#like shut the fuck up!! what a waste of a nice design

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Learn the Hard Way 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Nick Fowler (Professor AU)

Summary: you return to campus is less than glorious.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

“It’s a nice place,” you say as you keep a grip on your duffel bag. 

You took a big chance trusting in the online posting. Furnished and a decent price. Your innate cynicism told you it couldn’t be true and yet your dire financial straits convinced you to take the risk. Even if it turned out to be a mattress in a dingy basement, you would make it work. 

Yet, your pessimism makes the reality even more of a relief. The apartment is just like it was listed in the virtual walk through. And it’s all yours at such a good rate. 

“Got everything you need,” the man explains as he pulls out a tube of lip balm. “And if it doesn’t, you have my number.” 

“Sure, uh, I don’t think I should,” you shrug. 

You peek over at him again. He seems every measure the slimy landlord, mustache included. Designer polo, loafers without socks, tight pants, thought his jacket does give a slightly refined touch to the whole aesthetic. 

“Rules. No parties. You can have some girlfriends over for a little pillow fight now and again but I don’t want a rager. This shit’s too nice for that,” he warns. 

“Right,” you agree, ignoring his strange comment. “I don’t think I’ll be throwing any parties.” 

“Good,” he tuts. “Well, I got shit to do. Class in an hour.” 

He checks his watch and you give him a curious look, “you’re a student too?” 

“Fuck off,” he chirps as he tweaks a brow. “Professor.” 

“Professor. Wait, so isn’t this like a shit, what’s it called, ah, conflict of interest?” 

“What are you? A law student?” He snaps. 

“Photography, actually.” 

“Oh, so you like to throw your money away. That’s good to hear,” he chortles. You frown at the insult. “And now it’s not a goddamn conflict. It’s off campus and you just happen to be a poor student. It’s fucking fine or do you wanna go find something else? Half your monthly to break the lease.” 

“Shit, no, I mean, no. No, it’s cool. I was just... as long as it doesn’t affect me, that’s fine. It’s smart. I mean, if I had money, I’d do some investing too.”  

His eyes dart towards you sharply, “whatever, stop wasting my time.” 

“Sorry, uh, well, thanks, Lloyd.” 

He winces and tilts his head, “I think I prefer professor.” 

“But you’re not mine--” 

“Look, I don’t like you uppity girls gettin’ fun with me. You think I don’t got tail wiggling at me for a higher GPA every goddamn day.” He clucks and straightens his coat, spinning on his heel, “tell your boys not to flush their rubbers.” 

He struts through the door and it snaps shut behind him. You look down at the keys in your hand and cringe. It’s not exactly the best start but you won’t bother him again. This place is perfect. 

You bring your bag into the living room and drop it on the couch. A couch! A chair, dining table, a separate bedroom, and a nice kitchen... you even have a stacked laundry set-up. Shit, feels like you’re robbing the guy. It’s almost too good to be true. 

You pace around for a while before you start to unpack. You didn’t bring much. You’re a person of very little means. You worked two catering jobs in the summer just to get tuition and the whole housing spike on campus had you worried it was all for not. 

Hey, it all turned out. You’ll never trust fate, but fuck dammit, it can be kind when it wants to. 

You head out shortly after, restless, and find the bus stop. Tuition includes a bus pass but you need to go to the Student Support Center to get your card reactivated for the term. You spend the change and weave your way around campus. 

The wait for the simple swipe of your card and a few keys tapped, is far too long. But now you have your transit pass and your meal plan. You’ll hit the cafeteria and hope that they have hiked the cost of a tuna sandwich with the rent. 

The prices may not have gone up but you’re not sure the quality is what it was. You examine the thin prepackaged sandwiches. You’re suddenly not as hungry. You can get a noodle plate and split it between today and tomorrow. A coffee is always cheap too. 

You get your container of pad thai and stop to peruse the self-serve karafes of coffee. Irish Cream, blech. You opt for the caramel sundae flavour. You get maybe two drops and it bottoms out. What the hell? 

“Piss,” you mutter. 

Whatever, you’ll just have some medium roast. You move over to press your cup to the lever and hit someone else’s hand. You recoil, “fuck, shit, sorry.” 

The man grunts and fills his cup. He’s older. Likely a professor judging by the blazer. He watches the slow drip and you do too. You just want a coffee. You wait and as he finishes, you step up to claim your cup. The karafe runs out at the half line of the cup. 

“What the shit?” You huff. “I swear to fuck--” 

“Eloquent,” he remarks as he takes a lid from the stack. 

“Huh?” You look over at him. “Oh, you can hear me? I thought that was my inside voice.” 

He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. He snaps the lid on his cup and takes it. You get no response but the roiling judgment rising off of his rigid posture. 

You top off your cup with the dark roast. Maybe you should let the staff know the coffee is almost out. You go to join the line for the cashier and find yourself facing the back of the man’s blazer. 

He pays and you move up to tap your student card. You thank the cashier and head off, the smell of the noodles stoking your hunger. Mmm, you can’t wait to dig-- 

You collide with something and your coffee bursts and pours over your hand. You look up to find the splatter of mixed brews across dark blue fabric. You squeak as the liquid scalds your hand. 

“Fuck, I’m so fucking sorry, dude,” you say as the same man snarls and turns stiffly on his heel. 

He looks down at you with his icy eyes. You tremble as they’re harsh enough to cool the heat of the spill dripping from your hand. You give a sheepish smile. 

“Hi again,” you murmur. 

He shakes his head and reaches to feel the back of his jacket. He takes a deep breath, a tick in his jaw. “I can clean this, can you clean up that gutter you call a mouth?” 

He doesn’t wait for your answer. You suppose it’s rhetorical and well-earned. You did just dump coffee down his back. 

[whumpsoda]

WSFSP - ‘065 (Florence) After the Drip

Masterlist

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, institutionalized slavery, drugged whumpee

——————

The door creaked as Arthur entered, long and whining, before clicking shut. The trainee failed to make any sort of move, not even a flick of his gaze. Exactly as he’d expected, although a bit unnerving.

The pet sat in the corner of the room farthest from the door, slumped into the crevice like a rag doll, like he’d been left there without the care to pick himself back up.

Finally he wore his trainee uniform, black shorts and a white tee, instead of his blood stained work uniform. One he’d never see again, or even remember for that matter.

“Hey, there ‘065.” Arthur greeted, grinning, ever so slowly making his way to stand tall over him, “How you feelin’?”

It’d only been a couple hours since he’d gone on the drip, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes. ‘065 was fixed on the wall across from him, dazed out and glassy, a dribble of drool slipping from his slack lips. As if he couldn’t think.

Arthur wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case.

“Trainee,” he sang in a sing-songy voice, nudging at the boxie’s foot with his boot, “you gonna answer me?”

‘065 merely blinked, so very carefully and gradual. Similar to that of a doll.

Arthur laughed, thick and hearty, spittle flying. “You’re gonna be a nice puppy now, aren’t you?” This time he took his boot to his trainee’s chin, tipping his head upward. His head lolled over his shoulders loosely, blinking.

“Well this is no fun, is it?” No longer was he expecting any semblance of an answer, crouching to his knees. He spilled a few droplets of water from the tin bowl in his hand, plip plopping to the blinding white tile.

He stole a long look at his former coworkers hazy features, a relaxed expression drawn out to near unconsciousness. His fluffy black curls were matted, never as well taken care of as they used to be.

“No one’s gonna miss you, I hope you know.” He chuckled, breathy and tired. “All the guys thought you were a dick, the ladies too. You were though, so we all had a reason to think that.” He took the boxie’s chin between his rough fingers, inspecting him. “Maybe you just got what you deserved.”

“I kinda wish you were designated a romantic, though. With that pretty face you’d make a pretty good paycheck.” Curling over ‘065’s limp hand, Arthur grazed his clammy knuckles with his lips. “Unfortunately that’s not for me to decide. Guess you’ll just make a boring domestic, instead.”

Finally, those glazed over greens shifted up at Arthur, before he received a prompt slap to the cheek. “First rule, trainee. No lookin’ superiors in their eyes, ‘kay?”

“Yes, Mr. Everett, sir!” He mocked, pursing the man’s lips with his own hand, before dropping his head to thunk back against the wall.

“What a waste of fucking time.” He mumbled, standing to his feet. “At least we’ll finally get to start our training for real, ‘065. Be excited for that. I sure am.”

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump @ivymyers @taterswhump @octopus-reactivated @tippytappytyping

@distracted-obsessions @starfields08000 @bitchaknso @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @scoundrelwithboba

@whumped-by-glitter @whumpering-heights @arlin-always-writing @bilightningwhumper @sharkyydoesnothing

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[seedsofagony]

Freewrite & Poll (KnY)

Series: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Characters: Tomioka Giyu, Kocho Shinobu, Rengoku Kyojuro, Uzui Tengen, Kanroji Mitsuri, Himejima Gyomei, Tokito Muichiro, Obanai Iguro, Shinaguzawa Sanemi

Word Count: 560

Summary: individual head canons for the Hashira at their annual gingerbread house-building competition

Notes: I'm trying something a little more interactive - read the one shot, then vote for who you think should win! ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Disclaimer: SFW with some swears ♡

In the annual gingerbread house-building competition, the Hashira face off to see who can create the most spectacular confection...

Tomioka Giyu does not participate in the competition - he never has and probably never will. Instead, he stands on the sidelines, saying things like "うわー so much frosting..." in a total deadpan while sipping a mug of hot cocoa.

Kocho Shinobu's gingerbread house has candy stained glass windows. The roof has overlapping chocolate wafer shingles, dusted with confectioner's sugar, and, from the chimney, there is a delicate plume of cotton candy smoke. She doesn't necessarily want to win (she does), she just wants to show everyone else how it's done.

Rengoku Kyojuro is an enthusiastic participant. He doesn't put a ton of pre-planning into his gingerbread house - he knows that "no plan survives contact with the enemy," so he'll just work with what he has. Maybe the walls aren't straight and the gumdrops are sliding off the roof, but his gingerbread house exudes a kind of irresistible sloppy charm.

Uzui Tengen is in it to win it, and with the helping hands of his three wives, he might actually do it. The thing is, too many chefs spoil the broth - or gingerbread. Wrangling Maiko and Suma is a challenge - Tengen and Hinatsuru can only do so much, and it isn't long before Tengen's visions of flashy sugarplums are dashed by an insufficiently load-bearing wall and way too much frosting.

Kanroji Mitsuri and Obanai Iguro are a team. Maybe that's cheating, but one glare from Iguro would shut up just about anyone (Sanemi excluded). Of the two of them, it's Mitsuri who has the vision - a romantic castle covered in glittering sugar and candies. Iguro acts as more of a cheerleader - he loves Mitsuri's take on Neuschwanstein. Who cares if it's lopsided? And falling down - quick as lightning, he places a candy cane buttress, and a crisis is averted.

Himejima Gyomei isn't much for competition. He genuinely just wants everyone to have a nice time. He stays mainly on the sidelines, absorbing the holiday cheer and encouraging everyone to persevere. Never mind the fact that he's ruthlessly crushed them all on Christmases past, creating impossibly intricate and lifelike designs with his finely honed senses - this year, he's just here to have fun.

Tokito Muichiro might be on the sidelines if it weren't for Tanjiro. Like Giyu and Gyomei, he's not especially interested in the competition, but with Tanjiro's encouragement, he'll give it his best. Which is actually pretty pathetic - his gingerbread house is more like a hovel and the gumdrops are haphazard (Shinobu is audibly grinding her teeth just looking at it), but the whole experience was actually pretty fun. Maybe next year, he'll put in more of an effort...

Shinazugawa Sanemi does not have a ton of patience for building gingerbread houses. What he does have, though, is a blazing-hot competitive streak. Building a house out of cake might be a waste of time, but he is going to win, goddamnit. At least, he would if he had even a single creative bone in his body. The bigger and better he tries to make his gingerbread house, the faster it collapses like a flan in the oven. Eventually, he blows up, yells "FUCK THIS!" and storms out.

[survivalist-anon]

Log 6: Fort Dorn

Fort Dorn:

06:00 hrs

Intensive Environment Training Room

Floor -6

Four imperial fists have gone currently for 5 hours planking by their arms and feet in a room that has been designed to reach temperatures of 200° Fahrenheit. Grilled for what had occurred last night.

"So.....you four think you can just sneak out..... pretend to be not just civilians.... MORTAL civilians.", the current chaplain, Aldercon, steadily paced in his armor. "So. Did you boys have a nice drink? In which would be at this point.... quite frankly the biggest waste of your Oolitic kidney's FUCKING TIME.", leans down to Bilhard's face.

Bilhard was doing relatively good, sweating liters of his sweat per second, "SORRY SIR!". His voices shouted.

Raises up, takes a step to Urtus. "You are going to be here just as long as Bilhard is. Do you understand me?".

Urtus was neck and neck to Bilhard. By this point he's matching Bilhard on everything including sweating. "SIR YES SIR!"

"I CAN'T HEAR BOY! THE HEAT MELTED MY FUCKING AUDITORY MODULE AID!", the chaplain shouted.

"SIR YES SIR!", Urtus responded, his voice would have reverberated throughout the room if it weren't for the heating system.

The chaplain moved on to Cahrilo. Leaned right into his face. "....what about you lover boy. FUCKING SATISFIED WITH YOUR SEXUAL SHENANIGANS?!?!".

Cahrilo, doing more than sweating his fluids right out, red in the face trying to keep focus on his plank. Unlike the rest of his brothers, he hadn't trained like this for a while. He also didn't want to answer the loaded question, which ever answer he gave, he would lose for sure. "Ugh"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOUVE BORED ME!", by this point the heating room has now gotten on the chaplain's last nerve. He paces to Moors.

".....you're here..... because you stole that United States issued assault tank from that base up in Washington....and decided to modify it.... with spinning rims.", he concluded with a terribly hidden grin.

"Those weakling, yellow bellied welps at that over polished white outhouse didn't deserve 'Edna'.", with absolutely no wasted breath, Moors had just admitted to stealing government property.

This resulted in the other three bursting into uncontrollably laughter but landing in their own boiling sweat puddles.

The chaplain signal's the operator outside of the enhanced two way mirror to shut off the heater. All right that's enough for today, and Moors you're writing a double report for moral misconduct of theft of a military vehicle."

Moors got up, "worth it.", massaging his forearms.

"Hit the showers! You all smell like the nicest part of Nurgle!", Aldercon was done punishing the four marines for the time being. He enters into a small transition chamber where a blue arousal spray coats him. His face scrunches up and he starts spitting. "BLAH! WHY DOES THE DISINFECTANT TASTE LIKE BLACK BARRIES?!? SHA'KAL!", he calls out to the facilities only Salamander apothecary marine.

On the intercom, Sha'kal man's the controls, "It's a new edible formula sir! It's to prevent the others from consuming the original disinfectant.", he has always had everyone's well being in mind. Making sure that everyone, man, marine, animal or vegetable receives the best and safest care.

"WHOS THE NUMBNUTS THATS BEEN LICKING THEMSELVES CLEAN OF DISINFECTANT?!?", he angrily wipes his eyes and mouth. "Also why black barries?! I hate black barries!".

Sha'kal got up from his chair to give Aldercon a towel, "well it was the flavor that won the facility wide voting."

"oh the cruel beauty of democracy.... status report of the morning.", he shakes his head wiping off the fruity liquid.

Taking out a clip board, "well, reserves are well stocked for the month, the parameters of the fort have once again been triple checked and fortifed-"

"Ah good. Just the way I like it. Continue." A smile creeps up Aldercon's face ear to ear, chuffed to hear that so far everything is good.

As he and Aldercon walk through the expansive underground halls containing the day's reports, all forms of activity is occuring. Construction and excavations on the expanding territory of the Imperial Fists continues in full speed. Several Marines keep the place running in full operational standards to a Space Hulk on a much smaller scale.

"-and how is the ugh....what was that project that Ihorn was doing?", Aldercon reluctantly asked.

Sha'kal checked the notes he made in the back of one of the documents, "Oh yes....um the trainable bears. So biological augmentations on the bears have been successful. They've fully adapted to the nutrition supplements and seem to have adopted rather preferable behaviors.", the two of them walk to an enormous elevator shaft fit and strong enough to carry up to several tons worth of equipment.

After a few minutes of more briefing, they finally reach the surface level of the fort. Cleverly disguised as an abandoned farmhouse, the two Astartes march to the tattered barn, where most of the animals the Imperial Fists use for their own purposes.

"Ihorn! How are the bears doing?", he shouts to the shirtless marine.

Ihorn was originally a member of a company of Crimson fists stationed in Cadia for a temporary few decades, than was sent to a death planet. Now is perfectly content with animal training, he's the proud trainer of a team of eight, modified grizzly bears. "Ohoho, good morning Chaplain! Splendidly, look! Petunia is ready to have a litter again!", he proudly shows a gigantic grizzly bear, with a modified power pack permanently attached to the bear's back, tubes running along side her spine, ribs and head.

This was a bear made for the Imperium.

The bear stood up to intimidate the chaplain and Sha'kal. She had a furless bare belly, a side effect of the modifications made to her, slightly larger than normal due to the unnatural pregnancy. She let a low defensive growl.

"now now my sweet girl, you relax and concentrate on the cubs. Come on love.", Ihron takes a small clacker, clicks it a few times, snapping the bear back to its docile self.

Ihorn gives her an apple as a treat, giving her a stead pat in the back, "the girls always need to be spoiled. They perform better and are happier to do so.".

Impressed by the animal mastery Ihron has accomplished, Aldercon now wonders about something else, "The females? Why not the males?".

Giving a pensive thought, "well... I tried the males .....the females would kill and eat them", scratches Petunia behind the ears. "Shame really, I would like to see one fully grown.".

Sha'kal was standing in front of Aldercon in order to protect him from the bear, even if he was wearing an enlarged shirt with combat trousers. "Couldn't have you just, I don't know....not brutality alter this... innocent creature, it is in pain?", he looked at the unsightly handy work of one of the only members of the Adeptus mechanicus the fort had....a skitarii they named "Gibs".

"nonsense, I can tell she's pretty content. I've studied these lovely beasts for decades and she's just as content as a regular bear in captivity. Besides, if ever hear that measley little cord rat hurt any of my animals....I'll squish whatever is left of him.", he checks the power pack to see if it causing any discomfort.

Aldercon looks around at the other animals Ihron keeps in the barn, a few cows, some chickens specifically taken from an industrial farm several miles away and a few emotional support animals like sheep and domestic pigs. "Hmm. I see you're doing a good job. Primarch would be proud of your compassion for these beasts.", he gives him a firm handshake. He can't help but look back at the bear and attempt to intimidate her one last time.

She looked rather bored, until she was able to manipulate the muscles in her snout into a creepy, unnatural grin.

"oH sweet mother of-", he almost grabs his chest.

Ihorn and Sha'kal both laugh, "GOOD GIRL PETUNIA!", he gives her a hug for her little stunt.

Petunia gives a victorious roar, and gives Ihron a lick to the face.

As he continued to giggle, Sha'kal turned to see an unhumored Aldercon. "Oh my bad sir. We were planning that prank for weeks."

With a stern nod of head, "oh brother. Come on, let's continue the briefing".

The both of them leave the and head to the "farm house", as the two squeeze in through the threshold, a covert operation of digital surveillance is under way. As the two marine walk through, members of different chapters contribute to the complex communications system that has been spying the United States and several other countries decades before the FBI or the CIA.

"anything?", Aldercon quietly asked one member of the Ultramarines surveying the movement of the stock exchanges, monetary spending and shockingly enough the cash flow of several other developed nations on a set of 8 monitors. Hyperfocused, the marine just wags his finger 'no'. "Good work", he gives the marine a pat the back.

Walking over to an empty desk, he looks at the neatly kept but rather personalized workspace of the only confirmed Raven Guard in the country.

Letting out a deep disappointed sigh, "where is he?", he turns to see several members stop and look at the desk. Some of them silently nodding or gesturing uncertainty. "Has anyone here seen Wick?".

Giving a clarify cough, "um I believe he went 'to the field ', at least that's how he worded it to me.".

Aldercon is no stranger to rebellious behavior. When he first appeared on Earth around a hundred and twenty years ago, he had at several points been married, has had children and watched them grow up throughout their stages of life. He is certain this is one of those times, however a human teenage son is one thing, a fully grown adult Astartes fresh from his time as a neophyte is a completely different matter of frustration. "I see.....well ....did he keep his tracking system on?"

One of the fist's working on GPS tracking searches for Wick's location. "Ah yes, he is currently in Nevada."

He takes a double take, "WHAT?!"

The fist looks at the data on Wick's location. "Hmm...he's on the move but he is in government airspace."

Cupping his hands to his temples, massaging away the pent up frustrations he had just built up. "Can things get ANY more complicated?"

"3 Boogies at 12 o'clock sir. Heading to the north side of the wall.", one of the other Marines announces.

"oh goodie....the sons of Russ.... just in for a visit.", he isn't much better hearing this.

"wait they have a civilian with them", suddenly he feels the room's tone change from tense to dangerous.

Seething with rage, one rule Aldercon has been strict on enforcing is the restricted access of the Fort to moral humans. ".....Ssssssssteeeennnnnnnnnn......". He leaves fuming.

"oh dear, Aldercon please calm down!", Sha'kal runs after the chaplain in hopes he doesn't kill anyone on the way to the wall.

The room stood quite, with nothing but the beeps and pings of the monitors. All of them had gone right back to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the trees past the four us, with the wind on my face and the careful dodging of branches, it felt like I was flying. I couldn't believe this was happening. Not only the cabin, but a pack of mysterious space soldiers? Forget about the inheritance money, this beats that any day!

However, I should be a little more careful with being caught up in this, I barely know these men. For all I know they could be making it up ...the more I think about it, the more I wonder why all this? Was this something I genuinely deserved? What if something else happens?

The trio stop, Sten smells the air, trying to pick up a sent. "this way.", he points his body to the direction of the mountain range nearby. As the pack continues, I have a sudden nagging feeling crawl up my spine.

"wait, you guys said this was a fort right?", I ask loudly as the brushing of leaves slightly drowns my voice out.

Fjord, practically prancing in the brush, "yes lass! It's an Imperial Fist fort! Best in the business and probably filled to the brim with traps! It's gonin to be fun!".

"Ay, are you daft!? The girl is with us, and she doesn't have any armor! Unless she's some covert Battle Sister I say we be careful.", As Toke dodged a branch, he tossed one on to what looked like a safe clearing but was actually a huge automatic trap.

I began to worry, I didn't care if these guys were heavily armored or if I didn't know them, I just didn't want them getting hurt.

"tis all right Lorey, we will keep you safe. I won't let any harm come to you.", I could feel Sten's grip adjusting to secure me. The fact he carried me here was a feat in it's own.

Their pace slowed down and soon we reached a concrete wall. This was bigger than anything current military fencing, it just looked like a thick, eerie wall. I could see graffiti and posters scattered throughout. "What the....who...built this?", I could imagine the workforce that took the time to do it.

"well, it looks we're going up!", Toke had pressed a few buttons on his arms, switching on a set of claws on his gauntlets.

Sten placed me down gently to do the same, "my dear, you will have to climb up onto my back, I have switched off the power pack so the exhaust ports do not burn you.".

I it was only now I noticed the jetpack on his back, it looked like it had little let engines on it, I climbed up and held tight. "Well, ugh...you guys are going to climb the wall, shouldn't you guys have a rope or something?".

Fjord chuckled a little, "no lass, we can handle this little obstacle all on our own.", enabling his own set of claws, the three had made a running start to the Wall's surface. All ready clearing 10 feet up the concrete barrier.

Suddenly, someone shouts from the other side.

"HAULT! PASSWORD!", the voice commanded.

No one knew what to say or do.....I had begun to worry.

"YOUR MOTHER!", unsurprisingly Fjord had the perfect response.

The sound of scuffling metal plating quickly making it's way to the top, loud exacerbated huffing and a yellow helmet peaking furiously from the top.

"PASSWORD REJECTED!", the yellow armored man then pointed a shockingly large gun at Fjord. The second the trigger was fired, that same horrifying blast erupted from the barrel like a high-speed rocket. Nearly hitting Fjord.

Dodging with unnatural grace and speed, Fjord quickly climbed up before and tackled the guard, both falling back behind the wall.

Judging from the time it took to hear a THUD, they may have fell rough 25 feet down.

I was still recovering from the shots fired, I turn to see a crater on the side of the wall where Fjord had dodged what I assumed was a missile. "FJORD! Oh crap is he ok?!".

Toke and Sten quicken their pace up the wall.

"Do not worry about him, the fall will knock some sense in him.", Toke clawed at the concrete.

As soon as the three have reached the top of the wall, we were met with several of them pointing guns at our direction....and one big furious looking guy with greyed hair was staring daggers at us.

"STEN! YOU TAKE ONE MORE STEP WITH THAT MORTAL CIVILIAN HERE AND I WILL PUT YOUR IDIOT BROTHER DOWN!", he points to Fjord pinned down to the ground by two other Marines, trying to bite their hands.

Sten and Toke had locked it up.

"You know just as well as I do that killing another Astartes is not deeply frowned upon, and in our current circumstance....an act of heresy on its own!", Sten stood his ground, but I can tell he was trying to cooperate.

I was starting to feel guilty for being in this mess, "Sten what's going on?".

"Do not fret, Aldercon is just a little more cautious than the rest of us ....", he tried to assure me, however I've been in enough situations to know that stare of his had a history.

End of Log 6

@kit-williams @barn-anon

[goodluckclove]

I think one of the most surreal echoes of my abuse is also the one that'll last the longest, and it flashes every time something important I have breaks. Technology, maybe - like my phone, laptop, or to some extent my e-bike.

Growing up my parents called me a thrasher. It was a common "joke" in our family that I always broke or damaged my nice things. I was the only kid that my mom had shop exclusively at Goodwill for most of my life because I stained my clothes so easily that anything else would just waste money.

As an adult the clothes things worry me less. I got pretty good at cleaning stains (Kind of seems like they could've taught me themselves instead of judging me for it, I remember thinking once), and the ones that stay I would either shrug off or cover with fun little embroidery designs.

Technology guilt lingers, though. It probably will for a while. I remember the laptop I have now, which I use every day for writing ever since my wife bought it for me, suddenly shut down one day for seemingly no reason. My wife is great with technology, obviously, and they spent maybe an hour poking around it while I loomed guiltily in the background.

My chest was tight with shame and fear. This wasn't the most expensive laptop, but it was pricey. They bought it for me, and I must've done something to break it. They must hate me. They should hate me.

Eventually they put aside the laptop and made a comment about sending me the number for customer service. Said it should still be under customer service.

"I'm sorry," I murmured weakly.

They looked up at me. "Why?"

"I did something. I must've fucked it up somehow," I forced polite curiosity and tried to see this as a learning moment. "What do you think I did wrong?"

My wife thought about that, blinking blandly into the middle distance. They shrugged. "I don't know," they said. "Maybe nothing."

I stammered, baffled. They noted my despair and frowned idly.

"Sometimes things just break," they said.

The discrepancy that comes when you realize the things that would've gotten you punished for so long weren't actual moral failings is a strange thing to bare. I think about it a lot. I don't really know what to make of it yet.

[minijenn]

Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: Shark Tale

See now this is the part where the word "torture" really becomes accurate because oh my fucking god that's exactly what this hell movie is.

So uh yeah. Shark Tale. It sucks. Do I really need to go on? It's insufferably annoying with ugly ass characters who are incredibly unlikable, with a paper thin plot that beats you over the head with its message right from the very start. But I suppose if I have to break it down....

The movie stars Will Smith Fish I mean Oscar, who's a self-centered clout chaser who wants to become a "somebody" and a cliche misunderstanding succenly launches him into the status of a hero known as the Sharkslayer. This happens after the son of some shark mob boss (yes there's a shark mob shut up I hate it too) dies in an accident, and his other son, Lenny (who's a vegetarian, idk how that's possible, just roll with it) befriends Oscar and the two stage another shark slaying to keep Oscar in the limelight. Inset a stupid ass love triangle with Lola, the blatant gold digger, and Angie, Oscar's best friend who spends the entire movie pathetically simping over this piece of shit, and well... you have the cinematic mess that is Shark Tale.

So the plot sucks, the whole messages of "tell the truth" and "status and wealth aren't everything" are so beaten into you the movie barely gives you a chance to think about them for yourself. But even worse than that plot are the characters. Oscar is just so damn unlikeable man, he's a lying asshole who only really cares about upward mobility and is willing to screw the few people who do care about him over to get it. Angie is just as bad, a bitchy, jealous simp who more or less gaslights Oscar into loving her by the end imo. The other characters are all one-note and lame, but I guess if any of them are mildly amusing, Lenny is the best of the bunch, if only because he's not an utterly miserable tool like everyone else in this movie is.

The music is the typical early 2000s Dreamworks pop nonsense, it wasn't too insufferable given the vibe of the movie, but still, it wasn't anything standout. The animation is... ok, but god these fugly ass character designs. Why oh WHY did they decide to putt Will Smith's face on a fucking FISH? Who looked at this and thought THIS WAS OK????

I will say the backgrounds and environments are genuinely nice to look at though, probably one of the very few redeeming qualities this film has to offer. As for everything else, well, there's a reason this movie lives in infamy as one of the worst things Dreamworks has ever put out. It sinks to scrub the bottom of the barrel (get it? Ok I'll shut up) in just about every way there is. It's riddled with lame puns, unfunny jokes, blatant product placements, and just about every stupid cliche you can think of for a kids movie. Save yourself the trouble and leave this one for the fishes (goddammit now the stupid ass movie has me doing it too).

Overall Rating: 2/10

Verdict: Send these ugly ass fish to the toxic waste dump where they belong

Previous Review (Shrek 2)

Next Review (Madacascar)

[anonxmousss]

It'd been about 1 hour since 6am hit. 1 hour till Michael was meant to get off shift. 1 long excruciating hour that Y/N, his spouse, spent stressing at their shared house. Pacing restlessly, constantly glancing at the clock and then the front door camera. No trace of him, not even a call or text message.

It was completely out of character for Mike. Usually, as soon as he heard the heavenly ring of the alarm on his desk, he was up and out of Fazbear's Pizzeria within 30 seconds. In that time he also managed to send a small message to his partner, to let you aware that he was fine and will be home shortly.

Now, the mugs, filled to the brim with hot chocolate and marshmallows, lay cold and dull atop the counter, untouched. The blankets and pillows that lay so comfortably on the couch now grew hard and uncomfortable.

Call after call, message after message, your panic continued to rise drastically, your concern for your husband growing at dangerous levels.

After another cruel 10 minutes of impatient texting, you finally decided to check up on him yourself. Not checking up on if you left the oven on like you usually did, you grabbed your car and house keys and left the house, paying no attention to the rain that poured across the streets.

You ran into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut and hastily putting on your seatbelt before turning the handle and in turn hearing a rev of the engine. Taking no time to check for blind spots, you took off in a heartbeat.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as your car pulled up into the carpark, you scrambled out without bothering to lock the door and ran straight to the doors. Surprisingly, they were unlocked. Odd...

You took a few steps inside, looking around at the growing natural light of the sunshine from outside. It looked.. nice, without all of the annoying kids and spillages across the floor. You could actually appreciate the neatly done decorations and intricate details of the wallpaper and staging designs. Without the loud sounds of children's laughter, screams and the music that burst out from the loud speakers, you could actually hear a soft melody playing around the restaurant. It wasn't from a speaker, it was like the restaurant's own music, like... an aeolian tone, you called it.

You snapped out of this trance as you heard a faint groan from the other room, the security room. Wasting no more time, you ran over, and freezing in the hallway.

In the room, sat on the chair, was Michael Afton himself. Conscious, and alright for what you could see.

But he wasn't sat down, technically. Wrapped around him were wires, almost like they were binding him to the chair, their origin being from a hole in the ceiling. An obvious malfunction in the redesign of the restraunt.

You took a moment to appreciate the view. He looked so beautiful like this, all tied up, looking up at you so helplessly yet with a scowl nonetheless. His hair was dishevled, his uniform slightly coming off from the wires that forced against his body. His chest bared slightly, refealing a hint of the muscle underneath, along with the fluffiness that you liked to bury your head in at night...

You then let out a laugh, unable to hold it in any longer. Michael's gaze narrowed at the laughter, letting out a small grunt from the bottom of his throat.

"Something funny, Y/N?" He asks, his voice dropping to a lower, more gravelly tone. Your laughter only grew at this, light chuckles turning into full on out cackling. You shook your head, lifting it to see Michael's failed attempt at intimidation.

"Sorry, sorry," You start, "Just you look so pathetically adorable, all tangled up in that. Entangled so beautifully, for me."

Michael's eyes narrowed, but then he scoffed slightly and frowned.

"The fuck you mean by that? I didn' ask for this!"

To his surprise, you advanced, tracing a hand along his face, down his neck and to his chest, leaving a trail of soft yet arousing heat in it's wake.

"Y'know.. there's so many things we, I, could do to you."

Before Michael could even respond, you planted your lips on his mouth, already slipping your tongue in and tracing it around Michael's mouth. It had a taste of alcohol, but also the sleep medicine that Michael took so that he could sleep during his duty, and finally an unforgettable taste which was utterly and truly Michael. You couldn't get enough of it.

Pulling away for a breath, Michael's eyes fluttered briefly, his face flushed as he looked at you with nothing but lust and love in his deep blue eyes. Beautiful.

Michael leaned in for another kiss, and you let him for now. Mid-kiss, your hand teased at Michael's waistband, prodding at the flesh that lay there, which got a pleasant reaction out of Michael, who twitched and moaned softly at the sensation.

"Mmm..." He hummed against your lips, grinding softly against your hand as it palmed his bulge. You couldn't help but smile at the sensation, feeling his hardening cock already growing a bit wet. Completely at your mercy...

"Tell me, puppy, would you like a little treat?" You murmured against his lips, nibbling his lower one for a moment while gazing into his half-lidded eyes. He noddled and let out slurred, incomprehensible words in response.

"Good boy.." You then drop down to your knees before him, undoing his jeanso annoyingly slow that he struggled against the unmoving wires to try and do it himself. You look up at him with a stern gaze. Already a slut for me, you think.

You then manage to get it undone, lifting his hard member out of his pants. Your fingers trace over it gently, watching it twitch in your grip and feeling the smooth texture of it, along with the pre-cum already beading at the tip.

Unable to resist any longer, you duck your head down and lick the shaft from basse to tip, repeating a few times and savouring his taste.

"No- please.. ah..." Michael starts to beg, his breath hitching and body shifting whatever it could to get you to take him more. You just move back as he does so.

"Bad pup. Take what you're given." You command, and then get back to licking, before moving your tongue along the sensitive head and slit. Once satisfied, you move your lips over it and take it in your mouth, going progressively deeper the more you bop your head. He whimpers and moans in response, leaning his head back. What a whore.

You continue your ruthless administrations, admiring the way his body twitches and shakes every time the head meets your throat. You can feel yourself gag at the size, but don't stop.

Picking up the pace, in turn getting more whines and begs out of his pretty little mouth, you feel him get ever so close to his orgasm.

You pick up the pace relentlessly, working on his cock until it finally twitches in your mouth. Following that is the spurt of his semen, flowing down your throat and leaving behind a salty yet sweet taste. All you can hear apart from that is the loud whimpers and moans of Mike, momentarily lost in the haze. Once satisfied that he is fully empty, you slowly pull him out of your mouth, licking the remaining cum off of his length before smiling up at him and sticking out your tongue to show proudly that you finished it all.

"Good boy..." You mutter, before cuddling by his leg and sighing.

"You... You gonna untangle me or what..?" You hear him mutter in between pants and small whines, and you freeze for a second before laughing nervously.

"Yeah, yeah of course." You sigh, before delicately undoing the wires that kept him at bay for so long.

[catsrightnow]

PART TWO OF MSC THIRD WHEELING SAGA:

Me: oh you played identity v too thats so neat!!!

Bai Liu: of course, its a horror mobile game made by a local (chinese) company, also quite interesting mechanics (even though its mainly from DBD)

Me: they worked together tho right? the games' production company

Bai Liu: Yeah they did, very cool tbh. Btw, did you play ranked? like won any esports tournament?

Me: me???? pfft nah i was like a casual player i guess. Who did you main?

Bai Liu: mostly player Survivor as Mechanic but I also dabble in playing Prisoner or Prospector. What about you, who'd you main (as a survivor)

Me: oh thats freaking fun man im a gardener main. What about Hunter?

Bai Liu: I mean I don't really main Hunters but i do admit they have pretty good designs, not so creepy to not get censored but quite intriguing and unsettling in their own way. Like Wu Chang? cool mechanic

Me: Right??? i could never play him though I'm mostly like a Naiad main?

Bai Liu: Naiads cool and quite OP, wish there was like a merman hunter too lol

Mu Sicheng: this pork is so good you guys i hope you two KILL YOURSELVES right NOW. ill set this table on fire . ill take all of it with my skill and we will finally be free of this purgatory. You guys have ANY idea how much time we're wasting right now????

Bai Liu: like , 4 minutes? tops?

Mu Sicheng: IT'LL BE 12 HOURS BY THE TIME YOU TWO ARE DONE YAPPING

Me: what if i killed you? shut up. let us talk about devising a strategy to collect the monster book pages

Bai Liu: oh yeah we havent been doing that havent we

Me: I mean, we've mostly been talking about the economy and horror gacha so no, also you guys havent told me what yall want and what yall are offering for this supper btw

Mu Sicheng: i want your damn life

Me: hey man I know im like famous but my life is probably worth more than your entire game inventory so like no thanks, can you give me unbothered henry instead?

unbothered henry: 🙉

Bai Liu: can i get like infinite mental bleach from here and keep it in my inventory? it counts right?

Me: well i have a lot stocked up so surezies what are u paying with

Bai Liu: a chance to browse all my irl game accounts in different games and try out all my characters whenever you want

Me: okay deal

Mu Sicheng: SERIUOUSLY??;?!!!??! ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!?!?!?!

Me: system, mute disciple Mu Sicheng hes interrupting our nice friday night dinner right now

System: ['The Last Supper' Target Mu Sicheng is currently in Mute 🔕 mode! Time set to 3 minutes muted as there are 3 participants currently in the domain!]

Bai Liu: unbothered henry doesn't count as a guest? that's so sad

Me: nah hes a meal

unbothered henry: 🐵...

LMAOOOOOO

[evcryopeneye]

@nebulaties​​ asked: ❛ what aren’t you telling me? ❜ pike to tilly 

Honestly, Tilly couldn’t remember having ever run this fast, her side burned, screamed at her in pain and yet…there was no choice to be made. Stopping wasn’t even on the cards. They were fast running out of time and the entire away party was going to die in this craphole. Fuck that. There was a determination that she couldn’t identify, like she was going to make sure they got out of here, not to save themselves but to give the unknown species that wanted to kill slash eat slash enslave them the middle finger.

Mission successful on that front Tilly thought to herself as she slid through double doors and into an office. She let the door swish shut before almost ripping the door panel off the wall. A few well placed taps it locked, getting it back open again wasn’t exactly on her game plan. It was irrelevant right now. She simply needed to get the security systems and the shields down. Then the team could get out of here.

A very simple plan really, so simple a cadet with some good computer skills and luck could pull it off.

She considered telling the team she’d made progress but that was wasted time now.

Frantic fingers sped across the alien console. She’d managed to work out what controlled what…it took her longer than it should have to get into their systems but, there were two bullets in her side and it hurt to breathe, it wasn’t like she was in peak condition right now. As menus flickered up, she tore systems down one by one, it was brutal, lacked the usual elegance of her plans but it didn’t matter. Hallways were flooded in red light, a computerised voice announcing ‘security failure, shields down,’ she assumed it was some kind of warning system, designed so crew who weren’t essential could evacuate into a more central part of the ship - it was a simply logical move to reduce the chance of casualties. Though suspected it might just piss the off more.

If they had been nice at least, she was sure the Captain would have given them a ride somewhere safe rather than having to deal with near feral crew members who had gone insane in space.

Exhausted, Tilly let herself slide down the wall. Try to catch her breath. With a tap of her com badge, she delivered the simple message, “security systems are all down Captain.” They should be able to get them out of here. If Tilly had been in charge she would have ordered an emergency beam out immediately, but that meant leaving behind the unknown crew to now fend for themselves in a ship that would get destroyed the first time it saw some space debris. It wasn’t exactly ethical, was it?

‘What are you not telling me?’

Was it that obvious? Swallowing the lump in her throat, Tilly stayed silent. Unable to convey in coherent words how simply shit she felt. Every breath burned, the blood soaked uniform left the taste of iron in the air…she wasn’t sure if it was the volume, or simply the fact that she had seen her own blood. She’d seen people faint at the sight of their own blood. It was the reason right? Glancing down at her hand, eyes lifted to the console, unaware she’d left streaks of blood on it. Was there any point in telling him? They should leave her behind. She wasn’t meant to be here anyway. 

“You should…get out of here.”

[soir-rouges-esprit]

xxv.e: Destroyer, just general voices that were chatting away in the background, things being said such as ... “Fuck … is this where we are in life?” “I think this is good, I think if we hold strong, and keep to this good path, we can prove our strength and individuality.” “Think they care? … You must be huffin exhaust street rat! … haha, yea ... ain't no one in this head seein that silver jubilee pal.” “Still? There has to be a more efficient way to connect … maybe a gray path of Naughty and Nice?” “I should see meine oma, she's still healthy and not going anywhere, but sooner than later … that'll change.” “Lookin' for me? *He Coughs Blood* … ha … we both know that's a little too late now.” “Remember when we used to steal cucumbers from the neighbor's garden? Take them to the pink playhouse and pretend to cook, chopping them up with a knife we stole from the kitchen.” “YOU'RE GOING OVER THE LIMIT … Stop NOW … or you'll kill yourself.” “*Sounds of a Mourning Doves Coo*” “come on, Come On, COME!!! … ON!!! … Pull that Fuckin! Trigger! … I know you wanna thrash and thrill a little, dance with danger … so just … pull my devil trigger.” “ … in a strange time in my life … “ I snap from it, realizing I hadn't really washed that much … more so stood and glared at the drain while the hot water ran down my head, down my body, and just kind of fucking zoned out. I finish up and hop out, dry myself off, and put on the aforementioned “Old Shorts” … they were of my old school gym uniform, all white shorts with a red stripe on each outer side of the legs stretching vertically from top of the waste band to bottom of the seam, the shorts themselves rode just above the knees and were flexibly tight fitted but comfortable. I walk out, shirtless as there was no shirt to wear (As if it were planned that way) to The Imp strung across her fluffy white couch, laying down on her back, under a thin but also fluffy black and purple checkered blanket with her tablet in front of her face … I walk over and ask, Where's Ein? It was then she moved the table from out away from in front of her to reveal, a very sleepy and cuddled-up Ein, nestled on her upper chest closer to her neck, covered slightly in the blanket. *light gasp* I cannot believe what I'm seeing … You! … taking care of something without killing it? … astonishing, truly. “Shut up … feel lucky I like him more than I do you, and I don't turn him over to the vet immediately.” Well … aren't you grouchy all of a sudden “HE'S Supposed! … ” *she goes to a whisper* “He's supposed to eat/drink milk and a special type of formula since he's so young” Shit … well ok, did it say anywhere to get it? Pet store? or … straight to a vet? “Said a pet store typically sells the formula” *She gets up slowly, putting Ein down on the couch wrapped in the blanket* “You go get the formula, looks like this, I'll stay here to watch over him, and get dinner started … as well think over some things we need to discuss, understand?” Yeah … got it. “Good” *She goes in and gives me an unexpected deep hug* “I was scared you weren't gonna be able to make it this far, sorry to doubt you, I just worry … glad you're here.” I felt my heart beat hard and fast for a second … as if I had lost what it had felt like to hear someone say those words. *I go to hold her, wrapping my arms around her* yeah … thanks … Imp. I could feel her heartbeat, she was so close, she was so … light. We let go and I set off, taking about an hour, I returned with two bags full of formula and a little adjustable red collar, with a silver dog tag attached that had engraved, Ein, stretched vertically down the tag. I lay everything down on the counter, trying not to take up so much space. “Find the formula?” She said while sautéing something in a sauté pan, Yeah! “Good, because he woke up … and he is … Hangry!” I grabbed a formula bag with its helpful little bottle design, pick up Ein on the couch, and watch as he devoured one whole bag, then watched as he sneezed, burped, and hiccupped all at the same time ... [To Be Continued]

[showerbong]

as soon as i hear that the casting agents for Not Your Mom's Dance Mothers (Boogying MILFS Edition) are going to be scouting out the local studio moms here in Plainville, i make up an excuse to text shauna, asking her what she thinks of her traveling waxer, fabricia.

I already know shauna's opinion on the waxer because shauna never shuts the fuck up about her, always droning on about how fabricia is incredibly hygienic. evidently she can appear at shauna's doorstep, massage table in tow, on a mere 15 minutes' notice. shauna loves to tell everyone that she once had fabricia relieve her of her pubes in just 6 minutes, in the middle of the home office during the work day, while shauna was camera off and muted in some PR zoom meeting. she is absolutely full of shit. we all know she just keeps bringing up her vag because she's insecure about wanting a vaginoplasty. at this point, shauna just needs to sack up and get one. tell everyone she's going for a digital detox retreat for a few days. fly down to new york, get her box tightened up, pickup the vicodin from CVS on her way back into town.

everyone is really exhausted of having to reassure shauna when she gets wine drunk that all vulvas are beautiful and hers transported two beautiful babies into the world and that she should be more body positive and less disparaging and should stop referring to her pussy as a cheese-skirted smashburger. i was the one who accidentally breathed life into that phrase when i was smashed off Tanqueray one of the earlier times shauna brought her pussy insecurities up. we'd been sitting in shauna's living room, drinking six different liquids between the four of us, and her fat husband sam was gone with their kids at dance practice. shauna was apparently punishing him for some domestic crime that i can't remember. i hadn't meant for it to become a thing, the smashburger comment, but i guess i just have that unfortunate knack for turning a truly enduring phrase every now and then.

shauna had been telling us all how her sister's sister-in-law got one, a vaginoplasty, after a terrible accident involving cliff-jump-gone-wrong in dubrovnik left this girl with permanent damage to her perineum. shauna was recounting this girl losing her pussy to the adriatic sea with a twisted fascination that she seemed unable to repress. i had just hit my weed pen in the bathroom a few minutes prior and was incidentally laughing hysterically.

it wasn't really that she wanted one, a vaginoplasty, shauna had explained in between baritonal gulps of her pinot. she sounded like she had marbles in her mouth. 'it's just, wouldn't it be nice to get like a designer vag? like a BESPOKE vagina?? just to tuck in the lips, like, just tuck them in so they're not just hanging there, that would be like ALL i would really need.'

i just knew the other two women (honestly, i ever only think of these two, who are shauna's mommy group friends, as a single entity, not because they are inseparable, but because they are both incredibly bland and boring and distinguishing them is irrelevant) were waiting for shauna to take a breath, winding up to start montessori-parenting the shit out of shauna's inner child. no time to waste.

'actually yes, i would absolutely love to get a designer pussy,' i jumped in, because i was drunk and high and irritated and in a sure-i'll-bite mood. also, shauna hates the word pussy, so i generally try to say it loudly in front of her whenever i get the opportunity.

i don't exactly remember how it happened because the three of them were talking over each other at that point, and then shauna started crying and came clean that she did, in fact, have monstrously flappy pussy lips. someone was saying that was impossible and the other floated the idea of shauna doing a divinely feminine grounding nude walk through the house to renew her self-compassion, if she was comfortable and wanted to of course, but then shauna started crying more, and that's when i knew that the situation was dire. there was no question about it-- shauna must actually have weird pussy lips. i had chalked up the theatrics to her emotional vampirism (which was nonetheless notable) but clearly the lips were not good. so i ended up just kind of nodding along and saying 'yes exactly i am sure you are normal!!' but this went on for several minutes and finally in desperation i just blurted out that there's no way hers was worse than this girl in college knew (i was making all of this up on the spot) who was rumored to have two sets of extra folds, and on top of that, she surely didn't have a waxer like fabricia. which did seem to cheer shauna up for a moment, but then another wave of stoned hit me and i started howling again. everyone demanded that i tell them why i was laughing, and shauna was at my metaphorical emotional jugular, suckling away, so i finally caved and forced to explain that this fictional girl's botched pussy was known throughout medford as the cheese-skirted smashburger. it just popped into my head and i got latched on, you know how it goes. predictably, that didn't land and so now Shauna brings it up almost every time we all get together now, working some thinly veiled joke about having an ogreish smashburger hole into every conversation with a long sigh or two.

but all this to say, when i learned about the opportunity to finally make my reality debut, i was just looking for an excuse to text shauna, because i know once she's thinking about me she'll try and plan some sort of excuse to drink together, and then once shauna is about 3/4 of the way through the bottle of wine after she's had her one celsius energy drink and two high noons, i will pose to her one of the most vile questions a young, sexy, childless woman such as myself can ask (especially when one's tits are still as perky as mine are), which is 'how are your kids doing,' and i will suffer those long agonizing minutes as shauna starts bitching about dance studio injustices, but i will PERSEVERE because if shauna knows anything about the casting situation yet she will not be able to resist telling me every exaggerated detail, unless she knows who theyre going to cast already and is embarrassed she did not get picked, in which case she will play dumb, but there will be her usual nervous tics that give her away (read, making unnatural and dramatic shifts in conversation towards her completely unique and possibly genetic chronic pain condition), but again i will persevere because that will be the moment i begin to plan EXACTLY how i am going to get cast on Not Your Mom's Dance Mothers (Boogying MILFS Edition).

[laffy-taffy-creations]

Day 19 peoples!!!!

This fic was cross-posted on AO3 here

Happy Birthday

Floral Bouquet | Psychological | "I'm not as stupid as you think I am"

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Words: 658

Warnings: heavy angst, mental spiraling, hurt no comfort, survivor's guilt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, well we're tired so we're gonna go to bed. Night Vee!" Kaminari called, dragging Kiri along with him.

"Goodnight!"

I waved goodnight to them. I was alone. Finally.

I got up and turned off the TV, shutting everything down before going to the kitchen. It'd been a while since I baked anything.

I scraped together all I could remember about her. She liked chocolate, so chocolate cake is what I'm making I guess.

Eggs, flour, sugar, vanilla extract, water, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, veggie oil, milk, salt…

Okay, we did have everything. Now to make it. The continuous cycle of wet the drys and dry the wets… it was simple. Sweet. Just like her.

I put it in the oven.

Now we wait about 30 minutes. 30 minutes to think…

Another year passed… another year they've had to endure in that miserable place while I'm out here, living comfortably, like a normal person…

Another year has passed and they're all still in that place no one should ever be.

Another year has passed.

The oven dinged.

The cake was done.

I pulled it out. The pleasant aroma filled the room while I let it cool. I couldn't frost it now. I'd have to wait.

I sat down on the kitchen floor. The timer would tell me when it was ready to frost. I didnt want to think. I wanted to turn my brain off. I fell into these thought spirals so easily.

It'd been another year…

The timer dinged. I got up.

The frosting was still where I'd left it in the pantry. I got out the frosting supplies. I decided on a black base with purple detailing, as well as a few green highlights. Just like her hair, and her eyes.

It didn't feel right adding a small cat design on top, but at the same time, it did. I put a few different number candles on the cake. A 20, and a 7, separately.

I lit the candles.

"Usuku lokuzalwa oluhle, Sayovai."

…I didn't wanna think about it. Sayovai is 20 now…

It's been another year they've had to wait for me to save them. Another year of failing. Another year they've been hoping I'll come back.

I felt something on my face. I realized I was crying. I'm fucking crying…

Another year of torture, another year of praying… Another year of survival.

I broke down. Sobs racked my body. I didnt care if anyone heard me, I couldn't believe I'd been such a let down.

Another year I've failed to save them.

I took some deep breaths. I still had to blow out the candles for her.

Pull yourself together 3. We promised her.

We promised her.

It took a bit, but I managed to calm myself to some extent. I blew out the candles for her. There you go, Sayovai.

I got out a knife. No sense in wasting cake. I took out the candles. I cut myself a slice.

I put the rest of the cake in the fridge.

My fork slid through the piece I got for myself with ease. Maybe I was better at baking than I remembered.

I brought the piece to my lips, but I couldnt eat it. I couldn't bring myself to eat it.

7 will never get to eat this cake. Do it for her.

I put it in my mouth.

It was sweet. The texture was nice.

Another bite.

Then another.

And another.

Usually I love chocolate cake. I didnt bother questioning why this was so much more difficult to eat. I already knew the answer.

It took everything I had not to outright sob while eating. That'd make me choke, then who would save them?

I finally finished the piece. Deep breaths Vee…

"Usuku lokuzalwa oluhle, Sayovai…" I repeated. It was a lie.

Until I got them out, it would never be happy.

Kuze kube unyaka ozayo. Sengathi wena nabanye ningahlala niphephile.

[sweetmusingss]

I help you to remove my dress, kneeling topless on the bed since I had only worn a lacy thong under my dress tonight. I knew where the night was heading and I wanted to surprise you. I glance up at you shyly, looking for your approval. It was also the first time that you were seeing the tattoo I had on my rib cage, having a few notes there. You had already seen my wrist tattoo all this time with Noah’s initials but this one I had hidden. I wasted no time in unbuttoning your jeans and helping you out of them along with your boxers. I pulled them down, letting out a quiet whimper when your length sprung free. I inhaled sharply, licking over my hand before wrapping my hand around your length and starting to pump you slowly. “What do you want, baby? Do you want my hand, my mouth, or are you ready to get inside of me?,” I whisper seductively to you, kissing slowly over your jawline.

“Jesus... you are going to be the death of me, babe.” He stared at you lustily as he saw your attire, thongs always being a weakness for him but especially seeing you kneeling in nothing else really got him going. His hand came up to brush against your tattooed ribcage, desperate to lick the design with his tongue. He helped you with getting his pants off, letting out a guttural groan at your words. “Fuck, all of the above? I want whatever you want to give me, baby girl.” He cupped your cheeks in his hands and kissed you hotly again, his tongue pushing into your mouth fervently.

__

Emma could barely keep up with what you were saying. What you were saying was genuinely really sweet and even as cold as she had been, she could see that. She wasn’t used to being complimented ever but hearing you say those things to her still did feel nice. You just kept talking though and rambling and she wasn’t sure if she found it cute or infuriating. She just wanted you to stop talking for one second so she could process. She was drunk and swaying and before she could stop herself, she did the one thing that she knew would guarantee to shut you up. She leaned into you, kissing you suddenly. She kissed you hard, placing her hands on either side of your face. She could hardly think about what she was doing, just wanting you to be quiet for two seconds. She couldn’t deny that kissing you made her feel like she was on fire, trying to ignore how good it felt to be kissing you. Your lips tasted sweet and it was way more addictive than kissing Killian had ever been.

I was still rambling as Emma just stared at me, not even knowing what I was talking about anymore but she didn’t stop me so I just kept going until suddenly she was grabbing my face and her lips were on mine. I was completely still for a few moments, in total shock that this was happening right now but quickly my brain caught up to reality and I kissed her back just as urgently as she kissed me. My hands reach out and rest on her hips, a bit terrified to touch her even though she was giving me the greenlight by kissing me. I had no idea what was happening, figuring this had to be some sort of dream I was having. Maybe I never really got to the bar, maybe I laid down when I got home after my shift and this was one of those dreams where I thought I actually left my house but really, I didn’t. I hadn’t kissed anyone in ages so it felt so good, especially kissing Emma, her lips were so soft and I could taste her chapstick and it was so addictive. I deepen the kiss just a bit, not ready for her to pull away just yet.

[lianahayze]

Shadow and the Midnight Misery: Chapter 4

Welcome to chapter 4, my lovelies! If you missed chapter 3 or want to catch up from the beginning, you can find my masterlist here. Chapter 4 is below the cut!

Chapter Four: Garver Institute

The Garver Institute is sunny. When I’d walked in about two hours ago, it had been the first thing I’d noticed. Sure, I’d noticed the doctors and nurses. I’d noticed the excess amount of identification I’d had to provide. I’d noticed everything I’d had to surrender at intake. I’d noticed a lot of things, sure, but there was something about all the large windows that really stuck with me.

It’s like they’re trying to create artificial happiness.

As I walk through the hallway, all I want to go back to my room. That's right: my room.

Not only do I have to talk to fucking doctors, but I must be isolated while I do it. I hate it and contested it when they first looked through my bags looking for "drug paraphernalia" but it hadn't stopped them. They'd practically upturned my bag, digging through my belongings with a fine-tooth comb. Had I brought anything with me? No, I hadn't been stupid enough to waste the money I'd spent, but I also don't see myself here long term. A few days, that's what they'd told me. A few days if I cooperate.

I'm not by myself as I walk down the hall. Beside me is Dr. Norris. She's not forcing me to speak, which I'm grateful for, but she thought a walk would be nice before we formally meet in her office.

Truth be told, I'm glad I'll be working with her instead of Dr. Dorian. He was as bland as a box of chalk, and if I had to spend any extended amount of time alone in a room with him, that "cooperation" they'd so desperately wanted wasn't going to happen. Older men, especially men who are decades older, just make my skin crawl.

Finishing up our walk, Dr. Norris leads me to her office. The flowy green skirt she's wearing swishes around her knees, and I find myself staring at it for a moment. Maybe it's the fact that I didn't smoke or take a bump this morning, but my eyes have been easily distracted all day.

Dr. Norris shuts the door behind us. She invites me to sit down, and she goes behind the desk. The wheels of her chair spin against the floor as she sits down and starts her computer.

"So, Shadow," she says, "what do you think about Garver Institute so far?"

What do I think? Well, from what I can tell, Garver seems to be designed with a specific clientele in mind, and that clientele is me. I don't even want to know the bill for my stay, but, based off the immaculate upkeep, the large trees and bushes, and the fact that there are cameras everywhere, I'm willing to bet I'm not the only famous person here. Everything just looks so... luxurious.

It could almost be mistake for a spa or a resort for anyone who didn’t know better.

"It's nice for people who need it, I guess." Even though I don’t need to, I smooth out my jeans. I pick at the rips in the knees, widening them.

"So you don't think you need it?"

I look up. "Huh?"

"You said it's good for people who need it," she says. "Do you mean it's good for you or other people?"

"Well, it's..." I'm not sure if she's trying to get me to say something specific. I decide on my words carefully. "I think you all know what you're doing here." I smile. Yeah, that will work.

"And what are we doing here?"

That smile falls. "Uh, helping people?" I sound unsure of myself.

"it's okay, Shadow. You can relax." She begins typing on her computer. "There are no wrong answers here."

I listen to the keys for a moment. "But you're here to help people, right?"

"That's what we try to do, yes. But it requires effort from all parties involved."

"So what do you think I need help with?"

She stopped typing and looked at me. Leaning back, she says, "That’s a good question for me to ask you, actually. What do you think you need help with?"

"Honestly, your guess is as good as mine."

"You don't know why you're here?"

"I mean, my band is acting stupid."

"That's right; you're in a band. What's it called?"

" The Midnight Misery." I pause, wondering if she's still just trying to get to know me or if the session has officially started. "We're, uh, like an alternative band."

"It's not my type of music, but I think I've heard of you."

"It's a lot of grunge, mostly," I continue. "But Wyatt, our guitar player, can come up with these sick riffs. His music taste is mostly stuck in the 80s, so stuff like that." The knot in my stomach that I didn't even realize was there begins to loosen. "We have a good time. Well, we used to have a good time."

"Hmm. What about the rest of the band?"

"They're all good. I got lucky with them, I guess."

"Do they smoke and drink, too?"

"Yeah." I pause. “But not all the time. It's part of the lifestyle, but we know when to take it easy."

"What lifestyle?"

"You know."

"No, I don't,” she says, “maybe you could explain it?"

Her face is blank. I'm not sure if she's just pretending to be clueless or if she genuinely doesn't know, but I decide to indulge her.

"There's a lot of partying. It just comes with being in a band. We buckle down when the time comes, though. Can't party without putting in the work first."

"That's a good attitude to have. It'll help you be very successful." I'm glad she thinks so. "And the cocaine?"

I'm tempted to say, "What about it?" but bite my tongue. I'm not going to lie about it, though, so I say, "I've been using for a few years now. They knew about it. actually, they've known about it for a while." And they've never had a problem with it until now.

That's what makes no sense about this entire thing. If they have such an issue with me occasionally doing coke, why haven't they brought it up before? Why not just mention it instead of staging a full-on intervention?

"How often do you use cocaine?"

"Depends."

"On average. It's just a normal week when you're not doing anything out of the ordinary."

"But my life isn't ordinary." She gives me a look. "Most people aren't musicians. They have normal jobs."

"Ah." Dr. Norris nods. "Well, normal for you, then. How often do you think you're on cocaine during a normal week for you?"

I cross my legs as I think about it. Continuing to pick at the holes in my jeans, I'm not sure how to answer her. It's not like I’m high all the time, and my consumption isn’t excessive. Most of the time I do one or two lines in a go. Do I sometimes go back for more? Sure, but it's not like I’m demolishing a full plate in one sitting.

"Not that much."

"How much would you say you're spending a week on your habit?"

My eyes narrow. Theres something about calling it a "habit" that irks me. Some people like to have a cup of coffee first thing in the morning; I like a line of coke. Really, there isn't much difference.

Still, I ballpark a number. "1 to 2 k." She nods, repeating what I’ve said. "But I don’t use all of it myself. I go to a lot of parties and we, um, share." I’d much rather share my stuff than rely on favors from someone else. Unless I know the person, I can’t verify where they get their drugs from, and I'm not trying to inhale something that’s been cut with who knows what.

At least I’m safe in that regard.

"Have you ever done a detox before?" she asks. "Even an informal one on your own?"

Why would I detox something that isn't a problem? "I'm gone a few days without it, if that's what you mean."

"And the weed and alcohol?"

I wonder if I tell her the weed is medical if she'd buy it? "I really only drink a couple of times a week."

"How many servings would you say you have throughout the week?"

I shrug. Honestly, I can't even answer her. Sure, a "shot" is an official size, but it's hard to keep those uniform when your bartenders are your friends. "I'd say I go hard twice a week."

"Do you smoke every day?"

I nod. "Yeah, just about."

"Vaping?" I shake my head. "That's good. There are studies that show vaping THC might be worse on your lungs than rolling weed into a joint. So, what do you think we should do?" I ask her what she means. "Are you comfortable with quitting everything?"

I practically choke on the air as she says it. "The weed's not harming anyone," I insist. "It relaxes me. Good way to start my morning."

"So you only do it in the mornings?"

Well, not only, but... "Sometimes I can't sleep at night and it helps."

"Okay. This is good, Shadow. Honesty really does help."

Glad I'm saying at least some of the right things.

"Let me see." She stares at the computer screen. "I believe you're with us for seventy-two hours. Does that sound correct to you?"

I shrug. Maybe it's right. With Dr. Dorian by my side, I had "willfully" brought myself here. The guys had been here too, and they'd signed some papers. So, I guess I’d agreed to seventy-hour hours, but, without actually having read the paperwork, I didn’t know for sure.

"After that, we'll do a full evaluation to see if a 5250 is warranted."

"Yeah, I'm trying to--" Suddenly the numbers reach my brain. A 5250. Why does that sound so familiar? I try to wrack my brain but come up empty handed. "Remind me what that is again?"

"It's similar to the 5150." Her voice is calm and straight-forward. As if trying to gage my response, she looks me straight in the eyes.

It takes me a moment, but when I finally realize what’s going on, rage fill my body.

"Wait, I thought I was allowed to leave whenever. I came here voluntarily!"

"No, Shadow. You came here with Dr. Dorian."

"Yeah, but I walked myself in!"

"You were deemed a danger by the other individuals that accompanied you in."

A danger? A fucking danger?

I've heard of 5150. It's how they keep people who are a danger to society locked away for a couple of days while they're being evaluated. I'm not a danger to myself, let alone society. What the fuck is going on?

"Your alcoholism is stated as the reasoning on the paperwork. Do you not agree with that?"

But I'm not even an alcoholic! What the hell?

"I thought I was here because of the drugs, not the drinking."

"In my opinion so far, it could be cumulative, but--"

"I'm not trying to hurt anyone! I guess I’ve hurt the band, but not like that. Not physically, I mean. They're just mad that I'm sometimes late for practice. And there were a couple of shows that..." I shake my head. "Never mind. The point is I'm not a danger to anyone."

"No, Shadow, you're not understanding." Really? It seems pretty black and white it me. "You're not here because you're a danger to others. You're here because you're a danger to yourself."

Her words piece through me, causing my breath to leave my chest. A danger to myself? I'm not suicidal, if that's what she's trying to say. There have been times where I'd rather die than let certain things happen to me, but full-on suicidal? No way. Absolutely not.

"I'm not drinking and doing drugs because I'm trying to kill myself." Just saying "kill myself" out loud makes my mouth dry.

"No, that's not what I'm saying." It's not? I exhale sharply. "I think your friends are worried that you might accidentally harm yourself. That's all. You're lucky you have such caring friends."

I purse my lips. "That's all"? She makes it sound so simple, like I'd just missed a meal or something. "Don't forget to eat breakfast. Studies show it's an important part of your day." That's the tone she's said it in, like all of this is just a recommendation.

But if all of this is just a recommendation, then why am I here?

"I think there's been a mix-up. I don't know why they did this, but I don’t need to be here. Not like this."

My chest feels tight. I'm beginning to wish that I would have tried to sneak some drugs in. My body is shaking and I either need a drink or a joint--stat. My skin is crawling and I feel hot. My legs are shaking violently as I tap my heels against the floor.

"It's okay that you feel that way." Her voice is still so calm and nonchalant that it’s eerie. Why is she so calm, acting like this is no big deal? "I'm not telling you that you'll be here indefinitely, just for the next three days."

Isn't that the same thing?

"I can't just sign some paperwork, or something?"

She shakes her head. "No, that's not how that works. You didn't sign yourself in, so you can't sign yourself out."

Well, that's total BS. "What can I do, then?"

"You can work with me over the next couple of days. Once the three days are up, I'll do a re-evaluation to determine if you're safe to go home."

I was afraid she'd say something like that, but it wasn't what I meant. "So what will you be looking for?" I ask.

She takes a moment before answering. "There’s not an official checklist. We'll meet up a couple of times a day, we'll chat, I'll see how you adjust here by talking to the rest of the staff, and, if I think you're well enough, I'll create a plan for your discharge. If, for your own safety, you'll be here longer, we'll come up with an extended in-patient treatment program."

The thought of being here for more than the three days makes me nauseous. "So I just... answer your questions and be nice to everyone?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that, but to put it in the simplest terms, yes."

I put my face in my hands. I feel sick, like I'm about to throw up. If I ever get out here--no, when I do get out of here--I'm going to kill them. I'm absolutely going to kill them. They put me in here to save the band? Ha, by the time I get out, there's not going to be a band to save.

"Does all of this make sense, Shadow?"

"Huh?" I pull my hands down from my face and look across the desk at Dr. Norris. "Um, yeah. I guess." It's taking everything to my power to not grab the paperweight next to me and hurl it across the table. Throwing a fit isn’t something that I often do, but, right about now, I desperately want to.

I exhale. "Yeah, I get it."

She smiles. "Good. That means for the rest of the day, you're on your own. Did they give you the meal schedule? You know what time meals will be served?”

I nod. Though I doubt I’ll be eating, I remember them saying something about mealtimes during intake.

"Excellent. Feel free to walk around the grounds but remember that you'll have to check in every hour."

"What?"

"It's just so we can keep track of you, make sure you’re adjusting alright. Tomorrow it'll be every two hours." My breathing keeps increasing. This is going to be an absolute nightmare. "One other thing, you're not on any legally prescribed medications, are you?" I shake my head. "Good. We wouldn't accidentally want you detoxing from that." She stands. "Well, unless you have any questions..."

I have several, none of which I can actually get from my brain to my lips. I shake my head slightly, starting to get up. My legs wobble as I stand up, and I have to press my palms against the chair to prevent myself from falling. Dr. Norris notices, and says,

"Be careful. Are you okay to stand; do you need some water?"

The thing I need isn't water. Forcing myself to compose myself, I shake my head. "I'm alright. I just..." I shake my head again. I'm not even able to come up with a good excuse.

As I leave her office, Dr. Norris says something to me, but I'm not able to hear it. There's a buzzing noise in my ears, and my vision keeps switching to black. I keep myself upright just long enough to wave at her. The moment her door closes, I collapse against the wall, my body slowing dragging down against it.

My chest continues tightening, and no gasp of air that I take makes it better. I feel like I'm drowning, unable to calm myself down.

My fingertips start to tingle, and my heart bounces hard enough to just about crack my ribs. I'm alone in the hall, and I don't know what would be worse: being alone and with no one to comfort me, or someone turning the corner and seeing me.

Eventually, I'm able to get myself up. How long I'm on the floor I don't know, but, as I get my feet, all I want to do is take off my clothes. I'm hot and dizzy, and I have to blink several times for my vision to slide back to normal. I cough over and over again. I'm wheezing, but, after several attempts, I'm able to get it over control.

My feet drag as I make my way back to my room. Luckily, I don't run into anyone. My hands shake as I open the door, push myself inside, and slam the door behind me.

For a moment, all I do is stand there. It's quiet, but the screaming in my head is loud. I can't silence it, and, needing to get it out, I walk over to the bed. I stare down at it. The pillows look flat, and the covers are tucked in so tightly that I’ll probably struggle to put them back when it’s time for bed. Not that it even matters, though, because the bed looks ridiculously uncomfortable. I'd probably be better off sleeping on the floor.

Calmly, I walk into the bathroom. There's a toilet and shower and sink. Like everything else in this place, it's cleaned impossibly well. I reach for one of the small bottles on the sink. I turn it over in my hand. My eyes scan the words, but none of it reaches my brain. I look at myself in the mirror; a spilt second later, I'm throwing things at my reflection.

First it's the small bottle in my hand. Then the second one. Then the third one. I find a hair dryer and throw that, too. It doesn't break the mirror, but it makes a loud sound.

I storm back out into the bedroom. I open my bag onto the bed. There isn't much for me to sort through, and I quickly found what I was looking for. I grabbed my makeup bag and unzipped it. I hastily took out anything that I was at least somewhat heavy. Going back into the bathroom, I continue throwing things.

My mascara. My blush. My foundation. Anything that will ricochet off the floor and walls is fair game. I want to scream--I want to punch a hole in the wall--but, with this being the best I can do, I let the destruction consume me, not caring what breaks or who hears.

When it is all over, my foundation is splattered all over the floor, the glass bottle broken. I'd thrown the hairdryer so many times that parts of it have chipped. My heart is still thumping, and I'm still enraged, but I feel better. I feel... like something is actually in my control.

Taking a deep breath, I begin to clean everything up. Leaving it for housekeeping will only arise suspicion. Methodically, I pick up everything. One by one, I place the shards of glass into my hand and then into the trashcan. I don't know if they'll check my trash, but, right now, I'm so focused on just cleaning everything up that I don't really think about it.

After all, hiding things? Cleaning up messes? It's probably the only thing I'm good at.

-

Thoughts? Let me know what you think here. Hope you're having a wonderful day!

[millenial-net-utopia-2010]

https://www.reddit.com/r/GenZ/comments/1apcw62/wheres_the_genz_protests/

Anyways I find Zoomers seemingly large lack of protest to be both a good and bad sign. It's a good sign as I found most protests since the 80s to be large virtue signaling parties that rarely change anything, making it mostly a waste of time. On the other hand it may show that Zoomers have disconnected from the world to actually try to go out and make a change, no matter how worthless it may be.

View: https://www.tumblr.com/nando161mando/742242144533823488?source=share

this type of slacking… it seems new, from 2015-on… idk why. like, can imagine, but what is the (sudden) urge? they just said to themselves "this is over" and went like, "fuck it we will ruin it if we cant have it nice"? edit: also

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gIILnDJHqRk

edit 2 inability to get past our past (1980s) - other one, Lwest has fallen" one

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itqsik7grQM&ab_channel=Jallomoth

and

View: https://youtu.be/D7Y7SX9QV0o

View: https://www.tumblr.com/ianmccowanfinearts/166990545991/oreet-ashery-subverting-neoliberalism-and-the-far?source=share

https://forum.agoraroad.com/index.php?threads/you-cant-stop-whats-coming.4417/post-101444

while i dont like ESG and incompetence, what other to do... (thats why out-of-loop*, out-of-life people shouldnt have decision say in these stuff) * old money, who at the same time try to support new money/neoliberalism, which they dont use if they are those at the top, mfw...

geez, one wonders why!!!

lost future / post-occupy nonsense world / boring dystopia

Saying ""GAYmer word"" on the computer and refusing to be a wageslave are truer protests than anything pre-zoomers did. Look how angry and upset it can make people. Yes I might have come back just to say that.

I mean I agree with the overarching sentiment contained within, but this is less readable than MapQuest directions stapled to my nuts while I am driving.

I teach jr high/highschool(highschool presently) and the state of affairs all around is bleak . I can see why most of genz is just completely numb; they have never had any time of real peace. Peace referring to both the state of global affairs and personal(internal)

Many of us grew up in a time were we could "shut off" or disconnect. You can barely get away with that these days and most do not bother to even try anymore.

The larger population is completely pacified and distracting themselves with whatever dopamine high they can chase, this is by design.

Hope has gone from this world, we were supposed to build a world we would be proud to raise children in. Instead most have realized we have created a world they would never wish for a child to grow up in.

Humans were not meant to live in the monolithic consumerist societies we have constructed.

... (https://forum.agoraroad.com/index.php?threads/young-people-%C2%B484-%C2%B414-and-on-giving-up-on-life-life-under-l-s-capitalism-where-is-my-jetpack-cancelled-futures.6412/post-101520)

(creator of @rollerwavegallery)

...

View: https://youtu.be/PPWeAe4_tkY related too, to

"Being able to use a computer mouse is not considered standard knowledge in education"

I don't know about stuff like domains and spiral abyss, since I pretty much treat this game as an exploration and climbing simulator. Well, that's exactly why I wanted a private server too. It even has infinite stamina. Thanks, man

 forum.agoraroad.com fits here (read comments) /r/mentalhealth/comments/1avm9q5/why_is_our_generation_so_fcked/ /r/GenZ/comments/1atzfkv/the_fatalism_in_our_generation_is_as_toxic_as_the/

...

Education has sucked for a very long time. I used to think it was a result of No Child Left Behind and forced standardized testing, but then my Gen X mentor told me his schooling experience was a ton of mentally checked-out teachers who barely taught shit (he recommended I watch Teachers (1984) for a comedic overview of the time). He didn't go to a bad school either, it was a nice upper-middle-class majority white school in a suburban neighborhood. I used to be fixated on NCLB being the end of good education but it was an attempt to fix a problem in our broken system.

It'd be hard to trace when and why it started sucking and it's definitely a contributing factor in generational downfall. One major factor (and this is coming from an employed mom) that the downfall started when women went fully into the workforce and there wasn't at least one fully-mentally-present parent to give a shit about a child's upbringing. Then neoliberalism exacerbated by driving american salaries down with offshoring, forcing parents to work more hours. Think about our current issues in education. Here it's a hot topic to have phones in the classroom, with parents saying "what if a school shooter came in the room and they needed to text me goodbyeee!!!". Would that still be an issue if they were more present with their kids to know they're addicted to Fortnite, TikTok is cancer, and their education would be better off without it? Parents spend most of their time after work trying to keep the house together or decompressing and not with their kids to really know them. Parents do whatever they can to appease their kids with shiny objects because they're genuinely too busy to have the free mental space to care (newest gen iPad parenting). And it's not the parents' fault either.

My point with the ramble is we've had a ton of issues, everywhere, for decades, and Gen Z is the latest and worst brand of it. I can't see it getting better with the generation after. It's not just education that needs an overhaul, it's everything. And it's difficult to re-engineer such a complicated and large system.

...

I don't fully agree, but a former agoran wrote a good explanation of what went wrong and why it's so bad.

album

...

...

other takes

Some_porcupine: KOSA rants: View: https://www.tumblr.com/nutzo0001/729070909202251776?source=share

5 minutes ago

Some_porcupine: media literacy:

View: https://www.tumblr.com/nutzo0001/736141929068265472/fake-or-real-how-to-self-check-the-news-and-get?source=share5 minutes ago

Some_porcupine: oldweb

View: https://www.tumblr.com/nutzo0001/721680502926589952/azspot-in-recent-months-the-signs-and-portents?source=share

overton window (50% it is fake yap, but still, interesting ideas, for the sake of thought experiment)

View: https://www.tumblr.com/nutzo0001/742217281137000448

GONNA REVAMP THIS BLOG... USED TO BE PR ADS, - NOW, IT IS PLACE FOR NEW AESTHETICS - "NET UTOPIA 2010" (TENTATIVE NAME)

[butwhatifidothis]

Damn, now Hapi really goes down a tier for me. You'd think with her support with Ashe, she'd bring up why knighthood is toxic, but she's just a Debby Downer. And considering Cornelia no doubt forced him to fight on Rowe's behalf, would be interesting in an A-Support, but no, just happy resolution. She really was a plot device in AM with Dimitri, huh? What a shame, I like her design and see her a a gay option for F!By, but now I really wished she was an Agarthan turncoat we thought via the leaks.

Ohh, that would have been an interesting thing to delve into for her A support with Ashe, even just to bring up on VW/SS - given what they're talking about it's strange that it doesn't, but then it's strange that Ashe being a turncoat and then coming back is like, almost never brought up anywhere so yeah.

And like, I get it right. She had a bad experience with the knights so she isn't the biggest fan of them. She's gonna be a downer when Ashe talks nice about them, sure, whatever. But like, hey, maybe don't cheer on a guy who is willing to both endanger his own civilians and tear through villages on his way to kill Rhea? Maybe don't say "good riddance" to the church that's helped countless people find homes, safety, and guidance that was dissolved through a violent war that killed who-knows-how-many people? Maybe don't shit on the Seiros faith for "not helping people" when it literally does?

Like, she goes on about how dangerous it is to be around her, how people should be wary of her, and while it's not her fault, she's right. Asking her to never sigh around anyone and about anything at all ever until/unless she's cured is literally impossible, and is something she herself admits is something she couldn't keep up over the five years. And like, duh! Of course she couldn't! And I don't blame her! Sighing is such a natural part of life, no shit she's gonna slip up sometimes.

So what the hell was the Church supposed to do about her then? Above or below ground, she's a danger to everyone around her - if the Church were as heartless and shallow as she keeps on droning about, they'd have just killed her. Boom, problem solved, no more random beast attacks, but they don't. They try to place her somewhere she'd be a danger to the least amount of people while still having guaranteed shelter, something that can't be said if they'd just sent her off somewhere else. And if they did that, then the complaint would just be that they couldn't be fucked to have her around and tossed her away, which is what she says happened anyway so yeah.

Hapi's entire beef against the Church is her both admitting to being a danger and her saying "the Church handled me badly because they thought I was a danger" as if the solution is something that's just so obvious and it's just so bad that Church didn't go with the obviously good route to go down when handling her. It annoys the shit outta me that this clearly complicated situation is being portrayed as something the knights and Church did that was objectively bad when the question isn't exactly 1+1. Like I said, the only good thing about her to me is the lore she brings with her regarding clarifying the Anselma shit, otherwise I'd just delete her from the game if I could