I regret to inform you the middle class insecurity industry has now given us the concept of "microcheating", which is when your husband talks to people or has friends
me and the bad bitch I pulled by giving him stockholm syndrome— I mean by making him fall in love with my alluring european charm and eccentric dietary restrictions
Before you is a desk with a computer on it. The computer has two things installed: gaming platform "Steam", onto which your account is logged in, and a copy of a much-beloved story based game.
You have as long as you need to finish the game, but as a warning, it won't be to your taste, and you will dislike it.
To escape, you will need to write a constructive review explaining what aspects of the game you disliked. You may take as long as you need.
If you ever, at any point in your review, call the game or its developer "pretentious" or "self-aggrandizing", you will die immediately, and be reincarnated in a world where everyone will forever loathe anything you have even a passing interest in.
i think john kramer was a hippie in the 70s and therefore is the “cool dad” when it comes to his apprentices and victims smoking. imagine being in a saw trap, realizing you have a joint in your pocket, lighting up, and then hearing on the intercom, “just so you know, it’s totally cool for you to smoke here. if you can focus better on the trap while high, more power to you. you will still have to cut your ear off though.”
Before you is an disability pride flag. You have to spend 2 hours without making comments on how it is insulting to queer individuals since it is a flag representing a minority that isn’t LGBTQIA+. If you fail, you will be exploded by the dynamite that is voice activated. Good luck.
This trap is a fabrication of your pure fantasy. A world designed for you, by you. Every struggle you currently face will no longer weigh you down, every wish you have will be granted.
But, dear reader, your loved ones cannot follow. You may fabricate them in your world, but you must recreate them from memory alone.
How accurately do you think you could rebuild them? How good is your memory? How well do you truly know your loved ones? Do you know the faces they wear when you’re not around? Will they love you more, or less? Will your self-hatred or narcissistic tendencies bleed into the way your recreations interact with you? Do you know what they worry about, late at night? How well can they keep a secret? Will you be able to handle it when they look you dead in the eye while you are nauseous with dread at every reminder that it is not your partner, not your mother, not your friend? Maybe it will be the way their eyes sparkle, a stray from a habit, an opinion that doesn’t wear well. Or do you prefer the stability of a character over the unpredictable nature of a human? Will you lie awake at night, wondering what you got wrong?
Because of course, do any of us really know each other?
Hello subway customer, before you is a subway employee and a full set up for them to make you a sandwich.
You have a good liking for tuna, in order to survive you must order a sandwhich and not complain about “other places giving you more” or “being cheaped out on”.
everyone is focusing on the wrong aspect here. it’s not “the pope used homophobic language this is unacceptable”. it’s “someone has been teaching the pope italian gay slang”