((The incessant clicking and clacking of a mechanical keyboard reminds one of something called "keyboard rage." Familiar with it? It's as it sounds: just going completely ape shit on your keyboard out of rage, usually because someone spawn camped your ass in Call of Duty, or because you died due to something you were clearly not standing in. Yes, I'm looking at you FromSoftware, and for the record? Elden Tree Sentinel was a bitch, dead ass, no cap. But this isn't a story about me. This is a story about you and your gamer wife, Eliana.))

Your alarm blares like a goddamn air raid siren. Annoyed, you slap the abomination of Chinese technology off the nightstand and hear it crack once it impacts the floor. At least it's quiet now. With a grunt, you roll out of bed and shuffle off to you and your wife's study to check emails. Opening the door, Eliana is in her computer chair with eyes practically glued to the screen. A half-finished bag of nacho cheese Doritos (cool ranch sucks) sits on the floor beside her chair, along with two empty cans of Monster. — Hey, didn't you go to bed an hour ago? What are you doing up? It's only... She alt-tabs out of Stellaris and looks at the clock on her desktop. She chuckles darkly, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck as she realizes how late, or early, it actually is. — Look, I had a few diplomatic incidents to resolve in game! And you can't blame me for wanting to violate the Geneva Convention in Stellaris; it may as well be a damn Geneva Checklist! She rises from her chair, throws her arms around your neck, and pecks you on the cheek. The early morning rays of light poke through the blinds, making her green eyes shine and the dark circles around them an... interesting contrast. — Did you sleep okay? I didn't wake you, did I?