#yes this is a silent hill 2 reference

[atanxdoesstuff]

"So, you're Izuna?"

"I am... if you want me to be."

"All I want from you is an answer!"

"It doesn't matter who I am. I'm here for you, Tobirama. See? I'm real."

---

[spoonzadelic]

“Jack honey, did something happen to you? After we got separated in that long hallway?”

[nothomegal]

"Nothing, just (Y/N)"

(Pyramid Head(s) x GN! Reader NSFW)

Minors do NOT interact!

Summary: wondering through abandoned semi-ruined places is great to hide and get lost, and in your case the latest happened. But don't worry! Because you were lucky enough to bump into your lover... Or not. Whoever, or whatever this is, it really looks like your monster, yet it's different at the same time... Huh, I wonder what will happen when these two do meet face to face... Huh, I wonder what verdict awaits you.

Warnings: non-con touches at first, brief mentions of nipple play, oral (Pyra receiving), references to double penetrations (but you can interpretate it differently since the reader is gender neutral).

Word Count: 3.9k

This idea popped up after I remembered that Pyramid Head has two different designs (one that appears in DBD and Silent Hill 2, and the other one from the movie and Silent Hill Homecoming, y'know where he has a more pointy helmet and exposed torso)

I usually describe the DBD/original version (though my dummy self been using gifs with the other design hashsha). But still, why don't we present our lil' (Y/N) the other one? 🤭

They’re lost. (Y/N) let out a long tired sigh as they keep walking through the long dark hallway of what appears to be a school.

They begin to regret their decision of going deeper, it probably would’ve been smarter to just chill in one of the classes until the ‘newcomers’ leave the area, buut… Uh, last time they hid in a room they ended up kidnapped by the group they tried to avoid so yeah… Not really a fan to repeat that experience.

The school was dead silent most of the time, apart from the sound of their footsteps or the occasional shuffle or hiss from a Creeper. For anyone new, this would be an unnerving place, but for (Y/N)? Oh they’re chilling with the peace n’ quiet around them. Sure, silence is not always associated with safety and there is always the possibility of something lurking in the dark and waiting for the perfect moment to attack. But in (Y/N)’s case it’s not possible, no creature is dumb enough to even get close to them, not to mention hurting. They can’t help but to chuckle to themselves, they’ve been in this place for quite a while, probably months, maybe even a year! Or two? And no matter how much time passed or will pass, they still can’t believe the fact that one of the most fearsome creatures of Silent Hill took them under his wing, keeping them safe and making them feel something more than just a piece of flesh to use or kill.

Sigh, they probably have the dumbest lovesick face they’ve ever made, like some teenager thinking about his crush, but can you really blame them? Who the hell wouldn’t get all giddy with a creature like Pyra? And speaking of him, they probably should find an exit faster before he gets tired of looking for them and just tanks his way through the building-.

Or maybe not, because the sound of metal scraping the old tiled floor of the school and the erratic heavy footsteps resonated from one of the hallways. Huh, each day they start to believe that they somehow summon Pyra just by thinking about him for long enough.

With a little smile (Y/N) makes their way towards the sounds, happy to have their lover back with them after him completing his hunt and punishment.

–”Hey big guy! Sorry for the trouble of having to look for me in here. Just wanted to avoid the incident from the last ti- ”–

(Y/N)’s voice died and they froze in place when they met the source of the sound. Yes, it was the known pyramid headed beast, but… It wasn’t their pyramid headed beast, it wasn’t Pyra.

The monster in front of them was different; his vest, which appeared to be stitched,  was only covering everything below the waist, leaving the torso completely exposed. The helmet was different too, it was more… Pointy? The edges were sharper and the shape was more triangular and detailed with additional metallic pieces.

This other beast and (Y/N) remain completely still, staring at each other in heavy silence, the monster’s metallic breathing being the only audible thing. (Y/N) gulps nervously, both confused and afraid. What the… Who is this creature?! Why does it look almost like Pyra?! Is this another executioner? Wasn’t Pyra the only one? Are there more monsters like him? Then why did they never see it before?!

Their internal freak out paused then the other beast let out the familiar low metallic rumbling, which wasn’t as low and deep as the one Pyra emitted, but that fact didn’t make the sound any less intimidating, especially when the monster seemed to grip the handle of his large knife tighter.

–”W-Wrong executioner, m-my bad!”– you peep out before taking off running.

They sprint down the hallway, their adrenaline skyrocketing when they hear the known bulky footsteps and scraping noises behind them. They haven’t felt this much terror since being chased by Pyra himself. Sure the group of shady men was scary too but their demise was inevitable. In the case with Pyra… Well, if the executioner chooses you as his target, there is no chance to escape your fate, only delay it.

But- But this time it will be different, right? Their Pyra is still somewhere around, right? It’s unclear what they're hoping for, or what they want to happen when both beasts face each other. All (Y/N) knows is that the true safety has always been in Pyra’s arms, and they have no other option but to go there if they want to have the slimmest chance to survive this chase.

Despite trying to find the exit, it feel like they only get themselves deeper into the building, all hallways and rooms appear to get darker and more rotten, it's like they're decending deeper into hell, closer to their demise, further from their salvation...

But the light of hope was recandled when while turning a corner (Y/N) bumped face first into a firm and broad torso, which didn't even budge at the impact while they already had landed on the floor right on their butt. They rub their nose after the impact and shoot their gaze up, their heart almost jumping through their rib cage after recognizing the known pyramidal shape of the creature’s head, thinking that the beast chasing after them somehow outsmarted their panicked brain. But when the creature kneeled down they instantly relaxed as relief flushed through them, despite the monster’s large form menacingly towering over them and engulfing their smaller frame with its shadow.

–”Pyra!”– you exclaim both happy and relieved as you scramble right into his arms.

The monster instantly wrapped his large arms around (Y/N), his own body tensing up, as if feeling the distress of his human and knowing they’ve been chased by something, fact that clearly angered him. When the sounds of metal scraping the floor and slow heavy footsteps began to resonate from afar, (Y/N) tensed up even more.

–”Th-There it comes… It- That thing, it looks like you!”– you warn him as you grip his vest tighter.

Pyra remains still for a moment as the noises get closer. After a while, he slowly stands up to his full height, lifting (Y/N) with him and putting them back to their feet to then gently push them behind him. The mentioned person carefully peeks from behind his large form, both afraid but also curious to see if it’s really another creature like Pyra and it actually exists or they just officially went coconuts and somehow imagined it all. Their doubts were dissolved once the other creature appeared from around the corner, his pace slow and unhurried. The monster froze in place as he stared at them, Pyra froze too and stared back. The atmosphere suddenly turned… Weird, not tense and heavy as one would expect, just odd and bizarre.

Still, (Y/N) didn’t feel at ease at all. There is a reason humans fear the unknown, and that’s the main factor that keeps the mentioned person on high alert. They have absolutely no idea of what to expect to happen next, are these two about to fight? Will the other creature turn around and leave? Will it somehow change Pyra’s mind and he will kill them? Are they in danger? Should they run? Wait? Pray?

A breathless gasp escaped their lips when the other creature began to move, slowly making his way towards them two. What freaked and confused (Y/N) even more is the fact that Pyra doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, he remains still in his place with absolutely no intent to stop the other monster.

When the second beast got way too close for their liking, and Pyra was still doing nothing about it, (Y/N) let out a shaky breath out and stepped away from their lover to then begin to back away on their own.

–”No. N-No stop, that’s-...”– you swallow nervously as you shoot a pleading glance to your beast. –”Pyra…”–

But he doesn’t react to their pleas, he doesn’t even look at them… And when the other beast was right next to him is when he finally does move, slowly turning around, and just like the other executioner, he begins to slowly walk towards (Y/N) in the same menacing manner, not like they’re his lover, but another victim to punish…

This scene broke (Y/N)’s heart into numerous tiny pieces, is… Is that it? Is Pyra really going to just… Kill them here and now? After all this time they’ve been together he… He’s just going to throw all that away like it’s nothing? Like they are nothing?... Silly them, of course he will, he’s Pyramid Head, the executioner, an immortal and eternal being created to punish and kill. Who are they to him?... They are nothing, just a little meaningless human… Just (Y/N).

The moment their back collides with a wall, their survival instincts kick in. Even though deep down they knew that their fate is practically written on their forehead, their mind was focused on the most primal desire that a human can have in case of facing danger; run away.

And so they do, they obey their instincts. When they notice an opening between the other monster’s large body and a wall to squeeze through, they bold forward with no care in the world and miraculously dodging his arm that attempted to grab and stop them from escaping. They let out a breathless chuckle out of shock that they actually managed to dodge that by ducking, such a silly maneuver actually wor-.

Suddenly something gets a hold of the back of their shirt and yoinks them back, right against Pyra himself. He holds them tightly against his chest, one arm being more than enough to keep the panicked human in place despite all the desperate struggles to break free. (Y/N) is beyond terrified now, they feel Pyra’s arm tighten around them while the other one gets so close that he ends up pressing his body against their front. Now being basically sandwiched and completely immobile, (Y/N) is feeling like passing out at any second. In any other occasion they’d be so flustered and aroused by this, but now? Oh their poor mind is being flooded with terrible images of how the two executioners will end them, the newer thought worse than the previous one. They’re shivering like crazy, eyes shut tightly, waiting for the wave of pain to come as the monsters will begin to skin them alive…

But after nothing happening for a solid minute, (Y/N) gathers enough courage to finally open their eyes and see what’s going on and why these two beasts are not doing anything. The instant they peek up, the two monsters let out that famous amused rumble, which due to the closeness, made (Y/N)’s whole body vibrate, super weird (and kinda pleasant) feeling.

(Y/N) was about to yell in anger, thinking that these two are seeing their fear and pain of the betrayal as something funny, but such chance was lost the moment they began to feel big hands roam around their body, caressing and feeling every curve through their clothes. The gesture wasn’t aggressive or mocking, but affectionate and loving, just like Pyra’s actions towards them on a daily basis.

Now (Y/N) is confused and quite dumbfounded. Didn’t these two have the intention to murder them? Why is this other monster suddenly so docile? Are they truly safe? Wha-

A shiver ran through their body when the executioner in front of them managed to slip his hand under their shirt, tracing the rough yet warm skin of his bare palm through the softer skin of their abdomen and chest. They let out a surprised squeak when the hand reached higher and brushed against their nipple, the contact causing (Y/N)'s body to shiver, and it only got worse when the beast began to rub it as it let out an amused purr. Another whimper escaped their mouth when Pyra’s hand made its way through their inner thigh, squeezing and rubbing their flesh gently until it stopped right between their legs, his movements getting progressively bolder and suggestive with each little sound that left that pretty mouth of theirs. (Y/N)’s eyes widened as they realized what the two monsters are trying to initiate.

–”Wa-Wait no-! I- I’m- I’m n-not ready for th-this!”– you stammer nervously as you try to clumsily wiggle out their grasp, face already red and flustered. –”You- You two s-sto-!”–

They have no chance to even finish the sentence as something warm and wet suddenly entered their mouth, making contact with their own tongue, which suddenly turned the action into some very sloppy kiss. Their struggles also lead to nothing, both monsters only squeezed them tighter against each other, reducing (Y/N)’s mobility even more. This continues for a couple of seconds, until the "kiss" finally stops and (Y/N) is finally allowed to breathe again, their mouth completely wetted with their and Pyra’s saliva. As they pant like a dog, trying to recatch their breath, they feel Pyra’s hand travel up to their face and wrap his hand around their face, rubbing their cheek lovingly as his tongue playfully wiggles in front of them.

(Y/N) suddenly gasps shakily as they feel something hard being pressed against their front and back, and by the way both monsters growled, they knew exactly what it was and what’s about to happen.

They shouldn't want this, they should try to get away and put a stop to this, they really should… But it’s hard, it’s hard to think straight when their mind has been poisoned with their own arousal and lust. Their logic side is saying no, but their whole body and most of their mind is screaming yes.

As if reading their mind, both monsters made a pleased sound and the next thing they know is that their body was swung over Pyra’s shoulder and taken somewhere... But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t get completely blown up in a moment, and Pyra’s big hand squeezing their ass and thighs is a reminder of that. They’re then brought into one of the classrooms of the school and their body is placed on one of the tables, just like the little delicious treat they were.

From their spot, (Y/N) stares at the two beasts with half lidded eyes and lovesick gaze. It’s like being under some sort of spell whenever things get heated between them and Pyra, and now that there are two of them? Oh, it’s like being hypnotized to act like a slave of their own lustful desires.

The two monsters were kind enough to actually undress (Y/N) (instead of destroying their clothes). And now, fully exposed and being in all fours, they silently observes as both executioners position themselves. The other beast is right behind them, one hand placed on their hips and the other one pulling down his vest, revealing an already fully erect and hard cock, tip brushing along their skin, making them shiver in anticipation. Pyra was right in front of them, vest fully opened and pants pulled down too, his cock just as erect and needy for his sweet lover, one gloved hand placed under their chin as his thumb rubs their cheek and lips lovingly, as if saying “you’ll do such a good job drear”.

The calm lasts for a couple more seconds… And then the whole world goes down without a warning. The beast from behind slams his whole length almost and ones, barely giving (Y/N) time to adjust to his size. Pyra also nearly choked them when he pushed the tip and part of his cock into (Y/N)’s mouth, but he was kind enough to wipe their tears of pain and pleasure.

This was both a torture and a treasure, the roughness and feral neediness of these monsters made (Y/N) feel a certain type of way. The knowledge that two powerful beings craved for them, THEM, so so badly made them feel both very special and flustered, just what did the executioner see in them to make him want their body and soul so much? Crave for them both sexually and emotionally, want nothing but to be close to them and keep them to himself, not just like a trophy or a pet, but as something worth to worship.

And they did, they really felt oddly worshiped despite being absolutelly destroyed by them. Feeling the one from behind dig his fingers into their flesh as he pushes into them, trying to bring them closer to his own body with each thrust and the distorted rumbles and groans he makes when the contact between their skins is missing, even for a brief second, only proves how much he wants them close. Pyra was too showing the effect they had on him, saliva actively dripping from that little hole in his helmet where the tongue would come out, hand placed in the back of (Y/N)’s head as he fucks their mouth and throat, and the fact that he’s not thrusting with more force also proves the care he has for them. They both could be rougher, they both could be more selfish, they know they totally could destroy them if they really wanted to… But they actively chose not to, because even in this feral and lustful state they’re in, they care for them, they care for their little sweet (Y/N).

The action doesn’t last too long, as (Y/N) is barely holding themselves back from coming ,and eventually it got too much. The second the monster from behind felt their release, he let out a growl and quickened his pace. (Y/N)’s body began to shiver, wobbly limbs barely supporting their own weight due to the overwhelming feeling of fullness and the lack of oxygen, air they can hardly get since Pyra’s pace got faster as well. When they eventually collapsed, their body miraculously remained in place and it all thanks to the beast behind them, who caught them and held them up with a single large hand placed on their chest.

It was hard to keep up, hard to keep themselves from coming again, but they must refuse, must holdup, must wait for the two monsters fucking their brains out to come before allowing their own sweet release again. And just as they reached their absolute limit, so did the two beasts. The taste and the sensation of their release drunken (Y/N) completely, eyes rolling as they let out a weak muffled moan as they're sent both to heaven and hell at the same time, their inside burning and their skin shivering under the cold sweat.

Once done, Pyra takes his still hard cock out of (Y/N)’s mouth, allowing them to take all these needed gulps of air as the white liquid drips from their mouth and down their chin, even after trying to swallow it they still got messy, a picture that their lover absolutely adored.

Though (Y/N) was quite tired, they know this is not the end, this is just the beginning˜.

They let out a yelp when their body is suddenly lifted and their back is pressed against the solid and warm exposed torso of the beast behind them. The table they were previously on had been flung across the whole classroom with great force and the next thing they know is that they’re completely immobilized again by Pyra’s body pressing their form against the monster behind. And soon enough, (Y/N)’s mind is being turned into mush again when the beasts begin to move again, their thrusts strong and hitting all the sweet and most sensitive spots of theirs.

Their movements were unnaturally coordinated, knowing exactly when to thrust and how to move so their helmets won’t collide. It was both freaky and fascinating to see, which left (Y/N) thinking if Pyra is really as simple as they initially thought, or is he the embodiment of something way more sinister-.

Their thoughts melted into a mass of letters and blurry shapes at the sensation of the rough fingers of the beast from behind rub their sensible nipples again, sending violent jolts and shivers with the mildest movements. Now (Y/N) was a complete panting and moaning mess, though their sounds were slightly muffled by Pyra’s broad chest, even slightly suffocating them at times with how close he got (not like they mind it). They always cringed at how vocal they can get during sex but they also knew better than to try to quiet the noises after learning the hard way how much their monstruous lover adores to hear them.

This fucking continued for a good ammount of time, (Y/N) already lost count of how many times they came, they have absolutely no clue! All they know is that they’re like in heaven, seeing stars and impossible colors of light flash before their eyes with each release just to then fall back into their mortal body and suffer the consequences of all the overstimulation and the generally overwhelming sensations. How are they still awake and breathing? They have no idea, but it did kinda boost their ego to know they’re tougher than they thought.

Eventually, the thrusts come to an end after the two monsters came one last time, causing (Y/N) to hide their face deeper into Pyra’s chest as they sink their fingers into his flesh and scratch his scarred skin with their nails. Even after coming and filling them up real' good yet again, the executioners remained in place, not pulling away from (Y/N) and still holding them against each other.

After regaining part of their breath, (Y/N) pulls back and their eyes wide at the sight of all the marks they left along Pyra’s broad chest and abdomen, both scratch and bite marks. The executioner from behind also received some lovely scratches on his body as well, when did they even manage to make these? None of the monsters seemed bothered by the marks though, and their hands roaming over (Y/N)’s body is a clear confirmation of that, showing just how pleased they are with their performance, even if they didn’t really do anything.

Now that the heat is slowly dying (Y/N) should feel cold, yet the warm skin of the beasts keep them perfectly warm and comfortable, their big hands traveling around their body, soothing the growing soreness in their muscles and worshiping every inch of their soft and tender skin, despite it being covered in sweat and drops of their load.

(Y/N) wanted to cry, but not out of pain, but of how loved they felt in that moment. The surprisingly gentle and affectionate caressing, the soft purrs and rumbles that at times resembled praises, and the overall atmosphere among them three felt so overwhelmingly comforting and loving, nothing like the heated lustful air from moments before.

Tiredness and exhaustion made itself known and they began to slowly doze off. Luckily, they didn’t have to worry about having a pillow, the chest of the two monsters were a perfect replacement, so warm and kinda soft now that their bodies and muscles relaxed a bit.

Unknowingly to (Y/N), a little smile formed on their lips. Yes, they're still pretty much nothing compared to a creature like Pyramid Head, but the fact that this same creature, or in this case, creatures, are all over them, a simple little human, makes (Y/N) feel this alien thrill and warmth.

They're still just (Y/N) though.

Their (Y/N).

Ţ̴̡̤͕̝̱̙͎̗͓͎͔̤͍͍̺̖̣̥͇͔̺̖̬̑̅͆̅ͅͅ ̷̨̢̢̡̡̡̧̨̬̲͈̹̦̤̻̬̳͎̳͔̬̘̤̤͚̮͇̪̗͍̺̟̦̯̙͇͔͓͈̫̾̾̂̂̚͠H̸̪͇͚͙̫͇̯̆̚ ̵̧̜͔͎̙͈̦̥̣̥͕̅̆́̆̑͗̈͛̇̓̾̏̇̌͛̾̓̉̀͛̓͆̈́̇̃́̄́̑̊͐̎̍͊̂̈́͆̕̚͘͘͝͝Ȩ̵͈̟̜͓̥͙̣͙̲̤̰̫̟̭̲̪͔͖͇͉̩̗̩͕̮̲̳̼͖̜̳̙͗͒̓̀̊̊͋̿̉̿͜ͅͅ ̷̘̦̜̻͓̒̽͛̚͝Ì̴̡̧̡̧͓̭̝̥̱̻̦̻͔͙̜̳̘̣̘̻̗̫̮̬͖̝͕̬͕͕͐͋͋͆̔̂̍͌͑̏̌͌̚̚ͅ ̵̨̜̻̬̲̬̩̤̹̩̮͈̮̭͈̙̦̪͕͕̭̠̝̝̀̿̓̀̌̌͊̅ͅR̶̫̯̬͚͚̝̦͋͌͒͐̀̄͌̃̓̌̈́̉̄͐͆

[leonw4nter]

Hi! Imagine like pop star/extremely popular music artist gf or s/o and Leon met them by being their body gaurd? I think a drabble of this would be so cute, or even just headcannons!

The Theories Of My World Revolving Around You

Bodyguard!RE4R!Leon x F!Popstar!Reader || Read next: 2

Chapter 1: "Running Up That Hill"

“Agent Kennedy, may I repeat that  you are too unstable for another overseas mission–”

“Lab reports said that I am just fine! They cleared me and stated that I’m fit to go to Bosnia–”

“Agent Kennedy!” President Graham exclaimed, both his hands coming in contact with the oak of his desk and creating a loud pounding sound.

“The last mission to Spain nearly killed you! I appreciate the risks and near-death encounters you had just to get Ashley back home but you could’ve died! You made it back barely alive! What about your mental state, huh? I’m sure as hell that dealing with all that crap would do a number on your mind. Physically you claim that you’re doing well, but how are you doing mentally?”

Leon stayed silent, gaze drifting down; President Graham was right: he was physically fit but what about his mind? Is he stable there? He knew he needed a break from all of this but who is going to be in the front lines? What’s going to happen to Sherry and Claire? Who’s going to give up their life just so a hundred others can live? He needed to give himself a break but chaos never rests, it’s just waiting for him to get his guard down.

“Mr. President, I know that you’re looking out for me but USSTRATCOM needs me. A little girl needs me,” Leon softly explains even if he feels his patience wear thin.

“I understand your concerns, Agent Kennedy, but they have many other agents just as capable as you are. You need rest. As for the girl and Ms. Redfield… I can assure you that they will be alright.” was all the older man said. “You will be referred to another protective detail. We are not necessarily laying you off but I need to refer you to lower departments and other less… demanding organizations. You’re dismissed.”

Leon simply sighed and gave the President a small nod, head hung low as he headed for the door of the Oval Office. A part of him felt grateful for the break given to him– that is if you can call it a break. He’s not exactly totally resting, he’s still on duty– just a less demanding one. Another, bigger part of him felt as if he couldn’t just sit around and wait until they’ll call him back for another job. He was just about to worry about Claire’s college tuition, worrying if student loan debt will be an issue soon but he remembered that he gave her her monthly allowance just a while back, which means that she’ll be just fine. As for Sherry, he knows she’s in good hands with Claire as her legal guardian. With the millionth sigh for today, he runs a calloused hand through his hair and decides to head home, too tired to deal with more crap for today.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Never would Leon have thought that he would be thankful for the loud ringing of his phone, the ringtone loud enough to help him snap out of a nightmare he’s been struggling to wake up from. Half asleep and slightly disoriented, he answers the call and brings the phone up to his ears.

“Is this Mister… Kennedy? Kennedy, Leon?,” an unfamiliar voice responds from the other end of the line.

“Yes,” Leon says, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Who is this?”

“I’m Agent Corey Morgan. Someone under the agency you’re currently in referred you under my team–”

“What team,” Leon interrupts, his mood already sour because of the nightmare and with work being the first thing he is bombarded with in the morning. The man on the other side of the line cleared his throat, obviously taken aback by Leon’s snappy attitude.

“My team under a celebrity protection detail company,” Morgan responds. “We are Citadel Group and we offer protective services to celebrities. I’m sure you are very much familiar with Ms. Ashley Graham.”

“Ashley must’ve put in a word with her father,” Leon thought to himself. “Citadel Group huh,” he mumbles.

“Yes. We request you to send in your resumé within the day for closer deliberation before we can let you start, even if the things we’ve heard about you are beyond exemplary. I’ll send in a follow-up email as soon as the screening process is finished.”

Leon hummed, already exhausted with all of this. The call ended and he tossed his phone to his bed, too tired to do anything but it’s not like he can get back to sleep again when he knows that only nightmares are there to wait for him. With a groan, he gets up and brews himself a cup of coffee to try and salvage the already worsening day.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He sent in his resumé despite several fields being blacked out, receiving an email hours after stating that he’s been assigned to a singer, codenamed ‘Red String’  and will start duty a week from now. He arrives home from the additional interview, keys fumbling to unlock the door to his apartment. He stumbles in, kicking off his dress shoes and undoing one more button to his white button-up before he shrugs his navy blue blazer off, folding and placing it on the back of a dining chair. He rummages through his cabinets, looking for a heavy-bottomed glass to pour some Jack in. Claire chides him in his drinking but he can’t help but drink right now; he’s probably going to be babysitting some stuck-up diva or be at the receiving end of a tirade of screaming if a small drop of rain lands on their shoulder or something. Flashing lights, Leon remembers; there’s probably going to be paparazzi hounding his client with their obnoxious cameras. Leon catches himself worrying over flash photography, cursing himself; the president was right on the matter regarding his mental health.

“Fuck, Leon. You need help,” he silently mutters to himself as a bitter chuckle leaves his throat. This line of work caused Leon to be more thankful towards the mundane– thankful for the opportunity to even get in 3 hours of sleep in, the fact that the loud noise he heard was just a bus and not an Armadura, or that he simply stepped on a twig on the way home and no BOW is out for him for making such a small, seemingly harmless noise.

He takes another drink before the glass is empty again, refilling it with liquor. He has a week alone with his tortuous mind before he can finally do something, even if it’s less intense than what he’s been conditioned to endure.

NOTE - I srsly had to redo my post again bc my laptop died and whatever I did didn't save 😭 Neways, BIG thanks to the anon who requested this!!! I genuinely loved this idea so much, I had to make it a series :) First chapter is short, next chapters will be a little bit longer than this so just strap in and uh wait ig :3 Also, I don't know how protective detail shit works so this is inaccurate as hell so if you're looking for accuracy then this isn't for you :) That's it and thank you to whoever reads my fics, I <333333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!!!!

The heart dividers were made by @fairytopea , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Image ID: Two glitter texts, reading as "NIGHTMARE FACTORY – DEVLOG 0". End image ID.

Hi, I'm Garça Visconde Mirigis, and I'm VERY happy to announce that this post you're reading is the first devlog ever for my nightmare game, a 3D platformer parody of mascot horror genre! And yes, nightmare, not dream game, because making my actual dream game is way out of my current abilities at the moment!

Ever thought to yourself how different a horror game would be if our protagonist decided to help the monsters instead of... [reading a list off-screen] killing, imprisioning, sacrificing, exorcizing or even banning them to other dimensions? Because I have, for ungodly amounts of time, and after literally years I decided that the time to actually make this thing has come. Welcome to the NIGHTMARE FACTORY!

OKAY BUT WHAT IS THE SYNOPSIS?

As previously mentioned, NIGHTMARE FACTORY is a parody of mascot horror games, set in an abandoned toy factory that also used to host a theme park. You play as Vera Torres, a 57 year-old mechanic who used to work in there. One day, our dear Vera receives a call from an old coworker: The higher-ups are going to sell the factory and the theme park, but they need a good inspection, and no one is accepting the offer! Feeling a bit nostalgic and wanting to help her friend, Vera decided to help take a look inside...

... Only to discover the place is now filled with strange monsters whose leader has, somehow, decided that she's actually his mother?! But she only had one kid ever in her life...?

Yeah, Vera is CONFUSED, and it's now your duty as the player to help her figure out just what the heck is going on!

... AND WHAT THE HECK IS THE GAME ACTUALLY ABOUT?

The game is a lighthearted and pink look at mascot horror as a whole, featuring little references to other games and lots and lots of silly jokes. It is also a long love letter for the genre, because as much as I like poking fun at FNaF, it did change my life for the better and it will forever have a soft spot in my heart. I love the franchise despite it all, and making a whole game just to poke fun at it and other similar games feels stupid. No one can create a good parody if they don't love the thing they're parodying even a tiny little bit.

NIGHTMARE FACTORY is not an "aha look at how stupid this is" look at mascot horror. I want it to be as sincere as possible, and the end product needs to be honest and not ironic in the slightest in order for it to be a success.

HOWEEEVEEEER. Despite the silliness, NIGHTMARE FACTORY can and will feature grapphic imagery and disturbing content due to its nature as a horror title. Trigger and content warnings have not been currently set, but shall be added as development continues.

WHAT ARE THE ~ INSPIRATIONS ~ ?

HEHEHE. HAHAHHAA. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. MY FAVORITE PART!

The gameplay is inspired by the original Crash Bandicoot trilogy, Pac-Man World 1-2 and Rayman 2! These are my favorite platformers ever and I played them for hours as a kid, and since NIGHTMARE FACTORY is all about toys and childhood I figured it would be the perfect fit!

For themes and story, NIGHTMARE FACTORY is inspired by Five Nights at Freddy's, Bendy and the Ink Machine/Bendy and the Dark Revival, Tattletail, Poppy Playtime, Silent Hill 1-4, Welcome Home, My Friendly Neighborhood and the Lacey series on YouTube! Some of the themes include loss of childhood, the horrors of motherhood and girlhood, corporate corruption, trauma recovery, grief and rage.

For visuals, however? Alice: Madness Returns, Hello Kitty Roller Rescue, Strawberry Shortcake: The Sweet Dreams Game, Disney Princess' Enchanted Journey and old dress-up flash games are my references!

THE SETTING

The game is set in 2020s São Paulo, Brazil, AKA where I live, and it can and will feature elements of brazilian culture. The final version should have both english and brazilian-portuguese translations, with cultural notes being featured to help non-brazilians understand some jokes and themes better.

CURRENT SITUATION

NIGHTMARE FACTORY is currently sitting at "the single gamedev is desperate to start programming but he's busy with uni work" stage of production, but do not worry, the single gamedev is also working on the story, how level progression shall go, how the game should feel to play, and, of course, planning the mechanics, AKA the most important part of a fun game. I'll make an entire devlog detailing every single main mechanic as soon as I'm able to finally start fully working on this!

NIGHTMARE FACTORY is being made with Godot, Blender and Krita, and it will be released first for PC.

NOW A LOOK AT HOW THE SINGLE GAMEDEV IS ALREADY ANXIOUS ABOUT MAKING THE GAME

It wouldn't be a project I made without me losing my mind about it from day 0!

Nightmare Factory is a 3D platformer game, with around ~30 levels planned, divided into 5 acts/chapters/arcs/sessions. You can think as these sets of levels as Crash Bandicoot's Warped level selection, like this!

After answering some asks relating to mascot horror as a genre, I remembered a conversation I had with my amazing partner some weeks ago about how I want to release NIGHTMARE FACTORY. YES, I didn't even start programming it, but this is the type of thing I need to settle on before I build a good chunk of the game. It will be important!

But then. There's the problem: I don't like it when games are "released" but you have to pay more to get all of them. Yeah, each chapter would be super cheap so they would have a full game price when combined, but also. Do I want to do this. Do I genuinely want to do this. Like? Am I sure this is the right way to do it?????

Image ID: Screenshot of Crash Warped for the PS1, with Crash standing in front of a warp room with 5 blue buttons on the floor, each marked with a number from 1 to 5. The 6th button has the face of Tiny Tiger, signaling it to be the entrance to a boss fight level. End image id.

My first plan was to release each act separately so I could both get feedback and also have more fun, because by getting feedback I would be way less worried about messing things up + I could update things like character physics to be less wonky or more stiff in case it was a common complaint, which could change the entire level design. And also because I'm a clown and I want to make a mascot horror parody, and releasing it in chapters aligns perfectly with how I want this to go.

Anyways, this has now lead to me deciding that the game should be a "pay for it once" type of thing. I'll still release it in chapters, but the updates will be for free. Will I regret this decision because liking it or not I need money + I am an indie dev + there's nothing wrong with game devs expecting to be, y'know, PAID for their work? Absolutely so!!!!! But I think that, for now, this will be how I develop this silly game.

Anyways, this is getting long enough, so I'll finish it for now. Character introductions will be made after the gameplay-focused devlog, so see you guys soon enough! Byeeee <3

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Heart of the Ocean 💙 | Teen Wolf Miniseries Part 1

Takes place in between 3A & 3B of Teen Wolf

Teen Wolf Masterlist | part 2

Characters & Pairings: Hale/McCall Pack x supernatural!reader (female/platonic), eventual Peter Hale x reader (romantic), reader x male!oc ( past romance) & reader x supernatural!reader (platonic). Characters in this imagine: Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale, Peter Hale.

Content Warnings: light angst, profanity, references of historical event disaster, mentions of death, blood, murder | afab!reader (she/her pronouns) | wc: 3.1k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Suspicious deaths were a common occurrence in Beacon Hills—especially after things seem to be actually looking good when a previous problem is fixed. Now Scott and the pack are having to investigate a string of murders happening that not only reek of supernatural, but linked to an renowned event they’ve learned in history class.

Note: I’m hyperfixating on Titanic as of late so I have a lot of ideas involving AU’s and retelling with various fandoms. I just did a TGM au with Bradley Bradshaw and currently have a Twilight one in the works so expect a lot of Titanic in my works when I’m not writing requests.

————————————

Riddles were a tricky little thing. And when used in a malevolent way where to find the answer to a solution one must crack the code, riddles can become a person’s worst enemy.

And the one laying on the table of Derek’s loft was becoming their enemy.

Murders, which was becoming a common occurrence lately in Beacon Hills, were happening where the people were nearly drained of their blood by cutting their throats and wrists before letting them hang upside down. Stiles' father was overwhelmed with stress. Not to mention he was having to come to terms with the reality his town was a beating heart for supernatural creatures. Like how his sons best friend since childhood was a fucking werewolf.

And while it was presumed a human serial killer was responsible for the murders, the pack had an inkling it was more sinister. Investigating on their own they found more suspicious reasons to believe it was supernatural.

Only problem, they had no clue who or what it was.

They were all gathered over the table—save for Peter who was nestled on the couch. Stiles was rubbing a thumb over his lip, becoming frustrated as he was usually on top of solving riddles. Lydia was beside him, deep in thought as she read over the paper silently.

“He just left this here?” Scott glanced at Derek, who was standing with his arms crossed on the opposite side of the table.

“Right outside the door. Like he wanted us to find it.”

“And you heard nothing?” Stiles’ question earned him a glare. “Super hearing and you didn’t hear someone stabbing a piece of paper into your front door?”

“If I did you think I would’ve let him leave the damn note?” Derek spoke harshly.

“Riddle.”

“—knowing all it is is a distraction so he can kill more people.”

“It’s not just a distraction,” Allison interrupted the two bickering, staring hard at the note. “It’s an order. He’s asking us to find someone.”

“Yeah,” Isaac scoffed, “who we have no idea is.”

“Read it again,” Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. With a huff, Stiles took the paper in his hands, clearing his throat before reading aloud for all to hear.

Have you figured it out yet?

Were my clues not enough?

You’re thinking too hard now,

Let me show you it’s not so tough.

Our faces the same,

As they were the day we changed.

Only the eyes no longer its color,

A price for the exchange.

You’ll find it almost disheartening,

When you learn of what we do.

Our nature is uncanny,

But it’s not so far from you.

Find the one I’m looking for,

And I’ll stop the chaos and the pain.

Are you ready?

Here’s your hint.

Time is of the essence,

So you better make it quick.

Wearing the Heart of the Ocean,

She’s closer than it seems.

For I seek the one I turned,

Who was on the Ship of Dreams.

Silence fills the loft, everyone thinking hard of what it could mean. There were so many clues but so vague it was difficult to puzzle them together.

“Well we know it’s someone supernatural,” Isaac hummed, attempting to lighten the situation.

“Yeah we got that genius,” Peter muttered.

“And he’s looking for a woman,” Allison added, ignoring Peter’s sarcasm. “Someone he turned. And was on a ship?” It comes out more like a question, “that could mean a lot of things.”

“Could it be a werewolf?” Scott turned to Derek

The man shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

“But the thing about the eyes—.”

“Many shapeshifters' eyes are like ours. That doesn’t mean it’s a wolf. Plus he said they’re not wolves.”

“How do you know?”

Derek rolls his eyes as though it were obvious, “he wrote, ‘our nature is uncanny, but it’s not so far from you,’. If they were wolves he would’ve said so.”

“Maybe another Kanima?” Allison suggested, “the master looking for his puppet?”

Stiles cuts in, narrowing his eyes on the last verse, “Why would he bold the first and last line of the last clue—these ones,” he places the paper flat on the table. Lydia, the closest to him, leans in as his finger points to the verse. “Heart of the Ocean and the—.”

“Ship of Dreams,” she finishes, voice going low as realization hits her. All eyes turn to her, confusion in their gaze until the name leaves her lips. “Titanic.”

“What?” The question came from Scott, but all were thinking the same. There’s no way she was talking about the most famous shipwreck in history.

“Titanic,” Lydia repeated, this time more confidently. Her own finger came up to point where Stiles' finger had been. “They used to call it the Ship of Dreams.”

“Titanic?” Isaac’s tone was full of doubt. “You mean the ship that sank a century ago?” He couldn’t help but add, “And the movie Leonardo DiCaprio dies in.”

She rolls her eyes, “I don’t recall any other having the same name.”

“The anniversary is coming up,” Derek starts to say, deep in thought like it was all coming together. “It would make sense.”

“Wait—hold on,” Stiles lifts a dramatic hand. “We’re talking about THE Titanic—like Isaac said—that sank a hundred years ago. A hundred,” he repeats to show his point. “Anyone who is alive—even if they were a werewolf or shapeshifter or whatever the hell you want to call it,” he glances at each of them, “would pretty much be on their last breath of life. If this woman were a newborn baby at the time she’d be at least one hundred years old by now.”

In the debate none had noticed Peter moved from the couch to the window. The chuckle leaving his mouth caught their attention. Stiles makes a sound, “I’m sorry, do you wanna share with the class what you obviously know that we’re missing?”

“Our faces are the same,” he says the opening line of the second verse, only drawing confusion and annoyed looks from the others. “As they were the day we changed.” The man pauses, letting it sink in before continuing, “If the woman he’s looking for was on Titanic then she likely was an adult. Considering he turned her, probably by saving her from freezing to death or drowning, and she wears the same face she did the night she was turned…” Peter steps away from the window, now facing the group.

“She’s not aging. At all. Meaning…..she’s immortal.”

The silence following his confession is eerie, eyes flicking over each other to see if they were reacting the same. Immortal. Though the term was familiar it felt almost foreign. Never had they dealt with someone immortal. Unable to die and was walking the Earth acting as though they were human. Now Beacon Hills had two in its possession. They needed to work fast and the riddle only had pieces of the puzzles.

So who—or more like what, was immortal?

"What are you getting to?” Scott narrowed his eyes, Wanting a straightforward answer to what they were dealing with.

Peter clasps his hands behind his back, slowly inching forward,” It’s not shapeshifters you’re looking for.” He takes a step closer, “or a Kanima and its master.” Another step, “or a dark Druid.” Another step brings him right next to Derek, eyes flicking to the paper. “There are few creatures blessed with immortality—or cursed if you look at it another way. But most of them are born with it. Take Gods and fairies for example.”

“Oh my God—those exist?” Stiles feels his mind implode, “Are we about to fight Gods?”

“No,” annoyed at being interrupted Peter rolled his eyes. “I just said those are immortals that are born with their powers. And I don’t know if they exist, I’ve haven’t met one yet. Anyway, this one—.” His finger touches the riddle, “was turned. And likely the person who did was too.”

“So what is it then,” Scott was becoming impatient. And who could blame him really. For all they know it someone was already being drained of their blood at that very moment. “What’s the immortal that’s turned not born?”

“Come one,” he scoffs, like he couldn’t believe they hadn’t figured it out. “Ever wonder why the victims were drained of their blood?” The one question had everyone's face become colorless. “Has Stiles's father not caught on the wounds were made after they were dead?” Why their throat was slashed….but had two little puncture holes on either side?” Peter glances around at every person, catching the nervousness of their gaze as though they already knew what he was about to say but wished it wasn’t.

“The creatures you’re looking for…..are vampires.”

The rest of the night the pack was gathering as much information as they could about the passengers aboard Titanic—all 2,240 of them—while also trying to figure out any other clues within the riddle. They still couldn’t believe it was a vampire responsible for the murders. And that he was hunting someone he created who, still to their shock, was a passenger aboard Titanic.

And with 2,240 people on the ship during its ill fated maiden voyage…they were in for a long night.

“Okay so we know they’re vampires—our killer is the one who turned the woman he’s searching for into a vampire. She was on Titanic when it sank meaning—,” Stiles wrote furiously across the notepad, the riddle next right beside it. “He was on it too. Now we could narrow this down several ways. Either by searching through the passengers class or going through who survived because as Lydia pointed out,” the hand holding the pen points to the redhead, “RMS Carpathia recorded the names of the survivors before they reached New York.”

Either method was good, but there was a problem with the latter. As Allison pointed out, “but what if they never knew she was there? I mean having a newly turned vampire on a ship filled with people is a recipe for disaster.”

Derek nods, agreeing with her, “Her eyes would’ve made it obvious.”

“How so?” Asked Isaac.

Peter is the one to explain, “Vampires in our world are different from what you see on TV. They aren’t these pale, corpse-like, individuals who look like they belong in the morgue. They’re rather human-like if they’re equipped with a special glimmer that allows them to come off as mortal.”

“Glimmer?” Lydia raised a brow, finding the word a bit comical given the creature they were dealing with.

“We’ll get to that. But any vampire who’s newly turned will have red eyes—blood red eyes.”

“How fitting,” Stiles couldn’t help but groan. “So what, are you saying she’s likely wearing contacts to hide her eyes.”

“Possibly,” Peter hums with a shrug, “wouldn’t be surprised if she is. This day in age makes it easier for vampires to conceal their nature. But considering our little vampire was turned in 1912…her creator probably hid her on the Carpathia—or as outrageous as it sounds, swam her across the remainder of the Atlantic ocean.”

Derek closes the book in front of him, detailing the events of the RMS Carpathia rescue of Titanic’s passengers. “However he saved her can wait,” he leans his hands onto the table, “We need to figure out the last clue of this riddle.” Moving the riddle to him, Derek reads, “Wearing the Heart of the Ocean, she’s closer than it seems.”

Lydia bites her lip, typing away on her laptop. “If I didn’t know it any better…it sounds like he’s trying to reference a piece of jewelry. Probably a necklace or something.”

Peter rubs his jaw deep in thought, “That could be the source of her glimmer.”

“The necklace?” Stiles wonders aloud.

“Usually most vampires would prefer a ring or bracelet,” he waves a hand, “It’s small and concealable. Very easy for a Druid to enchant the item and allow the vampire to give off the effect to other supernatural beings they’re human. Prevents them from being obliterated by the sun. That’s their glimmer. Sealed within the jewelry to act as a camouflage. So long as they have it on,” he shrugs lightly, “you’d never know what they truly are.”

“And she’s been passing off as a human in Beacon Hills. For God knows how long,” Lydia opens a separate browser, hands hovering over the keyboard. “If her necklace has a name like Heart of the Ocean it shouldn’t be too hard to find. We find the Heart of the Ocean, we find her.” Her words have Allison come over beside her, realization crossing her face.

“Isn’t that the name of the necklace Rose wore in the movie?” Right as she finished her sentence, the image popped up on the screen of said necklace after Lydia typed the name into Google. “So it was real after all?”

“Appears to be,” Lydia was just as amazed. Stiles leans over her other side, eyes bulging at the sight of the large blue heart-shaped diamond surrounded by tiny little white ones.

“That’s gotta be worth a billion dollars.”

“350 million to be exact,” Lydia reads off. “At least today it is. Back then it was worth probably not even a quarter of that price—but still big for its time.”

“So…” Isaac taps his finger to his mouth, glaring up at the ceiling from where he was seated, legs perched on the table. “We’re looking for a vampire—probably at least 120 give or take a few years—who is passing off as human because of a magic necklace worth more than our entire lives. Wonderful.”

Scott takes a glance, letting out a whistle, “That had to have belonged to a first-class passenger. I’d say we start there.”

“On it,” Lydia begins to search records of the names aboard Titanic with First-class tickets. While she’s doing that the pack gathers to the makeshift board Stiles had created, adding notes to it as they go.

Stiles tapes the new information on the necklace to next to the verse on the copy of the riddle they made. “Heart of the Ocean a.k.a the magic necklace making the vampire appear human. To be honest, if someone were wearing a necklace that extravagant in Beacon Hills it’d be noticeable.”

Scott agreed, “She’s probably keeping it under her clothes. I mean I would. Lydia, did you find anything on who it belonged to?”

The redhead makes a huff, “from what the article says,” she clicks on a link, “it belonged to American socialite Y/n L/n as a gift from her husband Theodore Ford on their wedding day. He had it custom made overseas on a trip to France.” Lydia’s eyes widened at the next line, “She was the niece of John Rockefeller and he was the nephew of Henry Ford.”

“Good God,” Stiles made a sound, many of the others showing a similar reaction. “What a match made in heaven…and money.”

“Great,” Peter plops onto the couch, “our vampire was a once billionaire socialite—well maybe not billionaire. That’s a far reach. Since she was only the niece of Rockefeller and her hubby was a Ford she probably only had a snippet of their families fortune.” The man rolls his neck, hands clasped on his lap with his legs kicked up. “She shouldn’t be too hard to find then. All we need is a picture.”

Derek gives his uncle an annoyed look, “We don’t if it’s her or not. Maybe the necklace was stolen by her creator and that’s how she got it.”

“What else does it say?” Allison turns her attention back to her best friend. In her head she couldn’t help but feel there was something missing. That they were so close to the answer.

Lydia continues on, “It says here that they married in 1901–Y/n aged nineteen and Theodore aged twenty-one. They had a son, Benjamin, born 1905 and Theodore died six years later in 1911 from a car accident.” She scrolls down a bit, brows furrowing a tad and makes a sound of ‘eureka!’ “Y/n was gifted two First-Class tickets for her and her son aboard Titanic by her uncle John Rockefeller. They boarded the ship during Titanic’s first stop to Cherbough, France….survivors of Titanic recall last seeing Y/n place her son Benjamin into a lifeboat before being denied entry since it had reached maximum capacity,” a feeling of heartbreak fills the redhead, soon followed by defeat as she reads “It is believed Y/n L/n drowned as the ship submerged beneath the surface on April 15, 1912, as her body was never recovered as one to have perished from hypothermia in the freezing waters. Nor was she listed on the records of survivors on RMS Carpathia. Her son Benjamin was soon taken in by her mother where he remained in New York City until his sudden death in 1918 by influenza.”

A moment of silence passes as they take in the information. For Allison and Lydia, they couldn’t help the sadness for the woman they didn’t even know. To have to say goodbye to your child, likely promising them you’d get on the next boat and would be reunited shortly, only to never see them again.

The redhead suddenly straightens her posture.

“What is it?” Scott hears her heartbeat quicken. Worry takes his features when Lydia appears as if she saw a ghost. Everyone else looks the same when she brings a hand to her mouth. “Lydia?” There’s a slight tremor in her hand when she pulls it away.

“She’s closer than it seems.” She whispers the line from the final verse. Tone filled with near distraught.

Allison takes a hesitant step forward. From where they were all standing they could also see the light of the screen hitting Lydia’s complexion. Whatever was on it was hidden from their view. “Lydia…”

“I-I thought it meant that by finding the Heart of the Ocean we’d be able to spot whoever was wearing it. That we’d have to maybe knock on every door in Beacon Hills until we find whoever is hiding it—as stupid as that sounds. Because who in their right mind if they knew they were being hunted would just hide in plain sight? But….” her breath picks up, slight horror and astonishment as she stares back at the screen. “He knows where she is—h-he wants us to find her, because she can lead us to him.”

“Lydia….” Stiles slowly draws closer to her. Peter moves to stand from the couch, expression unreadable as was Derek’s.

But Lydia’s eyes never move from the screen. “The riddle—it was just his game. He knows exactly where she is. He has to. Because she’s been under our nose all along—closer than we could’ve imagined.” Finally the redhead looks up to the anxious eyes of everyone, revealing the shocking truth with the slow turn of the laptop.

“She boarded Titanic as Y/n L/n,” the screen shows a sepia image causing Allison to gasp, Isaac to mutter ‘holy shit’, Stiles to drop his marker, and Scott to feel his stomach drop. Derek and Peter shared a look, Derek more anxious than his uncle. “But she’s been living as Loretta Andrews.”

There on the screen, listed as the socialite Y/n L/n and wearing the jaw-dropping necklace called the Heart of the Ocean, was a woman whose face the teenagers had seen every Monday to Friday for the last three months. Who looked no older than the age of 30 like in the picture and had arrived in Beacon Hills shortly before the spring semester.

Their English teacher, Loretta Andrews.

[fetchmearum420]

MORE FUN FACTS ABOUT 1776 BECAUSE WHY NOT:

-William Duell stayed with the show the whole time it was on broadway and did not miss a single performance.

-previews were supposed to last longer on broadway, but it was cut short because on March 14th 1969 (55 years ago today) Howard Da Silva had a heart attack. The guys got him out of the theater and they revived him, they wanted to immediately take him to the hospital but he refused, and said he wanted to open the show, and then they could do with him as they pleased. So he opened the show with everybody, and then immediately as the curtain came down, an ambulance was waiting for him outside the theater and he got in, and he had surgery that night and was out of the show for MONTHS. Thank god they still had Rex Everhart from when the show was out of town because otherwise they would have been FUCKED. The cast did not have a party because of this whole incident. But unfortunately, the main three, Bill Daniels, Ken Howard and Howard da Silva, only did 5 shows together on broadway, Ken Howard would leave 3 months into the show, and the next time they’d all work together would be for the film.

-Howard Caine was “fired” by Jack Warner from the film because he kept complaining about the heat. When Peter Hunt found out about this, he went APE SHIT and got Caine back.

-there are many new actors for the 1776 film than original broadway cast themselves. Peter hunt got this all wrong. Yes, some of the original cast was there, but no everybody. The originals include David Ford, William Daniels, Howard Da Silva, Ken Howard, Ralston Hill, Emory Bass, Roy Poole, Ronald Holgate, William Duell, Virginia Vestoff, Jonathan Moore and Charles Rule. (John Cullum was in the Broadway production, but he didn’t originate Rutledge. Same with James Noble but he had been Hancock, not Witherspoon) the new actors include Donald Madden, Ray Middleton, Leo Leyden, William Hansen, Rex Robbins, Patrick Hines, Daniel Keyes, Howard Caine, John Myhers, Blythe Danner and Stephen Nathan. And also all the silent men in congress who don’t have any lines. So yeah, a LOT more new actors then OG cast members.

-when the broadway company went to do the show for Richard Nixon at the White House, the cast were persuaded to do it by the producers telling them they’d all get pay raises. That never ended up happening, and Bill Daniels was LIVID. They were lied to just to do a fucking show for Nixon, because 98% of the cast hated him. After that performance, Howard Da Silva joined an anti-war protest outside of the White House, still in full costume. He HATED Nixon with a PASSION because of his involvement of his blacklisting from Hollywood.

-Bill Daniels missed more performances than he thought he did. In his book, he mentions he only missed 2 shows out of his entire 2 year run. That isn’t true. Paul David-Richards, the OG Josiah Bartlett, understudied John Adams, and in his bio in the playbill, it says he went on at the very last second for Bill, and ended up doing 5 shows that week because Bill got sick. And Jonathan Moore also did one show as Adams.

-The cast referred to the song “Cool, Cool Considerate Men” as “Cool Conservative Men”

That’s it for now :)

[staycalmandhugaclone]

The Vacation (1/4)

I shared a sexy blurg the other day, but felt it really needed a bit of before and after, so here's how that vacation starts. This is a section from a much, much longer fic that may or may not be fully shared, but the important info is that Crosshair went off on his own after season 1, and the OC (Alya) used to be with Hunter, but after getting captured by the Empire, she was pretty messed up and couldn't stay with him, thus began traveling with Crosshair. By this time, they've been working together for about a year, purely platonic (they share a bed for nightmare reasons and because I like cuddles).

Pairing: Crosshair x Female Original Character (Alya)

WC: 5.4k

Summary: After a perilous mission, Crosshair surprises Alya with a vacation, and Alya surprises Crosshair with feelings.

Rating: Explicit 18+, language, vague references to negative experiences in past relationship (kinda?)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. So much smut, fingering, some overstimulation, a touch of self-deprecation . Reference to negative previous relationship, but it's pretty vague. Even a bit of aftercare. It's a smut chapter to start more smut chapters. Seriously.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I’d only just finished unpacking my supplies when I felt the ship rumble to life. The several weeks this job had granted us the use of an actual house had been… different. So many years had passed since that was a normal part of life. It was bittersweet to have had that again for such a short amount of time, but returning to the familiar rooms of the ship was its own comfort. The Event Horizon had become synonymous with home, and, despite the lingering desire to return to a life comforted by the routine of waking to the same atmosphere, the same view of sprawling hills or cozy neighborhoods, I knew none of it was worth trading the life I’d created here.

At the subtle lurch of entering hyperspace, I turned my attention down the hall toward the cockpit, just able to see a glimpse of pale hair around the headrest of the pilot’s chair. Last time we left before refueling, it was because I’d been recognized, forcing us to flee. The last job had been wrought with near disaster, but I didn’t think there was any threat of being reported, but the mere possibility set my heart racing.

“You… didn’t want to stock up first?” I felt the hesitation in my voice, testing his response before risking any theories.

“No.” He said nothing more, despite the several seconds of silence that followed.

“O..kay…” I muttered, studying him, searching for any hint of his motives. “Got us in lightspeed pretty quickly… Do you… already have a destination in mind, or”

“Yes.” He interrupted. Again, I waited, but his façade remained perfectly emotionless.

“Crosshair.” I finally grumbled, patience dwindling. Finally, the edges of his lips hinted at the beginnings of a smirk, and I let out a huff of breath. No danger – he was just toying with me. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” I stated indifferently and turned to leave the cockpit. His hand instantly darted back to catch my wrist, eyes rolling before nodding to the nav screen. My impatience instantly fled beneath the confusion.

“Alderaan?” The name left my lips in a question. “You found a job on Alderaan?” For the briefest moment, doubt touched those steadfast eyes and he turned back to the streams of passing stars dancing beyond the viewport, hand tightened briefly around my wrist before letting go.

“Figured we’d… ‘take some time’.” The way he said the words made me pause. Familiar. Why did… My lips parted in a silent gasp, heat flooding my chest. The planet of beauty. How many months – years – had passed since I’d asked him that – if he ever took time to enjoy the beauty of visiting foreign lands? “Unless you’ve had your fill of that planet. Just figured we hadn’t really stopped to… how did you put it? ‘Appreciate’ things like that.” I was silent a moment longer; stunned. “Or we’ll just”

“No-no!” I finally sputtered, lips pulling in a wide grin. “That… sounds perfect, Cross… Thank you.” I watched the back of his neck flush as he let out a small grunt. Forcing myself to ignore the flood of affection at the mere sight if it, I dropped lightly into the copilot’s seat, smile still plastered over my lips.

“I was only there for a few days – barely saw anything more than snow. Have you already chosen a place?” Knees tucking to my chest, I turned to find him watching me from the corner of his eyes, smirk once more just touching his lips.

“You could say that.” He nearly purred, and a quiet laughter escaped me.

“Mr Tough Guy vying for a vacation.” I teased, nose crinkling slightly.

“Figured we earned it after that.” He dismissed. My smile almost fell, but I forced it back. I wouldn’t let the memory of what had almost happened darken my excitement.

“How long were you thinking?” I asked, voice quieting slightly. He seemed to hesitate before answering.

“Figure we can leave if we get bored sooner, but… I booked a place for a month.” There was an uncertainty in his voice that I’d focus on soon, but… a month. He shifted slightly beneath my stare. “Never had more than a few days between missions,” He explained stiffly, “Thought I’d see what the fuss was about.” A month. No jobs, no fights. Just a month on Alderaan. With him. I thought my heart was going to tear through my chest.

“And what if it spoils you?” I asked coyly, a cheeky grin stretching across my lips. He cocked an eyebrow and glanced sideways at me. “What if you find you like that life so much, you never want to go back?”

“Then I’ll extend the rental.” He replied blankly, earning a fresh huff of laughter from me. I let myself lean back, gaze turning blindly to the blurs of hyperspace before me.

-

The breath caught in my throat as his hand crept up my side, fire seeping through my flesh in the wake of his lingering touch. I could taste the heat of him filling the air between us and let myself reach for him, fingers roaming up the sweeping planes of his tone chest, over the taut ridges of muscled shoulders, core igniting at the heat of bare skin pressing against mine. Letting one arm lock around my hips, holding me tightly against him, his other hand slid up my neck, clawing into my hair. I felt the eagerness of him, heard the tension in his faltering breaths as he strained for control; felt the paltry breadth of distance between us as I felt myself stretching up to find him, breath catching in a whimper as I breathed his name, and I burned beneath him. I needed to feel him against me; my hands on his chest, my legs around his hips.

Alya. My name on his lips. Alya, come on… open your eyes. His lips on

“Need to wake up.” My eyes flew open, chest trembling beneath rushed breaths, skin damp with sweat, and, when I saw him, when those weary golden eyes met mine in the darkness, I couldn’t help but gasp, shying further into the arm wrapped around my shoulder as though those few inches would erase the lingering heat from that dream. Instantly, he pulled away, straining to create some hint of distance between us.

“Just a nightmare, Alya.” He murmured, all weariness fleeing him. Lip caught between my teeth, I had to turn away, the memory of his touch still echoing over my skin, straining to force myself under control, to breathe. “Alya?” I couldn’t help but flinch, too eager to hear my name on his lips again… but the horror that stole over him left me floundering.

“Was it… was it about me?” He barely managed to whisper the words. I don’t think I’d ever seen that kind of raw hurt in his eyes before… not without a careful layer of anger, disinterest. No, this was just hurt. “I…” His lips shifted wordlessly, pulling even further from me, and my heart dropped.

“N- wait… wait.” I pleaded, letting myself turn into him. He didn’t move, body so impossibly still as he waited for me to touch him. I tried to speak, tried to form the words as my hands trembled in the miniscule space between us.

“It… was…” My fingers slipped over his jaw. “It was… about you.” I finally breathed, gaze locked on his as confusion settled over his face. My thumb trailed over the ridge of his cheekbone. “But it wasn’t a nightmare.” His frown deepened, struggling to make sense of my words, before his expression finally went blank. He didn’t move; didn’t speak, eyes burring into mine.

“Cross?” I felt so small suddenly, his name slipping from my lips in something too near a whimper, body trembling ever so faintly as I waited for some manner of response… some sign of what he was thinking.

Slowly, so impossibly slowly, his hands crept over mine, gaze never fleeing mine. Without a word, he leaned forward, and when his lips finally danced against mine I felt my heart lurch into my chest, fire tearing through me with such force, it wrenched a near silent sob of relief from my throat. So slowly, he kissed me, as though waiting for me to pull away, certain I’d refuse him if he but breathed too quickly, but I couldn’t think how to reassure him, body alight and stunned and desperate for every second of his touch.

His fingers slipped through mine, clutching my hands against him as his body swelled with a slow, deep breath, and I couldn’t silence the wisp of a moan from catching in my throat. As though that tiny sound had finally given him permission, he let himself reach for me, hands sliding up my arms, around my shoulders, tugging me closer to him. My fingers slipped through the soft velvet of his hair, lips parting as I begged him to kiss me deeper. Without hesitation, he slid his tongue against mine, wrenching another moan from me as that heat burst through my core.

I let my hands drag down his chest, savoring every shift of those powerful muscles as he pulled me closer, one arm looping beneath my head while his other locked around my back. My touch trailed lower, feeling the coiled muscles over his ribs seize with each stolen breath, fingers dancing against his spine as he slowly leaned over me, thrilled to find me all too eager to feel his weight press me into the mattress. Lower. I tugged impatiently at the bottom of his shirt, desperate for the heat of his skin against mine.

Panting, he pulled back, gazing at me drunkenly as his mouth worked silently over unspoken words for several seconds before letting his tongue dart over his lips. I felt myself reach for him, abs tensing to taste those lips once more, but forced myself to wait.

“Is this what you want?” He finally gasped. Jaw going taut as soon as the question escaped him. I could have sobbed from the warmth that shot through my chest. Nodding, I let myself lean up, lips locked into a smile as I kissed him. The air left him in something near a growl, movements growing almost frantic for the few seconds he let himself kiss me back before pressing his forehead to mine, forcing some whisper of air between us.

“Say it.” He nearly growled, pulling back enough to find my eyes once more. His hand reached up to brush over my cheek as I fought to remember how to speak, and I couldn’t help but melt into his touch.

“Yes.” I finally breathed. “Crosshair… yes… yes… I want this – I want you.” Instantly, his lips crashed against mine, tongue hot and desperate and torturous, forcing a whimper from me as I pulled once more at his shirt. That growl caught in his throat as he leaned back onto his knees just long enough to wrench his shirt over his head, launching it thoughtlessly across the room before he was on me again.

That split second I saw him, the way his muscles rippled from that simple, rushed movement left me writhing, legs shifting eagerly beneath him as a desperate moan caught in my throat, vanishing against his lips. My hands roamed greedily over his exposed skin, delighting in the scolding heat burning against me.

“Wanna see you.” He snarled, hand dragging down my side, pausing against my hip to let his thumb slip under my shirt. The fresh burst of desperation from his touch wrenched a fresh moan from me, and I had to remember how to nod; how to breathe.

“Please… fuck, Cross, please.” I gasped, hands clinging to him for a moment longer before reaching for my shirt, but he was already pulling at the buttons with an impatience I knew too well. Scowling, he glanced down for a mere heartbeat before wrenching it open, deaf to the clatter of metal scattering to the floor. And I couldn’t help but laugh, torso arching up against him, eagerly hunting his lips before letting my kiss trail down to his jaw as he focused on guiding my arms from the sleeve; his neck, savoring the feel of his pulse beneath my tongue, my teeth, body nearly caving from the low grown that rippled through his chest. He wrenched me against him, arms pulling me up to kneel before him as he wrestled with the fabric. A gasp tore through me from the flush of lust violently twisting and churning in me anew at the feel of his bare torso against mine.

Shirt abandoned to some nonexistent corner, he let his hands slide up my hips, my stomach and ribs, back around my shoulders until they tangled into my hair, forcing my lips back to his. I didn’t hesitate as he eased me back once more, body all too eager to obey his every hinted desire as he laid me down against the mattress. He didn’t wait before letting his lips roam, taking his time to press soft kisses against my cheek, my forehead, hands cradling my jaw, lips following down my hair line. I nearly cried out as his teeth snapped so carefully at the soft skin just beneath my ear, desperation growing, hands clawing at his back as shuttered breaths caught between my teeth.

“Tell me you want this.” He ordered again, voice almost hoarse. A moan sobbed from me as his tongue dragged against my throat before he sucked the skin gently between his teeth.

“I want this.” I whimpered. “Fuck, I want you, Cross… Please… ple” His hips ground against me, wrenching the air from my lungs in a desperate cry, arms locking around his shoulders as my back arched into him. Again, his teeth snapped at me, harder, nearly breaking me as every gasp left in a whimper, begging for him. I wanted to sob when his mouth abandoned my neck, kissing down my chest as his hands encircled my waist.

“Fu- ah… Cross…” The heat of his mouth hovered over my nipple, just letting his heavy breaths wash over it as he looked up at me, my arms locked around his head. His lips only just twitched up in a smirk as his tongue finally slid against that eager flesh, ruining me as I trapped him against my chest, head slamming back into the mattress, as my back arched, heels dragging absently atop the sheets. The instant I felt his hands shift to ease the fabric from my waist, I eager raised my hips to help him.

“Good girl.” He murmured against me, eyes dark as they took in how easily I came undone beneath his touch, tongue returning to torture my breast for just a moment longer before shifting to taste my ribs, my stomach as he pulled the shorts down my hips, my thighs, revealing just how desperate I was for him. He left one more kiss along the crest of my hip before pulling away. He dropped my shorts thoughtless as he stepped back, eyes devouring my exposed form.

Jaw parted, torso rocking with desperate breaths, I could only stare at him. Even in the dark, the play of muscles beneath lightly marred skin as he stood over me left me throbbing, begging for him to touch me as I looked up into the rich honey of his eyes to find him staring right back at me.

“So fucking beautiful.” The words sighed almost silently from him. Still, it washed over me like silk and, when his hand finally reached for me, when that feather-light touch finally whispered over my hip, up my stomach, fingers sliding between my breasts, up my throat; my jaw; when he held me like that, like I was the most precious thing he’d ever seen, it left me breathless. His thumb brushed against my lower lip like I was made of glass, half-lidded eyes studying my every movement, jaw tensing in anticipation as I opened my mouth, shifting just enough to hide the tip behind my lips, tongue sliding against his skin. His teeth snapped together, air fleeing him in a sharp, muffled groan.

I let my fingers whisper around his wrist, holding him against me as I slowly pushed myself up, slipping from the mattress to stand just in front of him as I sucked his thumb deeper into my mouth, eyes never leaving his. Scowl twitching over his lips, he slid his hands into my hair, drawing my lips back to his. I welcomed the kiss; needed it as though it were the only thing keeping my heart beating, savoring his taste even as my hands slid down the dancing muscles of his stomach before grasping at his pants. His kiss didn’t waver as I tugged at the fabric, effortlessly releasing the clasp with one hand, the other already pushing the fabric from his hips.

The growl that tore through his chest when I first touched him sent an inferno raging through every fiber of my being; burning, desperate. Wrist twisting slightly, I wrapped my hand around him, let my fingers treasure the heat of velvet skin around the throbbing length, memorizing that look on his face, head craning back as he merely allowed himself to become a slave to the sensations, expression twisted into something so near pain, hands clutching onto me; my hair; my shoulder, chest jolting beneath broken gasps.

The need in his eyes when he finally looked back at me left my knees weak. That growl still rumbling from his chest, he threw himself back at my lips, pushing me back until I collapsed against the bed once more, releasing him in that split second of falling. Before I could think to reach for him again, his fingers slid up my thigh, and nothing existed beyond that touch. His mouth slid back against my throat. He slowed just before he reached me, wrenching a desperate whimper from my lips.

“Please… Cross-Crosshair, please,” I begged, one hand locked around his shoulder while the other clawed through his hair. I could feel the smile on his lips as he finally touched me. A violent, desperate moan tore from my throat, mind vanishing beyond the gentle movement of those fingers as he toyed with me, sliding just between my lips. Slowly dragging over that impossibly sensitive mound before continuing along the throbbing flesh, skin already slick with my need as he worked his way back up to rub gently against my clit.

“Look at me.” He growled, movements never slowing. Body nearly shivering beneath his touch, I forced myself to open my eyes, to search for him. As soon as I found those eyes, saw the hunger in them, the lust, he slipped a finger inside me, and I sobbed beneath the violent wave of relief and need and pleasure that rippled up my core, gooseflesh dancing across my skin. I couldn’t help but writhe against him, thighs locking around his wrist even as every muscle begged for more. He toyed with me for mere seconds before slipping another finger in, and I collapsed to the mattress, pleasure bursting through me in waves.

“Look at me.” He ordered again, emphasizing it with a flick of his thumb over my clit and wrenching a sharp cry from me. Again, I forced my eyes open, instantly finding him. He began pumping into me, thumb continuing to work over that wretched bundle of nerves, sending a delicious need through me.

“Good.” He praised as I struggled to keep my gaze locked on him. Faster.

“Crosshair.” I whimpered, body growing violently desperate, nerves beginning to panic.

“You know how fucking good my name sounds on your lips?” He snarled, forcing himself even faster. My feet scraped against the mattress, back arching, coiled, pressure locking my muscles.

“Cro-Crosshair, I can’t… I… fuck, I can’t,” Words, whimpers, pleas gasped from me, “Cro-Crosshair!” His name screamed from my lips as that tension finally boiled over, rippling up my body in ecstasy even as I strained to escape him. His mouth locked over mine, devouring my whimpers as I seized against him; against the now gentle, slow thrusting of his hand, each careful movement just enough to reignite that mind-consuming dance of fire beneath my skin, until I was trembling, gasping against him, and he finally stilled.

“Do you still want this?” He asked, face hidden against my neck. Wrong. Something about how he asked felt wrong. Limbs still shaking, I reached for him, hands sliding over his cheeks to ease his gaze back to mine.

“You.” I corrected before even realizing what that wrongness was. “I want you.” Something in him seemed to quiet, and there was something so perfectly right about it. “I want you, Crosshair.” Without giving him a change to respond, I pulled him back against me, moaning eagerly at his taste. I leaned back, easing him down with me. He didn’t hesitate, hand slipping from between my legs as he rolled overtop of me.

I felt the dew of sweat beading against his chest, felt the incredible care governing his every movement as my thighs tightened eagerly around his hips. And, when he finally touched me, head just brushing against me, my back arched with a fresh whimper, hands almost clawing at him as my hips tilted desperately to meet him.

“Please,” I whispered between kisses, “Please, Crosshair,” words tangling between gasped breaths, “fuck, I need you… please.” He pulled back enough to look in my eyes, to see the raw truth in my words, and he slowly pushed into me. My jaw fell open in a gasp, that burst of nerves again rippling through every inch of my body. My teeth clicked together against a twinge of pain, flesh stretching around him, and he froze.

“Alya?” The worry in his voice, how gently he called me… I wasn’t expecting that, heart bursting as I looked up at him, emotions roiling from the ecstasy still coursing through my veins, I couldn’t but stare, tears burning as they pooled in my eyes. Something like horror crossed his face and he started to pull back, sending a surge of panic through me.

“Wait!” I gasped, hands darting to his jaw, fingers whispering over his cheeks. “It’s alright… I’m alright.” I promised, a soft smile pulling at my lips. “It’s alright.” I whispered again, already desperate to taste him once more. “Cross,” I breathed against his lips, “Crosshair, don’t stop.” I sighed, begging him to kiss me. Muscles seizing, he lost himself in my lips, hesitating only until another moaned “please” escaped me before pushing against me once more. My body shook with a violent gasp, nerves alighting from the perfect fullness.

Panting, he hid against my neck, clinging to me in his desperate attempt to maintain some degree of restraint as he slowly pulled out before burying himself even deeper inside me, movements slow, precise. Still, my back arched into him, whimper choking in my throat, hand burying itself in his hair. Again, he paused, face nuzzling against me, lips kissing absently against that sensitive skin.

“Please,” I sobbed, “Cross, please don’t stop… don’t stop…” His chest bucked and his lips found mine, only whispering against me.

“Don’t want to hurt you.” He breathed, hiding from the very threat of the words as he kissed me with a tenderness that left me reeling. Thumb brushing along his cheekbone, I tried to guide his gaze to mine, but, brows knit together, he turned purposefully away, jaw taut.

“Hey.” I whispered, taking the opportunity to lay my lips against his forehead, his cheeks, his lips until he finally looked at me. “I’m alright.” I promised once more. “I’ll tell you if I need you to stop.” My thumb trailed over his lips. “So please… Crosshair, please… I want you.” I started to kiss him again but held myself back.

“Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you ask for it.” He murmured, and I couldn’t help but beam at him. Movements still slow, controlled, he pulled out again, eyes once more studying me before pushing back into me. Gasping, I let my head sink against his neck. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, holding me against him as he fell into a tantalizingly slow rhythm, each thrust getting slightly deeper. Deeper. I could feel the nerves panicking. My hand locked around his hip terrified he’d stop even as I found myself terrified that he’d keep going; that he’d tear right through me.

“F… f-fuck…” I whimpered, spine arching into him. A grunt caught in his throat, and I felt that control finally begin to slip, getting just that much faster. My other hand darted to the sheets, fingers clinging to the soft fabric, hips rocking up to meet him even as that fear told me to run, that I couldn’t handle it; that it was too much, but that fear only made the promise of pleasure so much more potent. His hand found mine, untangling my fingers from the sheets to twine them through his own before locking my hand above my head.

“Cross!” His name tore from me in a gasp as he ground just that much deeper, thighs locking around his hips.

“Fuck, Alya… Keep saying my name.” He growled, hand tightening almost painfully around mine. My nails dug into his waist, nerves coiling, tightening from his every thrust.

“C-Crosshair, don’t… don’t stop,” I gasped. “Please… please don’t s…” I whimpered. Tighter. “Cross, I c- I can’t…” Sensing the panic seething through frantic nerves, he suddenly doubled his pace, each thrust sending bursts of fire up my spine, hips finally slamming fully into mine as he forced the entirety of his length into me. Abandoning his waist, my arm darted around his shoulder, desperate for something solid as my body seized on the verge of shattering beneath him, every gasp leaving in a rabid cry. Tighter. I was going to break.

“Cross, I can’t, I-fuck, fuck!” I sobbed. A violent cry erupted from me as I finally snapped, arms going numb, fingertips tingling as that wave of fire poured through me. Abandoning my hand, he gripped my hip with enough force to leave bruises, movements growing desperate as he rocked me even harder against him. My chest slammed into him, back arching violently, body panicking beneath screaming nerves even as my arms locked him against me begging for more. His movements grew desperate, face tucked into my neck as something like a whimper of his own caught in his throat. My hands clawed through his hair, every thrust forcing a fresh cry from my lips; too much. Too much. Nearly sobbing, I cried his name, begging for something I couldn’t name.

With a sharp, almost pained gasp, he wrenched himself out of me, body seizing for a few seconds longer before going still beyond the unsteady, shuttered gasps. Chest bucking beneath lungs starving for some taste of air, I could only hide beneath him, arms still clinging to his shoulders as my muscles tried to remember how to loosen. Hand slowly shifting from my hip, he pushed himself up onto his elbow, just lessening the weight of him against me. With only the sound of uneven breaths filling the room, he touched his cheek to mine, pausing a moment before he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just beneath my ear, shifting almost lazily along my jaw, up my cheeks, delicately touching both of my eyelids, my forehead, before finally claiming my lips once more.

Even through the exhaustion weighing down on me, I lit up beneath that touch, hands eagerly reaching to cup his cheeks, fingers just whispering into his hair before sliding down his jaw as though that might keep him against me for just a moment longer before he finally pulled back, forehead resting gently against mine.

“Are you alright?” He breathed, refusing to look at me once more.

“Mhm.” I hummed absently with a weak nod, wanting nothing more than to sink into the mattress, hidden against his warmth, but that wasn’t enough. He slid his arm from behind my head and carefully caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my gaze to his.

“Are you alright?” He asked again, and again I found myself smiling, fingers absently roaming over the sharp planes of his face for the sheer joy of touch.

“I’m fine, Cross.” I whispered, a small chuckle catching in my throat. His thumb shifted to wipe at the line of tears that had fallen from my eyes, and my grin grew. Without another word, I leaned up to steal just one more kiss before letting myself slip boneless to the mattress. When I looked back up at him, my heart skipped at the sight of that tiny smile on his lips. With a sigh, he settled beside me, arms absently pulling me to his chest as he buried his face in my hair. Warm. Safe. Like nothing else could possibly matter. Bliss. I felt bliss as I laid against him.

“We should clean up.” He sighed against my scalp, and I couldn’t help but pout slightly. The instant I heard that quiet chuckle ripple through his chest, I knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do to hear him laugh forever. “Come on.” He pressed, propping himself up on an elbow once more. “Think you can stand?” I pretended to debate it a moment before peaking at that still smirking face, and unable to fight back the grin, shook my head. He let out a forced sigh and slipped out from under me.

"Suit yourself." He called over his shoulder, started toward the door.

“Hey!” I tried to shout, but the effect was lost in the laughter I couldn’t quite bite back. Before I’d begun to push myself up, however, his arms slipped beneath me, hoisting me to his chest. That laughter escaped me anew, hands eagerly sliding around his shoulders and neck as he carried me through the ship. I scattered kisses absently over his neck and cheek as he walked, occasionally catching another taste of his lips until we finally stood in the shower.

Arm tightening around my shoulders, he gently set my legs down. I held my own weight for barely a second before my knees tried to cave. Instantly, he wrenched me against his chest, hesitating at the lingering giggle as I tried to convince the muscles to work. He let out a quiet scoff, lips resting briefly against my hair before letting me stand on my own as he turned on the water.

Neither of us said a word as the hot water washed over us. Twice, he lost himself against me, arms eagerly holding my bare form flush against him as he tasted my lips, and I readily gave in each time, nearly willing to take him once more despite the lingering ache, but he merely kissed me before turning back to guiding soap over my body. I kissed him as I worked his shampoo into a lather, hands incapable of leaving his body for more than a few seconds before searching for him again.

“Need to swap the sheets.” He mumbled against my lips as the water stopped. I hummed absently, sinking back into his touch thoughtless. That chuckle rumbled through his chest, and I felt the tremble it sent shooting down my spine. “Finish up. Then you can join me.” He added with a final kiss. I briefly tried to follow him but paused. Reluctantly, I spent a few more needed minutes in the privy before allowing myself to retreat back to his warmth.

The room appeared as though nothing had happened, but, if I looked for it, I could still catch the feral scent. Shooting him a shy grin, I slipped beneath the covers, perfectly aware that he’d stared at my exposed body the entire time. Warm. Instantly, I sank back into that perfect bliss as he pulled me to his chest. Heart flooding with affection, I nuzzled gently against him before settling in to sleep.

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[horrorknife]

here it is yall. the famed mary and james tumblr essay that i keep talking about doing

i’m gonna break this up into chunks because it’s just. easier for me to think that way. also wrote this in one sitting so im really sorry if some of it is grammatically horrific or phrased weirdly lol

part 1: james and misogyny

so first off, yes, james’ misogyny is prevalent and actually a bit of a theme throughout the game--this mostly manifests as his struggle with his sexual frustration (as the meme goes). it’s so potent that people who don’t even know anything about silent hill know that a theme of sh2 is sexual frustration.

looking at the bubble head nurses and mannequins, we can see that james’ sexual frustration may have led him to fantasize about the nurses tending to mary. the mannequins are just two sets of legs put together at the hips, which suggests that james sees women only as sex objects. whether or not he was always like this is uncertain, though i believe these thoughts were always present in the back of his mind since...i mean he’s living life as a white man somewhere between the 70′s and 80′s.

more misogyny springs up with maria’s appearance. maria looks facially identical to mary, but she’s got a less conservative hairstyle and shows much more skin, complete with a tattoo on the exposed skin of her stomach. i find maria’s sexualization to be the most in-your-face of all of these examples, simply because her colors are so loud compared to literally everything else in the game--it really gives you the feel that, before all else, james wants to have sex with his wife. this idealized version of her that silent hill provides to him is what he wants from mary. we don’t know much about their marriage prior to the game’s events or mary’s sickness, but it’s possible that she was once a lot more sexually present. i believe this to be true simply based on the fact that their relationship is described as being “very intense” in the first few years before plateauing into a normal, homey love.

part 2: did james really love mary?

of course james loved mary! everything that happens in the game suggests that james loves his wife more than anything. i don’t believe that their relationship was ever onesided or abusive prior to mary’s sickness, and even then, i strongly hesitate to use the word “abusive” in reference to their relationship at any point.

anyway--james’ devotion to mary is the driving force of the game. as far as we know until the end, james got a letter from mary, who has been “dead for 3 years”. when angela tells him that the town is dangerous, james’ response is that he doesn’t really care that it’s dangerous. from what the player knows, james has fallen into a depression so deep that he is passively suicidal and without hope for pretty much anything. the mere possibility of seeing his dead wife is all the excuse he needs to thrust himself into the pits of hell, because that would make any suffering at all worth it.

i would say that, in my personal opinion, the most damning evidence to prove that james loves mary is the fact that he was so distraught by what he did to her that he became delusional to the point of driving back to their beloved vacation spot in the hopes that he would see her again. he has her body in the back seat of his car and is so horrified by what he’s done that he forces himself to forget.

part 3: if james loved mary, why would he kill her?

okay. now we’re getting into the meat of this. i’ve seen people argue that james couldn’t possibly have loved mary because he killed her. this take is problematic because it completely disregards all of the onscreen evidence that suggests the complete opposite. is james a horrible person for murdering his wife? YES! is that what you are supposed to understand about him? YES! silent hill, and pyramid head in specific, is literally punishing him for his sins. pyramid head is a product of his own desire to be punished for his actions, which he realizes at the end of the game.

so, why does james kill mary? let’s dissect the complete situation first.

part 3 part 1: mary’s sickness

silent hill 2 does something very effective (at least in my opinion) by putting you in the shoes of someone who is watching a loved one die in real time from a terminal illness. despite james’ unforgivable actions, the player gets a very close and personal look at what he was going through while watching his wife wither away. james indicates to us that he did as much research as he possibly could about what could possibly be wrong with mary, to no avail.

it’s implied that james stopped visiting as frequently and instead turned to drinking. we’re allowed to overhear mary’s end of a conversation from when he visits, bringing her a bouquet of flowers. mary, at this point, is convinced that she is ugly and unlovable, and above all else, is suffering through a disease that is killing her. she’s frustrated and upset, shouting at james to leave, get out of here, don’t look at her, etc. i’ve seen people reference this as abusive behavior, which, like i said before, is something i hesitate to call it. this is typical behavior from someone who is dying. it doesn’t justify her treating him poorly, but i don’t think james is mary’s victim at all. i don’t think james sees it that way, either--he knows she’s suffering. directly after this, we hear mary break down and apologize. she tells james that she wants to die, for her pain to end, etc, and then quickly takes it back, because as any sick person would be, she is having a very complicated relationship with her mortality.

part 3 part 2: mary’s death

james kills mary when she is allowed to come live at home for a few days because she is clearly nearing the end of her life. james kills her via suffocation with a pillow, directly after kissing her on the forehead. at the end of the game, when james is speaking with mary, he first says that he killed her because he wanted her to be free of her illness, and then backtracks and says that, no, it’s because he despised her and wanted his life back. mary (who is not actually mary, remember, but james’ projection of her) responds by saying something along the lines of, “if that’s true, then why are you so sad?”

since we understand that this is not james and mary conversing, we know that this is an internal conflict that james is resolving by talking it out with his approximation of mary. james’ resentment for mary is not deep; it’s quite common for these feelings to arise in people who have to watch their significant other die when they can do nothing about it. i don’t read this as resentment specifically for mary, rather a frustration with the entire situation that ends up seeing its fruition in the only place it possibly can: the person causing the pain. he can’t be angry at something intangible, so he ends up feeling angry with mary.

this is as true as it is that he also wanted mary to be relieved of her suffering. james did not have one singular reason for murdering mary--he had justified it to himself as both of them getting relief. in the end, this clearly wasn’t what he wanted, but it does speak volumes to his desperation that he actually went through with it. i don’t believe that he thought this would solve anything; i don’t think it was even premeditated. it’s presented to the player that he just wanted both of them to stop going through what they were going through.

james’ instant horror at his own actions (the ultimate betrayal of his wife, the murder of another human being, and the intrinsic selfishness of the act) speaks volumes to me from a character standpoint. i’m not sure how people are able to miss this, but then again, *gestures to the silent hill fanbase*

btw, i wasn’t sure where to fit this in, but mary’s up and downs are clearly reflected in maria, based on how her attitude fluctuates so intensely with james.

anyway: james’ love for mary is ultimately what ended up killing her, because it became unsustainable the worse her situation got. i think it’s worth pointing out that despite everything, james never cheated on her (as far as we are told--though i think if he had done this, it would have been seen or mentioned in the game). also, please don’t come away from this with the idea that i’m defending james, because i’m not--i just think that he actually has a lot of depth and he gets very one-dimensionalized by fans! james isn’t innocent, he’s a horrible person who let his love warp him into a toxic, angry person. this can coexist with the fact that he loved his wife beyond all measure!!!!

i’m not super sure on how to wrap this up but this is...most of my thoughts on their relationship. it’s skewed towards james just because we don’t have too much of an idea of what mary was like but i will defend her with my life because this woman was not abusive, she was fucking dying and lonely. honestly i could say a lot about her, laura, and james as a group but i feel like that’s probably suitable for another post sometime. :-)

[hey-sherry]

Act VIII Ending this... SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

Let's save the world \o/

(acting chipper, but I am writing this after finishing the game and haha I AM NOT OKAY)

Puzzle solving with Watson, weee! The PoV switching was fun, I loved their banter, I wish Watson had actually kicked me, poking fun at all of the tomb raiding from two British men was fun fun fun.

The cave labyrinth - so creepy. We got so much distressed Sherlock in this one, poor guy! And yeah, he died once because I insisted on exploring... as I said, we ignore the main objective in this house.

This was such a haunting moment, and we could maybe stretch it into Sherlock's disdain for the solar system...

I was so distraught in the moment, I didn't even notice the SHOULDER GRAB we've all been waiting for. Well! We love a good parallel, yes good good.

My beautiful mad boy. I had to laugh out loud when he chastised Watson for killing the man - after I watched Sherlock die three times in a row because I can't aim to save my life.

Big "For me, it's always like this" moment imo, especially after looking at the Void painting. (Will I ever stop drawing parallels between Silent Hill 2 and every other game I see? No. It's good!!)

This happened BACK TO BACK, what perfect timing! My beautiful pure perfect boy. I miss him so much. :'(

UM!!! Screaming inside.

Nothing like a gritty, bloody Holmes and a complete madman having a dialogue battle in a raging storm. I selected the wrong answers a few times just to see what happens, which brings us to... a problem:

This. This, a QTE in the year of the Lord two thousand and twenty-three, dampened SO much of my feelings and enjoyment for the final moments of this game. It wasn't fun, it didn't make me feel smart or scared for Sherlock or... anything. It took me out of the whole thing and reminded me that, yeah, I am playing a videogame. Introducing a new gaming mechanic (a widely disliked one at that) at the very end of the game is the real insanity here. I'm really disappointed by this.

The beam puzzle itself was fine and I had fun figuring out where to point the beams. Just not the crowd part.

I will not mention that other game I love to draw parallels to, but I did think of it. A bit too on the nose this time, mayhaps!

This poor man :'(

I could be posting screenshots of the dialogue all day, really - so many famous quotes, references, all the while making it very clear about a cycle that repeats itself, ha.

OOF.

Yeah, so.

We have to talk.

About being lulled into a sense of safety.

Before everything you think you know and believe about people gets flipped upside down.

Because...

WHAT THE FUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK

????????????????????

My friends, the way my jaw fucking dropped. I-- Watson-- WHAT????

This game was dark enough as it is, well - expectedly. This, however, I did not expect in the slightest (I don't think ANY of us did). This is so bloody dark?!

So, I half expected Sherlock's addiction to be mentioned in the beginning of TA - in the 2008 game he is just kinda melancholy, in Chapter One the 7% solution is presented by Vogel, so I think most of us assumed he used it at some point after Cordona to cope with all the stuff - but then it just wasn't. Instead he used Watson's syringes as pins. If this is meant to be how the addiction actually starts, then I really don't know what to think of it.

The implications are really dark.

I need another game.

[vocalintel]

Top Ten Gougars of All Time

I don't know how to explain the complicated linguistic evolution of slang in a Discord server but I know that it is very much akin to how salamanders in underground cave systems turn white and lose their eyes, hyperspecializing to an ecological niche to the point that they are destroyed when agricultural runoff pollutes their primordial cave water. Anyway basically we have ended up referring to a specific class of horror movie guy as a gougar, and in the interest of using this term in further posts I will give examples of some of our favorites.

10. That weird little baby from Phenomena

Argento apparently thinks of Phenomena as one of his best films, and I kind of don't. I think it was like highkey kind of ableist as a matter of fact. But the part at the end when they're fighting on that boat and he's trying to GET Jennifer Connelly with his little knife-on-a-stick contraption is funny to me.

9. The Byebye Man

Do people still think the Byebye Man is funny? I know it was a huge meme on here when it came out. Am I old now? Anyway I'm really fascinated by how absolutely terrible this film was, down to the minutiae. If it came out today I would accuse it of having an AI generated script. I would like to give a shoutout to Mr. Byebye's pet dog that's made of hamburger for some reason.

8. Snake Woman

I know she's from a manga but bear with me. This bitch is fucking fiendish. She's actually scary. I think if I was like a little 6-7 year old girl and this thing showed up pretending to be my mom I would have nightmares about it for the rest of my life. Therapy could NOT fix that.

7. This Specific Halloween Prop

Yes I know it's the image from The Russian Sleep Experiment. Yes I know The Russian Sleep Experiment sucks and isn't even scary. That does not change the fact that this thing is freaky as hell. It does all the heavy lifting for that shit ass story. There are very few creepypasta jpegs that are still unsettling outside of their original 2000s imageboard context and this is one of them.

6. Mr. Boogie

I like the first Sinister movie, my friends seem to hate it, life goes on. However, we can all agree that Mr. Boogie (née Baguul) is an iconic gougar. The only reason he's not higher on this list is that his competition is so stacked against him. We're getting into the real heavy hitters.

5. Newt Gingrich's wife

:(

4. Mesmer

Cure is one of the best films of all time and if you haven't seen it you need to go watch it right now. This guy doesn't show up in person once in the whole fucking movie and he's still like one of the most earth-shatteringly creepy gougars ever written. It's like a yuri of absence thing. Horror vacui.

3. The Fucked up Guy From Possession

This thing turns into a real(ish) guy later but holy fuck, when it first shows up. It's like a cross between a dick and a hammerhead shark with John Carpenter Silent Hill textures. It's so, so viscerally unpleasant. We weren't expecting it either, because the film hadn't had any shit like this right up until you get full frontal with it. Isabelle Adjani has sex with it. To each their own.

2. Pazuzu

So the demonic entity in The Exorcist wasn't like actually onscreen or named until the disastrously terrible second film, but then in the 'Director's Cut' edition of the original, they added in these blink-and-you'll-miss-it cutaways to this dude in vaguely expressionist white face paint. Due to RedLetterMedia's lambasting of the "I am... Pazuzu!" scene from Exorcist II, he has become a permanent fixture in our collective horror schema. Every time anything even vaguely scary happens, whether in a game or a movie or perhaps my house, it gets blamed on Pazuzu. Often we mock terrible horror writing/jumpscares by saying it was Pazuzu. At this point he's just a guy we hang out with.

Dr. Freudstein

I don't even want to mock Dr. Freudstein because he literally is just one of the most disgusting, unsettling horror villains I have ever encountered. The only time I have ever been actually nauseous while watching a film was because of him. I cannot think of a more iconic guy. Fuck Freddy, fuck Jason, there is nothing in any of their films even half as scary as when Dr. Freudstein starts cry-mewling like a little baby. This guy was in someone's basement! He could be in your basement! Fulci is a genius for making someone (something?) so creepy.

[gggoldfinch]

Alright, for the 'Be Nosy' thing: 2, 8, 11, 24 and 50. Hopefully this helps you stay awake a bit!

BE NOSY asks

2. What are you obsessed with right now?

I'm currently going fucking insane about Fargo season 5 & the new blorbo who stole my heart (said blorbo being Ole Munch) uwu I love him,..,,, my little freaky guy,,,

8. What’s your favorite show to binge?

omg I have a couple trustworthy binge-shows that I always come back to. The Walking Dead, Breaking Bad, and The Umbrella Academy are the first ones that pop into mind, as they're the ones I rewatch/ binge most frequently. For reference, I've watched the first 4 seasons of TWD about 6 times, Breaking Bad 2 times fully, and specifically season 2 of TUA probably upwards of 10 times 😁

11. If you could teleport anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?

answered here!

24. What are three places you want to travel?

OMGGG I want to travel so bad aaaghhhgh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! First on my future travel itinerary are the British Isles (yes yes I'm cheating and not counting them separately BUT I want to go to all of them so fucking bad!! cries) !!!!! I'm hoping that'll happen someday soon, but idk. Immediately following the Isles, I'd love to see Germany and Italy. My archeology prof is always flexing the places he's been to/ taught at/ excavated/ lived at around Italy and it's been making me jealous asf lmao

50. What’s your favorite kind of weather?

Super specific, but I love when it's rainy in the autumn, but not fully raining, just lightly misting or just super foggy. The leaves on the ground are rich and damp, and the lichen on the darkened tree trunks is vibrant and pale, and everything smells like petrichor and rot, and it's cool but not uncomfortably chilly. Sometimes it's like this in the winter around here too. Oh god. I love fog. I would totally get lost in Silent Hill looking at the scenery

[madamemimic]

pisses me off to no end when i watch a “deep and introspective and in-depth” silent hill 2 analysis and they only refer to maria as a seductress who acts irrational and manic and only serves to tempt james sexually and like no!!! she is more than that!!! id be pissed off too if i almost died and the only other person thats with me in this awful fucked up town went “oh ok. anyway”

yes she is a manifestation of what james wishes his wife could have been. but that doesnt mean she isnt a character in her own right! shes not a villain!

[yanderes-galore]

Okay, here's some questions before the request week:

1) Is it okay to send more James Sunderland requests 🥺, I really enjoyed the one you wrote

2) Are AU requests allowed? (ex: character X as a Vampire)

3) On the topic of Resident Evil, are games like Outbreak and Gun Survivor available for requests? Are you familiar with them?

4) Cookie run requests are for Kingdom exclusive characters or are you familiar with the cookies from Ovenbreak?

5) Does God of War refer to the original games or the one from 2018? (Also is Ragnarok available for requests?)

6) For Assassin's Creed, are there specific games you're familiar with or are all games available?

7) Evil Within, are you familiar with both games or just the first one?

8) For Puss in Boots and HTTYD, is only the movie versions available or are you familiar with the series too?

Sorry for so many questions! Just want to know stuff beforehand 😅

1.) Sure! Specify Silent Hill or DBD universe :)

2.) Yes!

3.) I'm just doing main series-ish (0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, Code Veronica, Revelations 1+2, Chronicles)

4.) Kingdom and Ovenbreak work

5.) 2018 and Ragnarok primarily, older games work too

6.) All games.

7.) Both work.

8.) The movies I guess...?

It's fine! I'm open for questions!

[randomclam24]

I don't know what to do with myself anymore.

For now, I'm writing out everything diligently, be it homework so I can focus properly or other texts.

I don't know what it is. Finding out the average amount of alcohol by volume people keep even as a long-term storage amount and the level of spiciness people in general will actually put up with

So the matters they consider important are also very important, yes?

In general, the sheer difference in spiciness in whether or not you leave in the seeds with jalapeno peppers or not already serves as a deterrent to newcomers. If you're just a kid, and you eat something with the jalapeno seeds cooked into it, it's like you're dying.

I don't know that it would help my case, but in a lot of cases I want to vent just like anybody else, except that doesn't match up with the sheer intensity of what I'm saying

Just take this with a grain of salt? No, that's not going to get me out of trouble

I spoke my mind because, as ghost says it, I'm a Republican and don't care if anybody thinks I'm racist, which is what's hurting the party Virtually zombified boomer take

I got a 4TB external hard drive in hopes that I would no longer have to deal with the transfer speeds of USB sticks, and given that the last storage USB is making its transfer now, that dream is being realized

Update I shortcutted the download of the vod where, by my influence downstream, someone saying "shit yourself" to his usual boomer sayings, that being their name in a donation, ironically managed to get drunken ghostler first from a downer or demoralized state all the way into a rant that was actually inspiring against the globalist cabal (in terms of something like "the light" versus "the darkness"), which is actually very off-key to what he's normally like. I basically wish for that more often

I don't know what to actually feel when we ultimately seem to agree in theory and then soberly diverge in about everything else, minus the basics

Update Speed-runs as a concept Even if you went through the trouble of charting out where, for example, every health drink etc. is in Silent Hill 2, there is still a range of choice for you to make like I did recently in Minecraft where I decided to keep the armor down to the 15 iron pieces necessary to craft the iron leggings and chestplate only so as to conserve iron if you lose lives and have to keep going without losing your materials.

Honestly, the top priority with speedruns in any case ought to really be kudos. Not unlike high scores back in their time.

Like it's an honest question, what kinds of runs do you want to make?

I think the Majora's Mask trading labyrinth was a prime example of what it means to use an external reference and built-up knowledge of the thing to trim down overall time spent on clearing the thing - *as opposed to* - using strategies that sound like they came out of an online forum that sound like they break the game whether they're technically cheating or not, like Quake wall-running. Technically, knowing where to execute the technique still definitely involves knowing specifically where to do things in advance. I don't know exactly how to define it, then.

And really, the Quake speedruns didn't rely on tool assistance like the Super Mario 64 speedruns involving backwards-long-jump techniques over a void.

Still, I'm trying to shoehorn the idea of meaningful speedruns sans godlike reaction times.

Update Trying to find the explanation of why Doom 3 with its mission packs as a whole seemed like the ultimate example of a non-tool-assisted speed-run game is difficult.

In concept, ideally, Doom 3 with some kind of spawning randomizer would be the ultimate speed-running game, because it would constantly challenge the player even who knew where everything was going to pop out in advance. There would be no guarantee, and that's where spawning randomizers for the original Doom shine as well.

Update I don't think people apreciate what Silent Hill 3 and 4 are enough. And then no wonder the Siren series doesn't get the love it deserves - it's all in sequence

Gamer confessions: I like Silent Hill 1 better than Silent Hill 2 That's just a stylistic choice

In a sense, I actually like Siren by all means the best, because of the complexity of what is involved in order to survive But I feel like, as gamers, we're entitled to certain answers as to the games' design like - I don't even know how to articulate that

#1: Trying to play Siren with a controller that isn't like the original PS2 controllers in having a good sensitivity about them - I don't know how better to describe that - it's borderline unplayable. But I love it.

Okay, definitely my biggest and most legitimate gripe - if Siren was supposed to be targeted towards the veterans of Team Silent's games, then why in all hell did they retcon the Silent Hill function of strafing while using the sprint button? (If you strafe in Siren, it's slow as all hell. I don't care what narrative appeal you're appealing to)

Update It feels like a deliberate throwback to the days of Wolfenstein 3D or such where people in general still weren't using the strafe function at all. It's ridiculous.

Update I'm internally conflicted, because I think the people's favorite, Silent Hill 2, is patently not scary enough, as opposed to the tension I always get with Siren. And I hear people recommending Siren in my local area too, so there's a real pressure toward that.

This pressure literally supercedes the urge to repeat "penis" over and over despite the audience - that's how much pressure is involved in Siren, and I kid thee not.

Siren is one of the few things that enters the realm of profundity in my mind as something like LSD Dream Emulator, which was never released in the West. But there are enough broken-feeling mechanics about it, I don't know if I feel like defending it.

*Literally*, comments I've read hold that Siren is like Silent Hill but doesn't give you breaks, meaning you have to do everything continually while zombies can potentially respawn, but that doesn't account for the broken-feeling mechanics. And yet I still love it.

So much so that I'm conflicted between considering playing *it* and just toughing it out over doing a speedrun of any kind on the most well-received of the games of Team Silent [(because I don't feel like that's intense enough)].

Update At any given time, I can hold it to my own name that I can retain my good judgment even when under the influence of what could make, as my parents called it, *five* grown men drunk - which is in relation to the fact that I have a very high ability to resist hypnotic suggestion. But at the same time, if people want to know me as a "pimp", that's not okay. Take what Common Filth said about the way society classifies people they hold in high esteem as "pimps" - they all have mommy issues, and they're not really alpha males.

Update So at times like these, it seems very clear what I want to do, but it's still the same with, do you really want to deal with these bad controls? I've had dreams about Siren by now. I think that already makes it larger than the thing itself.

Update Basically, the idea was, people with certain IQs, they could be put under the military practice of spraying them repeatedly with a fire hose to condition them to be normal unlike what they've discovered, and it still would not work. Ideally, that's the principle that sets me apart. I hope.

Update So ideally I'm a boon of my own ideology, be it good or bad.

And I don't see people making respectful argumentation one way or the other. I wish.

Update *But* - minus rep. - you're not really from tha hood - minus rep. - something completely autistic

I don't know what to think, if everything that I say ultimately gets applied all the way down to the lowest common denominator to make the judgment. Then what are we really talking about? I never thought about that. Honestly.

Update I got to the point, where, spoilers, with "Maria", she says, she's "not your Mary" - did no one ever make the connection with the whole social scheme of, "not your grandparents' xyz", like not your grandparents' Saturday morning cartoon, etc., meaning they've got it filled to the brim with cringey corporate attempts at coolness, like skateboards, etc.

And then for all that they give you game over if Maria takes enough damage What even is life What are they not telling us

Update Underrated despite everything: Silent Hill 2, still being the uncontested best survival horror game of all time, has the music exclusively in the bowling alley - technically you can have it play for a long time again when returning before making the great descent

Why are Siren's controls borderline broken - "Abba" - yeah, yeah

8/27 There's nothing to do. It's all over now. The r*ght lost the culture war with flying colors.

8/28 Honestly, the only reason that thing happened with ghost is because something very out-of-the-ordinary happened with his mental state as a reaction, *while* drunk. I don't even want to disrespect him that much because he gets trolled enough already, but normally he's a boomer faggot.

Update Continued on Saturday night's quip - things like actually considering the sheer levels of spiciness and the level of alcohol by volume in any case makes me reconsider, when we're talking people in general, what are the *units* we're really talking about?

I don't know how important it is, but there was recently a story about somebody who was saying all smiles despite my depression and whatever other disorders, and he was a well-renowned part of his community or something, and he just up and offed himself, just like that. That could happen to me, with alcohol, and thank God, by so many people, but I thankfully never bothered with all that "all smiles" crap - because I feel like it really just denies yourself the ability to work through your real feelings as they're coming, and they come in tidal waves.

Update soon after At some point, I guess the illusion breaks, and I have no choice but to be honest: the life I'm living right now is essentially perpetually on the cusp of falling apart into chaos, because it was never a permanent solution. What I'm doing is the closest I can get to being a NEET in secret in *spite* of what minimal effort my parents expect of me - like, I got really lucky and didn't get even my dad curious as to how much actual time was predicted for the courses I completed to actually take despite the months I took for them. Ha ha ha.

Incidentally, I'm starting to actually have a reaction to the sheer poverty I'm living in when I want something apart from what my parents already buy, which is just standard food plus the electric / air conditioner bills. And water. They don't make me pay rent. They *could* have, but - technically they know then that would mean having an entire confrontation, literally ongoing wherein they have to keep reinforcing that I'm obligated to have a job to pay for a rent that's right in their boomer standards, which would be significantly lower than the rent people pay on average to-day. Right, that would already be good for me, but they're essentially, secretly, pushovers. Of course the difference in base requirement in going from not having a formal job even part-time to *having* one is that you have to go and have a car in advance, which they would have to pay the rent and insurance for in the first few weeks or something to make the ends meet on that - honestly I think if it wasn't for the incident of me having a kind of mental connundrum at the last job with the way I was basically being flat-out overloaded, having multiple jobs to do where it was all in the back room where there was absolutely no one to ever notice - if that hadn't happened, mom and dad probably would have still thought that I still get the greenlight for holding down an occupation. Honestly though I do have issues with being in one place for several hours at a time. It gets to me very harshly. Then that starts to stack up over the sheer weeks. It doesn't just subside. It builds up. That's why I just went and held down a part-time job at a pizza joint after that. That's where I still had that - set of mental "lock-ups" I just described above where I just couldn't take the overload anymore for some psychological reason - meaning, I *could* physically keep going because I wasn't exhausted, but something about the acceptance of just being bogged down beyond any kind of reason just got to me. It was like no one really cared, and I was then going to be going out of my way to be rationalizing the overworking?

Everything I do, I got OCD or whatever to that effect where I'm completionist about getting it done, and it was even more intensified considering I was doing the dishes for the entirety of the restaurant at any given time at the pizza place. Then they give me this massive machine to clean off with non-distinct instructions as to how to get all the worst of it off and next to no experience to go on. Normally that doesn't sound that bad. How do I vouch for me? Well, at any given time, there was the additional job of collecting the dishes from any table out there that was done eating already, and I think they had me waiting tables on top of that. I think waiting tables was actively split up amongst the employees. Even among the guy in the back. Also, this was a team with an active system of cutting down the number of employees involved at any given hours to what they could milk them for all they're worth, basically. Essentially. I don't know if I could have toughed it out over the difficulty spike or not, but in such a moment that they gave me a large machine to wash by hand over a long period of time where I was already drowning in the requirements of trying to keep up with every other task, my mind told me that I had had enough, and I had a kind of breakdown where I got very nervous.

They didn't have more than one dishwasher at any given time, and I was working the most active shift of the day, so I don't think they were paying any mind to how balanced that shift would be compared to the other positions.

Honestly, I *did* open up socially during the event that, once a year, they all had a collective meeting at the place and then went to a bowling alley, and I talked with the employers, and they actually told me during that time they thought from the impressions I made that I was just antisocial and distant. But even though that happened, it was my first time dealing with these things, and I didn't realize I could have just asked them about the possible imbalance of the shift I was working, since, all things considered, I was working during the busiest hours of the day every day. It was part-time, but set up so all the hours I was working were as intense as you could get.

I can't apologize for being evil, but I can complain to find just a sliver of justification. I know how to do that.

Ikuso - shabba-dabba doo

This is the only result I managed to find for it

"* In Episode 20 Sakamoto shouts "Shabba-Dabba-Doo!" in the same way "[[WesternAnimation/TheFlintstones Yabba-dabba-doo!]]" is said, all while doing the classic Hanna-Barbara run startup."

History for ShoutOut/Nichijou - TV Tropes

I don't *have* anything worth saying

Update Even the New Testament says to be as crafty as serpents, for the sake of keeping yourself alive amongst adversaries. But a lot of the time, doesn't that mean doing nothing? And if I'm a Nietzsche fan, then that tends to go directly against that. I will read the Portable Nietzsche before continuing further in the book of Acts - not to abandon one for the other.

If we were in a world where no one knew about Christian theology, would that be the same? No

And second take: if Nietzsche is more a contrarian than he is productive ultimately, and doesn't really intend to help anyone - but at the same time, I legitimately haven't read enough to make the true judgment, being completely honest - even though you could probably tell by his followers whether or not they actually benefit anything - well actually they're spread out enough I don't actually know that

The obvious contrarianism to the idea that the value of kings on this earth is to be patient is something I identify with, so naturally I want to know more

Update And a legitimate concern I'm having is, after the books of the gospels, which reinforce each other as historical accounts by different people, the book of Acts has people being visited in visions with just the one account, and I don't think people in the modern day see things like the way they would back in these times with these things happening as they went along. Do modern people believe in miracles? It seems to rely very heavily on that.

Update I guess it's just very weird that there's this contradiction that goes unspoken within people's theoretical beliefs, that the historical record strength of the gospels gives validity to the idea of miracles *as something that could happen in those times*, but when it comes to the idea of miracles as something to justify the lifestyle of the actual original Christians, that's just defunct and no one listens, because clearly no one lives like that, and there are no miracles to even suggest the necessity of living like that.

Update I just don't think my illegitimacy as a source should even factor into that - the original Christian lifestyle described, that they shared in every bit of their finances and material wealth, is so far-fetched from anything we know today. I don't think it's unreasonable to say that it was reliant on the miracles still happening even after the passing of Jesus that people actively lived like that.

I asked my little sister who is already occupied as a teacher now whether she ever had Biblical groups, and she said she had classes back in high school - I tried asking her if it was in church or in the actual school, but that wasn't clear anyway. I asked her about it, and she doesn't know if she even read past the gospels in the New Testament or not.

Update I have a shirt of the Grinch with a Christmas tree behind him that was gifted to me by my cousin who took it up the ass once and said it wasn't that great to me that I'm wearing right now that says "You're a mean one"

My favorite rapper is the Grinch from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas

"Mr. Grinch you're a bad banana"

That was my cousin's in-joke, not mine

Update So, no matter how you approach that reality with the post-gospels New Testament, it still leaves some loose ends untied, like, what exactly *is* the Holy Ghost that there are no longer any miracles? Are they not needed?

Update So what is left? I read the Portable Nietzsche by borrowing it from my local library which was apparently leaning liberal, because after they had me on camera looking at the cameras like an idiot, knowing that those books were right next to some kind of documentary on them titled "Hitler's Philosopher", which meant they were on to us or something, meaning it was dangerous to pick them up at all even, before ever purchasing the text from a bookstore elsewhere. After that, they removed all Nietzsche texts from that local library, so I figure they might have been reviewing that camera footage.

Nietzsche says certain things against the Nazis and other things in defense of international jews that I think are unnatural to whatever extent. So if that in particular is not what it's about, I'll have you know I *am* contrarian like that. I'll just not show up at that liberal library anymore. I have it right here.

Update So, while there is starting to be a definitive split between the Christian right and the political right - I guess over the fact that Christianity is now accepting gays? Functionally it has no reason to be being like that - for the short-term I'll be reviewing Toward a Genealogy of Morals by Friedrich Nietzsche, because it's the one I've seen recommended the most, next to Beyond Good and Evil, Thus Spake Zarathustra being too long for these purposes. The purpose of this search was to determine what his core philosophy was above all else.

Update Out of those two, we're going to review both of them before going in depth with either, because either way, we're typing out both in their entirety as they're sampled in The Portable Nietzsche, which is a hard task. We'll bounce back between then until a satisfactory conclusion is reached as to which one to pursue as serious over the other.

Update Essentially, I could reject him based on his core philosophy, but the job is to get to that point faster.

Update In addition to the one dream I described in short detail, there was one the day after that where there was first a very intimidating elaborate version of the special sky stages of Super Mario Sunshine where you find a secret warp pipe or such and arrive there as a special course, and then three segmented additional episodes of The Mandela Catalogue that will never be, where there was the same thematic involving fractured wrists where the alternate zombies made out of friends in the starting bedroom end up slicing the main character vertically with some kind of paper cutter that's larger than the real thing.

"Fuck all that let's get to it" - "What lil' shawty say?" Yes, as in, we disregard everything for whores, as being whoremongers, in the most strict interpretation

But I still have some part of me having belief in anything that glitters like gold

I found out from another 4chan post that the average age of marriage in classical America whom every appeal to the Constitution and the founding fathers derives from knowing it or not was ten years old, some reaching down to seven years old, and the original progenitors of the movement to raise the age of consent to more toward eighteen years of age were definitively feminist movements. So what's your conclusion

In any case if it went on that long, I feel like people have a right to know

Update So yeah, if you stop bullshitting in order to consider the actual units involved with the matters themselves, it's less like "what is the meaning of life" and more like, it's already, "you will live in the pod, you will own nothing, and you will be happy - World Economic Forum" in real life with the modern institution of marriage, given how she can divorce you and put you on eternal mortal alimony and throw it around like it ain't shit. So that's not good.

And one of the few stories from the Gospels that I *hadn't* heard and retained explicitly beforehand was that Christ negated the Pharisees' notion of marriage as an institution as well, in that he said that it was because of Jews' disobedience that it was granted to them the ability to put away one's wife in divorce in the first place. In theory it was never supposed to be divinely granted at all.

Update Definitely that bit about the average age of marriage in classical America was what set me off the most in relation to all these people of the modern day - contrarians are like in their satire videos, this girl's twelve years old? that's okay, I don't have any morals. All I have to say left is this annoying, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch bitch bitch bitch

So then it would make sense to "put two and two together" with the ages of girls from anime in the modern day. What age is Shiro from No Game No Life? Eleven

Realistically, that sounds like a fantasy world, but if it truly went on that long, who am I to judge, even despite the entire multitude fearing the same poster who posted that's saying, this is something all Americans have to be embarrassed over?

Nobody was bold enough to go forward and try to verify that history one way or the other.

Update In summation from my present thoughts, I don't know what else to say, but, let's try to summarize what we have to "appreciate" about our feminists

The modern casual sex scene totally trumps young fertile pussy from the daughters in any generation or age (sarcasm)

Okay I had a clarity just now: what I want is definitely what they call "shed talk", where you only do it normally in privacy, which is what Trump happens to have been attributed with in 2016 in his first election cycle - that's absolutely a good thing for this day and age. But getting drunk as a necessity for such a thing is something that can be co-opted for evil. Right.

I feel like it's showing my ass to say there's porn and hentai out there without having to actually commit real-life fornication. That's not a moral proclamation. I'm just saying from experience.

I don't know what to say. People don't do their research, first and foremost

Update *I don't know.*

In any case, it's like there's this reality out there that has these clearly wider outer limits, that constitutes physical reality, and then even so, there's the lower "mild sauce for white people" limits that, when broken, even so, after that point people will still definitely go crazy and lose their minds in any case, so it's like there's no point in going into that range because people consider it like there's sharks in the water. It's like I just have to listen when I'm told of an upload, this is probably too pleasurable for most people.

Update Is it accurate to say, when you make the insult "white people", it's patently not classical Americana?

Update As someone who wanted to cause an uprising among the common people, I'm actually kind of insulted by proxy that something like "extra mild [sauce] for white people" ever came into prominence, as a meme. But what can you do

Update Okay, so I went by something said in an authentic classical American location that was made into a touring place, and I found out smoking was only made illegal ranging from ages 14 to 24 by the 1920s, whereas back in the founding days it wouldn't have been banned locally, but even so you can't make an appeal to that later than the 1920's.

And we have enough historical accounts even taught to grade schoolers about how historically, women impregnated in young ages like fourteen would die in childbirth, so that doesn't require self-explanation.

And yet that was approximately the age of both Romeo and Juliet in that play, which I guess would make people shit their pants.

Update "Extra mild for white people" - I guess if nothing else, let's just blow that out of the water

But then again, if people of other races wanted to justify their presences in repopulating all our neighborhoods in the coming years with, oh, if you wanted to be seen as so tough, why would we be such an issue despite the fact of you having natural instincts and all of that? Because, technically, it's still a meme running rampant as we speak that "white flight is a human right".

Update Honestly, I don't have any other means of violating the principles I would appear to have as a wh*te person without it being so edgy that it violates my principles as an actual person. Just, nothing comes to mind.

Update "I got a hundred problems, but a bitch ain't one"

Actually if a women died giving childbirth that would obviously be very bad

8/29 definitely already night One time when we were kids, and we had a night over across states - so not something that happens very often - I started making sounds from the sides of my lips with my tongue stuck up on the roof of my mouth like what I remembered from the weird tongue of the voice from Harry Potter 2's movie from the bunk above my older female cousin's bed, and I did this until she copped out and went to her father for moral support in the middle of the night, and then after she came back with his assurance it wasn't a real thing, eventually I just kept doing it

Update Once, I had a nightmare where the spinners from Cuphead's "Floral Fury" became incorporated in an interactive segment of Silent Hill 4's opening sequence where they came through your front door, where both them and you were stuck in a painful slow motion.

Definitely the meme "I give no fucks", as in, "they can't give me *nothin'*" isn't entirely true, as there are a lot of things that could go wrong that would be very bad - still, that doesn't mean I'm going to give the sources of these kinds of complaints any credence.

In retrospect, that doesn't sound very good at all

I had a few nightmares in recent months where a water slide where everybody was in an eight-person-or-so water-tube was constantly at risk of sliding off the edge at such a height that everyone would die at any given time

If I'm awake, I don't particularly like anything, and if I'm asleep, I get ridiculous things like that more often than not

"Fair dinkum" non-racism - I'm playing Cuphead and Mugman, of which the designers said, this actually *is* your grandparents' videogame - see n*ggers beat me in sheer skill level at this, clearing it beyond world 2 which I'm more or less limited to with my own skill level - then say you are worthy of my inheritance - no cucking, no bullshit

Then everybody's like, "I will beat you to an inch of your life" - epic

Update But millenials and zoomers don't *get* any inheritance generally, so that's that

Update At the limit of posting here, but - the genre of music ragtime was, that was primarily composed by blacks post-civil-war - I remember in some museum, it was claimed it was considered a radical genre of music at the time

The most complicated pieces of music I know are all composed by Scott Joplin

Update You would get the kudos; that's for sure. My younger cousin already did the whole game on the extra hard mode, whatever that is once it unlocks. I don't know how that's humanly possible, but so it is that it's been done.

[blackfairy312]

HELP I GOT A SILENT HILL 2 REFERENCE

SO BEFORE THIS i got a scene where Heather was like "forget it! who would even think of doing something so disgusting?!" while looking at the camera after i seletect 'yes' to take out the drain of the toilet.

which is throwing shade at James