#Indy screams about house

[babblingfishes]

I am so tired of AAA games having watered-down plots and fill-in-your-name protagonists. I want protagonists with problems. Serious problems. Harry Du Bois problems. Mae Borowski problems. I want games where all your options are bad and you cannot win -- where sometimes your prize is negative consequences and that's okay.

[leeloooonfire]

based on this post about Steve's internalized bi-phobia:

Steve has known for years.

And how could he not when Tommy's freckles come back tenfold each spring like a flower peaking it's head through the last layer of snow? Or when Matthew Carver's hair have a reddish brown tone that turns blond after they spent the last days before summer break practising outside and remind Steve of liquid gold? Or when he watches Star Wars and Harrison Ford, rugged and witty, comes into view and twists his stomach in knots? How could he not know?!

Steve knows he finds guys as attractive as girls, known for many, many years. But.

But he can't. Not when Tommy sneers at that boy in their literature class who likes flamboyant clothes and wants to be an actor on Broadway. Not when the people they meet in Indi who are like Robin and Eddie 'fully queer' and talk about people like Steve as if they're traitors and scams. Not when he reads the newspaper and is assaulted by Reagan and his folk preaching about the 'fag pandemic' or how his father nods in approval and mutters 'another sinner gone for good' when the news play on TV and they occasionally mention the crisis that kills people like Robin and Eddie and him.

Like him....

It doesn't matter how much he loves sleeping with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone or that he thinks he'd like to kiss Eddie and hold his hands and wake up beside him until they're old and wrinkly and complain about bad knees.

He is, but he cannot be a queer, half a fairy '50% like me, 50% like Eddie' as Robin jokes.

He will not be a bisexual, he can keep it inside, keep it hidden, buried deep inside him no matter how much it pains him. He can be the straight friend who goes to pride and bakes rainbow cakes and marries a woman even though his heart screams in an ear ringing cacophony, 'Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie!'

This is how his 20s go: loud and hurting and yearning and hiding and more noticeably being disgusted and ashamed of himself for simply being able to love men the way he can love women.

He's 29 when his wife, Becky, leaves him. It's not just Eddie and this shameful secret that weights heavy on their relationship, but the scars and all the other secrets he is unable to explain to her that drive Becky finally away - back to Boston. She leaves him alone in that tiny house they bought three years ago with their Saint Bernard puppy they lovingly named Bernadette.

He's 30 when he goes to a coffee meeting of the bisexual group meeting in Chicago, nearly turning the car multiple times, hands and knees sweaty with fear that they won't want him there. They do want him there, welcome him with open arms, and talk about things Steve knows all too well: 'When I fell in love with the first girl, I ran. I like men just fine, so I hid my crush. It's just easier, when your parents hate gays, when the world is shaming our community, when we're dying.' He finds a second home there, and learns - learns about queerness and bisexuality, about trans and gender non conforming people and physical attraction versus emotional attraction. He learns about his past and present and about his future, about their history and where they want to go, how they want to mold their world to fit people like them into it without the pain and the hiding.

Steve is 33 when he finally comes out to everyone dear to him. To the kids who aren't kids anymore and to Joyce and Hopper, and then his parents. this does not go well, but Steve doesn't want, doesn't need their validation anymore. He has his family, his friends, his support system who love him not regardless of his sexuality but because of it, love him because it's part of him. He comes out to Becky, too and that goes much better. they want to be friends, in the future. She's also met Gary who works the the NY Times and wants her to follow him into the big city. So Steve is looking forward how that goes, their tentative friendship.

He is 34 when Eddie comes back from his latest world tour and wants to take a break to rekindle with his uncle, to write new songs, to take a breather. It's only natural that Eddie moves into Steve's guest room and takes over his space on the couch where he cuddles Bernadette while Steve is in the kitchen and makes them grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner.

Its even more natural when their feet meet while watching a movie and they lean into each other in the kitchen, dawn barely there, while they wait for the coffee maker to finish.

Steve's 35 when Eddie finally kisses him and he kisses back. No hurt, no shame, no guilt gnawing on him, Steve finally allows himself to be with the person he truly wants - regardless of their gender.

[idanceuntilidie]

Watching you always.

male yan stalker x male streamer reader

The pronouns used towards reader are “you” but reader is intended to be male.

Requests are open.

Ash met you online, well actually, he didn’t really met you. He just stumbled upon a new growing streamer; you.

You were so nice, and your voice sounded melodically, He caught himself watching your stream. You were playing some indie horror game, your little gasps and sometimes screams made him chuckle.

You were so cute.

And so the obsession had begun,

he watched every single stream, video or tik tok of yours.

He sent money, his heart fluttering when you spoke his name.

He was the biggest fan of yours, and you know him too!

You say hi, when he types in the chat, sometimes even starting small conversations.

That must mean you like him too.

Right?

He watched you grow. You gained so much popularity.

It made him feel quite jealous, knowing that his beloved prince is being watched by millions.

So that’s how he got here, watching you through your window. His hands shakily gripping the shears.

It wasn’t the first time, he was lurking around your house. Hell, he even was inside once.

He made you food, cleaned your house.

Set up cameras to watch you sleep.

Like a good partner would do!

He decided that since you guys love each other, he would whisk you away.

He dreamed about this moment.

It reminded him of fairy tales he was reading as a child. It made him giddy with excitement as he cut your phone line and cut off the power to your house.

You were so scared, it was adorable but also confusing. Why are you even scared? He is your prince in shining armour who has come to save you.

In the end he succeeded. You were knocked out, laying limp in his arms.

He couldn’t be happier. You were finally his and he wouldn't let you go anytime soon.

[gingerteafairy]

𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙥 (𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙝𝙚𝙛𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙮 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)

Rodrick tries to get your attention, even if he had to cosplay of your non canon otp.

tags n warnings: fluff, nerdy!reader, death note references, cosplay, suggestive, perv!rodrick, shy!reader. word count: 1.5k

Rodrick Heffley sort of hated you. 

Okay, not really. It wasn’t that Rodrick hated you—you weren’t fake or mean, or some weirdo who would make him cringe. You were just... well, weird. He’d totally clocked that you had a crush on him after, like, a minute. It was obvious.

The blushes when he walked by, the borderline embarrassing comments on his Instagram—it was like a neon sign. But you were cute. Annoyingly cute. With your big sunshine smiles, dorky jokes, and all that awkward eye contact whenever you bumped into each other at school. 

He gave you hell about being “weird.” But he liked it. Actually, loved it. This perv already pictured you in dozens of sexual scenarios with imaginary reactions he’d love to see. Like, would you be all shy when he took off his clothes or would you laugh if you got into some creative position? Would your glasses be foggy? He really wanted to see you with nothing but your glasses on.

You were just a girl giggling at his Instagram posts. His story, of course, featured him slumped on a museum bench, arms crossed, staring at some abstract painting like it had personally offended him. The caption? “Modern art is dead. Let me out.”

You knew better than to expect a sweet reply. It was either ghosting or snarky comebacks. Spoiler alert—you got the snarky reply.

But seeing him in person? Still the worst thing ever.

Which is exactly why you froze when you spotted him one afternoon, sitting lazily on the steps of his front porch. He looked perfectly disheveled in his black metal band shirt, one leg stretched out, his back leaned casually against the doorframe. Like a damn indie rock album cover.

Your brain screamed nope, but your feet had already carried you halfway past his house before—

"Hey, dorky.”

Rodrick’s voice broke through your panic like a needle to a balloon. You skidded to a halt, eyes wide. Slowly, you turned, clutching the strap of your bag for dear life.

“Hey…” you squeaked, adjusting your glasses.

Rodrick smirked, pushing off the steps. “You think I’m a ghost or something? You walk past here like I don’t exist.”

Your cheeks burned. “I—uh—I didn’t see you.”

“Totally believable.” Rodrick’s smirk grew. “You said you bought a Misa costume, remember? Wig and everything. And also the whole limited edition of the dolls and stuff.”

You blinked, horrified and excited at the same time.“I—I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He tilted his head, hands shoved in his pockets.

“I don't know…”

“Relax. It’s kinda sick, actually.” His gaze flicked over you like he was sizing you up. “You’d look good as Misa.”

“Really?” you jumped, clapping your hands. “I'll dress up like her everyday and I already bought her necklace.”

“You’re so awkward,” he teased, voice softer. “C’mon. What’s the rush? You’re always running past here like I’m gonna bite. Unless…”

You stared at him, unsure if your heart was about to stop or explode. “Unless…?”

“Unless you would like to get bitten by me.”

Your face turned scarlet. “Why…Why do you…?”

Rodrick rolled his eyes, turning back toward the house. “You’re impossible. I was gonna invite you in, but whatever. Get home safe.”

And with that, he disappeared inside, leaving you standing in the street, cheeks flushed, completely stunned. He just landed on the floor, stomping his head on the wall.

“Shit. I wanna see her in that outfit.” He cried out with his cheeks beet-red.

“She's so cool. Did you know she draws like a pro?" Greg cheered, watching you make your steps to your home, still confused.

“yourusername? She gave me pokemon cards for free in her parents store when I told my mother that I loved pokemon! A limited one. Pew peww.” Rowley exclaimed happily, stepping back when Rodrick stood up with a murderous look. “Uh-oh.”

Then he remembered, stopping him from the possible child murder. Only himself knew the cutie clumsy patootie you were, which made him giggle to the ground, curling his hands on the hem of his shirt.

“Ewww.” Greg hissed, frowning.

“I think your brother likes her.” Rowley smiled, walking to Greg's room, who was totally disgusted by the sight of his brother lifting his toe like a little girl.

The next week, someone invited Rodrick to a costume party. Sure, the music was decent, and someone brought a vintage vinyl player, which kept him from leaving immediately. The worst part is that you didn't come. “Socialization fear, Rod. Not my thing”. By midnight, he was leaning against a wall, phone in hand. Grinning when he saw you post you in your Misa outfit.

yourusername: “Dressing as my queen >o<.”

He wasn’t even sure why he posted a photo of himself dressed as L from Death Note. Maybe out of boredom. Maybe because he hoped you’d see it.

rodrickrockslodediper: justice will prevail.

Cheesy as hell. But effectively, you have seen it in a minute.

“God, you look so perfect.”

The message was simple—too simple for you. No silly emojis, no teasing lines. For some reason, that made him pause. And then, before he could talk himself out of it, he did something impulsive: he called you.

The line clicked after just two rings. “What the—Rodrick?”

He smirked at the sound of your flustered voice. “Didn’t think you’d answer so fast.”

“You called me,” you sputtered, nearly knocking over everything on your desk, your glasses almost broke on the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Party’s boring.” His voice was low and smooth, a little breathless. “Some kid thought I was Steve Jobs.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god. That’s so tragic.”

“Yeah, laugh it up, Misa Misa.” He hesitated, voice softening just slightly. “I wish you were here.”

Click.

And just like that, his status went offline before you even had time to reply. He stuffed his phone into his pocket, walking away from the party like he’d just dropped a bomb, not even bothering to say goodbye to anyone.

"What the heck was that?!" you exclaimed, staring at your phone like it had grown a second head. Rodrick Heffley called to say he wanted you to be with him? That couldn’t be real.

And yet, the disbelief hit even harder when your doorbell rang. You opened the door, and there he was—smudged eyeliner and messy dark shadow to fake L’s signature tired look. Meanwhile, you were fully dressed as Misa Amane. What even was this situation?

"Good thing I made it before you ditched the cosplay," he said with a lopsided grin, still catching his breath. He had run to your house. Rodrick Heffley, running. For you.

You stood frozen, like a deer caught in headlights. Say something! Come on, say something! your brain screamed.

"Uh… Let’s... let’s go inside, Lawliet. I, uh… I have candy!" you stammered in a sweet tone, fumbling over the words. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Rodrick burst out laughing, loud and unfiltered, before slapping a hand over his mouth, trying to keep it cool. But the faint pink tint on his face gave him away. He couldn’t believe how adorable you looked, trying so hard to pull off Misa.

"What’s so funny?" you mumbled, shifting your weight awkwardly, your face heating up even more.

"Nothing..." he snorted, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as his laughter died down. "Can I come in?"

"I… My parents… They’re, uh, kinda strict about guys being here," you muttered, cringing at how childish you sounded. Why did your parents have to be like this now of all times?

Rodrick clicked his tongue and shrugged. "Oh...Okay." But then he shot you that goofy, lopsided grin again, and you couldn’t help but smile back, even if it was a little shy.

"What?" you asked, giggling softly as you played with a lock of your blonde wig.

He shook his head, made a finger-gun motion with his hand, and turned to leave. But just as he took a step, he paused, spun back around, and said, "You know I like you, right?" His voice was casual, but his eyes told a different story.

"Stop messing with me…" you mumbled, barely above a whisper. Your heart was pounding in your chest. But instead of laughing, he stepped closer, hesitating for a moment before cupping your face gently. His eyes locked with yours, and for a second, the world seemed to stand still.

Then, he leaned in and gave you the softest, quickest kiss on the lips.

"Not messing with you, Misa," he said, dropping into L’s signature monotone. You couldn’t help it—you laughed so hard, your shoulders shook.

"Hey, no fair using my OTP!" you pouted, crossing your arms, but he just smirked and kissed you again.

"I’ll use whatever it takes to get you to notice me, nerd," he teased, his voice warm and playful. Then, with one last grin, he stepped back and turned to leave.

You stood there in the doorway, heart racing, watching Rodrick Heffley walk away like you’d just stepped out of the last scene of a shoujo anime.

[seths-rogens]

cardboard houses, cardboard hearts | M | 1.9k | ao3

should’ve been finishing my infidelity au, but instead the cardboard joe cutout i was given inspired me to crank this out in one sitting,, anyway, please enjoy :)

—————

Eddie often thanks God that he took the leap and moved to Indianapolis after he finally graduated high school. Not that he really believes in God. Just… figure of speech and all. Though, maybe he’d believe in God if they were a metalhead with tatties and an eyebrow piercing, but he thinks that might ruin their image honestly.

He’s getting off topic.

Eddie often thanks God for Indy in moments like these. Moments where he has a fucking beautiful man pinned to his own front door, strong, thick fingers tangling in his hair as Eddie desperately tries to fit his key into the lock. He shoves his thigh between Pretty Man’s legs - he didn’t catch his name - and presses upwards. Pretty Man whines, grinding down and making it all that more difficult to unlock the goddamn door.

“Hold on, Sweetheart. I just gotta-“ Eddie bites back a groan as Pretty Man kisses down his neck, sucking a bruise over his pulse as the key finally slips into the lock. Chrissy’s never gonna let him live the marks down.

He’s surprised he picked anyone up tonight at all. He’d gone to a concert alone for once, as Chrissy was staying at her new girlfriend’s place, and Gareth and Jeff weren’t the biggest fans of his guilty pleasure artist ‘King S’.

And honestly? In any other world. Eddie wouldn’t be either.

King S isn’t his usual style. Where Eddie usually loves a hard drumline, thrashing guitars and lyrics you can only scream, King S is all soft melodies and crooning vocals set to slow drum beats.

He’d stumbled upon him completely by accident, honestly. It’d been a slow day at the record store Eddie manages. He’d been there for nearly five hours and so far he’d only served maybe three customers - and two of those customers were an old couple shopping for their granddaughter. So he’d picked the first magazine he could reach off the stand by the counter, and flipped it open to a random page.

It’d been an interview with King S, who’d just released his first album at the time. He was talking about his inspiration for making music - his best friend and little brother who, he’s quoted as saying, ‘always ragged on him when he played his pop shit in the car’ - and the meaning behind his stage name - reclaiming an old high school nickname he’d been given after his brief stint as a bit of a mean girl, though now he promises he’s using it for good.

He’d flipped the page to find a double page spread of King S curled up in a bathtub. His eyes were squeezed shut through the lacy masquerade mask that was supposedly his staple (no one knew his real identity after all). His hair was messy and flying all over the place. He was…

He was naked. Or at least that’s how it seemed.

His arms and legs were bare, the black and white photo only emphasising the toned curves of the muscles in his arms and back and the dark hair covering those lush thighs.

Call him obvious but Eddie had been intrigued. He knew they’d received a new shipment of records that morning that weren’t supposed to be hitting the shelves until the next day, so he figured what the hell!

Ten minutes later, elbow deep in a shoddily painted green wooden crate, Eddie emerged victorious with King S’s debut album ‘Robins and Tadpoles’ in his hands.

The album cover was two people’s hands clasped together, matching ice cream cone tattoos on both wrists. There was a little dedication on the back. To R & D.

He took it out to the turntable on the shop floor and dropped the needle. When the soft music started, he was hesitant, but as the album moved on he quickly realised he was hooked.

He’d gone into the shop bright and early the next day - on his day off no less - and bought the album. Only slightly laughing at the look on Mike’s - part time Lit student, part time cashier, full time grump - face.

That had been two years ago, and Eddie had been solidly on the King S train since.

Sure, Gareth and Jeff - and Grant too when he was in town - would tease him about abandoning his people, about betraying the freaks and the weirdos, but really they supported his love for the artist, even if they didn’t quite get it.

So when King S announced a stop in Indy on his second album tour, the guys (and Chrissy) had banded together to get him tickets as an early 26th birthday present. Except when the day came, they were all busy, so he went by himself.

He didn’t mind really, was just happy to be there to appreciate the music. (And the man himself, Eddie has eyes, come on now.)

Elated and feeling just a little self fulfilled after the concert, Eddie had gone to his favourite queer/metal bar, Crash. He’s picked people up there before, sure, but they’ve all been metalheads, just like him, and as many of his friends have said in the past, he’s cursed to have the hots for the preppy jock types.

Usually, that’s not the type of guy he’d find in Crash. Tonight was different.

Eddie had been sat at the bar, thinking about King S’s arms beneath the crimson sweater he wore on stage, when a gorgeous man had stepped up beside him to buy a beer. The man was wearing a dark, charcoal coloured t-shirt under a light grey Members Only jacket, paired with light blue levi’s.

Eddie kinda felt his jaw hit the floor. Could this be the perfect end to the perfect night?

This brings us back to now. Eddie finally pushes the door open, swings Pretty Man around and pushes him back against it.

He drops his keys somewhere. It doesn’t matter. He’ll find them tomorrow.

They’re grinding fast against one another now, only their harsh, panting breaths filling the silence of Eddie’s apartment. Eddie slides his hand into Pretty Man’s hair, tugs on this side of too hard. Pretty Man moans, loud, almost echoing, and tilts his head to the side, baring his neck for Eddie to defile.

Eddie leans in, presses his lips to those two little moles, and—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie pulls back to look at Pretty Man’s face. He’s still, not looking at Eddie, instead staring with wide eyes into the open plan of Eddie’s living room.

Eddie follows his gaze and… Oh. Yeah. He forgot about that.

See the King S tickets hadn’t been Eddie’s only birthday gift. He knew this would come back to bite him in the ass, but his friends thought it was hilarious. Eddie thinks they’re assholes.

Because Pretty Man is staring at a life size cutout of King S, standing by the wall.

Eddie winces, pulls away. This guy might not look like a metalhead, but he was in a metal bar, there’s no way he listens to King S. He’s gotta come up with an explanation for this, and fast.

“Um, yeah… About that… would you believe me if I said I didn’t buy it?” He asks sheepishly, avoiding Pretty Man’s eyes.

“You’re a fan?” Pretty Man asks, except he sounds dejected, which Eddie thinks is weird. And actually? Fuck this guy. He’s allowed to like whatever he wants.

“Yeah, man. What’s wrong with that? Maybe it’s not for everyone but King S actually makes really good music.” He gets more than a little defensive, takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“No, no… that’s not what I meant.” Pretty Man raises his hands placatingly.

“Then what did you mean?”

Pretty Man sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “Don’t you recognise me?”

Eddie furrows his brow in confusion. “Do I like, know you or something?”

Pretty Man raises his eyes to the ceiling like this is difficult. “Really? Nothing?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t…” Pretty man nods, sighs, and then walks past Eddie further into the apartment. “Hey, you can’t just—“

“How about now?” Pretty Man asks, stopping right next to the cardboard cut out.

Eddie flits his eyes between the man and the cut out, trying to understand what Pretty Man is getting at until he sighs again, pulls down the sleeve of his jacket to reveal…

A tattoo of an ice cream cone, and suddenly it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. That’s… oh holy ever loving fuck.

“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaims, pointing frantically between Pretty Man and the cardboard. “You’re King S!”

“Yeah. It’s uh, Steve, actually.” Pretty Man, King S, Steve nods, seeming much more shy than he was ten minutes ago. He’s curled his arms around himself, trying to make himself shrink. Eddie feels bad.

“Did you think I was trying to sleep with you because you’re famous?”

“I mean, weren’t you?” Steve won’t meet his eye. Instead he’s staring around the room, taking in all the little details of Eddie’s life.

Eddie takes a step towards him. “No, man. I just thought you were pretty, that’s all.”

“You really didn’t know who I was?” Though he still looks unsure, Steve finally meets his eye.

Eddie shakes his head, coming to a stop in front of Steve. “I didn’t even buy that thing, dude. My friends thought it would be funny because you’re like, the only non-metal artist I listen to.”

Steve smiles at that. He really is so pretty, Eddie can’t help but think. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. Heard your first album right after it came out and I was hooked!” Eddie laughs softly. “I used to be a little bit narrow minded when it came to music, but I heard yours and it’s like the world of music blasted wide open.”

A pretty pink blush spreads its way across Steve’s cheeks. “Oh, uh… That’s really cool. I’m glad you like it.”

“I was at your show tonight, actually.”

“You were?”

“Yeah!” He shrugs. “I used to play in a band in high school, we were never very good but I liked to think I had good stage presence, right?” Steve nods and Eddie grins, leaning in a little. “I was nothing compared to you. It was fucking electric, I felt like my skin was buzzing.”

Steve’s smile seems to grow even wider. He sways forward into Eddie’s space, almost unconsciously. “This might be crazy, but do you wanna start over? Forgo the one night stand and just, I don’t know, get coffee or something? I know this cute little 24 hour place, Victoria Street, it’s only a couple blocks away.”

Eddie narrows his eyes a little. “Stevie… barely anyone knows Victoria Street. Are you, dare I say it… local?”

Steve’s cheeks darken even further. “Maybe.”

Eddie laughs. “Then, I’d love to start over. I wanna get to know you as Steve, not King S.”

Steve slips his hand into Eddie’s, tugs him

back towards the door. “God, how much do you know..?”

“I may have read a couple interviews.”

Steve groans, embarrassed, as the door clicks shut behind them.

Then, a few moments later. “Shit! My keys!”

The date goes well. As does the second, and the third, and so on, and so on. They’re officially exclusive by date 7.

Steve meets Chrissy and the boys on date 20. Eddie meets Dustin and Robin, right before date 45.

On date 94, Steve presents his third album to Eddie. There’s a different dedication on the back cover this time.

To E, my love.

——————

taglist: @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @cheatghost @flowercrowngods @fastcardotmp3 @simplebtromance @gonzofromspace

lemme know if u wanna be added to a permanent taglist for anything i do in the future, i’m thinkin’ that might be funky :)

[cheddar-baby]

so many of those horror games that try to trick you into thinking its not a horror game play their cards way too fast and obviously. The key is subtlety really. I know the desire is to go five nights at freddys, things screaming in your face AAAA. Which i guess if your goal is to have youtubers make videos about it sure do that but if you want a really good game drip feeding the horror bits is way more effective. You can create so much pure dread and unease by just very slowly and barely noticably changing things. The genre is directly working in your favour to do it too because a lot of those games build off of our familiarity with those things, the UI of kids games, indie house packing games, etc. If you start messing with that and just letting your player notice it themselves without being told its happening its a lot scarier.

It is always a bit dissapointing when i find one of those games and its going good until they lay it on too thick and just instantly lose all of their plausible deniability. The genre is practically begging for it to be a psychological horror experience not an in your face bombastic one. And i need more devs to understand that.

[lillaydee]

One Heart Part 2

Sheriff Joel Miller / Reader

Trying and failing miserably to recover from an inconceivable loss, you accepted your best friend's invite to spend time with her and her family for a summer, hoping for a chance at a new beginning. Little did you know that the new beginning you were stepping into was a little too close to home.

WARNING:

Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Grief/Mourning, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Ellie is mentioned, Sheriff Joel, Sarah plays matchmaker, No age gap, Joel is in his 30s, Joel is Trying His Best (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Fluff and Angst.

SERIES MASTER LIST

PART 1

---

You felt all the blood in your body rush to your face. What the fuck? Did he seriously just say that to you?

“Excuse me???”

“I woke up with my daughter missing from her room and saw her climbing out of your kitchen window. What the fuck was my three-year-old doing climbing out of your kitchen window at 7 in the morning lady?”

“I don’t even know who your daughter is, okay? I don’t even know who you are. Where the fuck do you get off accusing me of being a pedophile?”

“My daughter, Sarah. Why was she at your house? And why was she climbing out of your kitchen window?”

“Sarah?” Your mind thought of the weird happening from last night. “So that was real? I thought I dreamt it.”

“What exactly did you dream about, hmm? You’re using sleepwalking as an excuse for kidnapping and molesting my daughter now?”

“Hey! I did not kidnap or molest your daughter, alright? I woke up in the middle of the night and she was standing by my bed, and she was gone when you so kindly banged on my door, so I thought I dreamt the whole thing, OKAY? Which, by the way, Mr-accuse-me-of-being-a-pedo-sir, makes me wonder. Do YOU get off on teaching your daughter to break into single ladies’ houses, hmm?” Your arms went from crossing on your chest to your waist now, annoyed at his accusations when his daughter clearly broke into your place.

He stared at you, looking like he was about to yell some more, when his eyes travelled down from your eyes. He immediately looked away, looking a bit flustered, his whole body turned away from you, hands fidgeting with his shirt, pulling at the hem, mumbling something about your blanket.

You looked down, and to your horror, your blanket had fallen off when you moved your arms, revealing your sleepwear, which, last night, consisted of Eric’s old boxers and your old tank top, which, conveniently, had a huge rip on the chest area, and your movements had left your left nipple exposed, all erect and puckered up in the cold morning air.

To say you were mortified was a huge understatement. The angry, ridiculously gorgeous man just saw your nipple. Your hand immediately went up to cover your chest, you scrambled down to pick up your blanket, and you did the only thing that made sense to you at that very moment.

You slammed the door in his face.

Yeah… you were never leaving this house ever again.

This was a great day to start off your summer, the one where you were supposed to be healing yourself and restart your life. You moved into a new place, in a new town, and on your first morning, had a screaming match with your handsome neighbour, where he accused you of kidnapping and molesting his daughter. And the cherry on top of it all? You exposed yourself to him. Great. How the fuck were you supposed to show your face around here again? Maybe you can ask Jenny who he was, and where he lived, maybe there’s a way to avoid him.

You peeked out the kitchen window to see which way he went, but he was nowhere to be seen. Shit.

---

There was a knock on your door just as you finished breakfast. You stood there, contemplating whether or not to answer. What if it was the angry man again? Correction. The angry, indescribably handsome man. You gave yourself a once over, making sure all indiscreet body parts were hidden, before opening the door. A cheerful looking Jenny greeted you, a golf cart parked in front of your house.

“Morning! Wanna come with me for a tour of the farm?”

You were so relieved it wasn’t the angry man, you jumped at the opportunity to go with her, but not before looking left and right, making sure he was nowhere in sight.

The two of you got on the golf cart. When Jenny put her foot on the pedal, you were sure that this was no ordinary old lady. You had never hung on for dear life more than you did at that moment, certain that you were gonna get thrown off at some point.

The perimeters of the farm went beyond what you saw yesterday. There were about 20 to 30 houses scattered about, each unique, each beautiful in its own way. But beyond the houses was a working farm, with chicken coops and a large barn, a stable and pens. There were areas filled with rows upon rows of vegetables and a large pond in the middle of it all. Jenny showed you around, telling you that she and her late husband started the farm when they started taking in the foster kids, wanting them to have something to do with their hands, keeping them out of trouble. The boys built some of the houses too, she said. She looked so proud; you couldn’t help but admire this lady. She was so small and petite, and yet she had people like Tommy doing her bidding at the snap of her finger.

There were men milling about the farm, Jenny telling you some of them were her older boys, some new ones whose parents sent over to work for her, hoping that whatever magic she possessed that turned her boys into the men they were today would rub off on their troubled teens, and some were just men who had always worked the farm alongside her late husband.

When Jenny drove you back to your house, you saw your next-door neighbour for the first time, a beautiful lady with long black hair and her mini me, just arriving home, a basket full of produce in her hand.

“Morning Omera,” Jenny said, hopping off the cart, running her hand on the little girl’s head. “This is Lynn, she just moved in next door. She’s gonna be helping Maria at the restaurant. This is Omera, and her daughter Winta.”

You shook their hands, Omera politely welcoming you to the area. You heard the slam of car doors. You turned around, and immediately froze.

It’s him.

It’s the angry, devastatingly handsome guy, walking towards you. He had Sarah, who was holding a fluffy purple teddy bear, in his left arm, a scarf in the other.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw you. Sarah turned, saw you, and squirmed off her father’s hold, her little legs running towards you, immediately stepping on your left foot, hugging your leg, fluffy purple teddy bear squished between your leg and her tiny body.

“Hello Lady,” her little voice said to you.

You giggled, and rubbed her head, “Hello Sarah! Nice to see you again, and I can see you are real too!”

She giggled, rubbing her face onto your leg. She showed the purple teddy bear to you, holding its right hand out to you.

“Who is this fine bear?”

“Jello,” she said. “My friend Jello.”

You took its hand and shook it. “Hello, Mr Jello. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Jello’s a girl, Lady!” she said, giggling.

“Oops!!! Sorry Ms Jello!”

You tickled Ms Jello, Sarah laughing out loud.

The angry man, Jenny and Omera looked as if you had just performed a magic act. It was silent for an uncomfortably long time, so much so you felt as if you had just done something wrong. But Sarah pulled on your hand and said ‘uppie’. So you picked her up. She pressed her head on your shoulder and said sorry.

“Why are you sorry, Sarah?” you asked her quietly.

“Daddy yelled at you because I go in your window.”

“It’s okay Sarah, but next time knock on the door, okay? Don’t climb in through the window. Daddy was just worried you might hurt yourself.”

“I can come knock?”

“Of course you can.”

“Jello can come too?”

“Of course she can!”

She grinned at you, took your face in her hand, and rubbed her nose against yours.

“Thank you, Lady.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

She held her face to yours a few seconds longer, and suddenly you felt like yourself again, the you that you had lost for over 18 months.

You put her back down, and she ran into Omera’s house with Winta.

The three adults were still standing around looking at you as if you were about to squirt them with the imaginary fake flower on your non-existent lapel.

The angry man got closer, handing Omera the scarf that he had in his hand, his eyes still on you. “You left this in the car,” he said.

“Oh, thank you Joel,” she said, taking the scarf. “And thank you for taking me to the market. I’ll make sure Sarah gets home before lunch,” she said, leaning up to him, kissing him lightly on the cheek, before turning around to go inside, softly shutting the door closed behind her.

Jenny cleared her throat, speaking with a slightly choked voice, “Lynn, this is one of my boys, Joel. He’s Tommy’s brother. I see you have met my granddaughter, Sarah.” She looked at Joel nervously, “When… and how did you meet her?” Are there tears in her eyes?

“I’ll tell you later,” Joel quickly cut in, before you could answer.

Why were they still looking at you like that? Did you have a booger up your nose or something? Now you just felt really off. Not only did this man yell at you and accuse you of being a pedo this morning, and now, somehow, the very moment you saw him again, the friendly faces you had met before his reappearance had gotten all squirrelly and weirded out by you for whatever reason.

Oh God.

They were judging you, right? Did they know what happened? Did they think you were a bad person? Cause you certainly did. And now they all know, right? They somehow knew? Did Maria tell them? Did Tommy? You suddenly felt as if the open air was suffocating you, their eyes daggers stabbing into your chest.

You decided you had enough for the day, made your excuses and ran into your tiny house, locked the door, closed all the curtains, crumpled onto the floor and sobbed. You heard Jenny outside your door, softly knocking, calling your name, but you were too mortified to answer. She eventually stopped and left you alone. Maria and Lennie called, and you ignored them too. Maria finally texted you, asking you if you were okay, and if she should come over. You replied to her, telling her you’d be alright. Just needed some time.

You spent the rest of that day in the darkness of your house, laid up in bed, staring at the TV, not really watching anything. Come dinner time, a soft knock came on your door again, this time it was Joel’s voice calling your name, his tone a massive contrast to the way he was yelling at you this morning. You ignored him. You really didn’t want to face him. You heard his footsteps walking away and heard Jenny’s kitchen door closed. You were about to release a sigh of relief when you heard the door open again, followed by the pitter patter of tiny footsteps running, and the climbing of the two steps it took to get up to your porch, and a few tentative steps to your door. A very soft knock came, followed by a familiar, tiny voice.

“Lady?”

Shit, he weaponized his daughter. What a low life. What kind of man would use the cuteness of his daughter to get a lady to open the door?

Another knock.

“Lady? I knock.”

Fuck, this girl’s adorable. How can you not open the door? You may be a bad person, but you can’t possibly not open the door to that. You can practically see her big brown eyes and that little pout of hers preparing to greet you when you open the door.

You reluctantly did so, Sarah standing in front of your door, looking cute as a button in her pajamas, covered in butterflies, holding a Tupperware container out to you, Jello squished under her other arm.

“Daddy said give to Lady.”

You looked to Jenny’s kitchen door where Joel stood, leaning against the door frame, watching you interact with his daughter, his face the grumpy one you have seen so far, but sort of blank at the same time. You took a knee in front of her, and took the container from her, thanked her, and told her to thank her Daddy and Grandma too.

“Lady sad? I can stay?”

You looked at Joel again, his eyes fixed on you, his arms still steadfastly crossed on his chest. You cannot read his expression. What was that look? You remembered what he accused you of this morning, and immediately shook your head.

“No, sweetie, you should go home and sleep in your room, okay?”

“Jello can stay?” she asked, offering her to you, her little face full of concern now.

Your heart melted. “It’s okay, sweetie, I don’t want you to miss her.”

She looked to be deep in thought for a while, before nodding, and saying okay. But before she left, she gave you a hug, her little arms giving you the tightest squeeze they could muster. She rubbed her nose against yours, and told you good night, before running off to her father. You didn’t look at Joel again, you just got up, and shut the door behind you, before eating the pasta Jenny made in the dark.

That night, you dreamt of standing in the same glass room, Omera, Jenny and Joel standing outside, staring at you, Sarah trying hard to open the door, asking you to let her in, Jello in her arms.

---

You promised Maria you would have breakfast with her that next day. You woke up, got yourself ready, checking the vicinity to make sure no one was around, before getting on your bike, planning to pedal as fast as you could out of there. As you were about to lift your foot off the ground, you heard the front door of Omera’s house open, followed by Jenny’s kitchen door. You didn’t look back, just pedaled out as fast as you could, hearing Jenny call your name.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t face them. Maybe later. You were not even sure what you did wrong, you just knew that they saw you differently for some reason, pre and post Joel’s arrival.

You got to the diner about 30 minutes too early. Maria wasn’t even there yet. So, you sat out front, wheeling your folded bike absent mindedly with your foot, looking at your phone, trying to answer Lennie’s worried text from last night, when a shadow blocked out the sun from you.

It’s him. In his police uniform. Sherrif badge on his chest and everything. Holding out a cup of coffee towards you.

Shit. Coffee and a police uniform. This man was just here to torture you, wasn’t he?

But you were still mortified at everything that happened yesterday, okay, mostly the bit where he accused you of molesting his daughter, and especially the peekaboo that happened after. Really. The first time anything remotely sexual had happened to you in over 18 months, and it happened while a gorgeous man was accusing you of being a pedo. Just your luck. So, you just bent your head down and refocused on your phone. He heaved a big sigh and sat down next to you on the bench, placing the coffee between the two of you. He cleared his throat.

“Listen, Lynn, right?”

You didn’t respond.

“I just wanted to apologize for yelling at you yesterday. It’s just, I woke up, couldn’t find her, I panicked, the kitchen door was partly open, went outside looking for her, and saw her climb out your window like she just escaped captivity or something, and my mind just… went places. Occupational hazard. I really am sorry.”

You still didn’t say anything, but you lowered your phone, and focused on your feet instead.

“And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you did anything to her. The way she was so excited to see you… she wouldn’t have done that if you did anything bad to her, I don’t think… she barely… anyway… I just wanted to say sorry again, for the yelling and the accusation. I just hope that you don’t punish her for something I did, she seemed to like you, so… I’ll… leave you be now.” He stood up and began walking away.

“Why were all of you staring at me like that? Did I do something wrong? Did I overstep? What did I do?”

Joel stopped walking, turning back to face you, your eyes still on the ground.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just, you see, Sarah, she…”

“Hello, you… am I late?” Maria’s voice chimed in, before bending over and giving you a hug. “Hey Joel,” she said, giving him a hug too, receiving a kiss from him on her cheek. “Shall we? I am starving!” she said to you, pushing the door, holding it open for you to follow. “Join us, Joel?”

“No, I should get back to work. I’ll see you ladies around.”

You stood up, picked up the coffee he brought you, took a small sip, and followed her in, still not looking at him, missing the small smile that graced his lips when he realized you had accepted his peace offering.

---

“So, what happened yesterday? Jenny called me, all worried about you. She also said you… communicated with Sarah? Did she imagine that?”

“She snuck into my house, and Joel sort of accused me of something. He apologized, but something is off. I think I got off on the wrong foot with him,” you told Maria.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, per se. But Sarah apologized to me for sneaking into my house, and…”

“Wait, so, Jenny wasn’t imagining it? Sarah really apologized to you? Joel Miller’s daughter, Sarah? As in, she said the word sorry?”

“Yeah…”

“She spoke words to you?” her face was in disbelief.

“Well, yeah…” Maria’s eyes were staring into your soul now. “Stop looking at me like that. This is exactly what I’m talking about. They were all staring at me the way you are now. What is the big deal? Did I do something wrong?”

Maria took a few more moments of stunned silence.

“No… you didn’t do anything wrong… it’s just… that girl had never spoken. Ever. To anyone. Not one word. Not even to her father. In fact, we all thought she was non-verbal.”

Oh.

PART 3

[thebestbooksaround]

This is a Buddie fic rec list where "one of them isn't a firefighter" That makes me warm and happy every time I read them <3

Part 1 || Part 2

Spousal Secrets and Celebrity Crushes by AshwinMeird (@ashwinmeird) | 9k | General

Eddie joined the 118 and Hen learned plenty about his husband and son through endless stories, but she knew almost nothing about Buck. Then a movie being filmed not far from the station starts to become very relevant to her life. Or Five times Hen was confused about Eddie's husband and One time it all made sense

i'll walk through fire for you by prettyboybuckley (@greyacebuckley) | 3k | General

Eddie just shrugs, and they leave him alone, chattering about something he tunes out as he stares out the window. At least, until Bobby starts briefing them on what they're walking into.

He hears the address, and his stomach turns. That's where Buck lives. 

"There was an explosion somewhere in the building," Bobby tells them over the comms. "Third floor is fully engulfed, the building is unstable, and there are people trapped up there, still. There's one other firehouse on the scene already."

OR: In a universe where Buck is not a firefighter but they're still best friends, Eddie gets called to a fire at Buck's apartment building

call you home by ashavahishta (@ashavahishta) | 6k | General

"He’s like, so pretty sometimes I can’t believe he’s real?” He’d rambled once, so tired at the end of shift he was basically drunk with it.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Hen had said patiently, and patted him on the shoulder. “I like girls, remember?”

“He’s built like a Greek god with the face of an angel,” Eddie had argued, a stubborn set to his mouth like he was determined for Hen to believe just how gorgeous his husband was. “Even you couldn’t resist that.”

Or: "Eddie Diaz drinks his 'I fucking love my husband' juice for 6,000 words." OR "5 Times Eddie Told The Firefam About Buck and 1 Time They Actually Met Him".

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless | 15k | Explicit

Eddie is new to LA. Feeling lonely, he goes to a bar for a drink and meets a beautiful stranger that kisses like a dream. What starts as a one night stand quickly moves to frequent no strings sex. When circumstances lead to them spending time together out of bed, Eddie realizes he’s attached to Buck in a way he never planned for.

the handyman can ('cause he fixes it with love) by iphigenias (@oatflatwhite) | 4k | Teen

Eddie’s first thought when he opens the door is that Hen’s finally getting payback for Eddie hustling her in pool last Friday. The guy standing on the stoop is sweaty, smiling, with biceps that look like they could jaws-of-life a car all on their own and a very pink, very biteable kiss of a birthmark above his crinkled blue eyes. His toolbelt looks like every toolbelt from every bad porn movie ever, slung absurdly low on his hips, and the acid-wash jean shorts he’s wearing absolutely cannot be OSHA-approved.

Eddie decidedly does not look at the thick muscle of the guy’s thighs when he says, “uh, I think you have the wrong house.”

we can’t fight gravity (love is like falling) by alasse (@alasse9) | 21k | Teen

Eddie is an actor (a former child star of a major franchise who only does weird indie movies nowadays), and Buck is still a firefighter. The universe screams at them a few times—through a tsunami, an unfortunate misunderstanding, and an emergency at a movie set—until they finally get it together.

Close My Eyes and Stumble (Right Into Your Love) by HMSLusitania (@hmslusitania) | 21k | Mature

Eddie's PTSD is just that little bit worse and when he moves to Los Angeles, instead of joining the LAFD, he joins dispatch.

Which is all good and fine, except for this one firefighter he keeps ending up talking to.

(is in the back of my mind and on the tip of my tongue) by waferkya (@oursisthewinter) | 17k | Teen

Soft, dark hair, just long enough to begin curling at the tips; expressive eyebrows and an impossibly straight nose that should belong on some Greek statue, full pink lips stretched in a wide smile just this side of goofy, and a wonderful amount of stubble dusting his jaw; broad shoulders hugged to perfection by the dark blue police uniform, his entire body a stretch of tight muscle. Yeah, yup, yes. Chim is not wrong. The man is handsome as sin. Also, he’s a cop, which—hi, hello, that’s hot.

[AU in which Eddie is a cop who just moved to LA; Buck has zero self-esteem, a praise kink the size of the desert and no clue on how to pick a decent Dom; and eventually love conquers all.]

Write me into your happy ending... by ReallySmartLadyMarieCurie | 16k | Teen

Four years ago when Eddie and Christopher started reading the book series about Daniel's Adventures together before bedtime, Eddie never would have guessed that he would run into the author of said book series in the middle of a Barnes & Noble in LA. He also wouldn't have guessed that said encounter would begin with him sternly lecturing the stranger and making a slight fool of himself. Nor would he have predicted that this terrible first impression would somehow make the published author want to give his phone number to Eddie.

Or, Eddie the firefighter and Buck the writer have a meet-cute, and things progress from there.

i wanna be known (by you) by chasingoblivion (@starlightbuck) | 12k | General

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Hen glances down at Eddie’s phone then back up at him in disbelief. “How do you ‘not mean’ to download a bunch of dating apps but still have them on your phone?” Or  In which Eddie delves into the intimidating world of online dating.

String of hearts... by ReallySmartLadyMarieCurie | 11k | Teen

“Now. Eddie is this incredible presence. He’s funny and smoking hot, and he has a son who sounds wonderful. And he’s serious and vulnerable at times. But so enjoyable to be around, every single second that he’s there. And how can I put myself out there when the expectation is so high? When the thing I might lose is so beautiful?”

In which Buck owns a plant shop in LA, and Eddie becomes his new favorite customer. Pining ensues.

Confirmation Bias by strifechaos | 31k | Mature

After the fallout with his ex-wife, Eddie believed he could only trust his family with his son. He hadn’t imagined falling for his son’s sweet-hearted nanny, Buck.

With his own family so distant, Buck never considered that he’d be lucky enough to find a home for himself, let alone people he could count on. Not until he meets the Diaz boys.

AU: Buck was never a firefighter, and becomes Christopher's sitter when Shannon's job takes her away from Eddie and Chris for the summer. Eddie tries to not fall for his son's nanny, he's not very successful.

serendipity (can't get him off my mind) by elless | 7k | Teen

Buck has his job at the daycare, his sister, and good friends. And not much else. His life hasn't turned out how he expected. Then he gets a wrong number text that changes everything. He and Eddie click instantly, but Eddie lives in Texas while Buck is in LA. It can never work, especially if Buck is too afraid to make a move.

Buckley's Bouquets by awashleyno | 23k | Teen

A world where Buck owns a flower shop and manages to develop a huge, massive, ridiculous crush on a handsome firefighter that comes in for a visit one day.

Or, 5 times Eddie gives flowers to other people and the 1 time he gives them to Buck.

the meaning of the words you see by florenceandthemachine (@florenceandthemachine) | 8k | Explicit

unknown sender: Hi! unknown sender: Just wanted to say thanks for letting me buy you a drink, and for your number. Sorry I had to run. unknown sender: I’m Eddie by the way. sent: hey um sent: i don’t want 2 be this guy but sent: i think u mayb put the wrong # in ur phone

Frequent Flyer by red_to_black (@redtooblack) | 13k | Mature

In his entire time being a firefighter, Eddie has never met anyone as accident-prone as Evan Buckley. And Buck - well, he's quickly becoming the 118's best customer.

(Or - the one where Eddie is a firefighter, Buck isn't, and Eddie finds himself rescuing Buck from increasingly sticky situations. Sometimes literally.)

i'm gonna make this place your home by chromatophorica (@chromatophorica) | 11k | Teen

"Hey, did you know that other people can go to the kids' islands on that game?" He asks Hen the following day at work, stocking up the ambulance with her while Chim teaches the probie how to roll hoses.

"Yeah, I mean, they go to each other's all the time." Which, yeah, in a way, Eddie knew that part

"No, I mean other people, like people on the internet or whatever." Hen shoots him a look, one that states he's showing his usual technophobic ways again. “I'm just saying, some person that Chris called 'Buck' was on his island just like... giving him things.” It feels a lot like those stories about grooming or whatever, when the internet was new and people pretended to be something they weren't. What if this Buck person was an old guy in a creepy basement trying to befriend kids on a game? --- During the pandemic, Christopher gets more involved in online gaming. Eddie promptly freaks out when he realises his son has made a friend through the games. It takes Chimney's girlfriend and a car crash to understand how important that friend will be.

[bleep-bloop-boo]

₊˚✧ ✰ ‧₊˚✧ ✰ ◡̈ ✧ INTRO ✧ ◡̈ ✰‎ ✧˚₊‧ ✰‎ ✧˚₊

hihihihihihhihihi WELCOME TO MY VERY AMAZING AND TOTALY NOT CHAOTIC MESS OF A BLOG :DD IM PRETTY FRIENDLY, COME SAY HI!!! OPEN TO ALL appropriate ASKS AND DMS!!! This is a big mess of all my interests hehe Reblog heavyyy i love making friends so plss flood my DMs, i love meeting ppl (i will act weird tho, this is a warning) esp to give me recs for books/shows/media in general I thrive on chaos. PLEASE GIVE ME RANDOM ASKS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE spam me MY DMS ARE ALWAYS OPEN IF ANYONE WANTS TO VENT!!! (i may not be the best at comforting but I can listen <33)

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Matching banners with @gay--gh0st THEYRE SO TALENTEDD, THEY DREW ITT go follow em, right now, they're awesome :DD Also, I did not draw my own pfp unfortunately :(( It was my irl friend who's tumblr I do not know....... yet >:)

MY OTHER ACCOUNTS:

@that-dam-heartstopper-fan convinced me to make a pjo rp account! if i followed a rp account, its meant to be from @delilah-isnt-dead-yett

follow @evilforestcult for my chaotic ADHD with @fairyycoffin godly mysteries AND @i-eat-so-much-grass gremlin vibes

i also have a Mitchell blog (from pjo)!! its for a rp group with me, @that-dam-heartstopper-fan and @boba-pearl. GO FOLLOW @the-forgotten-son-of-aphrodite

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☁︎ You can call me Honey! Or any other nicknames! I LOVE NAMES THAT MAKE NO SENSE <333 (@graysonhawthorneswife has declared its Honey Honeyington) ☁︎ Pronouns: she/her ☁︎ Age: I'm a minor (no being weird okay?) and heading to 10th grade! ☁︎ Time Zone: PST (im a california gurl, yes, i am ✨magical✨)

🎧★ 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𖤣𓋼 MUSIC 𓋼𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼 ★ 🎧

✰ CAVETOWN <33 ✰ PENELOPE SCOTT ✰ MADILYN MEI ✰ Taylor Swiftt hehe ✰ Olivia Rodrigo ✰ musical soundtracks 𖦹 SIX the musical 𖦹 hamilton 𖦹 HEATHERS <333 𖦹 the lightning thief 𖦹 EPIC the musical GIMME RECS FOR GOOD ROCK/INDIE MUSIC TO LISTEN TO PLEASEEEE, LIKE FLOOD MY INBOX WITH SONGS

★ 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𖤣𓋼 FANDOMS 𓋼𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼 ★

✰ Percy Jackson (Books) ✰ School Bus Graveyard (Webtoon) ✰ Owl House (Show) ✰ Your Turn to Die (Video Game) ✰ Gravity Falls (Show) ✰ Avatar the Last Airbender (Show) ✰ Hunger Games (Books) ✰ Miraculous Ladybug (Show) ✰ Homesick (Webtoon) ✰ Doki-Doki Literature Club (Video Game) ✰Jackson's Diary (Webtoon) IF YOU KNOW/LIKE ANY OF THEM SCREAM AT ME PLEASE, ILL SCREAM BACK PROLLY!!! WE CAN BE A BUNCH OF SQUAWKING CROWS TOGETHER!!!

★ 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𖥧 MORE ABOUT ME :DD 𖥧 𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼 ★

I'm an ENFP (mbti nerd hehe)

Hufflepuff <33

Can't spell... Good luck figuring out what im saying!

very deranged when prompted

MENTAL HEALTH ADVOCATE (abelists, pls DNI)

GIANT ALLY (homophobes/transphobes, pls DNI)

Hyperactive and very random! (lemme know if you're overwhelmed by that sorta stuff, ill try to tone it down :) )

Chatterbox! Love talking, just can't start conversations! DM or send me asks though!

very very curious, love talking to ppl about studies and fun facts

Character my friends associate me with and I relate to the most: Luz Noceda from the Owl House

My vibes are all over the place- (im emo, cutesy, and chaotic)

I MISS TONS OF SOCIAL CUESS!!! I'm trying to work on it but if i ever overstep my boundaries or make you uncomfy, pleasee let me know <33 im just a bit oblivious sometimes

𖦹‧☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ⋆｡𖦹°‧ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧ ★‧°𖦹｡⋆☆ ‧°𖦹｡⋆ ★‧°𖦹｡⋆☆‧𖦹

My amazing moots! You all make me so happy :DD (pleaseee remind me to add you or take you off <33 ) @ashthenerdtheythem @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @whyamionthisgodforsakensite @queen-of-weird-girl-nation @boredcoldandhungry @nosanehumanallowed @roselandsrl @apollocabinrep @mybedroomceilingsbored @gay--gh0st @catinasink @redmegarex @chaoticgremlin-1 @totalcharliespringsimp @cabin-7-bitch @lunarcat982 @chriscrosswallflower-blog @obsessingoverl @pretentious-media @small-giggle @rose-bug-bear @aheartstopperfan @dandelionsarenotweeds @rookhuntt @i-eat-so-much-grass @justafrogghost @fairyycoffin @th3-st4r-gur1 @brains-out-rn @arsenic-laced-tums @dracosleftarsecheek @boba-pearl @tarantulaluv @rainydaywithcats @touslin @gay-little-isopod @ali-da-demon @kairos-in-space @thebookshelflord

𖦹‧☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ⋆｡𖦹°‧ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧ ★‧°𖦹｡⋆☆ ‧°𖦹｡⋆ ★‧°𖦹｡⋆☆‧𖦹

Okieeee I THINK THATS IT :OO i am done aesthicifyingfjhjjendndjfgh my into post!! I have no tagging system so uhhhhh my blog is pretty much the equivalent of screaming into the void :)) Have fun in my little corner of chaos and pleaseeeeeeee say hi, i love talking with ppl and making friends!!!

Thanks for reading! (its a lot, ik, i blabber, i tried to bold key parts) Boop! Bye <33

[hanasnx]

-ˏ͛ ꒷꒰ indy ⿻ m.list ꒷ˏ͛-

MINORS DNI 18+ ༄

"Doesn't always have to be so black and white / Pull the wool over my eyes one last time." — Loathe. (2020). Screaming.

IMPORTANT NOTE: from now on, visit the tag indy x reader and indy smut for additional content. it's a lot of upkeep to continue adding everything to this masterlist manually. thank you!

彡 ch: indy 「 � 」

── one shots ┆ OVER 1K.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ come over? | SUMMARY: late at night, indy texts you. it’s ambiguous. he doesn’t say why. since you’re just friends, you don’t assume anything by it. but when you arrive at his frat house, things get really heavy really fast | AUTHOR: @avaxindy.

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ finger-sucking | AUTHOR: @princessbrunette ✩ store ✩ water | AUTHOR: @princessbrunette ✩ our little secret ✩ hyper ✩ thigh-riding ✩ long distance bf ✩ tarot

smut ¡! ❞

✩ riding ✩ anal ✩ eating out ✩ indy green blanket ✩ taunt

other ¡! ❞

✩ tea and honey | AUTHOR: @avaxindy

── headcanons ┆ LIST OR NARRATION.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ headcanons ✩ doggy-style ✩ daddy ✩ threesome ✩ bbf ✩ fanart ✩ jealous!reader | part two ✩ pussy-slapper ✩ porn link ✩ brat ✩ thigh-fucking ✩ picture link ✩ bbf! tiktok ✩ club

other ¡! ❞

✩ wearing my clothes ✩ brat tamer ✩ comfort ✩ finger-sucking

彡 ch: indy x @princessbrunette 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ mating press

彡 ch: indy x @xstarkillerx 「 � 」

── drabbles ┆ ABOUT 1K OR LESS.

smutty ¡! ❞

✩ cheating | AUTHOR: @xstarkillerx

彡 ch: indy x @silxani 「 � 」

other ¡! ❞

✩ fanart | ARTIST: @silxani

NAVI | M.LIST | RULES | FAQ

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Tenebrous at 3

Matt Blairstone: i'm matt blairstone of tenebrous press Blairstone: publisher of such quality literature as split scream Blairstone: featuring bitter karella's The Ballad of Horse Girl Blairstone: available where ever fine books are sold King: sorry, what was that name again? King: i forgot Blairstone: it's bitter karella Blairstone: B-I-T-T...

Blairstone: a lot of people know us mostly as the publisher of Bitter Karella's the Ballad of Horse girl Blairstone: but in 3 years Tenebrous Press has published plenty of other fine horror literature Blairstone: like the anthology Your Body is Not Your Body, featuring Bitter Karella's The Divine Carcass Blairstone: and the Brave New Weird anthology, featuring Bitter Karella's Low Tide Jenny

Blairstone: i'm matt blairstone and this is my associate alex woodroe Blairstone: an authentic Romanian crone King: kind of young for a crone isn't she? Blairstone: oh it's state of mind Alex Woodroe: i cast the evil eye upon you, nenorocit

King: tell us more about tenebrous press Blairstone: well it's an indie press dedicated to all that's weird Woodroe: foolish youth hold your tongue! Woodroe: these occult secrets are not for the ears of ignorant outsiders! Woodroe: begone, outsider! your kind isn't welcome here!

King: look i'm just trying to get some service at this mysterious roadside inn at the edge of the dark woods King: and it's almost like you don't want my business Woodroe: in old country, we chase you with pitchfork mob for less than this!

King: fine maybe i'll just be on my way Woodroe: leave but be ye warned! Woodroe: stay off the moors! Woodroe: stray not from the road! Woodroe: don't go into the deep dark forest! Woodroe: and stay away from the mysterious castle! King: that's a lot to remember King: i'd better write this down

Blairstone: can you believe that we've been publishing fine horror such as Bitter KArella's The Ballad of Horse Girl for 3 years now? Blairstone: where does the time go? Alex Woodroe: only in america! Woodroe: what a country! Woodroe: in America, you find party Woodroe: in soviet Romania, party find you! Woodroe: [turning to camera] the fun fact is that pigs, like humans, can get sunburned

Blairstone: wow! 3 years! can you believe it? Woodroe: in romania, we mark occasion by sacrifice of the cockerel and eating of the turnip Woodroe: we thank president Dracula for our good fortune Woodroe: and vice president Frankenstein Woodroe: and speaker of the house wolfman Blairstone: i'm learning so much

Blairstone: of course in 3 years we've published other things Blairstone: like colin Hinkley's the black lord Blairstone: about an eldritch god in the woods menacing an innocent family Woodroe: in old country, is documentary filmed in real time as it happen

Blairstone: and Anthony Engebretson's lumberjack Blairstone: about a lumberjack who's a real fuck up Engebretson: he's also dealing with this evil imp Engebretson: but yeah also he's a fuck up Woodroe: in America, you jack lumber Woodroe: in old country, lumber jack you!

King: wow it sounds like you've got some real WEIRD literature there! Jeff Vandermeer: did someone say... WEIRDDDDDD?? Blairstone: That's right! there's so many weird and unusual books Blairstone: and its all happening right now... Woodroe: at tenebrous press!

In all seriousness, Tenebrous Press is doing incredible work on the indie horror scene and, if you haven't read their offerings, you owe it to yourself to take a gander over at https://tenebrouspress.com/. My very first story ever published was The Divine Carcass in Tenebrous' Your Body is Not Your Body, and I would not be where I am today had it not been for Tenebrous. Go see what weirdness they've got cooked up for their three year anniversary!

[tlbodine]

Ratshaker Review & Analysis

Ratshaker is an indie horror game released by Sunscorched Studios on October 31. Like many small indie horror games, it's earned a small bit of virality thanks to Markiplier and other let's players. The central mechanic coupled with the short play time, unsettling story, and mysterious atmosphere makes it catnip for streamers, which is probably a necessity for survival in the modern gaming ecosystem.

Anyway, Ratshaker came to me courtesy of @comicreliefmorlock, who heard about it and instantly realized it would be up my alley. And it certainly is.

I'm going to walk through and provide commentary and analysis in this post, but if you've got a spare $3, go throw it at the creator on Steam. They deserve a couple bucks for an entertaining hour or so of thought-provoking gameplay!

Now....let's go shake some rats.

You awaken in an endless field, rat in hand. You cannot move. But you can shake the rat by holding down the left mouse button and shaking, and doing so fills up the "ratshaker meter" up above, so it's pretty clear what you're supposed to do.

These first few minutes of the game, you'd be forgiven for thinking this was a Cookie Clicker novelty. The rat screams in the most ridiculous fashion when shaken. The pitch and tenor changes, and maybe you experiment -- shake faster, shake slower, stop and start again, just to see what happens. We're all having fun here.

And then the voice starts up in the background. A low, rasping growl that instructs you: shake the rat. With ratshaking, you are in control. Feel the satisfaction....

So you shake the rat some more. The rat laughs hysterically. The growling voice continues to encourage you, with increasing intensity, to shake, shake, shake the rat.

The shake meter fills. A music cue makes it clear that something has changed. Letters appear, instructing you to keep going even as the meter drains. The voice in the back of your mind has become a litany, a chant. Shake the rat, shake it, shake it....keep. shaking.

You may or may not notice that the environment is changing around you. A building has appeared on the horizon. Ashes are fluttering up around you. The field continues to sway. You keep shaking the rat.

And then, once more, something changes. You stop. The voice in your head has turned accusatory. Listen to the rat, it instructs you. It's because of what you DID.

The rat speaks to you. The voice in your head becomes louder, more insistent, more accusatory. The things that appear should be obvious to you. You know what you did.

You shake, shake, shake the rat, and then you are instructed to squeeze, and instead of his laughter and screams the rat makes gagging, choking sounds and for the first time you think, maybe, the cruelty simulator is a little much, maybe this isn't as funny as it seemed to be.

But then the rat yields, and promises that the answers you seek are just over the hill, in the newly uncovered farmhouse on the horizon, and of course you're going to go and explore that, of COURSE you are.

You approach the house and see the floating ash...or are they flies? Or are they -- look closer -- little rats with angel wings? It's hard to say for sure, just a trick of your eyes. But the rat instructs that this is where it happened. That you must go inside and "find it."

Abandon hope, ye who enter here -- well. It's clear enough then that we're taking a tour of a private hell, and the rat is our Virgil, guiding us through. (Because of what you did, the voice in our head reminds us.)

You must squeeze the rat to interact with objects in the game. You must shake the rat to fill the meter so that you can squeeze. There is no way to proceed without continuing to be complicit in the cruelty. But then, you already knew that.

When you first enter the house, it's move-in day. You can tell by the boxes piled up in the corners, the unfinished furniture. But you step inside and explore and familiarize yourself with the layout of the house. You'll be looping through it a lot, so you'd best remember all the doors.

Yes, I said looping. Yes, this is another PT clone. Let's just get that out of the way now. Like PT, Ratshaker is built on an endless loop of domestic scenery that becomes more unsettling with each iteration, environmental storytelling that builds up to a narrative. It's not the first game to copy this technique and it won't be the last, but at least you've got a rat with you to keep you company.

You turn on the TV in the living room and are treated to an infomercial. Are you tired of pesky pests that just won't leave you alone? Ratshaking is for you!

After the video finishes, there's a scrap of photograph to collect, and it becomes clear what the on-screen directive to FIND IT was all about.

All the rules of the game are clear now. You shake the rat and squeeze the rat to interact with the world, and you interact in order to uncover pieces of the photograph, and once the photograph is complete then you'll get to go through the locked door. Got all that? Great.

So just to reiterate, what you want to do is go down into the basement through the door with the blood stain and the unmarked VHS tape and the box of rat poison. That is where you want to go, and never mind how much you don't want to go down there. We have a hell loop to work through.

Oh yeah, by the way. Interacting with the wrong things can kill you. Then you'll have to start the loop over from the beginning. You won't realize that at first and you'll waste a lot of time unable to proceed because you didn't think to backtrack and repeat your actions from the last loop. You're welcome.

(by the way, the game is designed to play in one sitting, so there is no save feature as far as I can tell. Proceed accordingly).

Anyway, when you revisit the home, there's now a quantity of beer bottles on the table. The cozy fire has been put out and the disarray of pillows suggest that you've probably been sleeping out here. You also stepped over a quantity of newspapers on your way here. The natural assumption is an old cliche that persists because it's often true: you've lost your job, started drinking, and your wife has rejected you as a result. We're all thinking that, right?

You can't go through the door to the basement without another photo piece so you turn down the hall and, ah yes, a glowing red room, and the echoing, insistent cry of a baby. You know this is going to be bad before you even step inside.

Here we are, then. A crib, with an unsettling massive stain beneath. Rats pour in from overhead, teeming over the crib and running through the room, and all the while the crying just keeps on an endless loop.

But you know how to make it stop.

You shake the rat. You squeeze the rat.

You get your photo piece, and the screaming is done. Never mind the red haze that floats up in front of you. Never mind the rats still pouring from the ceiling. It's all okay.

The basement door is open again.

You walk through the basement and hear an awful wet choking sound. You see a strange, misshapen red figure on the stairs, no bigger than a child, but when you approach it dissolves into a spray of red mist. You keep walking, down a hallway of rat traps and beer bottles that shatter on your approach, and find now a room of static and fuzz and the floating detritus of your ruined life, and ahead of you is a door and a directive: FIND HER.

Just walk past the floating naked corpses. Pretend you don't see them. It's fine. Everything is fine.

At this point, do we suppose that the child died of neglect, screaming in his crib while his father drank himself into a stupor? Do we think the rats got him? Or do we suspect that the father shook the baby (shake the rat, squeeze the rat)? Either way, I think it's pretty clear that the father directly or indirectly contributed to the death of the child, and his marriage and his life have fallen apart as a result. We can agree on that, yeah?

But there are three corpses in the hallway. What are we to make of those?

That infernal, blazing, broken television and a whole mess of unmarked VHS tapes scattered over the floor might give us a clue.

You wander down the hall and find that it's overgrown with flesh, big pulsing gobbets of meat and long stringy tendrils and you think, what the hell, I didn't know this was also an Amnesia knock-off.

You step inside the bathroom and, because you've played PT, you brace yourself for a squalling fetus in the sink, but no, there's just a frying pan, and an...excuse me, is that a corpse in the bathtub?

(You can also explode the toilet and make turds fly out, which is...probably not necessary, but is kind of funny, and you need some levity right about now. The only humor left to you is the cheerful voice of your ever-present, long-suffering rat guide. Let's give him a little reassuring squeeze. Just a little shake, for old time's sake.)

Hey, there used to be a bedroom here, didn't there? It's empty now, abandoned. You go where the closet had been and find another corridor of meat, and at the end is another television, this one playing what certainly seems to be a snuff film.

Like...it's kind of hard to tell because it's all grainy and pixelated and keeps jumping from frame to frame, but that certainly seems to be a black-and-white image of a woman who's naked and bound in a dingy location, right? It's not just me seeing this? Maybe I've watched Videodrome too many times, but that sure seems like what we're seeing here.

If you interact with the television at this stage, it explodes, stabbing your rat with a glass shard, and the voice in your head chides you: you killed the rat. you killed it, and now it's dead.

Alternatively, you can back away and go to the kitchen. When you interact with the stove, it catches fire and explodes. Just before you die, the game instructs you to stop running.

(that would certainly explain all the falling ash in the game. Perhaps you are in hell now because you've killed yourself with the oven? Suicide by gas leak? or maybe that was an accident.)

Anyway, if you duck around the corner before the snuff TV explodes, you can instead find your way to this doorway at the opposite end of that hall:

Follow the very long path down into the basement and now you'll emerge to find that your house has become a prison, with cage bars erected to create a maze. It's also nearly impossible to see anything right now, especially if you're playing this in the middle of the day like I am, oop.

In the cages, you find bathtubs and big barrels of...poison? Acid?

This really is starting to look like some kind of body disposal factory, isn't it?

Stained mattress on the floor and overflowing bucket giving off real Barbarian vibes...

Well. The good news is we found the way out and our next photo piece. The bad news is to get it we need to pluck it out of the slimy, globby hand of the horrifying fleshy aberration growing out of the wall.

But hey, at least the rat works as a glowstick!

One photo piece left. I think it's pretty clear what this picture is turning out to be, but let's enter the flesh door and see this through to the end.

(I should mention here that, intermittently, you keep seeing visions of the raw, red, disfigured meat child. If you bump into him, your rat will begin to choke, and you'll need to shake him vigorously to keep him alive. Also, this entire time, there's a hellish soundscape of screaming and groaning and a baby crying. Just. To keep that in mind.)

Anyway. We emerge into another maze, this one a series of concentric cages. Like Theseus and the Minotaur, we must enter the center of the labyrinth to find our salvation.

Just kidding that's not salvation. That's a bed covered in plastic sheeting that someone has been strapped into and imprisoned! My mistake.

You make it through the maze and enter a corridor lined with all the paintings you've seen elsewhere in the house at various times. This is my favorite touch in the game. They're pixelated, so they're hard to identify, but if you pay attention you can spot Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan, Saturn Devouring His Son, and several other religious works on the theme. I can't identify all of them (and some of them I recognize but can't place) but they certainly suggest a story about parents killing their children and regretting it, among other things.

If anybody has a lead on identifying all of these paintings, hit me up in the comments. I'd love a complete list.

Anyway! Onward!

There's one last door to open, so you'd better gear up to shake the rat one last time. Then give him a good, hard squeeze.

The rat tells you there's no going back. It's time to face the truth. He also speculates whether she knew what was happening under her own floor boards (the basement?)

Collect your final photo from the corpse on the floor and then head back into the basement.

Down in the basement, now we have endless rows of racks and storage tubs, and a fridge that explodes into a blinding fire, demanding, Face Us.

Back away from that and keep searching. There's more maze to navigate down here.

At last, you find it. The rat tells you to look at what you've done.

"What started with vows of love ended wrapped in plastic, becoming food for the rats. You are the wife-shaker," he intones, and a wrapped corpse rises from the floor and approaches with the game's only real jump-scare, which is also the spoiler you see in the thumbnail of about a million YouTube play-throughs.

Credits roll. The game resets to the beginning. The loop of your eternal torment begins once more.

(note: if you go through the motions of once more shaking the rat into submission, but then approach the barn building instead of the house, you can get a hidden achievement. I won't spoil it for you but it's quite funny.)

So What Does It All Mean?

Okay so, first off - I believe Ratshaker was built during a 48-hour game jam, so it's entirely possible it's not that deep. But that's no fun. What we do around here is overthink things, so that's what we're gonna do ;)

Anyway. Textually, what we know for certain is that the player character killed his wife. That much is confirmed by the ending. The other pieces are a bit more speculative, but I'll do my best to piece it all together.

In the beginning, you're in a new home. Soon after, we see at least the suggestion of marital trouble - the late-night TV infomercials, the pillows on the couch, the collection of beer bottles. Then the horror in the nursery. Seems that the dad has either directly or indirectly caused the death of his infant (either by way or neglect or shaking him) and things fall further apart from there, ultimately culminating in his murder of his wife and, we assume, his own suicide, either in the bathtub or blowing up the house with gas (or potentially both). What we are playing is clearly the character re-living his crimes again and again in hell -- he can't undo what he's done.

Okay, so far so good, but what about the VHS tapes? What about the mattress in the basement and the cages and the glowing refrigerator? What was that the rat said about the wife knowing what was happening below the floorboards of her own house?

I think there are two possible explanations.

The first, more straightforward theory is that the player character is in fact a serial killer, and he's trying to have his cake and eat it too -- he has his wife and family upstairs, but his murder operation downstairs. In this hypothesis, he's the one producing the snuff film we view on the VHS (hence the TVs that keep exploding in hellfire). The quantity of bodies attracts vermin, who then kill his child, and he kills his wife soon after when she starts to realize what's happening. This explanation is quite similar to the films The Night House and Barbarian.

I think this explanation is supported by the text, but doesn't wholly jive with the amount of guilt the player character appears to be grappling with.

Alternative, more cerebral hypothesis is that the player character's child dies of neglect and/or accidental death by baby shaking (as supported by paintings like Ivan the Terrible, which depicts a father who kills his son and then immediately regrets it). The player character, who's already presumably experienced job loss and alcoholism and marital rejection, falls down a pornography addiction rabbit hole (all of those VHS tapes!) watching more and more extreme videos and fantasies. "Ratshaking" in this interpretation is both reference to the murders but also to masturbation. Ultimately, he kills his wife, either to enact the fantasy or accidentally when she confronts him, and hides her body down in the basement. But now the house is overrun with vermin, who repeatedly taunt him with his guilt, until he ultimately tries to dispose of the evidence and kill himself (hence the gas explosion). This is more similar to The Tell-Tale Heart and Stephen King's 1922.

I think there are other valid interpretations that exist somewhere between these options, or to either side of them, but overall I think that's roughly what the game is about.

In overall execution, Ratshaker is quite competent. It stands on the shoulders of plenty of other indie games before it, but the rat-shaking mechanic is new and, of course, the prime attraction. It's simultaneously funny and dark, and it's something that will get people talking about it.

I don't blame the game for being yet another "you killed your wife and now you feel guilty about it" story, but at the same time, I am fascinated and a little weary that this has become the stock plot of seemingly every indie horror game, from PT to Layers of Fear to Serena. How many stories about Very Troubled Men Facing Eternal Torment for Violently Destroying Their Families And Then Regretting It do we really need? Is that such a popular story framework because it's been done before and people are just copying those early successes, or does it say something deeper about the patriarchy?

I have written in the past about The Horrors of Disenfranchised Men and that one horror movie men can't seem to stop making. This is not quite that, but it lives in the same neighborhood, you know? Down the block and across the street.

I've also written before about the Horror History of Rats, and their tendency to be used as a trope for revealing hidden crimes. You may think you've gotten away with something, but the rats will always reveal the truth.

So, there you have it.

Your experience with Ratshaker may be a little different - you might experience things in a different order or find things I didn't - so let me know YOUR thoughts on this game!

[jokeroutsubs]

Joker Out, who rose to popularity from the Eurovision Song Contest, starts off their European tour in Finland. A unique friendship was also born during the contest with Käärijä

Original article 

Caption: On their last visit to Finland, Joker Out surprised everyone by playing Cha Cha Cha. During the song, Käärijä also appeared on stage. Photographer Niina Mäenpää.

The Nordic gigs may also feature a tourist, Käärijä.

Original text and interview: Niina Mäenpää

A gold record from Finland, fans camped outside the venues from the early hours of the morning, the new song Everybody's Waiting streaming at a fast pace. Slovenian indie rock band Joker Out are going strong. The band, who emerged from last year's Eurovision Song Contest, have been super-popular in their home country for a long time, but it was the Eurovision Song Contest that blew them up.  

The European tour, which kicks off at the House of Culture this weekend, will run well into April. The band, who won a gold record  in Finland for their Eurovision song, Carpe Diem, will be coming to Helsinki for the second time. 

"We feel at home in Finland, and last time it was very cosy for us. Finns and Slovenians have a lot in common", says singer Bojan Cvjetićanin in a remote interview. 

Liverpool's Eurovision Song Contest not only left them with Europe-wide popularity, but also something else unique - a friendship with Jere Pöyhönen, aka Käärijä.

"Buddies for life. In all the Eurovision hype and chaos, we managed to find a very close friendship, and that is something truly unique", says Bojan.

After the weekend in Helsinki, the tour continues to Tallinn, Estonia. Käärijä will jump on board. 

"Jere will be joining us as tourists because he has some time off. We are definitely going to spend a lot of time together during those days", Bojan says. 

"Hopefully I'll get to the sauna in Finland too! I'm really looking forward to the gigs, and as Jere says, it's crazy, it's party."

See embed video on the original article: watch Joker Out reminisce about their experiences in Finland and Bojan imitating Käärijä.

Joker Out was seen at this year's UMK as Slovenia's point presenter, and the Nokia Arena went wild as Bojan, bassist Nace Jordan and drummer Jure Maček took the screen to present the points - Bojan wearing a green Käärijä shirt.

How did it feel to make an arena full of Finns scream remotely?

"We just hoped that our internet connection would last", drummer Jure laughs. 

The Nokia Arena was a special place for us, as the last time we saw the arena was when we drove past it during our gig in Tampere. Jere joked that, one day we'll make this arena, Bojan imitates his friend's rally English. 

So maybe a joint tour?

"Maybe we do, maybe we do, we’re gonna plan it now..." Bojan grins.

What is Joker Out?

Slovenian indie band, which describes their music as shagadelic rock ‘n’ roll

A Slovenian indie band, who describe their music as shagadelic rock and roll

Members: singer Bojan Cvjetićanin, guitar players Kris Guštin and Jan Peteh, bass player Nace Jordan and drummer Jure Maček.

Best known for Eurovision 2023, where the band jumped to popularity with their song Carpe Diem.

The new single ‘Everybody's Waiting’ tries a new musical direction and tells the story of the downsides of life in the crossfire of demands. The music video was directed by Bojan Cvjetićanin.

At the House of Culture Joker Out will play on Saturday 2nd and Sunday  3rd of March 2024. Saturday's concert is sold out, but there are still some tickets available for Sunday's extra show. Tickets on Lippu.fi.

Translated by @niini5 @drugsforaddicts @saallotar Proofread by IG Gboleyn123

[betterbooktitles]

When my father could think of nothing to add to a funny or odd moment in a conservation, he’d let out a sarcastic “Nothing but the best.”

When a drunk guy on the street swore at us and made lewd gestures as we walked to get dinner in Cleveland one night, he looked over and said nothing but the best. When I showed him a particularly insane clip from Wondershowzen he liked, nothing but the best.

It was rare, however, that he had nothing to add, argue, or joke about when talking to me.

The last time I was able to have a long conversation with my dad, he told me he thought his personal knowledge base had a few spots of depth but that he didn’t know much. It was a rare moment of self-pity, one I felt was unearned since he was a person who knew a lot about everything. I challenged him. I began listing stories he told me about writers, actors, politicians, about history and economics. He knew about petty arguments Joni Mitchel had with her managers in the 60s. He explained the 2008 financial crisis to me in under a minute (likely during one of his furlough days when the government was shut down). He taped avant-garde short films on VHS so we could watch them together on the weekends. That’s how I ended up seeing Maya Deren’s “Meshes of the Afternoon” before entering high school, let alone a film course. His favorite short was “Down Rusty Down,” an Australian black-and-white comedy from 1997 where humans play various dogs in a neighborhood. We watched it for the first time together but he asked me 50 times over the last few years if I’d ever seen it. I wanted to scream every time that I was there with him for his entire indie cinema phase! Our shared movie viewings started when I was a child when he forced me to watch All That Jazz and Die Hard (inappropriate movies to watch with your kid) and ended around 2001 when we watched Y Tu Mama Tambien (an inappropriate movie to watch with your parent). It made me feel better that he didn’t even remember I was with him on this art house movie rabbit hole because it meant he liked it on his own, whether his kids did or not. He liked paintings, he hated musicals, he liked cooking and got better from my middle school years on. He subscribed to specific guitarists’ Patreon pages during the lockdown and watched his favorite musicians explain how they wrote old songs.

When my grandfather died, my brother told me what he thought makes a great dad. “It’s doing stuff you don’t want to do for your kids.” This was before he had kids of his own. He seems to enjoy attending as many of my nieces’ volleyball games as he can.

What my brother meant was that the sign of a good father was the ability to engage in your kids’ interests rather than strictly engaging in your own. Our dad was not a basketball player, but I have memories of him teaching me in our driveway how to box out. When my brother decided to become a CPA, my dad took accounting classes online so he could understand what my brother was talking about when he visited. He came to every play I was in from the age of 6, including shows I did in college that were, I’m sure, not to his taste. He gave notes on scripts and stories I wrote, he played guitar with me, he helped brainstorm ways to get an agent with me. He would preface each piece of advice with “I don’t really know how any of this works” and then make cogent, informed arguments about what I should do next. He treated every interest his kids and grandkids had like a hobby of his own.

When he was not busy being a dad, cheering in the stands of a football game or clapping in the audience of a play or in the kitchen making dinner for his wife and kids, he was reading, exploring, and finding tolerable classical music to listen to and share with all of us. He didn’t merely love the act of reading, he liked fiction specifically. He liked finding out about the craft of writing. He worked on novels and stories of his own after retirement. He liked comedy. His knowledge of it was specific and enigmatic. After taking a few pictures at the house of my friends and our homecoming dates, he asked where we were taking the girls for dinner. “Buca di Beppo,” I said (because I know how to treat a lady), and my dad said “oh, that’s where Phil Hartman’s wife got drunk for hours before going home and shooting him.” “Thank you, Dad. That’s a great icebreaker.”

When I got into stand-up myself, he pitched me jokes and essay prompts via email, even when he was ill. His last email to me was to let me know he thought a big break was approaching for me and that he and my mom did not sit up at night worrying that I couldn’t make it in comedy. "We have faith in your work and talent.”

One day, inspired by some mystery itch that came from no one in his family, my father started digging a hole in the backyard. He read through a tiny yellow pamphlet on how to build a pond, and with no help (certainly not from his kids, and before the days of YouTube), he made a mosquito-free pond in our yard. He put in fish that survived winters, he put in tadpoles that became frogs and hopped into neighbors’ yards. One morning, he came outside and discovered a giant crane hunting one of his frogs. He’d made an entire ecosystem thanks to one afternoon of reading and following through on a whim.

That’s what I’ll remember about him. Not strictly the things he did his damnedest to enjoy for us, but what he enjoyed.

He was married to my mother for 49 years. He studied city planning and managed to find work in his field. He focused on fighting for affordable housing and revitalizing neighborhoods including Ohio City where we lived for most of my teens. He was a good dad because he engaged in the stuff his kids and wife liked even when he disliked it (that included moving from the city to the suburbs for a time). But he was a great dad and friend because he managed to get me interested in what he liked. He took the time to listen, to watch, to talk. He let me know how much joy he took in his work. He let us know how much he loved being a dad and grandfather.

When I think of what he could have done better, I can’t come up with anything to say. He gave us nothing but his best.

[brandogenius]

hi love, could you write julien x reader where reader is also a singer? like maybe like daisy jones? please and thank u so much

hi darling! of course i can!!

‼️RPF‼️

HC - Julien x Singer Reader

- julien and you met at coachella. both of you were playing the same day. you ended up being backstage watching another musician when julien came up beside you to watch the act as well

- your music is considered to be indie / alternative / pop

- both of you just chill in each others presence until julien reaches out first to introduce herself.

- you knew of boygenius just from hearing their name a lot. you liked some of their music

- definitely bonding over jbs tattoos, they interest you

- you want tattoos but don’t know if you can commit to it

- julien leaning in because she can’t hear you over the music but fans take videos of it and scream on the internet

- new ship incoming but you don’t really use social media that much so you’re kinda oblivious to it

- you’re up next so jb gives you her phone number so you can talk again, maybe go for some coffee after coachella.

- jb is amazed by your vocals, your stage presence. how you make the stage your own.

- heart eyes from the side of the stage, phoebe definitely taking videos and photos to use as blackmail for the future

- when you two get together a lot of people were expecting it but also shocked

- the chemistry both of you have is very strong. there’s a lot of photos on yours and juliens instagram, from coachella to hanging out at each others houses

- one that everyone freaks out about is the two of you in the studio together

- both of you laying around the house playing guitar together, teaching each other your songs

- julien teaching you how to play banjo, you teach her how to play ukulele

- ukulele you ask? don’t question it. you know how to play a wide variety of instruments but guitar is your favourite

- both of you go to music festivals all the time.

- usually in the back sitting on a picnic blanket while you make friendship bracelets or sing along to the music

- during a solo tour you have, you bring julien out for a unreleased song both of you made and fans go crazy

- kinda similar to taylor, you have a fan project for making friendship bracelets for the tour

- seeing you and julien before the show, going in for soundcheck you abd julien trading bracelets with fans

- jb is either backstage or at the back of the venue. if it’s backstage she’s taking videos and seen smiling behind the curtain watching you

- if she’s at the back of the venue, usually at the bar or with security, fans taking photos and videos of her singing along to the music

- on tour with the boys, you’re their opening support act and you share a bunk with jb

- both nominated for awards so you both come hand in hand in matching outfits

- coming as her plus 1 for the grammys

- walking around the stadium before the show starts and fans coming up to meet the both of you

- julien standing behind the cameras when you have to do a photoshoot, making silly faces to make you laugh

- you being credited for vocal harmonies under some of juliens solo work, same for julien

- you’re more of a femme presenting with flowy dresses and skirts while julien is more masc presenting with jeans and suits. fans dubbed you as sun and moon

- stopping off in random cities / states on tour together and you make it a mission to go to every cafe to try out their iced coffee

[cherrygirlystuff]

Recreating the Indie Sleaze House Party Vibe for the Ultimate Nostalgia Night!

Hey, babe! 🌸 Have you been feeling a little nostalgic lately? Because same. There’s something about the vibe of those iconic indie sleaze house parties that just hits different, right? From the chaotic energy to the effortless style, and of course, the music that had us dancing like no one was watching – it was a whole mood. So, what do you say we bring that magic back for one night? I’m talking about a full-on Nostalgia Night where we recreate the ultimate indie sleaze house party vibe, complete with all the nostalgic hits. Ready to dive into the time machine? Let’s go! 🎧✨

What Was Indie Sleaze All About? 🌟

Before we start planning the perfect party, let’s take a moment to reminisce about what made indie sleaze so iconic. Picture it: the mid-to-late 2000s, when house parties were grungy, glamorous, and just the right amount of chaotic. Think Polaroid pictures, messy hair, and outfits that looked effortlessly thrown together (but you secretly spent hours perfecting). It was all about not trying too hard while still looking like the coolest person in the room. And the music? Absolute bangers that made you want to dance until the sun came up.

Step 1: Setting the Scene 🕯️

First things first – we’ve got to nail the vibe. Indie sleaze was all about that gritty, yet oddly cozy atmosphere. Here’s how to set the scene:

1. Low Lighting and Neon Signs 💡

Forget bright overhead lights – we’re going for mood here. Use string lights, candles, or even some neon signs to create a dim, inviting space. Bonus points if you can find a retro “open” sign or something equally as cool to hang up.

2. Mismatched Furniture and Vintage Finds 🛋️

Part of the indie sleaze charm was that nothing matched – and that was the point. Mix and match your furniture, throw some vintage blankets over the couches, and add a few old-school posters to the walls. The more eclectic, the better.

3. Polaroids Everywhere 📸

Polaroid cameras were practically the symbol of the indie sleaze era. Hang up a string of Polaroid photos from past parties or create a DIY photo booth with a Polaroid camera for guests to snap their own pics throughout the night. Instant memories = instant vibes.

Step 2: The Perfect Indie Sleaze Playlist 🎶

The music was the heartbeat of any indie sleaze party, so we’ve got to get the playlist just right. Here are the nostalgic hits that will transport you straight back to the good ol’ days:

1. “Kids” by MGMT 👶

An absolute must. This song was the anthem of every indie sleaze party, and the moment that iconic synth line kicks in, everyone’s going to lose it.

2. “Electric Feel” by MGMT ⚡

Yes, another MGMT track, because no indie sleaze playlist is complete without it. The groovy beats and psychedelic vibes are perfect for getting everyone on the dance floor.

3. “Heads Will Roll (A-Trak Remix)” by Yeah Yeah Yeahs 🎧

This track is pure energy. It’s impossible not to dance when this song comes on, and it’s a certified indie sleaze classic.

4. “Paper Planes” by M.I.A. 💸

Catchy, rebellious, and oh-so-iconic. This track is all about that indie edge, and the beat drop? Legendary.

5. “Lisztomania” by Phoenix 🔥

An instant mood-lifter. This song’s upbeat tempo and catchy chorus make it a playlist essential. It’s all about those carefree, summer-night vibes.

6. “1901” by Phoenix 🇫🇷

Another Phoenix track because, let’s be real, they were the soundtrack of the indie sleaze era. The guitar riffs, the vibe – everything about this song screams nostalgia.

7. “Dance Yrself Clean” by LCD Soundsystem 🕺

If you’re going for a late-night, almost euphoric dance vibe, this is the track to put on. The build-up is everything, and when the beat finally drops, it’s like a whole new level of party.

8. “Fluorescent Adolescent” by Arctic Monkeys 🌆

This song is the perfect mix of cheeky and cool, capturing that effortless indie sleaze vibe. It’s great for singing along at the top of your lungs.

9. “Time to Pretend” by MGMT (yes, again!) ⏳

Because let’s face it, MGMT dominated the indie sleaze scene, and this track is all about living in the moment – exactly what we’re going for.

Step 3: The Outfits – Effortlessly Cool 👗

Now that we’ve got the scene and the music covered, let’s talk outfits. The key to indie sleaze fashion is looking like you just threw something together and still managed to be the coolest person in the room. Here’s how to nail the look:

1. Vintage Band Tees 🎸

Nothing says indie like a worn-out band tee. Bonus points if it’s a band that no one’s ever heard of. Pair it with ripped skinny jeans or a mini skirt, and you’re golden.

2. Layer It Up 🧥

Layers were everything in the indie sleaze days. Think flannels over tees, leather jackets over dresses, or cardigans draped over anything. The more mismatched, the better.

3. Grungy Hair and Makeup 💄

Messy hair is a must – think loose waves, undone updos, or just letting it do its thing. For makeup, go for smudgy eyeliner, a bold lip, and don’t be afraid to add a bit of glitter. It’s all about that “I just rolled out of bed and still look amazing” vibe.

4. Statement Accessories 🕶️

Whether it’s oversized sunglasses, chunky jewelry, or a fedora (yes, fedoras were a thing), accessories are key to pulling the whole look together. Go big or go home!

Step 4: The Drinks – Keep It Classic 🍻

No indie sleaze party is complete without some classic, no-fuss drinks. Here’s what to have on hand:

1. Cheap Beer 🍺

It doesn’t have to be fancy – indie sleaze was all about keeping it real. Stock up on your favorite cheap beer, and you’re good to go.

2. Vodka Cranberry 🍒

Simple, tasty, and easy to make. Plus, it’s got that throwback vibe we’re all about.

3. Whiskey on the Rocks 🥃

For the indie purists. It’s strong, straightforward, and adds a bit of edge to the party.

Final Thoughts, Babe: Let’s Make This Nostalgia Night One to Remember!

So there you have it – everything you need to recreate the ultimate indie sleaze house party vibe. From setting the scene and curating the perfect playlist, to nailing your outfit and stocking up on drinks, this is going to be a night that takes you straight back to the golden days of grunge glamour and effortlessly cool chaos.

Whether you’re planning this for your crew or just want to relive the nostalgia on your own, the key is to have fun, let loose, and embrace the carefree spirit of the indie sleaze era. It’s not about perfection – it’s about the memories, the music, and the moments that make you feel alive.

Are you ready to host the ultimate Nostalgia Night, or do you have some indie sleaze memories you’re dying to share? Let’s chat in the comments – I’m all ears, babe! 💕