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corvsayscawcaw · 4 months

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GREYLOCK: TAPE 012 - Waking Your Subconscious [RAMBLE]

Just gonna ramble here for a bit because that tape was absolutely crazy. You can watch it here. Please heed the in-universe content warnings as well as mine. Some of this topics will be mentioned.

Content Warnings: body horror, gore, loud noises, disturbing audio/visuals, animal cruelty (specifically against dogs, but I'm not too sure if that's the right warning for this situation), flashing lights, brainwashing (like... brainwashing visuals paired with distorted audio and such. I find it pretty disturbing, so I'm gonna add that here.)

Alright, now onto the very disorganized ramble.

Synopsis

A SimioDyn tape addressed to Charlotte Jean Melgren is played. It runs through a couple of mind exercises that slowly become more disturbing and brainwashy as it progresses, clearly altered by a malicious entity or force. The tape cuts out and switches to recording of a computer screen from a security company with an alert to a security breach and power outage at Forever Friends Shelter and Adoption Center. Charlotte, the owner of the shelter, is called by Troy, an operator for EverVIGIL Security. She checks out the kennel and confronts a thoughtform. Troy tries to keep her calm and calls the police. Charlotte is dragged away from the phone by the thoughtform and brutally attacked. The tape continues with some more exercises and a bit of brainwashing until it finishes. The police officer that was called to check out the shelter heads to the basement and finds Charlotte on the ground alive, but now a grotesque amalgamation of herself and three(?) dogs. The tape ends as he runs out of the shelter panicked as the creature screams.

Production and Small Details

So far, this has been the main analog horror I've been keeping up with consistently. For those who are fans of Local 58 or have watched the series, the video gives major Real Sleep vibes, even pulling some inspiration for the true and false sections and face exercise. I fucking love it. The shadow monster that appears in the background grid of the SimioDyn tape for Charlotte Jean Melgren slowing inching closer to the screen is an extremely unnerving visual that I like.

Major props to the actors involved in this episode! I could feel the raw fear and desperation even though there wasn't any live action footage. The horror is left up to the viewer's imagination and is fueled by the snippets of CGI for the thoughtform. There wasn't a moment where I thought that the scenes were too corny or stiff. Absolutely phenomenal. The in-universe warning in the tape also acting as a content warning is a very effective way of warning viewers AND not breaking immersion.

New Information

As briefly mentioned in the previous section, the tape that is shown in this episode is for Charlotte Jean Melgren. The surname "Melgren" stands out because another character in the series shares the same name. Private investigator Jim Melgren has been a reoccurring character in the series, debuting in TAPE 007 - back to normal in a quick flash of a news article and is mentioned by Arnold Rivers in TAPE 008 - old odd ends.

It becomes apparently clear Charlotte has gone missing because of an event undisclosed/unknown to the public and supposedly to Jim as well. Whatever has altered the tape seems to know that the person viewing it is indeed Jim. We now know why Jim Melgren is so involved in this investigation of SimioDyn and the Unit 13 project. He has a personal tie to these incidents because of his daughter, who was an unfortunate victim of one of the thoughtforms. We finally have a better grip on his character.

His daughter owned a shelter called Forever Friends and lived in a separate building right next to the kennels. She has been called numerous times over the course of two weeks regarding security breaches at the shelter, but most of the footage is corrupted or distorted, a common thing associated with the presence of thoughtforms. It seems to have been stalking her for a while.

We also a full-body view of a thoughtform as it breaks into the shelter. All previous images have been only partial or very distorted. It's a tall, monstrous skeleton with clawed hands and what looks like to be bits of muscle or blood all over its body. We still don't know who specifically created this thoughform and what its specific goals are.

Going back to the SimioDyn tape, we learn that it is supposed to induce fear and paranoia through the exercises, explaining they are crucial to induce the desire change for the experiment being conducted. It does an effective job, of course. I was utterly unnerved and very comfortable during my initial watch (creepy ambience and a slowly approaching shadow creature easily does the job for me). It goes on into a True or False exercise with a couple of statements.

The tape's aim is to alter the brain in some way to manipulate Charlotte into exploring the darkest parts of the unconscious and into opening the "Black Door", explaining "[t]he darkest aspects of [her] mind are part of a larger psychological entity that resides deep within [her] unconscious." It goes on to state the entity cannot be ignored, subdued, locked away, or eliminated, and attempting to "has the opposite effect, only making it stronger, darker, and more dangerous." I'll tap more into this shadow entity in the analysis later.

Something to note is that the tape seems to hinge on the idea of shadow psychology, which in "analytical psychology, the shadow is an unconscious aspect of the personality that does not correspond with the ego [the conscious] ideal, leading the ego to resist and project the shadow, leading to a conflict with it." I'm no psychologist, of course, so I can't really explain much about it with the little knowledge I have.

My brain is hella dead right now and running 100 miles a minute, so I'll just have to make a separate analysis post or something because I love this series so damn much, and I'm gonna milk this hyperfixation before I inevitably throw myself at another series.

#analog horror #greylock analog horror #ramblings #media analysis #horror #web series

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dead-philosophy · 10 months

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If you haven't watched this yet

do it right now.

#dead talks #this series is amazing #an absolute gem in an era where analog horror has become stale and oversaturated with tropes #if you love body horror weird ancient underground ritual sites and Jungian psychology this is for you #analog horror #greylock #body horror #thoughtforms

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usernose · 17 days

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Greylock: Well hello.

Cedric: Oh Greylock.

Obake: Oh hey Greylock. I'm banging your ex friend.

Greylock: Sorry I was just LATE! I tried to call but... *The battery*

Cedric: Well, I didn't want all this food to go to waste, so I called Mr Aken. Luckily, he was free.

Obake: Yeah, and we had sex.

Greylock: Oh yeah. Good thing he was free.

Cedric: Well, I don't want you to go hungry now. Let me heat up some food.

Greylock: Yeah, how bout you do that, bitch. *stares intensely at Obake* Get in the kitchen.

Obake: *is cutting his steak* What's your problem, Mr. Monocle?

Greylock: You know I would prefer if you didn't call me that.

Obake: Oh yeah, really. Too bad I don't care. Though I heard you're quite the dazzleball player. I'm not too much into the game myself. I find the balls a little bit oversized. *eats the steak bit*

Greylock: *I'll show you some oversized balls, you little prick.*

Obake: You say something, Greylock?

Greylock: No.

Obake: *swallows and moans a bit* Sorry, big bite.

Greylock: that was.. that was really weird.

Cedric: Hey Greylock, I was reading over your resume and Mr Aken agreed with me that being able to wipe your ass without your king's help isn't a real skill.

Greylock: Oh yeah, Cedric. Well, being a ho3 isn't a real skill either.

#cedbake #bh6 obake #obake #bob aken #cedric the sorcerer #cedric the great #cedric the sensational #greylock #big hero 6 the series #big hero 6 #sofia the first #cedric sofia the first #shitpost

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dread-knight · 9 months

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WAIT the "seriously strange" guy made the greylock tapes? the same dude who I got pissed at because he made a "cringe comp" type series back in like 2016-ish along side his horror content, because said series was making fun of young trans/neurrodivergent people's personal posts???? LOLLLLLLL (the lol is sarcastic. grown ass man doing that shit. hope hes changed but also that was like.... old enough to fuckin know better. conflicted abt that greylock series now)

#iirc he went by dyke not gavagan which idk if that was him being edgy or like a genuine name change or what #chatter #like i said before the greylock series i found like. good concepts in it but poor execution later on so like. knowing THATS THE GUY #-who made it is making me feel. hmm. idk

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autistic-butters-stotch · 6 months

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im getting into greylock but all i can think abt is making an oc 😭😭

#greylock is an analog horror series btw #for the people that know. i wanna make a self insert. thats able to make thoughtforms #and he loves this 1 character so much the manifestation of his loves becomes a thoughtform!??!?!?!??!?!??! of that character #(dont tell anyone this is a butters post)#txt #god this sounds so cringe typing this out 😭😭

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i-hear-a-sound · 4 months

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I should’ve never slept on greylock bro..

#THE LATEST EPISODE IS SOME OF THE SCARIEST SHIT IVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE #greylock #analog horror #like Mandela catalyst is still THE analog horror ep of all time for me (for *that* fucking ending alone)#BUT THE LATEST GREYLOCK EPISODE IS INSTANTLY A CLOSE 2ND FOR ME. SHIT JUST BUMPED THE BAR SOOOO HIGH #like….. the ending. oh my god the ending. the dogs. and charlotte… what if they took fma and made it John carpenter’s The Thing deadass #BUT THAT WASN’T EVEN TBE SCARIEST THING IN IT FOR ME. IT WAS RHE FUCKING. FLESH SKELETON CREATURE WALKING INTO THE HOUSE. OH MY GOD. OH MY #GOD. GO DODOFOFJJFUD I HATEDDDD THAT SHIT SI MUCH OMG. IM GONNA HAVE NIGHTMARES ABOUT THAT SHIT. IT LOOKED INSANELY FUCKING REAL TOO.#I’m soooo curious how they made those 2 things for this ep tho…. Guarantee it was blender but deadass #I thought charlotte at the end was an animatronic. Legit it looked that real. Terrifying shit. Can’t wait for more <3kisses #& also. the second I realized thought forms were basically Tulpa’s shit reached S tier for me.#tulpas are SO INTERESTING and yet so rarely ever used in media. And the way this series uses the thoughtforms is CHILLINGLY horrifying.

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bangpuddingmuffin · 3 months

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Severed Steel

I changed my opinion on this from the demo. I ended up having a good time with the game. I just needed to embrace constantly doing moves, constantly doing slo-mo, and just being willing to blast through a level.

Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLMOeTsMoezKbJnhSVVvbDG-xBF9qy5rXq

#severed steel #playthrough #series #finished #fps #4/5 #greylock studio

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micdraws · 10 months

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Old Odd Ends

Fanart for Greylock! It's an amazing analog horror series that really needs more attention. Fantastically done!

#eyestrain tw #analog horror #analog horror series #horror art #greylock analog horror #greylock series #analog horror fanart #horror fanart

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tropes-and-tales · 7 days

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My Best Friend’s Girl, Part Seven

Characters: Santiago “Pope” Garcia and F!Reader

WC: 4302

Other Pieces: This is part of a series, which can be found here.

CW: Angst (oblique talk of addiction). Smut (PiV, protected; implied oral, m!receiving; light roleplay). 18+ only.

AN: As proofed as anything I publish here, which is to say: this is full of typos.

Six months. That’s how long you have to wait for Santiago to come home. He has to run out his contract, wrap up his loose ends in Colombia while you wait for him in Florida.

You’re busy, of course. You fill your hours – you work on the edits for your second book, you consult on the script based on your memoir. You hang out with friends. You work on your house, stripping paint and refinishing the built-in wood features of your home. Slowly, the glory of the original home emerges, and you start to get furniture, start to decorate.

There’s a big fireplace in the living room, and you set framed pictures along the mantel. A picture of you and your father. One of you on the Appalachian Trail, a nice selfie you managed to take as you summitted Mount Greylock.

The latest photo is one of you and Santiago – he had asked a passerby to take it on one of your weekends out in Medellín, in one of the city squares bursting with color. At the last second, right before the photo was snapped, Santi had turned to kiss your cheek, and the captured moment is beautiful: his head turned, his lovely profile, and you facing the camera with a look of pleased surprise.

You know you’re in the honeymoon period. You’ve never been in a relationship that lasted longer than a few months, so you’re a little apprehensive about what will happen when he finally moves back to the U.S. Maybe he’ll get bored of you. Maybe he’ll find someone better. He’s never been in a long-term relationship either, and you worry that he’s too used to being a tomcat to settle down.

It’s a million little doubts circling your mind each night, and sometimes you struggle to fall asleep, worry gnawing at you.

But if your traitorous brain keeps telling you that it won’t work out, it’s your gut – which has never led you astray – that reminds you how solid Santiago is. How perfect for you. He’s not perfect, of course, and neither are you – you both have dark pasts, and insecurities – but when you really think about your time with him, you feel nothing but a steady, solid sort of love.

So all you have to do is wait. It’s the longest six months of your life.

-----

Sara gives birth in September. She and Frankie – they have a daughter now. Amelia is a scowling, red-faced little thing, and when you go to visit with Benny and Will, it’s curious how little you feel. Newborns, in general, make you nervous. They are such soft creatures, seem so easily breakable. But when you stand there and gaze down into the bassinet, you feel…nothing.

If someone would have told you that you’d be here, gazing down at Frankie’s baby that he had with another woman and feeling not an iota of angst, you wouldn’t have believed them. You can still remember the pain of when Frankie started dating Sara, when they got engaged…and now your heart is made of tougher stuff.

Things are still a little tense between you and Frankie. You have spoken here and there, after that ugly showing when you told him about you and Santi. There’s a reserve. The air gets chilly when the two of you speak to each other. Another worry, that: Frankie and Santi are best friends, and even though Frankie is married with a kid now, you still remain a shadow between them.

You try to send out opening salvos to healing the rift between you. You try to laugh off the awkward silences when you go to visit them with their new baby. You ask a million questions about Amelia, show more interest than you really have. You tacitly ignore Frankie when he makes little jabbing comments meant to needle you, and you study him on the sly.

You think Santi is right. There is something wrong with Frankie. It’s more than marital stress or the stress of being a new parent. It’s more than sleepless nights due to every-other-hour feedings.

You are naïve in many ways, but you know a bit about addicts. At the center for troubled teens, there were plenty of addicts: every shade and variety, from casual weed-smokers to full-on meth or crack addicts. You’ve seen people in active withdrawal, and you’ve seen people with some sobriety, and you’ve seen people currently using, those able to smuggle in their drug of choice.

You can’t say quite what you think Frankie is on, but you are certain he’s on something. Something that keys him up, makes him buoyant and fun for a moment, then turns him sulky and irritable. Some stimulant. Meth? Coke?

Maybe there’s no room left in your heart to love Frankie, but you still feel other things for him. Concern. Pity. Fear that he may die or lose his family. Fear that he’s so far gone that he may be beyond help.

When you go to leave after your visit with the new baby, Frankie walks you to your car. He’s twitchy; he keeps removing his ball cap and running his hands through his curls, then resettling his hat no his head.

“You know I’m always here if you need me,” you say, and you look at him until he finally meets your gaze with his own.

“Yeah, I know.”

“We’re still friends, right?”

At that, Frankie glances away, and you notice the way he shifts back and forth on his feet, like he’s itching to be somewhere else.

“Sure,” he replies, and there’s no warmth or conviction in his tone at all.

*****

Santiago sets the date of his return with you: the second week of November. Right before Thanksgiving. You light up at the news over your video call with him. You shift straight into planning mode; a Friends-giving type feast paired with a welcome home party and a house-warming party.

Santi doesn’t miss how it makes him feel, the thought of coming home to you and building a home with you. A cozy domestic life he used to scoff at, but now that it’s within reach, he wants nothing more.

He works so damned hard to wrap up all his loose ends, he finishes his contract two weeks early.

What better surprise than to turn up at your doorstep early?

The timing is a few days off from Halloween, but Santi turns up the evening when your neighborhood is doing trick-or-treating. The taxi crawls down your street because of how many groups of children and parents are milling around, going from house to house, but when the taxi stops and the driver pops the trunk so he can get his luggage, Santi has a moment of confusion.

For a brief few seconds, Santi feels off-kilter. This isn’t your house. He peers closer in the late twilight and studies the lines of the house, and it takes him a moment before he realizes that it is your house and that you’ve worked far harder to get it ready for him than he had thought.

The peeling paint is gone. The sagging window sashes have been replaced by flower boxes filled with bright flowers and lush greenery. The shrubs and trees have been trimmed back into neatness, and the entire air of dereliction has been replaced by a warm hominess.

The lights by the front door are on, chasing away the twilight shadows with warm yellow light, and in the center of it, there’s you.

You don’t notice the taxi. You don’t notice him as he approaches. You’re engrossed with a trio of children in front of you, smiling and chatting with them as you dole out candy from the giant bowl in your arms.

You’re dressed up like Little Red Riding Hood, he guesses: a Bavarian-type dirndl, white knee socks, and a scarlet cloak, and it makes a flurry of feeling rocket through him. Lust, obviously—he has a sudden, powerful image of bending you over some surface, flipping that skirt up and taking you from behind, of hauling you off your hands so he can turn your head and kiss you while he fucks you…

And love, too. Obviously love. Santi has never really been in love before, and now that he has you, he’s learning that love can feel a hundred different ways. It can be a gentle groundswell, like sitting in a boat on a calm ocean, being softly rocked, like waking up beside you in Medellin before dawn. It can be a warmth, like sitting beside you in your mother’s gazebo and teasing each other.

Right now? Right now, love feels like a knife in his heart, a sharp, piercing pain as he looks his fill of you. As he realizes that he’ll never have it with anyone else, and the realization makes a thread of fear run alongside the love. What if he messes this up somehow?

The fear gets swept away the moment you notice him. Santi has the distinct impression that you’d plow through the kids standing on your porch to get to him; he watches as you start to drop the bowl of candy and take a step towards him, then stop. And he watches as your eyes fill with tears, but then he’s moving towards you, skirting around the gaggle of kids with their parents, and then he hears something fall but doesn’t look because he has his arms around you, he’s kissing you, and you’re struggling to kiss him back because you’re crying. You’re crying and touching him—his face, his arms, his neck, his hair—to prove that he’s really there, and his feet crush the candy scattered along the porch because you’ve dropped the bowl so you can hug him.

“He didn’t say trick or treat,” one kid says in a voice that’s laced with indignation.

-----

The parents can guess what’s up. They exchange sly, knowing smiles as Santi hauls his luggage inside, and as you basically dump your reserve of candy onto the porch, then give a half-assed apology to the kids before you shut the front door and lock it.

“Santiago Garcia,” you say in mock-anger, wagging your forefinger at him. “You’re early.”

“I think I’m right on time.” He reaches out, tugs lightly against the hem of your cloak. “Got to see this.”

You give a twirl, just like you did the night of Frankie engagement. Your skirt bells out, and you give a shy smile. “You like it?”

“Mmm.” He reaches out again, tugs against your cloak again. “Very much.”

“I’m supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“If I knew you were coming early, I would have gotten you something to wear. A wolf costume or something.”

Santi snorts. He moves closer to you, the would-be Big Bad Wolf. “How much candy do you think I could hand out with you looking like this?”

You roll your eyes. You never quite believe him when he expresses how beautiful he thinks you are. How sexy. It’s a side effect of your trauma, he thinks. Low self-esteem. He promises himself to say it more. He’ll say it all the time until you start to believe him.

He takes your hand in his and draws it down to himself until your palm is cupping where he’s hard and straining for you. He watches your eyes go wide, your lips part as you take a deep breath.

“Told you I like this outfit of yours,” he grumbles near your ear.

“Guess so.” You work your hand against him, cupping him, squeezing him gently through his jeans.

“Doesn’t Little Red Riding Hood get eaten?” He drives the point home by biting you lightly against your neck, and he expects you to squeal and push him away, but your moan at the sensation and lean into him more. So he bites you harder—he pushes the neckline of your cloak and dress aside to reveal the sensitive bit where your shoulder meets your neck. He sinks his teeth into you. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave indents, his teeth dimpling your flesh. He runs the tip of his tongue over those little divots, and you moan again, so he sucks against you there, tastes you.

“God, Santi—”

“I’m the Big Bad Wolf,” he mutters against your skin.

“San—”

“Gonna eat you up.” He nips at you again, a line of light bites that end with him nipping your earlobe. “Fucking starving for you, querida.”

Your free hand finds the back of his head, and he feels your fingers push through his curls and grip him. You hold him against you—you don’t push him away. Your other hand shifts from stroking him through his jeans to undoing his pants. You fumble at the button and zipper, but then your hand slips through the waistband of his boxers and you grip him. You stroke him as he pushes his hips against your hold.

He leans into the game and growls at your touch. “Want you,” he manages to get out before his mouth finds the other side of your neck, nips and sucks against your soft skin there, raises matching marks.

“You have me. Please, Santi.”

“Wolf,” he corrects, and you laugh at that, but he snakes a hand down to your skirt. He slips under the layers of skirt and petticoat, he slips under your panties, and he finds you slick and ready for him. He pushes a thick finger into your tight heat, and it makes you groan out his name, but then you amend it and call him ‘Wolf,’ and it turns him fully feral and you his willing victim.

He pulls his finger from you, and he pulls away from your stroking hand. He gets himself under you at the right angle and lifts you up in a fireman’s carry, your body slung across his shoulders like a downed soldier as he carries you upstairs while your laughter fills the house.

Later, he’ll marvel on how much you’ve gotten done in the home. Right now, he’s got tunnel vision. He only feels the weight of you on his back, and he only focuses on getting you to the bedroom so he can fuck you senseless.

*****

Until Santiago came into your life, you hated the position of doggy style.

You had a brief boyfriend in college who only liked to fuck you from behind—an obvious red flag you were too naïve to notice back then—and he had always been rough about it. Made it degrading. Called you a slut for taking him like that, said only whores took it from behind. You always felt bad afterwards, but you were too insecure to speak up or break it off.

Santi changed your mind about it, back in Colombia. He always was gentle about it, never degrading. You wondered at his ability to rewrite parts of your unhappy past. It was like magic.

Now, he’s less gentle. He’s leaning into some Wolf persona, a dominant side you’ve never seen in him, but it makes a painful throb of desire rocket through you. He’s still gentle, just less gentle than before. He drops his voice down a half-octave, and his calloused hands are firm as they undo your cloak, making it pool at your feet like a scarlet puddle. As he reaches under your skirt and tugs your panties down your legs until you step out of them.

As he pushes you gently onto the bed and tells you in his low, graveled voice to get on all fours.

Santi gets it perfect. How does he always manage it, being so perfectly in tune with you in bed? He’s playing at some dominant, growling wolf-Santi, and he’s ordering you around, but he’s careful too—when he reaches into the bedside stand for a condom, he whispers in your ear, asks if this is okay, tells you to talk to him if you need something different.

You repeat what you said downstairs. “You have me.” You wriggle a little from where you are perched on all fours on the bed and add, “I’m all yours.”

He hums at that. You hear the rustle of clothing, the soft whump as his jeans hit the floor. You hear the tearing of the foil condom packet, then Santi’s heavy breathing as he rolls it onto himself. Then nothing, and the moment of nothing seems to stretch an eternity, so you wriggle again like a dog wagging its tail. The full skirt of your costume flounces, but Santi flips it up over your hips and delivers a light smack to your ass.

“You gonna be a good girl?” he asks. “Gonna be good for me?”

Oh, that’s new too. You bite down against your lower lip, but the phrase good girl makes your pussy clench down on nothing, and you wonder if he can see. The thought makes your face heat up.

“Y-y-yes. I’ll be good.”

“Not a very good girl, walking through the woods alone.”

Oh, this is new too. A full-on roleplay. You’ve never done it before; you always assumed you’d be too self-conscious to layer in acting to your sex life. But you aren’t facing him, and it’s Santi anyway, so it feels easy to fall into the game.

“I am a good girl,” you pretend-pout.

Another swat to your ass, but Santi keeps his hand on you. Cups your hip with it, and his other hand lightly strokes you between your legs. You bite your lip again, swallow down the moan that wants to tear out of your throat.

“I think you wanted to get caught.” He parts your folds, pushes his finger into you again. He moves slowly so you feel every centimeter of his digit. Every knuckle. He pushes himself in, pulls himself out, and then he adds a second finger. You can feel him carefully scissoring his fingers, stretching you out.

“Think you wanted this,” he adds. “Sweet little thing, tempting all the scary beasts in the forest to come take you.”

“Just trying to tempt one beast.” Your voice is tight, strained. You’re trying to be patient but he’s driving you mad with his slow, careful fingering, and you have missed him for months. “One, specifically.”

“You have him.”

You open your mouth to snark that you don’t really have him, not yet, but he beats you to the punchline. He pulls his fingers from you and settles that hand along your hip, the wetness on his fingers smearing along your skin. Then you feel him, the blunt, heavy weight of his cock as he notches it at your entrance.

“Please.” Your hands twist in the comforter as you brace yourself. “Please, Santi—”

“Be patient. I like seeing you like this.”

“Please.” You grip the comforter harder, drop your head as you huff out a heavy breath of frustration.

He chuckles behind you, and his hands rest lightly on your hips. “If you want it, you can take it anytime, querida. It’s yours.”

You don’t know where this falls in the game of pretend, but you don’t care anymore. You’ve missed him for so long. You’ve waited even longer to have what you have with Santi. You searched for it in the wrong place, with Frankie, but it was Frankie who led you to his best friend, so you can’t be mad about it. But for now, your entire life collapses into this single moment, and Santi is here with you again after so long apart, so you push back against him, you push yourself onto his thick cock, and it toes the delicate line between pleasure and pain to have him inside you again.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His words are breathless, and his hands spasm tighter on your hips. He pulls you back the last inch, seats himself deep inside you until you feel him flush against you.

He sets a slow, deep rhythm to his thrusts. He doesn’t jar you; he keeps a firm grip on you and fucks you carefully as you reorient yourselves to each other. You warm up to the feeling of his invading length, and you arch your back when he delivers a particularly deep thrust. The tip of him brushes over that spot inside you, and your vision wavers each time he does. Little yellow sparks light up at the edges of your vision.

How could you have ever guessed, all those years ago at the airport when you met him, that this would be the man who made you see stars in the bedroom?

“So fucking gorgeous,” he mutters behind you, low, like he’s talking to himself. “Taking me like such a good girl.”

His praise makes another hot pulse of desire course through you, and you drop your head against the comforter and push back against him.

“Missed you,” he adds, and before you can reply—yes, you’ve missed him too, so fucking much—his hands move from your hips up to your shoulders, and he’s suddenly hauling you off of your hands until you’re kneeling in front of him. He wraps his arms around you, presses your back to his chest, and his thrusting turns sloppy.

“Kiss me,” he demands. You turn your head as much as you can, and the kiss is sloppy too because you can’t quite reach completely, but his mouth slides against yours. His tongue finds yours, and it’s messy—his ravenous mouth seeking yours, his cock thrusting erratically against you as you lean back against him.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he pants between kisses.

“Missed you more.” You reach an arm back and hook it behind his head. You tug against his curls and try to direct his mouth back to yours. “Missed you the most.”

“Wanted to romance this.” He sounds slightly ashamed. “Wanted to make it sweet for you, querida. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” You pull his hair harder. Hard enough to make him groan, and he drops his head to rest in the crook of your neck. He kisses you there softer, but there’s a faint ache when he brushes his lips against the places he’s marked you. In the morning, you’ll see the carnage: the handful of hickies, the visible teeth marks that have bruised you.

In the morning, the sight of those marks will make you so suddenly and inexplicably turned on that you’ll seek him out in the kitchen and sink to your knees then and there.

“Don’t apologize to me,” you add. “Don’t you dare. You’re—” You gasp at the sudden hard thrust he gives you, cuts you off for a moment. “You’re here weeks early. Best surprise ever.”

His arms tighten around you. He holds you so tight it steals your breath away. He holds you like he’s terrified you’ll slip away if he doesn’t anchor you to him. You take your free hand and grip his wrist, and you can feel his fast pulse under your fingers.

“I’m not gonna last much longer. Sweetheart, I’m not—”

“Don’t hold back.”

“Baby, I can’t—”

“Go ahead and come for me.” Your own orgasm is too far away. Your thoughts are too scattered to focus on your pleasure; Santi feels amazing, but you’re still stunned by his unexpected arrival, and the roleplay that came out of nowhere, and you haven’t even really gotten to look at him very closely—

You tug on his hair again, steer his head back to yours. You turn to kiss him, and you break the kiss to whisper against his lips, “wanna feel you come, Santi.”

“Baby—”

“Please.” Another kiss, another tug on his curls. “Come inside me.”

Maybe he forgets the fact of the condom, but your words make him shudder—and then his orgasm breaks around him. He thrusts hard into you and stills, and his arms tighten around you even more, and he buries his face in your neck and groans out your name.

“Sorry.” It comes out muffled, and his frame slumps over you a bit as he loosens his hold on you.

“Don’t apologize.” You loosen your grip on him too and run your fingertips through his hair.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

You laugh. “Now that you’re here, you have plenty of time to make it up to me.”

And he does, a few hours later. After you clean up and after he showers. After he drags his luggage out of your entryway, and after you make him a snack in your renovated kitchen because his schedule is all out of sync. When the two of you finally turn in late at night, he makes it up to you: he takes you gently, slowly. He seems to savor every moment, and he touches every part of you like he’s reacquainting himself to you.

Afterwards, as you drowse in his arms, sated and so full of love that your chest feels tight, Santiago traces his fingers along your spine until you squirm a bit.

“Think I finally found a good nickname for you,” he tells you. “Better than ‘Bean.’”

You tilt your head and try to peer at him in the darkness of the room. “You already picked one.”

“’Querida.’”

“Yeah. I like that.” You settle against him again, your cheek pressed against his chest.

“Might start calling you ‘Red.’”

You laugh, and he chuckles underneath you, a pleasant rumble. “You’re trouble, Santiago Garcia.”

“And you love it.”

“I absolutely do.” You let a moment pass, then you turn your head again and press a gentle kiss on his bare chest, right where his heart lies.

“Welcome home, Trouble,” you whisper.

“Happy to be here, Red,” he replies.

#Santiago Garcia #santiago garcia imagine #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #Triple Frontier #tropes and tales

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hyper-pixels · 1 year

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Analog Horror List

Analog horror is uniquely known for its low quality and low visual styles. Or VHS style. They can widely range to a found footage or a visual guide style formatting.

Here are some noted ones:

These videos can contain disturbing content, as well as content that can induce a epileptic seizure if you choose to watch any of them.

2h32: A series of videos that are all two minutes and thirty-two seconds long.

Backrooms - The Otherside: A found footage of the back rooms.

Basswood County: Humanoid creatures that kill humans.

Cave Crawler: A video game (no commentary) about a special remote controlled bot meant to look for missing people (or bodies) in caves.

Chezzkids Archives: An archive of games from a website called Chezzkids. The developer went missing and her photos are showing up in the game. May need to have an episode explain it (this one by Minaxa did it well) as there are clues outside of the videos as well.

Cloud Observation: A short observation video on a cloud that seems to be growing limbs.

Escape the Backrooms: A combination of found footages and commercials, it details the backroom and people trying to escape from it.

Eventide - Anomaly Infestation: A news report of anomalies.

Fear Virus: A quick guide on how to protect yourself from a new, highly infectious virus that causes mutations in humans to become something they fear.

Floaters: A video and short guide. It details how humans are suddenly floating into the air.

Gemini Home Entertainment: A series of VHS styled video tapes. Neptune has mutated and is now infecting Earth with strange things called "woodcrawlers" and other mysterious happenings.

Green Mountain Broadcast Center: A archival for tapes. Only one on this channel labled "Live Traffic" which documents a strange storm.

Greylock: One of my favorites so far. About the government experimenting with tulpa and possibly uncovering an ancient god.

Happy Meat Farms: Animal testing that causes severe deformities.

Hi I'm Mary Mary: A woman wakes up in a house with no exits. She then has to face her greatest fears.

Identity Test: A test on whether or not you can tell the difference between normal faces, and distorted ones.

Itch File: A diver touches a random creature that ejects a pus like substance on him with a virus. Severe trypophobia warning.

Koala Superdeep Borehole Incident: The deepest man-made hole has a bit of an unnerving find.

Local 58 Season One: A news station trying to report on the news, when a broadcast alert stating to not look at the moon is reported. Season two

Harmony and Horror: A VHS style of film. as you watch, you discover the oddities and mysteries of the toys tore.

Marble Hornets: You know what this is.

Mister Manticore: Asks you to memorize a picture before asking you to find the differences. Has quick fleshing images.

Midwest Angelica: A piece of an alien breaks away and onto Earth as it passes the exosphere. It quickly folds into horror beyond comprehension.

Monument Mythos Season One: In an alternate world, where the statues seem to be more than just simple monuments. Season Two Season Three

Omega Mart Ad Compilation: Adds that are attempting to be targeted towards humans. More silly and deranged than scary.

Raining Fire (EAS Snario): A EAS scenario of a mentor shower suddenly hailing Earth on Christmas Eve. Leading to event after event.

Surreal Broadcast: A news station with things happening in the background that are related to a cult. Season Two Season Three

Searching for the Five: Five men suddenly disappeared, only leaving behind a few clues.

Sinkhole: A very hungry sinkhole.

Stone Cold Series: Strange eyes have suddenly started to show up in the night.

The Anglers Trap: A guide on what to do when you encounter a tree called the anglers trap. Which lures in humans like an angler fish.

The Backrooms: Where it all started, I believe. The Backrooms are limital spaces.

The Children Under the House: A therapist tries to find out why a young girl has suddenly stopped talking. Her imaginary friends of course, know why.

The Mandela Catalogue: Hostile creatures called alternates (alters for short) that mimic humans, but don't do it quite right. It mixed Christianity and horror together.

The Oldest View: A man finds a random stairwell in a tree that leads miles down. It turns out it's an old mall. Made by the same man who created the Backrooms.

The Scrimblo Catalogue: A joke analog horror based off of a twitter meme. Part Two

The Smile Tapes: A new fungai releases spores that infect humans that causes the muscle in the faces to distort into a smile and causes hysteria.

The Swarm: Aggressive, hungry mosquitos created by a science project gone wrong.

The Quentin Sanders Tapes: A man named Quentin sanders goes to Foxwood university only to discover a eldritch monster.

The Walten Files: Possessed animatronics, one of the founder's family goes missing while the other conspired against them. And not to forget the possessed animatronics.

They Lie Above: Follows the story of a son of a missing farmer who was abducted by aliens, and Neil Armstrong. Who's memories were erased after encountering a alien space craft.

VibingLeaf: Three videos that have a early youtube "lost videos" esque style.

Vita Carnis: A guide on strange fauna and flora seemingly made entirely, out of meat.

White Door Opened: Set in Poland, monsters and strange red mist begins to spread. Of course it starts with humans messing with things they shouldn't mess with.

Winter of 83: Snowmen come to life, and they aren't happy.

-Did I miss any? Let me know! I'll try to keep this updated as I deeper and deeper, but I can't catch everything.

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