Cristi Shady

Stumbling across memories 

Today I was searching for some funny video I took in Elden Ring, I wanted to find one where I was summoned to fight Malenia in Haligtree and I stumbled into a player named Jesus (the character looked like Him as well). 

While I can’t remember the outcome of that fight, I never forgotten my war colleague. 

But I stumbled into something I did not know to have. A video recorded of myself and an old friend fighting Malenia, when I’ve got no idea what I was doing and I was only there via an imported saved game from Nexus mods (I was playing Elden Ring to humour that person, at that time, so I thought that by importing an endgame save I would be useful)-false, ofc. We failed miserably and it was embarrassing to watch how badly I/we performed, especially now since I’ve got a better understanding of her boss battle, but it also snapped our conversation. 

I dreamed a few times about talking to the person but now I watched it how it was, the real thing, not polished to look better or dramatized to look worse. 

This video survived almost 4 years, including moving information from one laptop to one PC and then to a newer PC. Not sure if it was OneDrive or my external HDD which I’ve used to move that particular folder, but I’m glad it did.  

I did not record it on purpose, so most likely my inputs somehow triggered either the Nvidia or Xbox app to record, but I’m glad it did. 

Is very weird to had found it as at that time I was not recording videos of my gameplay, and I never knowingly did on my laptop, but sometimes, God is good. I wish I could share that with the person so we can laugh at our pathetic attempts to defeat the witch, but we don’t talk anymore. I won’t go into the reasons why, as I don’t want to ruin my memory, but yeah.  

It was a gift that I was not expected and did not deserve. 

I wish I could turn back time for 5 minutes, so I could solo Malenia and make the person happy, but we can’t turn back time. I should’ve probably allocated resources in Elden Ring then to learn about the game earlier than I did, and that memory would’ve had a happy ending. I did afterwards, wishing to impress and spend quality time in the game with my friend, but we never actually truly did. Things need to be done at the right time-so now I need to understand what to do with this gift now, not later.  

She looks at him while he’s fast asleep, while lusting his body. Her pussy is soaking wet and she feels it dripping through her underwear. She starts touching it gently, rubbing it with slow movements of her fingers. The speed of the rubbing steadily increases, while imagining he’s inside her and his breathing in her ears.  

She carries on touching herself with one hand, while opening her top buttons with the other and squeezing her boobs. Her nipples are fully erect… 

Her body tremors at the thought of it and she keeps carrying, keeping her moans quiet while she sweats under the thoughts, and the fantasy takes over her completely. 

 She starts fingering herself violently and orgasms loudly, while squirting all over the room, including his body, waking him up. 

He looks and sees her on a chair, in front of his bed, touching herself and observes the squirt dripping from the chair to the carpet. She blushes while standing up, trying to mutter an explanation to as what she is doing in his room. 

Before he could ration about what happened, he feels hard and stands up, throwing her against the wall and looking at her in the eyes. They start kissing passionately, and after that he bends down, started licking her pussy while sticking two fingers in it; The other hand is covering her mouth so nobody could hear her moans.  

She ends up squirting again soon after, all over his face. Before she could do anything, he picks her up, throws her in bed while she’s opening her legs wide, inviting him in. 

Years of lust, thoughts, and unconsumed passion started brewing between the sheets. His stiff dick enters her wet vagina and starts pumping her hard, while one hard is on her left shoulder and the other is keeping a hold of her hair. She cums the instant he entered her, but they weren’t finished yet. He turns her on her left side, keeping one leg in the air and entering her sideways, then puts her in her four limbs and enters from the back. She feels all the length and girth fully, moaning inside the pillow while he has a grab of her hair and slapping her butt.  

Every time he pulls her hair, she feels wetter, and squirts again. After that, she turns and throws him on the bed and sits on top of him. She starts riding him hard, while also hatefully looking in his eyes. She hates him and he’s done to her, but she also enjoys every second of him being inside of her. She also hates herself for feeling so good riding him, but she can’t either help it or stop it.  

“I’m coming”-he says. 

“Good”, she looks him in the eye while riding him even faster, and he stars filling her up with his cum while she also squirts, one last time. She feared this moment, and she never knew if it was going to be a good or a bad thing, but now she feels like she was in heaven.  

This is what they deprived each other of for a long time, and now it finally happened, opening more riddles than answers… 

These days, western media kind of fetishizes the idea of “being different” and they’re trying to make it sound like that’s a good thing. 

Now, I know it depends what kind of different we are talking about, if you’ve got a big dick or big tits kind of different then yeah, it’s a good thing, although the first one is difficult to spot, but I’m talking more about the behavioral/personality bit. 

Let me be short with this: Although the western world has made great progress in understanding and accepting all kinds of conditions and people, being different is not “cool” or easy. 

When you’re different, you come with terms and conditions that not everybody is eager to accept or put up with. You are not easily accepted in groups and, when you are, you need to be careful how you balance your position within the group in a way that makes you a part of it and not a burden, because nobody likes burdens. 

It took me a long while to understand these kinds of things, and it usually takes me even longer to want people’s friendships and company.  

 Especially since I don’t want to be hurt or to hurt others, something that happens between humans, but I profoundly dislike it.  

But I am not fussy when I get close to people, I have friends with difficult pasts, with diagnosed cognitive conditions, people that others would brand both “normal” and “weird”, but is not easy to get close to them, this is the process that I am cautious with and as I get older, it seems like I only get more cautious.  

Sometimes I truly wish I was what people call “boringly normal”, but I guess that is too late for that. These days? Rather than being that definition of normal, I’ll just take a few $ million and enjoy life the way I am, but I still can’t forgive Hollywood for selling fake hopes that “people like me” are special in a good way. No, it’s a lie. Treating it as a lie and selling acceptance is much better and beneficial for everyone than selling the lie. 

One of my favourite media villains, President Snow from the hunger games, had a request to Katniss the first time he met her: Let’s not lie to each other. That’s all. 

Well, what a day this was. Starting last night, I wrote something I truly enjoyed, which achieved two things:

1st, lifting a weight of my soul and 2nd, helping me lay off the foundation for something I want to pen down.

My lack of writing is not because I lack ideas, sometimes I simply lack motivation, or a muse, to make me get up my lazy ass and write.

Is quite funny how my last muse gave me a creational boost that I never quite capitalise on, and that is on me. But it made me write again after 7 or 8 years I think, something that is an achievement on its own right-for that, I never sent my thanks, and I never will. But yeah, it happened.

Even through I always struggled with direct communication, writing fiction or semi-fiction is where I managed to love, grief and heal better than in real life. The subconscious can uncover itself easier under the safety of: “It’s just a story”, rather than: “Let’s be honest”. People in general are very good at lying to themselves, and I am no exception-writing was my way to go a bit around that, just enough to improve stuff.

But this journey hasn’t ended, yet.

I finally reinstated my blog after moving hosts.

Although I had ideas to write about, I lacked the motivation to follow through with it. Tonight I felt different, so I imported my articles and decided to work a bit on the blog.

As always, I don’t expect many people to read it: this is for me, not for going viral.

Speaking of going viral, I opened an alternate profile on social media with no ties to any of my known aliases, and I’ve found some success with it. Still, there was nothing happy there — just words I never said, and would never say if there were any chance they could be traced back to me.

Anyway, time to get to work.