came off, and she was just in her lacy panties, her pierced nipples and tattoos on display. Maybe it was the octopus tattoo on her arm, my favorite animal, that made her stick out to me.

But there was one post that I always came back to and was entranced by. It was a picture of her holding an ABU Kiddo, right below her breasts. She wasn't wearing any clothing.

'Aww baby, did you wet the bed? I think we should probably put you in some protection.'

────────

I stood in line at the coffee shop. It wasn't too busy for a Tuesday at 9 a.m., only two people were ahead of me. As the first person in line got her coffee and the second lady stepped up to place her order, I checked my phone. Still a half hour before I needed to be at work, I had some time to sit and enjoy my drink. I got my usual and went off to a booth in the corner.

"Excuse me, but do you happen to know what the Wi-Fi password is here?"

I looked up to see the woman who had been in front of me in line.

"Oh um, yeah it's....oh I think they just changed it. Try 'PINTO'. They always pick some sort of bean, I think they find it amusing, but it's never a coffee bean..." I trailed off.

She smiled, "Oh thank you so much, yeah I'll try that."

My mouth fell open is shock.

"I uhhh...I like your tattoo," I said. "They're my, um, favorite animal."

"Oh mine too! Isn't the octopus, like, the coolest animal?"

"D-definitely. Hey, would you like to sit with me? I'm just hanging out while I wait for work. My name is Mike by the way."

"That sounds really nice. Thank you, Mike. I'm Kate."

97 notes · View notes