#sound off in the comments dont forget to like and subscribe

[incubum]

fellas does it mean a man likes you if he says he loves girls with your fashion sense and body type, calls you little one, gave you a cute nickname based on an embarrassing sex story you told him, says he's going to make you a keychain that says "good boy" on it, and tells you he likes being called daddy

[highvern]

Ateez in Different NSFW Careers

Pairing: ot8

Genre: smut, 21+

Warnings: lots of sex, masturbating, porn, domination/submission, fetishes, lmk if i missed anything egregious

Note: this is an idea for a miniseries but idk and thought id put it out there to see if people are interested (dont bring up the ateez mixtape series, im working on it!) thank you @wingsofimagery @yessa-vie for listening to this brain rot

read more here

Hongjoong:

onlyfans creator, solos of him masturbating or nudes. weirdly artistic? like camera angles on point, edited to perfection, color graded. rarely, if ever, collabs with others. occasionally posts erotic photography of one unidentifiable woman. his subscribers aren't sure what to make of it but pictures of them together are some of his best work. daylights as a photographer and has some of his work in small galleries across the city.

Seunghwa:

amatuer porn star, makes homemade couple porn or something with a close female friend. domestic/bf vibes in every video. v soft with each other even when they're having rough sex. people assume they're actually dating bc of the insane chemistry even though they never show their faces. its his fun dirty little secret no one in the office knows.

Yunho:

boyfriend for hire. specializes in "turn your brain off for the night, i'll handle it." rent him to be your date to an event or just for a night on the town. doesn't always sleep with his client (his discretion) but usually cuddles and will spend the night. just trying to pay off his student loans since being an analyst pays shit. big yunho bc he has a big... u kno? and loves hearing the women he sleeps with rave about it. has had several repeat customers and older women that recommend him to their friends.

Yeosang:

audio erotica. just aside hobby for him. tbh 9/10 times forgets to record or that he even has the account. started bc a girl he was seeing freshman year of college told him she wanted a video with the sound on and he didn't know what that meant but she liked his voice enough to let the completely black screen slide. posts sporadically but always makes waves when he does. people have offered him money for custom audios and he always turns them down.

San:

fetish model. shibari, leather, latex. you name it, he's most likely modeled it. has portrait of himself (unrecongnizable, facing away just his back criss crossed with ropes, hands bound at the base of his spine) hanging in his apartment. his friends think its weird since they know he's the one in the picture but most of the girls he brings home just think he's into some freaky stuff. started bc he would nude model for the art classes at his college when he needed fast money for weed. people assume he likes really kinky sex bc of his job but he prefers vanilla sex most of the time bc his job is so kink heavy. works as a fitness instructor as his 9-5, and had a few people recognize him but most are cool and leave him alone

Mingi:

nsfw twitter creator. videos, pictures, sliding into dms. mingi does it all and enjoys the comments of people thirsting over him even if he's one dick among thousands. for his day job he works in a sex store and flirts with the exotic dancers who come in to buy their costumes (turned down every single time, there's even a pool for how quickly he'll strike out). the one girl that flirted back still lives in his brain rent free bc all she did was smile and he folded like origami. now when she comes in mingi has to remind himself not to drool.

Wooyoung:

cam boy brat, sugars on the side. likes being degraded by his audience when he's bad. lover of milfs, and has a sugar mommy he sees once a month. loves being wined and dined by her and then loved on at her fancy apartment uptown. started doing both in college to pay rent, now works at a dance studio and keeps it up bc the extra cash is nice. enamored with taking pictures during sex. has a collection of polaroids with his current FWB that he cherishes more than anything (always carries one in his phone case). toyed with the idea of having her come on his streams but he doesn't want to share. he should probably look into that more.

Jongho:

dungeon dom (IDK), the kind thats a look don't touch dom. if you need a session to work through your stress, go to him. sexy spanking, punishment spanking, therapy spanking. he's got the knowledge and know how. has a strange collection of vintage dvds and magazines. rare stuff that he treats like art rather than smut. jongho i never want to speak on your name im sorry

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[anak1n]

so as far as like five year plans do you judge where youre at by chronological order like i've literally hit one year so im at one year out of five. or do you do it by milestone like ive accomplished everything in hypothetical year one so now im one year out of five of the way through. sound off in the comments let me know what you guys think and dont forget to like subscribe and hit that bell notification so you dont miss future updates

[byeonbit]

its kens bday this week...cant wait to go full jaehwanist

[nillawafer]

.

[mexicanheaux]

Guys lol not 2 sound insecure but am I likable like I'm genuinely curious lmfaooo

[honeyfreckled]

Let’s have a convo!

right off the bat tagging a few bbs who idk might be interested 

@sebastiansloserclub @sgtbookybarnes @junk-food-forever @asadmarveltrashbag

Now that I’m fully investing myself in this, I am FULLY investigating.

I know a tiny bit of what is expected of me, what a few of you enjoy from me, and what tropes or characters and such the fandom fawns over in general. But----

I NEED to know what it is that will be what YOU in particular are interested in of my body of work/future projects. What is it that makes you wanna keep investing your time (and in the case of those who will subscribe- money) in me? Is there a certain thing I do that you could pinpoint and tell me you enjoy so that I could cater more to that?

Forget all those knee jerk responses ppl are prone to give on here along the lines of “oh, don’t care so much what your followers want! just go for whatever and do what you want!” as this goes against everything my research abt patreon says. On patreon I will need to know what it is that will incentivize subscribing as well as additional things I can put for you that will make subscribing to me that much more special and worth it. 

IMPORTANT!!!!! Prices STILL TBA. I’m looking arnd, I’m still researching and obvi my sense of worth is v low but also I just dont wanna break anyone’s pocketbooks or sound like i think I’m sooo important and worth soooo much money bc ik this is not the case lol and we all broke af out here okkkkk and this is still just my goofy ass weird stories and mdbds at the end of the day, so it’s not like I wanna charge an arm and a leg. That being said-

Is there anything you have seen others do that you would be interested in seeing me try? Are there things you would def be willing to pay for like certain fics or maybe access to how I edit or how I brainstorm and format? How I make moodboards? Music playlists I’ve made that are companions to the fics? Does seeing my handwritten outlines sound like something cool? What about if on a higher tier you were able to find out about the events that inspired content or get a special personalized moodboard or ficlet? Or have access to the nsfw content and the EXTREMELY nsfw stuff that gets dark, kinky, filled w taboos, etc? What abt access to my works that are NOT seb related? would any of that interest you?

Just let me know what would draw you in! Think about what you’ve seen on here of me and what it was that made u want to keep looking. Any info abt yr feelings/opinions/preferences surrounding my stuff that you can give me will be extremely beneficial in setting up my patreon so that it becomes somewhere you feel excited to stay tuned in to. I want this to be as worth it for y’all as possible! I want to give u what u want and continue to create for this fandom while still of course staying true to how I create outside of seb stuff and keep building on what I feel is content that goes beyond just a fandom centric body of work. 

pls don’t respond in replies- i am never able to view them. messages, sending me an ask, reblogging and commenting- all that is a much surer way of reaching me 

[genderfreezone]

Do you like the Evil Within 2?

Yeah! Certainly not as much as the first one (i was not immune to being sad they left out fan favorites Jojo and Ruvik's Cube)

The rest of this post is me rambling about things i didnt like about the game, and then things i did like (most of my issues are how they treat the female characters tbh)

Its missing kind of the action-noir-gone-horrifically-wrong feel of the first game. The scare factor also suffers bc our player character has been through this before, hes a veteran at dealing with this crazy shit, it doesnt phase him anymore and by extension it doesnt phase the player. They really like tripled down on the Evil Corporation thing and both the intrigue and horror suffer for it.

This game did not drink its respect women juice (the first one didnt really either, case in point: Everything About Kidman) Sebastian is surrounded by 5+ female characters and only 2 of them survive (and one of them is his 7 year old daughter hes spent the whole game trying to rescue... and yet they never bothered to give her any kind of characterization or agency. A highly empathetic and supernaturally powerful little girl in a monster-infested hellscape?? HELLO???? Lily really had the potential to be the most interesting, sympathetic, and complex character--especially as she slowly lost her innocence--in the WHOLE GAME, but she was just sort of relegated to Plot Device McGuffin) The rest of the female supporting cast are killed off for Sebastian's Man Pain. In fact, THIS ENTIRE GAME IS CENTERED AROUND SEBASTIAN'S MAN PAIN. Torrez is a walking stereotype, shes literally just Vasquez from Aliens. Hoffman was the most likeable and believeable, except when it Turns Out She Was In Love With Liam Or Whatever (psst, guess what, i dont care. Also O'neal was kind of a dick anyway? I dont care x2)

And you know who i SUPER dont care about? Bland-White-Bread-And-Mayo-Sandwich Myra. Where's the no-nonsense firecracker of a police lieutenant Sebastian married? Not here, thats for sure. Her entire personality is "mother" and "worries about stressed-out husband". We got more characterization of Myra in seb's jornals from the first game, where she never even made a physical appearance! Horror media does this SO MUCH, women are either A. Sexy Lamp B. Hurts Men (Sexily) C. Mother or D. Innocent Virgin. It sucks. Do better.

The story lacked the "digging up old buried memories" and "theres more to this than meets the eye" of the first game. It felt too...... Straightforward. Everyone told Sebastian the truth. EVERYTHING WAS EXACTLY WHAT IT SEEMED. It all felt too simple, too easy, like there SHOULDVE been something else beneath the surface. And yet there wasnt. (I watched markipliers playthrough and i loved his theory that Kidman was actually Lily. It had such potential. Kidman's entire resume for the police station was fabricated, who's to say the rest of her past wasnt fabricated as well? It would retcon a lot of stuff and like 80% of her backstory from the DLC, but you know games like this arent above retconning important shit, and at least it wouldve been sacrificed for something with actual intrigue. Maybe it wouldnt even retcon anything! Consider: tiny Lily is taken by Evil Corporation and dropped off in a non-nurturing environment that would lead her to become the kind of person who would willingly join & work for an organization like Mobius. At least wouldve been a nice excuse for why Kidman and Lilys face models looked so similar... other than... yknow.... "WomEN ARe hArD tO DRaWwwwwee")

Okay okay ive been ranting for long enough. It probably makes it sound like i kinda hate this game, but i dont! It certainly doesnt hold the same place in my heart as the first one (which i still have very glaring issues with lmao Kidman deserved WAAAAAAY better), but i do like it! It brings back salty, grizzled, tsundere Sebastian Castinellos. It brings back spooky monsters that kill you dead. It brings back having a fun theatrical over-the-top villain who takes himself a litte too seriously.

I love Stefano. Probably not in the way some other fans do, but i love him as a ridiculous theatrical over-the-top villain. He sucks! And i love that he sucks! I love him BECAUSE he sucks! Hes terrible and exaggerated and completely up his own ass and ITS GREAT. He isnt as ACTUALLY THREATENING as Ruvik was (even in his bad assassin's creed cosplay. I could go on and on and on about why Ruvik is simultaneously a ridiculous AND frightening antagonist and how much i love it but uh..... maybe later) but hes such a FUN villain! Hes the kind of pretentious art snob shitheel i cannot STAND irl, but in this game i LOVE to HATE him. Hes just SO over-the-top you kinda wonder if he actually subscribes to the pretentiousness he spouts, or if hes just being Exceptionally Extra.

The other villains? Theodore was.... forgettable. His monsters were forgettable. (Its like how i completely forgot that Frank Manera was a character in Whistleblower for like... 5 years lmao i guess this game also kinda followed that "having multiple named/characterized antagonists in one game" thing that Outlast did) Myra, i just didnt care. Her final design was kinda cool, i liked the red clusters of insect eyes. Her monsters werent really gross enough to be memorable. The only reson theyre gross at all is bc they kinda look like theyre made of semen. (I checked the wiki and apparently Myra's white goo is "psychoplasm" and her monsters lost 99% of their gross factor. I just dont care.) The Administrator literally just looked like a 3D human model of Maxwell from dont starve, and i have to laugh every time i see him. Hes not terribly threatening, all he does is threaten characters to work faster and doesnt actually follow through on those threats. He doesnt even make fun threats like HABIT or anything. He thinks hes so powerful and ominous that his mere presence will frighten the player but hes just kinda all bark and no bite. Hes The Big Bad Company Man so you know hes gonna get whats coming to him, and you know Kidmans gonna be the one to do it to him, so hes not even that much of a threat. Hes whatever.

Stefano definitely got all of the coolest monsters. Many Arms Buzzsaw Lady was terrifying and i love her. And OBSCURA was just *Chef's Kiss* Anima was cool, she kinda looked like a mix of Laura and Samara. The Harbingers were neat, but really only bc ive got a thing for gas masks. The rest of the monsters werent really unique or weighty/threatening enough to be memorable. Now the first game is a fucking TREASURE TROVE of unique monsters *muah* you got Sadist, Sentinel, Keeper, Amalgam, Heresy, Laura, Shigyo, the Twins, Alter Egos, and im probably forgetting some!! But holy FUCK!!!!! And if we're includong the DLC?? MOTHER FUCKING SHADE. SPOTLIGHT LADY. LIGHT WOMAN.  SEXY LEGS.  Whatever you call her, i fucking love her. Her design is so simple. Helmet. Sheet. Legs. Her voice? Unnerving as hell. Love it. (Also i just personally love the diving helmet. Also like you know how a lot of games have a spotlight mechanic where you have to avoid the light and if it lands on you, you're fucked? LET'S MAKE AN ENTIRE MONSTER OUT OF THAT. She's PERFECT.) Oh and also those weird crawling exploding dudes. They made gross sounds and it was great. (Tbh Keepers still probably my favorite, if only for horny reasons)

TATIANA HOW HAVE I NOT FUCKING TALKED ABOUT TATIANA. Shes like the ONE female character that i fucking LOVE in the sequel. I love how they finally gave her a personality, and that personality is literally just "fuck you, Sebastian" Oh GOD its great shes SO FUNNY. I just.... god i love Tatiana lmao. I love how she makes you kinda uncomfortable too, like she knows something, but she wont tell you bc youre stupid. I didn't like the kind of "all-knowing guide" thing they did to try and make her creepy (like she's a "guide" but then also turns around and is like "no i wont tell you what you need to know bc you """have to discover it on your own""" or whatever") it serves no purpose since she never gave you any actual information, and it didn't succeed in making her creepier, all it did was frustrate me. She was at her creepiest when she IMPLIED she was doing something behind the scenes or knew something you didn't know and then didn't elaborate (not REFUSING to elaborate, just... stopping talking and leaving the statement to hang in the air, like the "getting her nails done" and "its been a long time, detective" and the "now what makes you say that" from the first game) and she was at her funniest when she was interacting with Sebastian from the sidelines, her snide little comments and sarcastic clapping cracked me the fuck up. Tatiana not treating Sebastian seriously was a fantastic touch for a game that otherwise would probably take itself so seriously it would double back around to being silly. Without Tatiana, it would've been just another male-centric gun-toting "survival horror" game, and for the most part, it was just that. She was definitely a much-needed source of slightly derisive comedy and a definite high-point for me, even if they didn't so a great job of making her creepy or fulfilling her "purpose."

Oh I also really love the COLORS in TEW2. The first game fell into the trap of having the colors be totally washed out that a lot of horror stuff does, but it also kind of worked for it. Especially with the color pallette of our main villain and how the whole thing was His World. The saturation of the colors in the second game is a breath of fresh air and gorgeous to look at, and you can even see the color motifs of the game change with each new villain: the game starts out with Stephano has lots of blues and purples and dark reds, when Theodore takes over we get bright orange and yellow contrasted with black and brown, and in the climax with Myra the game goes back to having washed out colors and white (and with her villain design? Let's face it: they were kinda just trying to do Ruvik again) We did get portions that were still kind of wahed out whites and greens and greys, but it wasnt the ENTIRE game, even the big blood-and-brains splatterhouse sections of the first game kinda had their colors weirdly muted for that "Horror Aethetic."

In conclusion, i do like the evil within 2, but i also had a lot of problems with it. And i complain about these problems because i like the game and know it couldve done better, tried harder, and been a LOT more than it was (the wasted character potential is my real overarching pet peeve, probably becuase i loved the characters in the first game, and character development is kind of my whole jam) . But all in all, it was still a fun monster-zombie romp with at least one entertaining villain and fun-to-look-at designs and environments. It wasn't character or horror or even REALLY story driven in the way I know it COULDVE been, but i still had a fun time and enjoyed myself.

[amaralanegra]

Into the Abyss (and back into you)

ao3 link

Chapter 1:  First Day

Pairings: A LOT

Warnings: none atm

Summary: After being rescued, child soldier survivor Bucky Barnes tries his hardest to have a normal, ordinary high school life despite the terrors that still haunt him. One day, he receives an email that he thought would never come -- the private investigator he had hired found his mother. He has to make a plan and act quick if he doesn't want to lose her again. Sam Wilson, aspiring therapist, loves his family and his friends. After his best friend Bucky cuts off communication from their friend group, his sister goes missing. A hashtag, a social media movement, a nationwide search. But there's no trace of her. After finishing high school, Bucky contacts him once more, telling him that he knows where to find his sister. With the help of his friends, they all travel throughout the United States to find Sam's sister and Bucky's mother. And perhaps love in the way, too.

A/N: DONT FORGET TO LIKE COMMENT AND SUBSCRIBE

Steve♢ is online

Erik ( ಠ ಠ) is online

Bucky ( ˘-___-) is online

Sammy is online

 Steve ♢: first day of school o(*^▽^*)o

Steve ♢: you guys excited?

Erik ( ಠ ಠ): of course

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i cant wait to finally step into that hellhole we call school

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and die.

Bucky ( ˘-__-): ^

Sammy: facts

Steve ♢: you guys…

Steve ♢: we only have this year together!

Steve ♢: we gotta enjoy it!

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): oh ill enjoy it alright

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): im always happy whenever i get home from school u know

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): its a good change from the crippling depression i feel whenever i step into those shitty gates of hell

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): did i also mention i get diabetes type fuck-school whenever i enter school

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): its life-threatening steve

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i could die

Sammy: tick tock then bitch

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): shut up sam

Steve ♢: come ooooon

Steve ♢: you'll be ok! You have me, Sam and Bucky!

Steve ♢: i honestly think this year will be great! Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): yeah

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i hope so too

Sammy: Alright Steve we'll see you at school

Sammy: I’m about to start driving now

Steve ♢: ok, see you guys! Bucky ( ˘-___-): Oh hey btw

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Don't forget to eat

Bucky ( ˘-___-): You always skip breakfast...

Bucky ( ˘-___-): At least drink orange juice

Bucky ( ˘-___-): That should help a bit

Steve ♢: yep!

Steve ♢: i won’t forget (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Good!

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): gay

Bucky ( ˘-___-): I meant that in the most heterosexual way possible

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): when do you ever

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): remember that time you pulled down Steve’s pants while we were at the pool high af

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): because i do

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and his ass...

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): it haunts me

Steve ♢: i tend to have that effect on people.

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i haven’t been able to sleep since then Steve

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): you monster

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Erik hurry up we’re already waiting outside

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): dont you fucking try to change the subject

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): remember that time you pole danced and strip teased when you were drunk out of your mind

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): because i do

Steve ♢: but that happened last month

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and yet it feels like an eternity

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Why can’t you guys forget the embarrassing shit I do for like once in your lives.

Sammy: cuz it was fucking hilarious thats why LMFAO I think I still have those polaroid pics somewhere

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): n cuz that’s what friends do

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): and apparently for you friendship is also traumatizing me with steves bare ass and your slutty pole dancing

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i’ve had night terrors ever since

Steve ♢: lol

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Erik. hurry up. before I go in there. and beat you. in the face and ass.

Bucky ( ˘-___-): We’re already late. Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): aw

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): come on you know that my hair takes long

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): shit i should be a model for l'oreal

Sammy: we’re leaving

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): okokokok im going out

Steve ♢: lol be careful

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): we will try

Bucky ( ˘-___-): See you Steve!

Steve ♢: byeee

 Steve ♢ is offline

Bucky ( ˘-___-) is offline

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is offline

Sammy is offline

 “About time,” Bucky says as he reclines in his seat and pulls down his beanie with a huff, almost fully covering his eyebrows. Sam looks at the backseat through the rearview mirror as Erik lazily opens the door and sits on the middle of the backseat with a groan, his black hoodie still pulled up and hiding half his face.

“Sorry.” Erik says, sounding annoyed and not sorry at all. Both boys can hear the loud trap music coming from one bud of his gold earphones while the other hangs low down his neck. He leans back and closes his eyes, already looking drained of energy before the day even starts. “There was a problem.”

Sam starts his car while keeping both of his hands on the steering wheel, “What happened?” he asks.

“Is Valentina okay?” Bucky also asks, peeking at him over his shoulder.

Erik rolls his eyes at him. “The goddamn cat is fine.” He sighs and sinks further into his seat. “Nah. Do y'all remember my cousin?” Erik taps Bucky’s shoulder to make him fully turn around, as though he wants him to see the pain in his eyes as he speaks. “The one in Wakanda? Annoying, quiet, and thinks he’s better than everybody else?”

Bucky wrinkles his nose in confusion and looks to the side as he tries to remember, but comes up empty. He shrugs.

“Ah,” Sam says, nodding. “Yes, I remember you fondly telling us about him.”

“Well,” Erik says, putting extra emphasis on the word by rolling his eyes once again. “He moved here. Has been at my house all summer. And I have to share my room with him.”

Bucky nods in silent understanding and Sam keeps driving in silence, expecting Erik to continue talking about how his life is full of struggles. But instead Erik sits there with his arms crossed, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips forming a pout like a child. Bucky would call him cute, but starting his morning with a black eye isn’t on his to-do list.

“And um,” Bucky starts, uncertainty in his voice. “That's it?”

“That is it.” Erik scoffs, sliding further into his seat. “I don't want to share my room with him. Shit, I don't want to share it with anyone! Both him and my little cousin, Shuri, are here. They are filthy fucking rich, I don’t get why they gotta live with us.”

Bucky frowns and nods, trying to understand his unique situation. Sam instead feels the need to nervously scratch the back of his neck, but he doesn't want to let go of the steering wheel thanks to his road anxiety preventing him from even looking away. They know that Erik’s mom has been in a… feud of sorts with Erik’s paternal uncle. Erik wasn’t too specific of course, but they remember it made him upset enough to cry. And while they know he’s a soft guy under all the tough facade he puts on – he can’t say he doesn’t cry when watching the pet adoption commercials (“they are all alone, and sad, and the music doesn’t help, you assholes! Stop laughing!”) or that he doesn’t sing his heart out to the opening of his favorite anime – they also know that Erik loves his father, and he loves his mother, but one of them is gone and he has been too overprotective over the only one left. Erik’s hatred for his uncle has not stopped growing since that fight with his mom.

Remembering this, both boys feel an ache in their chest for their friend, wanting nothing more but to make him smile again.

Bucky is not much of a touchy person, so when he stretches to place his hand on Erik’s knee and shakes it in silent comfort, it doesn’t go overlooked. Erik smiles at him, and when he looks to the side of Bucky he sees Sam looking at him intensely.

“What?” He spats out on impulse under the sharp scrutiny.

Sam blinks once, twice, and finally he speaks. “You’re a better person than that old man is, you know.” He slowly says in that therapeutic, soothing voice of his, causing Erik to pause. “You’re a better person than your cousin, who didn’t stand up for you or your dad. You're kind, and you care so much. You— you're not afraid to fight for what's right. You’re way better than them, Erik, don’t you forget that, okay?”

Looking at him with wide eyes, Erik then slowly smiles, thankful for his best friend’s words. It might not fix it all, but it helps, even if just a little bit. He will be caught dead before he ever admits that, though, so instead he says ‘that’s kinda gay’ and laughs when Sam tells him to get the hell out of his car.

“We're here anyways!” He yells out, laughter still present in his voice.

Sam frantically locks his car and rushes to catch up with Erik and Bucky as both argue excitedly about an anime episode that streamed the night before. “Can one of y’all speak English, please?” He pushes them apart to be in the middle of them. “Or Patwah? Me kno ou to speak dat at least.”

Erik playfully elbows him and answers him with that smugness his teachers hate. “Amabini anokudlala oko umdlalo, uyazi,” he answers back, which makes Sam smile brightly and whisper ‘alright, okay, alright’ while elbowing him back.

Bucky, though, smiles and just watches their friendly bickering, finally feeling at home. He missed this feeling. He missed them both so much.

Somehow, they're already in front of their lockers, all three of them stopping together in order starting from Bucky to Sam to Erik. In fact, that’s how they met in middle school. They happened to have been assigned lockers right next to each other when school first started; Erik arrived first and mistook his locker for Sam’s, and when Sam got there Erik wouldn’t let him get close to it. They almost got into a fistfight until they both saw Bucky trying to open the locker they were both fighting for.

Of course, after all three of them were sent to the principal's office, they’ve been best friends ever since.

Erik starts to fumble with his lock, reciting the combination under his breath like he always does with important things he has to remember, until he hears Bucky whisper to Sam to turn around and look.

“Okoye! Koko!” The voice of some girl catches their attention. They turn their eyes to the row of lockers in front of them to see Okoye ‘Koko’ Milaje turn to her girlfriend just in time to catch her as she throws herself at her. Her girlfriend, Nakia, excitedly throws her arms around her middle, burying her face in her girlfriend’s chest. She says something that only Okoye can hear because she laughs brightly, leans down, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

Sam smiles at Bucky, who smiles back at him and says “girls” as though that explains everything and turns to focus on opening his locker. From the corner of his eye he quickly realizes that only two people stop to stare at the couple, and only one looks like they’re disgusted… though they don’t do anything about it, instead opting to turn away from them. Good, Sam thinks. He doesn't have the time for that bullshit so early in the morning. He turns to mention it to Erik, and his friend’s expression is not the annoyed one he expected for witnessing the kiss since he says to hate ‘corny romantic bullshit’ (which is a lie, because he once caught him intensely watching a telenovela in the middle of history class) but instead his expression is just one of...pain.

Sam frowns, confused. Pain...?

“So that’s why he’s here…” Erik whispers, looking away from them.

Bucky peeks over his shoulder and turns to Erik while Sam orderly puts his belongings inside his locker, who is still looking at Erik from the corner of his eye. “Who?” Bucky asks.

“Huh?” Erik stops harshly throwing his books inside his locker to look at him askew. He comes back to himself soon enough though, and he quickly closes his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. “No, nothing. I was just talking to myself.”

Both Bucky and Sam look at each other, and suddenly, they feel the need to ask him about it again because the troubled look on their friend’s face bothers them, but the ring of the school bell interrupts before either of them can say anything.

“Well, gotta go.” Erik sighs irritably, slamming his locker door closed. “See y’all later – ah, wait. Both of you have art first period, right? With, uh, Ms. Minako?” He asks.

Sam nods. “Yeah, why?”

“Okay, so, my cousin.” Erik says, adding an eyeroll for extra measure. “He’s coming to our school.” Sam and Bucky both raise their eyebrows in surprise, and Erik nods. “Yeah, he’s gonna come to school here, sadly. For some fucking reason. Anyways, he’s probably going to be late since his dumb ass didn’t wake up on time ‘cuz he was busy moping around and I wasn't going to wait for him. He’s in the same class as y’all, I believe, so if y'all could, you know, show him around… or whatever… I’d be… uh,” he coughs into his fist. “I, uh, I’d appreciate it. Seriously.” His voice turns quieter and softer as he finishes, eyes cast away. He leans from one side to another on his heels like he always does when he’s impatient or nervous.

Bucky raises an eyebrow and decides to tease him. “Hold up,” he quickly leans over him, causing Erik to step back. “You’re asking us for a favor?”

“And does that mean you actually care about your cousin?” Sam asks, wrapping his arm around Erik’s shoulder to join in on teasing him too.

Of course, it’s a trick question. Both Bucky and Sam already know that Erik cares a lot about his family (except for his uncle) and that includes his so called ‘frigid ass cousin’, despite… current events. Erik is simply not an openly affectionate person and he would never admit that he’s not the ‘cold-hearted ass bitch’ he claims to be. He would rather dump all of his anime-inspired clothing than admit to having any sort of normal human feelings whatsoever.

“Fuck off!” He yells, pushing Sam off him as Sam laughs at his little tantrum, and Erik is suddenly thankful that his brown skin masks the heat rising to his cheeks. “Just – will you do it or not?!”

“Sure,” Bucky smiles. “He’s uh, quiet—”

“Full of himself—” Sam adds.

“Aaaand he’s annoying. Not hard to spot.” Erik scoffs.

Sam laughs and waves him goodbye. “Okay, you should go before you’re late.”

The smaller teen nods and turns around to head to his class, the sound of his boot heels echoing in the empty halls. While they walk towards their art class, Sam wonders what kind of person Erik’s cousin is and if he's as much of a jerk as Erik makes him out to be. Is he just as grumpy as Erik? Just as smart? Does he also say what’s on his mind without a filter? Does he smile? Is he just as direct? Does he care as deeply, but doesn’t show it? Is he just as soft when he wants to be?

… And is he straight?

“Good morning, Sam! Hello, James!” Ms. Minako welcomes them as they enter her room. “You guys are late.” She’s sitting on the same table as the rest of the students there, with a bunch of different colorful objects laid on it.

“Good morning, ma’am.” Sam greets her, Bucky greeting her too with a wave of his own as they make their way to the farthest seats at the other end of the table. Sam sets his backpack to his right with a pleased hum, while his best friend sits to his left and he takes comfort in the fact that nobody will sit by his right side. There’s plenty of other empty seats around so maybe he’ll have some peace of mind this year (last year he had the misfortune of being seated next to Tony fucking Stark). Besides, it’s not like anyone would decide to sit next to Bucky either, because last year the girl that did so ended up being his designated art partner… and let’s just say… not that many people can handle Bucky’s emotional outbursts. So, it’s a win-win that he gets to be with his best friend. Bucky can be a little weird, he won’t lie. But he knows his friend, he knows who he is, he knows his life and he knows what really happened during those years (news media be damned), so he's more than happy to deal with this so called 'trouble kid’ of the school. They don't know him like he does.

Ms. Minako checks them off the attendance list with a smile and counts the class again. It seems there’s students missing, judging from her confused face and her nervous pencil tapping. “Well, I guess most of you are here. Only two students are absent—”

As if on cue there’s a knock on the door, suddenly halting all talk.

“Oh! Must be the new student!” Ms. Minako declares cheerfully. Sam twists anxiously in his seat, leaning over to see who it is. Is it him…? “Open the door for him, please.”

One of the students next to her stands up and opens the door, returning to her seat quietly. From his spot, Sam can see him stride in.

The first thing he notices is his hair, his short fro perfectly shaped and adorning his face like a crown. His clothes look like they are from a quality brand -- elegant, but simple. Sam’s eyes go back up to his face and he finds warm brown eyes staring right back at him. He jumps slightly in his seat and feels his face warm up at getting caught staring, but Erik’s cousin doesn’t seem to mind because he smiles instead, winking at Sam with a tilt of his head.

Sam swiftly turns his eyes to his lap, repeating in his mind ‘STARE AT THE TABLE STARE AT THE TABLE STARE AT THE TABLE’ as he fidgets with a strand of his shirt. This definitely wasn’t on his to-do list either.

He winked at me?!

“Yo,” Bucky whispers to him. “Was it just me or did he wink at me?”

Sam blinks. “I thought he winked at me,” he whispers back.

“... Maybe at both of us? Probably you, though. I’m a mess.” He sighs, laying his head down on the table.

Sam snickers, playfully dragging Bucky’s long wavy hair to cover his face. “You wouldn’t look a mess if you used a damn brush, you lightskin 2-b Rapunzel.”

Bucky flips him off.

From across their seats he hears a couple of girls commenting on the new student’s appearance, one in particular making colorful comments in Spanish to her twin. Sam can recognize her voice without looking. Her name’s Chal, and her sister’s name is Ime. They all hang out together occasionally since their mom is good friends with his mom. They usually play video games when good ones come out and sometimes decide to have some impromptu language classes – the twins teach him Spanish, and Sam tries to teach them Patois, and they more or less manage to learn a couple of words since they use most of their learning time laughing hysterically at each other’s accents instead.

“El diablo,” Chal whispers to Ime. “Papasito… que guapo, no?”

Handsome. Sam hates that he understood that. Seems like those Spanish classes they gave him paid off.

Ime laughs and nods, saying something else to her sister’s ear. Chal giggles in response, patting Ime’s puffy hair bun until her sister pushes her hands away with a smile. Suddenly, Sam wishes he had a close relationship like that with his own sister, but he shakes the thought off as soon as the teacher speaks. Let’s not start the day with a gloomy thought.

“Hi!” Ms. Minako says. “You’re T.… challa... Uda… koh…?”

“T’Challa Udaku.” T'Challa smiles. “It’s okay.  Just T’Challa is fine.”

“T’Challa?” Ms. Minako tries again, with a concentrated face.

T'Challa smiles again, and nods. “That’s right.”

Chal elbows her sister, whispering loud enough for Sam to hear. “Suena Africano, no? O quizás del caribe?”

“Africano, me parece.” Ime whispers back.

“Nah, es caribeño.” Chal shakes her head.

“Africano.”

“Caribeño, coño.”

“You have a slight accent.” Ms. Minako asks T'Challa, interested. “Where are you from?”

“I am from Wakanda.” He answers.

A tiny ‘fuck!’ is heard from Chal, but only Ime and Sam seem to notice. He tries not to laugh as Ime elbows her sister in the stomach. These girls.

“New to the country or the town?”

“Both.” T'Challa laughs. “It’s a lovely town.”

If only you knew, Sam thinks, you wouldn’t be saying that. But he shakes the thought off, again, trying not to be negative… again. It’s hard to not to be a pessimist. But enough is enough. He wants to be a therapist when he grows up, goddamn it, so he needs to get it together.

“Well, T'Challa, welcome to the country! Come on, choose a seat. Let’s start the class!” Ms. Minako gestures towards all the empty seats as she checks him off the attendance sheet. T'Challa turns over where a group of loud white boys are seated together, but his eyes pass right over them. He looks at the seat next to Ime and Chal (the latter batting her eyelashes dramatically, making T'Challa smile) and considers it, until he looks over at the end of the table where Sam is.

There’s one empty seat right next to his.

He looks decided then, walking past everyone and stopping right next to Sam with a click of his heels. Not quite believing what’s happening, Sam can only stare at his own hands and ask to whichever god is listening to make T'Challa sit somewhere else. Next to Bucky, even. He’ll do anything. Hell, he’ll stop eating his gran’s mac and cheese! But please, god, don’t let him sit next to him. T'Challa’s too… too…

“Is this seat taken?” T'Challa’s soft voice comes from his right, and Sam makes the mistake of turning his head towards him.

… Too pretty.

T'Challa’s eyes shine like the sun, his hand resting on the table. Sam’s breath hitches as dark brown eyes lock on his. His face is a little too close for his comfort, so Sam scoots back. T’Challa tilts his head to one side in confusion, waiting for him to answer but Sam can only focus on those lovely brown eyes of his, not even caring that the silence is getting a little bit too awkward, but he just doesn’t know what to say because T'Challa’s way too close and—

Bucky elbows him in the ribs, bringing him back to earth.

“Are you feeling alright?” T'Challa’s face turns to one of worry, somehow inching even closer to Sam. “You look—”

“I’m okay!” He blurts out, laughing nervously. He looks at Bucky from the corner of his eye and sees the bastard stifling a smile. Fucker.

T'Challa’s eyes widen in surprise, waiting for him to continue. “I’m—um, the seat isn’t taken, so…” Sam's eyes slide down to the empty chair while fake coughing and pressing his lips into a thin line, trying to play it cool. Oh my god this is too embarrassing why am I acting like this.

“Alright, thank you.” T'Challa’s face lights up and Sam can’t help but smile as well, despite how nervous he feels. T'Challa drops his bag to his side and sits down gracefully on the chair with a smile. “Nice to meet you,” he says with a radiant smile, while offering his hand to him like a proper gentleman.

Sam’s brain has the decency to remember to dry his anxiously-damp hand on his jeans before he shakes T’Challa’s with an equally anxious smile. It’s kind of odd, it almost feels like they’re finishing a business meeting. Why yes, sir, I’m glad we’ve come to the mutual agreement that I’m awkward as hell, let’s shake on it. But it could be a Wakandan thing, who knows. T'Challa has a strong grip on his hand as soon as they touch, and he shakes Sam’s hand with confidence, taking Sam by surprise as the strong shake dips him forward. He has no time to be embarrassed because T'Challa smiles at him and the guy giggles as though stumbling into someone else’s personal space is charming. He lets go of Sam and instead rests his face on his hand, two fingers up to support the crown of his head.  

“What’s your name?” T'Challa asks, eyes filled with curiosity.

And it’s at this moment when there’s another knock on the door, catching everyone’s attention.

“Oh!” The teacher exclaims. “Must be the other missing student.” This time it’s her who stands up to open the door, blocking the view of Sam’s eyes to see who it is.

“You’re a bit late, mister.” She reprimands the student. “But it’s the first day, so I’ll let it slide this time, alright?”

“I appreciate it.” Says a deep, and… quite attractive masculine voice.

Ms. Minako stands to the side and shows him the way. “Come on in!”

As soon as the student enters the room he can see exactly who it is. M’Baku walks into the classroom with that confidence Sam is so jealous of, looking as handsome as ever. His dark brown skin glows despite the unflattering light of the classroom, as though M’Baku is the exception to little things like physics. His clothes, of course, always carry a Wakandan theme, showing off the beautiful African patterns and combination of colors.

Sam looks over to the twins and finds Chal fanning herself while looking at M’Baku, who suddenly has a distasteful look on his face when his eyes fall on the only acceptable empty seats in the room. The one next to Bucky, and the one next to the twins. His eyes soon fall on T’Challa, and he falters. He recovers quickly though and walks around the table to sit down right across from him – next to Bucky’s seat.

Sam’s eyes go back to T’Challa, who seems to be… frozen in place while looking at M’Baku. He gets it though. One time, he got to seat behind him in math class and every time the teacher called M’Baku’s name to mark him present, he would stand up and give Sam a great first row view of that—

“So, uh,” Bucky’s voice brings him back to earth. He turns his head towards him and sees him talking to M’Baku, who can’t look less interested. “Guess we’re art partners now, huh?”

M’Baku finally looks at him with a neutral look on his face and says, “I am lactose intolerant.”

Bucky freezes.

Sam completely loses it. He can’t help but laugh out loud, making a spectacle even though he tries his damn best to keep it in. Naturally, he attracts some of his classmates’ eyes, but he just can’t stop. He’s trying so hard, but Jesus. The look on Bucky’s face, he keeps remembering it and can’t help but laugh again.

“Mhm, keep on laughing, man. Just let it all out, you dick.” Bucky tell him as he claps Sam on the back, which only makes it worse.

Ms. Minako finally looks over at him, looking confused and quite annoyed at the noise. “Excuse me, Sam? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Sam, are you alright?” Bucky repeats, faking the worrying tone in his voice as he scoots closer to Sam to look him right in the eye.

“Y-Yes, miss, I’m— I’m fine,” Sam tries to tell her while desperately trying to ignore Bucky’s stupid face. “Thank you. Sorry about—” and he laughs again.

“Do you need to go to the nurse, Sam?” she asks, sounding annoyed.

“Yeah, Sam, do you need to go to the nurse?” Bucky repeats again with that dumb look on his face and it makes it harder for Sam to stop laughing.

“No! N-No, I’m alright. I’m so sorry, miss, please uh, please carry on.” He coughs and bites his lip, mustering all his energy into having a poker face. It doesn’t work, it just makes him look weird with his bulging eyes, tight lips and puffy cheeks… but the teacher is satisfied enough with it to let it go.

“So, uh,” Sam turns to Bucky, a smile threatening to slip past his lips but still desperately trying to look neutral. “Wanna change seats?”

Bucky licks his lips, also trying not to smile, and nods. “Yeah, that’s— yeah, let’s change seats, man.”

Once they’re at their new seats, Bucky turns to T’Challa. “Soooo, guess we’re—”

“I’m also lactose intolerant.” He tells him with a mastered poker face.

Sam lays his head down and covers his head with his arms to tone down his loud laughter, shaking and softly smacking the table with his first a couple times. Bucky can’t hold it in either, leaning forward on the table and shaking his head as he laughs with Sam. M’Baku joins in with a loud and deep ‘HAH!’ and nothing else. T’Challa smiles ever so slightly, and the sight almost makes Bucky stop, feeling charmed by his smile and the soft crinkles at the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t quite get a look at him at first, but now he understands why Sam froze when T’Challa talked to him.

Sam coughs, and looks towards T’Challa, trying to frown in order to cancel out the dumb smile on his face. “Hey man, um, do you— uh, do you… wanna change seats?” He fake coughs into his fist, and Bucky feel his lips twitch. “Or, uh, or something?” Sam bites his lip again, praying to any god that is listening to make him stop laughing.

“I don’t see why not.” T’Challa calmly answers, picking up his stuff and changing his seat with Sam.

Once they’re finally seated, Sam speaks. “Don’t worry, Buck, I got you man. I, uh, you know, I take them lactaid tablets—”

Bucky whizzes out a small laugh, and nods. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam nods as well, patting him on the back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, you ain’t gotta worry about that.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Bucky says, smiling at him. “I know I can always count on you.”

“Nuh-uh, uh!” Sam shakes his finger on his face. “Only as long as I got my lactaid tablets,” he adds, and after a second of dead silence they both laugh loud and hard, Sam leaning on Bucky and Bucky flinching for half a second but relaxing quickly enough against Sam’s warmth.

Sam looks up at him from his shoulder. “Stop making me laugh, man, fuck. My face hurts.”

Bucky shrugs, Sam’s head moving with it. “That’s karma, asshole.”

Sam shakes his head, and closes his eyes, smiling softly. “I hate you.”

Bucky snorts. “And I hate you too, sweetheart.” Sam smacks him for that, whispering ‘gross!’ to which Bucky replies ‘but you like it!’ to which the teacher replies ‘both of you boys better shut up unless you want to be sent to the principal’s office’.

Half way through the class, their phones both vibrate at the same time, and they instantly look at each other. After making sure the teacher isn’t looking at them, they look down to check who texted them from under the table.

 Steve♢ is online

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is online

Bucky ( ˘-___-) is online

Sammy is online

 Steve ♢: hey hey hey

Steve ♢: Erik told me about his cousin!

Steve ♢: is he cool?

Sammy: …….maybe

Steve ♢: ヽ(　･∀･)ﾉ i’ll get his number then!

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): steve

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): steve im begging you here

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): please dont fuck my cousin

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): p l e a s e

Steve ♢: you know, i wasn’t thinking about that

Steve ♢: but now that you mention it…

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): steve

Sammy: oh btw Erik your middle school crush is in our class

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): my middle school what now

Bucky ( ˘-___-): M’Baku. or did you forget about him already?

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): fuck off bucks

Steve ♢: wait what

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Erik had like… the biggest crush on him back in middle school

Sammy: it was kinda cute tbh he would like… talk to him about this anime he really liked. which he got m’baku to watch somehow someway

Bucky ( ˘-___-): And there was this couple in the show. Real romantic shit you know? Erik would say how M’Baku is so much like the romantic interest of the hero

Sammy: and also how Erik was so much like the hero himself

Bucky ( ˘-___-): M’Baku never got the hint though. But it was cute to watch. A bit pathetic, sure, but cute!

Sammy: and of course a funny story to tell every person he dates lmao

Steve ♢: aww Erik you sweet thing you!

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): this

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): is the worst day of my life

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): ever

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Hey do you remember that stupid song?

Sammy: which one Sammy: “M’baku and Erik sitting under a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G watching A-N-I-M-E”

Sammy: is it that one

Bucky ( ˘-___-): yeah! cute isn't he?

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): IM BLOCKING YOU

Steve ♢: lol erik that’s so cute

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): IM BLOCKING BOTH OF YOU

Steve ♢: cute cute cute

Sammy: cute lol

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is offline

Steve ♢: omg

Sammy: HE ACTUALLY LEFT LMFAOOOO

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is online

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): i forgot to say something :)

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): FUCK YOU ALL

Bucky ( ˘-___-): Damn that’s hot

Steve ♢: i didn't know Erik was this adorable

Sammy: he aight i guess

Erik ( ಠ ಠ ) is offline

 This year is going to be fun.

[incubum]

bros i think i full on have a pregnancy kink. the thought of richie getting me pregnant just makes me CRAZZYYYYYY like i dont want kids but i ❤️ breeding and i think richie would make a great stay at home dad and i think i could do it with him. he'd be such a good daddy to our kid 🥺 i desire him carnally

[markleetrashh]

Makeup Voiceover;Chenle

Requests: would you mind doing a post abt chenle and his s/o doing each other’s makeup??

but i just really need to ask this, but i’ve seen like the whole “makeup voice over” and idk if i just haven’t seen it or something. but i reallllly need a Chenle one!! like i need more of him!! he’s just so cute! so if you can, could you do one?? i’d and hopefully other people will be glad!

• back on with this series! • okay but this series went on much longer than i’ve expected • and im glad you all love it • today it’s going to be our president zhong chenle • hope you all will like it as much!

• so background story, at first you werent much into the youtube kind of thing • and you never once though you’d make videos • but one day you met chenle at a gaming centre and recognised him because he often posts reaction videos and vlogs • fastforward he’s your boyfriend now • and after watching him film videos and being part of his videos from time to time, it got you interested too • so you talked to him about starting your own channel for beauty • and of course, chenle’s supportive • he’d take any chance he gets to promote your channel on his own • “please subscribe to my wonderful girlfriend” • soon enough you’re gaining popularity too and you both are known as the iconic funny couple • so one day for some reason you just had this idea to film a makeup voiceover • and you wanted it to be a surprise so you didnt discuss it at all with chenle • so you acted as if you were filming your normal makeup videos and chenle didn’t know of course • like always he’d also occasionally go into the camera frame and make funny faces • which was why when you told him he literally screamed • “babe the video i was filming just now is actually for a makeup voiceover challenge,, you need to record your voiceover now” • “wHAT NO WAY WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME” • “surprise surprise” • “OH MY GOD” • but he still does it happily anyway • “hello to my wonderful people, today’s video is a little different because Y/N lied to me so here we are doing this challenge” • “but is there anything that me, zhong chenle, can’t do? that’s right, nothing! so let’s start” • “we have barefaced Y/N facing the camera right now, looking lost and confused as ever *starts giggling*” • “fun fact guys, she just woke up from a nap before filming this” • “WHY DID YOU EXPOSE ME-” • “yOU DO THE SAME TOO IN MY VIDEOS” • “okay fAiR” • “so she’s finally starting off” • “the foundation she’s using is the one from innisfree” • “just right for her skin tone” • “wow her skin looks so smooth-” • “she’s taking a pencil now” • “oh it’s brown in colour that’s cool” • “she’s filling in her brows!” • “*giggling again*” • “im sorry guys her face is too cute to look at i can’t stop laughing-” • “anddd… she’s done with her brows!” • “looking good already, that’s my girlfriend” • “next on i’m guessing it’s the eyes?” • “yES IM RIGHT HAHAHA” • “she’s holding onto the M.A.C eyeshadow” • “in um… a kinda nude pink shade?” • “i love makeup brands they never fail to entertain-” • “i want to eat macs now-” • “chenle oh my god-” • “that totally wasn’t Y/N- bUT she’s colouring in her eyelids now” • “wait that sounded weird HAHAHA” • *giggling* • “oh she’s taking another colour out?” • “still the same brand but now it’s a slightly darker shade of pink” • “woah…..” • “OH MY FAVOURITE NEXT, FALSE EYELASHES!!” • “guys he’s literally in love with my false eyelashes- he’d take any opportunity to play with them and try them on when im not using them” • “can’t blame me guys,, it’s fun to play with!!” • “except that you’ve ruined many a few times-” • “don’t bring those up, yOU CANT BLAME ME, YOU LEFT THEM SEATING ON THE BASIN-” • “bUT YOU SHOULDNT HAVE TOUCHED IT-” • “okay fine i love you im sorry-” • “sO- while we were arguing about that,, she’s done with her eyelashes” • “now they’re super long” • “oh she’s taking out a palette now” • “it says the.. uh.. sweet peached glow? from stila” • “ooo pink again!!” • “wow it’s so shiny,, oH WAIT THIS IS HIGHLIGHTER RIGHT” • “yes!!! so she’s just applying some on her cheekbones and forehead” • “she’s shining right now” • “oo that brush is so fluffy” • “wait- what- she didn’t show the brand” • “but it’s okay, zhong chenle knows that it is blush” • “dabbing it on her cheeks…” • “all pink and rosy now!” • “moving on to her lips now!” • “her lips are the softest-” • “she’s using one from l'oreal” • “in a very very light pink shade” • “almost like her cheek colour!” • “and…. vIOLA, SHE’S DONE!” • “she’s a beauty wow” • “yOU SEE THIS? THIS IS LEGENDARY” • nct boy video reference- • “this was very fun to do and i hope you all loved watching it” • “i also think we should do this more often” • “but anyways, dont forget to subscribe, like & comment!” • “check my channel out too for more vlogs of the both of us” • “see you next time!”

[not-poignant]

"i also know readers who stop commenting if they don't get replies" i do that (though i'm not very proud of it bc it lowkey sounds like blackmail "if u dont reply i wont comment"). writing a comment even if it's only a few paragraphs long can take me 1-2 hours (or more) so if i know i'm not even going to get a simple "thanks" from the author, it feels like i struggled writing the comment for nothing. either i stop commenting or i only leave really short comments like "i like it" from then onward

Yeah, same same, pretty much.

I think about this a lot. Because a lot of the rhetoric is ‘well the author put in the effort to write, so you should be able to comment’ (which I hate, it’s a false equivocation, and is bullshit). And then there’s also the rhetoric of ‘if you think it’s hard to comment, you should try being a writer’ (which I hate, because that’s just manipulative dreck).

It’s one thing to encourage comment culture, that’s great. Fandom is meant to be - for some - an interactive experience after all. And that’s why I think that authors/writers who comment in response to commenters, consistently get more comments. Because you have the bulk of readers who just want to read, they are not necessarily there for the full fannish experience y’know? I guarantee that most of us just often want to switch off, read, masturbate/fall asleep/cry/feel fluffy (whatever your kinks are) and that’s that. Right?

BUT then there’s those of us who enjoy the fannish experience too. Like, some enjoy it via lurking. Reading the comments and replies. Coming to Tumblr to watch. Some like participating. The people who like to participate, they want - amazingly - participation. And if you have a conversation that goes like this:

Person A: ‘Hi I did this thing!’ Person B: ‘I LOVE THIS THING. Here’s why! Omg!’ Person A: *silence* *never responds*

Like...that is not a very participatory experience. So for the people who do take the effort to participate in the author-reader experience via comments specifically, I do believe - at least for myself - participating in that is important.

I look to see if authors comment on reader responses, before I respond. If they don’t, or if they have a low hit rate (i.e. they responded to one thing, and nothing else), 99.99999999% of the time I don’t comment. Those of you who comment on fics you know you won’t get a response for, you are doing god’s work and I hope you are being surrounded by cute animals you aren’t allergic to and comfort foods that never cause you adverse reactions.

That’s not all of us. I daresay that isn’t even most of us who do participate in AO3 comment culture. And there is a comment culture, and it’s more than just authors occasionally engaging in guilt-tripping to get readers to comment. The author has a role in it too, if they want it, and it will encourage more comments, if they take that path.

If I see that the author responds, I’m more likely to write a comment. Like you, I find commenting hard. I think it’s worthwhile, but only in a participatory sense. I.e. I don’t really see the point in screaming praise into the void. Comments for me often take a long time to write (Tumblr replies don’t count, I can dash them off quickly, but actual AO3 replies usually involve this process: ‘read fic on my phone -> get up from bed / whole body pain -> walk to desktop computer and pull up AO3 link -> spend 1-2 hours composing comment -> possibly too fatigued to do anything for the next few hours.’

Tbh, even if people didn’t have a high energy cost for writing comments, I still think it’s valid to want it to be participatory, when it’s a participatory format. Comments on AO3 offer the opportunity to be threaded and so on for a reason, after all.

It’s a hard subject to talk about, because authors will often throw ‘but I put the hard work in to write it in the first place!!!!1!!!’ - but one thing they tend to forget is no one is obligated to engage in any created work just because it was created. No one is obligated to like it once they do. No one is obligated to respond once they have liked it. And no one is obligated to respond in the same way if they like it. Some people subscribe, some people bookmark, some people kudos, some people comment, some people comment if they know they’re going to get a reply, some people send asks, some people look for the next fic because they’re just there to read.

I think also, it’s a little bit compliment culture. It’s just a fact of life that if you praise someone endlessly and they constantly say nothing or even knock you back instead of saying ‘thank you’ - eventually, the compliments stop. Because you’re being treated as though your praise is worthless. Praise is something that makes (some of) us vulnerable to give, just as it can make us vulnerable to receive it. I honestly think, for me, responding to comments and praise in particular, is entering into a pact of cooperation and participation.

I don’t always respond to everything, though I really want to, but yeah, anyway, that’s why my personal policy as a writer is ‘always respond to comments’ (even if people hate it, my general perspective is that most don’t, my comment counts quite outside of my own responses have always been higher than average), and my personal policy as a reader is ‘if I love this, I will think about commenting, but the likelihood drops precipitously if I see they have a pattern of non-response.’ On the other side of that, if I get responses from an author, I am WAY more likely to comment in the future. My joyful participation will get a joyful response, and I will know my words aren’t worthless, in the same way the author will know their words aren’t worthless.

And that’s why I do things the way I do, and why I relate to you as a reader, anon. I know we’re not alone, even though people rarely talk about this stuff.

(I also know that some authors find the writing much easier than writing responses to comments, because of time / emotional labour etc. I just also think when you factor in how many fics readers are often reading, there’s a time / emotional labour issue there too. (I mean let’s remember folks, fanfiction is meant to be fun for everyone). People just need to do what works for them. And authors who don’t respond to comments and find they get less comments over time need to understand that more might be going on than just ‘no one comments people hate my writing.’ I have seen authors do the whole ‘comment culture is shitty no one comments on my stuff’ only to see that they *hardly ever respond to comments* - Like, you do you, but you have to own that, and own that there are reasonable responses from readers to that, too. Tl;dr Authors: You might start a conversation by offering a fic, but if you shut down conversation after that, don’t be surprised if people stop ‘talking’ to you). 

[jgdsignz]

[FREE] Experimental hip hop instrumental type beat "Burning Up" [FREE SAMPLES] Freestyle music Sat Sep 19, 2020 In this video JGDSIGNZ experiments with his sounds and dives into experimental hip hop. Want to hear more by @JGDSIGNZ do the following: 1. H i t s u b s c r i b e to my channel 2. Turn on notifications. 3. Be kind leave a comment 4. Hit like or Dis-like button Free Download and more! https://bit.ly/34ybfVO 🔥Help me reach one hundred For new music producers and recording artists Get %7 off Distrokid https://bit.ly/2IPwEkL Get %10 off Waves Audio https://bit.ly/2ZqwKIg Get $10 dollars off at Sticker mule https://bit.ly/2RgBSKr... THX @JGDSIGNZ by JGDSIGNZ Dont forget to subscribe!

[sventhegoatkillingdeer]

Today a relative poitned out that he's never seen me eat so much.

He asked me if I've heard about intermittent fasting as my eyes glaze over and I stop listening.

Diets are a language mastered on the tongues of girls before they know why. This is our rite of passage.

Diets are our scripture. While you were learning the importance of being a man, we were learning the baggage of womanhood.

Don't ask a girl if she's heard of a certain diet because she has not only heard of them but lived a year perfecting each. Subscribed to the mouths of those that judge our bodies wondering when we can call it home.

When the bottom line is always how much we can starve ourselves without passing out in PE.

Being a girl is knowing drinking orange juice stops you from fainting because it raises your blood sugar.

Being a woman is learning better diets, the same reasoning only carried out through a method that makes you feel more in control.

Girls are a force of nature, filled to the brim with self hatred. Hating ourselves is the first mindset we know. A second hand gift wrapped poorly by our mothers and regifted between each other. We waste our years struggling to mould ourselves into a smaller size, because we're taught to be invisible until it serves someone elses needs or until we're pit against each other.

My friend calls me upset and says she wishes to not be fat. I tell her she's beautiful, and it sounds like she can't be both.

She talks of the sugar she hasn't tasted in years, of the breakfasts missed and the carbs long forgotten.

We talk about our excercise journals and the way our muscles ache and after all of this, we talk about how we don't see a difference yet. Yearning for bodies that are just out of our reach.

She cries over not being able to see her wrist bones while I want to take a scissor to my stomach and thighs.

When we all face the same hurdles and the same pains all we can do now is voice our shared disappointment instead of being the allies we needed.

We've cried on each other shoulders wishing we didn't feel bad after eating.

We grow up filled with anger we can't place into words, anger following rules that were made for us to fail.

We were too young and too scared to ask how to win in a game that doesn't seem to have a finish line.

At what age do you finally get to breathe out. What age do you stop coveting a body that isn't your own. What age do you stop following a ritual to improve yourself.

Girls don't stop being afraid of the dark, but grow to be afraid of the daylight because our monsters don't need to hide.

As a child, far away from home in the dark of a temple i felt arms press me into a wall and grasp at me in ways that hurt and scared me. Back in the room we found out it was more girls in the dark who were betrayed by a place that demands to be called sacred as they intrude on a young girls body before she could even learn why. We cried in the room and promised to forget.

We grew up to find our monsters pushing into us in the daylight taking over our personal spaces as if it was a joke that we could assume we owned one to begin with. What could we have expected, being the gender that is too often a punchline.

I watch as my parents listen to my brother go out and return at 4 in the morning. I envy how he doesn’t ask for permission. How they don’t always know where he is. I tire of the approval needed in advance for plans made, for clothes chosen. For deadlines. Im tired of my parents being scared even when its bright outside and I have to send pictures of the license plate of any car I get into. Im tired of constantly having to check in to assure them I am safe and if I forget, hearing their trembling voices trying to reach me as they wish for the best and know the worst.

We're tired of going out and fearing of becoming one of the many.

The girls club has been given the motto of beauty is pain.

Its the pain of the hair we have pulled from our body. It is the pain of a burning of throat after purging. The pain of the hunger from a stomach surviving on water. The pain of feeling like a failure if you actually keep a meal in.

Beauty is the pain of jokes we’re supposed to laugh off because otherwise we're too sensitive.

I remember my friends addiction to tablets and how she used to swallow bottles in hopes of escape

She said it hurt her until she had to spit up the blackness she felt inside her and how she just wanted everything to stop. We were fourteen.

Why is it when we're wronged for our bodies we're asked about our clothes, about our words, about whether we ever said no. As if they don't realise fear grabs hold of your throat and you can't make a sound.

As if, standing up to a man is an easy idea when a guy raises his voice we tremble just incase. When the outfit of the girl is labelled the issue and we think of the similar outfit we have in our closets.

when I leave the house and my parents memorise the clothes I have on, just incase.

So we get used to our stories. Knowing someone we know might have taken the diet of smoking because it may kill but you lose weight and starving yourself kills too so what's the difference.

We know every girl has had uncomfortable experiences that they fight to forget. Most girls watch boys they know live their lives through a sort of freedom we could never know. You get used to it, until one day you realise you shouldn't know the calories in a fruit.

So when you see me eating more than you're used to. Dont assume you have the right to comment on it or know the fight I've clawed my way through. If i have the ability to eat now after years of pain then that's a strength you wouldn't know about.

[ramblingsandruminations]

When Suicidal Ideation is the norm

All the help in the world becomes a muddy puddle of shitty affirmations, thorned gaslighting, and useless guilt. If one more person tells me "have you tried yoga/deepbreaths/vitamin B..." Ugh. Who am i kidding? This is tumblr, where you can always find somone who says exactly what you are thinking ( #omgmetho #datme #meirl ). Weve all heard the "stop giving advice and atart taking it " speech, we're all likely to have read some post about the "evils" and " abuses" of therapy and inpatient treatment, and I'll bet a paper hat, some vending machine doodad, or some shitty-yet-adorably-hipsterly prize that within 100 reblogs someone links to some news article about "Queer Youth Completes Suicide And We Think You Will Pay Us to Feel Bad About It, Don't Forget To Like, Share, and Subscribe to Trevor Project, Your Reblog Will Save A Life (And Keep Us Relevant For Our Advertisers)." Tomorrow(well, next daylight hours) my 26-year-old depressed college freshman self is going to walk into my schools coubseling office and tell them i never recieved the location for the therapist they reffered me to (true story--Honestly not avoiding treatmwnt, even if it is useless) and request a second referral. Ill sit through some lecture about self-advocacy veiled in "concerned questions" and once again be misgendered, deadnamed, and criticized for giving a fuck (note: commenters looking to describe me with the word "cuck," i see you there, good for you, let me know how that white kkknight holier than thou red pill rage fest dopamine addiction is filling the gaping void of existential dread within you). After that, there is always a small chance they'll see just how depressed i am, and faster than you can say "looney is a word based in misogynistic beliefs of womens mental health and menstrual cycles being unhealthily and unscientifically connected to the moon," ill be fielding questions which boil down to "do you want to kill yourself" and "do you have a plan." By this time in my life, i've gotten pretty used to BSing my way around psychology. All it really takes is knowing that all they can take you on is your word, and nothing else. "Do you want to kill yourself?" they ask, and i reply "*short pause, heavy, short exhale denoting weight and truth* Well, yeah. But quite frankly, suicidal ideation is a part of my everyday life- nothing i do isn't plagued with some form of "i should wrap this mouse cord aroubd my neck and die" or " i wonder if that branch is strong enough to support my weight" or "man, my head hurts, but i bet a bottle or two of ibuprofen could make it stop." For me, its not a question of wanting to die, its a matter of what do i have to live for, and ive been through enough inpatient DBT and group therapy to help me cope, using breathing techniques and self-care tips to push me through the worst of it." This is usually if not always all they need to hear. Sure, im depressed, but anything they could tell me is something i know and am already doing-i sound to them more like a patient leaving inpatient than one entering it. Our hospitals are overfilled, understaffed, prqctucally unfunded; if im "stable" im staying out of their ledger book. Occasionally, they still worry, having one of those "consciences" their peers claim to have lost when a schizophrenic patient tried to bite their ear off, and ask a follow up "but are you sure? You seem distressed, and if you need some help, we are here for you," to which all i have to do is look at them through sad, but strong eyes and say "Thank you, but i have a great support network of friends and of course, my boyfriend. He's fantastic, and one of the most important things to have happened to me. He keeps me on this side of the dirt." A small tired chuckle, and their focus diverts towards affirmations of how good it is to have support, their therapy brains running on autopilot. Then all it needs is some "active" listening, uh-huhs, and compliant assurance that ill keep working on myself to assuage them of any guilt or corncern. Maybe, though, ill tell them the truth, and let them take me in. Three hots and a cot, after all. I'll fight through my dysphoria as they ogle every nook and cranny of my malformed body trying to see if im hiding a weapon or some drugs; I'll continue to insist on a private room and remind them calmly yet firmly that no, i will *not* room with a male, and their lack of knowledge on how to treat a transgender non-binary patient is well behind on proper treatment according to WPATH, the APA, and our state govt. When i get a room, theyll say that i should take as much time as i need to get acclimated, and not worry about what the rwat of group is qorking on, and then contradict themselves within 5 minutes and say i need to go to group, theyre waiting on me. In my fresh new scrubs, ill walk in and within seconds, ill identify how th staff monitors who came in when (usually different colored scrubs based on different halves of the week, and of course, anyone likely to leave within 48 hours wearing "normal" clothes), and see the therapist or doctor talking about emotional management techniques. When i sit down, eeyes will be on me, some with looks of angey jusgemwnt, some with awe and wonder: what could THEY be in for? The group leader will ask me my name, ill state it and my pronouns (to several uncomfortable shifts in the room), and theyll let me know what they were talking about. Ill make a good effort to participate, play along, etc. Someone in the group will be desperate to control the conversation, talking more and more as if this entire experience is just for them- another person will be too dissociated to say anyrhing, despite the doctors attebpts to get them to open up. Already, the cliques will become apparent; humans are aocial creatures, after all. When we leave for the next scheduled activity (either rec or lunch, depending on the time) the docs will be watching me- im on suicide watch, and they expe t me to jump out a window or try and slit my wrists with a paperclip or something. Im not a danger in this regard; ive been threatened with solitary and ECT if i dont comply before- i am their prisoner and i must comply. Within an hour or two of being there, ill be able to notice how well funded they are (or more likely, arent.) The quality of their reading materials; the availability of puzzles abd how well taken care of they appear. Recreation will be the most bare of kindergarden activities; coloring books, maybe a tv with basic cable. A daycare for adults, abd not the cool buzzfeed articles. Someone, probably an addict, will be trying to fanangle their attendee into giving them special treatement- a snack, or an extra smoke break. I'll be sitting in a corner, smirking- the staff arent even an eigth as dumb as this person thinks, and they've seen this type before. They might get something, but itll cost them sour looks from staff and less accommodating treatment with the doctors. After the second hour, we'll have another activity (second group, rec, or maybe "outside time" if its a particularly fancy facility; while the sun will certainly be shining, our feelings of freedom will be dampened by the high fances and walls keeping us from getting away). This is usually wheb the realization sets in that im stuck here for 72 hours plus, and ill be counting them down to stave off boredom. 15-30 minutes in to this third hour, ill be called in to meet tye psychiatrist, fisrt meeting with an attendee to fill out the generic details, then 30-45 minutes of diagnosis before im told ill be put on ab antidepressant, an anxiolytic, and tramodol, a sedative marketed as "something to help me sleep" and "another antidepressant" which makes me laugh every time. Tramodol is the auppressant, the "slow down" drug which helps keep everyobe on a nice, calm level thats safer for the orderlies. Were i violent, id concur; instead, i begin to wonder how long it will take before i no longer feel persistently asleep once i leave. A couple weeks, likely. Hopefully, the food will be good, but not likely 5 star- one place ive stayed had been cooking for us in the break room, sometimes PB&J, sometimes microwaved quesadillas. Maybe theyll have more drink options than coffee, water, and sugar-free koolaid- maybe not. Likely not. Some of us will complain; most of us will know it is a fruitless endeavor. After another group or two, it will be dinner, then wrap up group. We will discuss what progress we think we made today, and be sent to bed after meds are distributed in little paper ketchup cups. Most places wont do the "cuckoos nest" tongue check, but some will, particularly the ones with kleptos and pill ODers. Lights oyt will be around 10 pm, the beds will be plasticky and the blankets thin, and sleep will only cone rhanks to our sedatives. Day two, we'll be woken early, around 6-7, by an orderly checking our blood pressure and body temp. Well all gather in the hallway, rubbing sleep out of our eyes and head to the eating area for breakfast- which loooking back will likely be the best meal of the day, not the least be ause we have access to augar and caffiene. By now, i will likely have made a friend, probably with an older woman or two, and we will enjoy surreptitiously smirking at each other when the teoublemaker patwnt tries to get an omlette or something silly. Someone will start telling fanciful stories dreamed up in the night; talk will eventually turn to who is leaving today. The orderlies will be trying to not look too interested in what we reveal to each other instead of them. They will not succeed in this. Ths first morning they will use as a test of how i deal with frustration. An older nurse will act exasperated, as though taking care of me is a curse she was tasked with. She will try to cut theough any response i give her, and rudely discount anything i try to say, as if accuaing me of lying. Knowing it is coming doesnt help it hurt less. If it overwhelms me, ill be labeled as dramatic- if not, as detached. Sluggish from the new medications, i will be treated as though i ahould not be here, and will be led aroubd more quickly than i am rady to be. I will notice that part of it is that i am beginning to realize how broken down i feel i am. Reaching out will result in canned answers and "the doctor is busy's". After all, this iant about me, and theyve seen my type before. At lunch, i will be upset by the bland meal, abd ask if they have any hot sauce, or maybethey will be out of a preferred tea, or the food will not be enough to feed me. The newcomer who arrived at morning group will share a look with the quiet patient. I will try not to notice the parallels. A therapist will ask to talk to me today. It may be a nice session, but will essebtially boil down to "let me give you ideas for solving your problems, so that your depression seems more managed." By the end of the day, they will already begin my release plan. Theyve fixed me, they are sure. I will also get my clothes back. The aurvey will be slightly different today; instead of asking on a scale of 1-10 with 1 being best abd 10 being worst how was my day, it will be the opposite: scale of 1-10 with 1 being worst and 10 being best. This way, they can track how much is me being honest, and how much is me remembering numbers to fake it. (Once, a nurse messed up so often that it was a sentence by sentence change). Later, if there is any improvement, it will be used by the hospital as signs that treatment is helping; if it gets worse, that i had a rough day and shouldnt think much of it. Bedtime will come, and i will relish it- being sedated takes a lot out of a person. When morning comes, the eggs will feel soggy and cereal with be a much better choice. A bagel will be carried into morning group and more DBT will be discussed. I will mostly be checked out; they are pulling most of their material from a 12 step program, and the leader is a student of psychology learning how to help people, but ive heard it all before, and that sense of guilt just pushes me towards suicide harder. At this point, ill feel just how desperate they are to get me out; nurses eill hint at things being the "wrong" answer with " you dont REALLY mean that, do you sweetie?" and " well, you cant keep thinking THAT way, or we'll have to keep you here longer." Boredom and longing for home will encourage me to pretend to be better, and not tell them how last night before falling asleep i stared at the vedfrane wondering if i could take it apart and form a springwire noose, or tear the blankets to make a rope. When they ask if im feeling better, it will actually mean "are you done with your timeout from reality? Have you learned how to fit in properly yet?" The meds wont really begin having a noticable effect for months- they know im lying. What they hope for is a glimmer of hope and a mountain of guilt for wanting to hurt others by hurting myself. Ill fake those, too. Still, ill be misgendered. Still, theyll blame hormones and buzzfeed rather than neurology and chemistry. After all, im well-adjusted, not at all like the Caitlyn Jenners and Wachowskis they read about on their facebooks. Its just a phase, and im just confused. I didnt try to hurt myself- nothing is *really* wrong with me. What can i do? Try and strangle myaelf, or others? That just means im lashing out, and ill get a new med regime and another 3 days, this time strapped down. Being strapped to a bed and left alone is mind-numbingly boring. If i tell them i still want to kill myaelf, theyll just nod their head and tell me it will go away soon; if i say i have a plan, rheyll keep me playing chess and reading AA papers until i apologize. Their job is not to fix me, their job is to stabilize me and make sure i dont break myself more. The fixing is my responsibility. Day four is release day. They will claim i have made improvements and have me fill out an action plan for when i feel depressed again. It will include people i can call, and ways i can push through bad feelings. It is my exit exam.when i pass, ill be set up with a therapist outside the hospital later in the week, and told how to connect with various resources. They will think i didnt know there were trans support groups. I will think that if it was just a support group i needed, i wouldnt dream of death. Neither of us will admit these things. And so, ill come back to school. Late on homework, i will have to prostrate myaelf with dictors note beggibg for forgiveness. I will get it, more due to policy than empathy, and at the end of the day, i will lay in bed, stare up at the ceiling, and contemplate which of my top three anchor spots would be the best ending to my story. Other than medical bills, nothing will have changed. Life drones on. I think i understand why death seems,so much better. In death, i can pretend there is a solution. In death, i can imagine a cure. In death, i can envision a caretaker and easier existence. It doesnt matter that death is the end of it all- i can pretend it willl be more, and my imagination can create many comforts in that void. But even death is a lie, and nothing will ever stop hurting.

[glopratchet]

astryl-wondering

of astryl wylde, with an axe in hand, he begins to cut his way through the tent until he reaches a man with long black hair and piercing eyes and you can see that he has been transformed into a succubus by the hands of the journalist in an awful grin paired up with a toothy hissing but of course astryl is more than satisfied don't forget because hes a succubus a palace compared the rest of astokah's camp which is pretty awful red and orange as you would expect, it's not just that its headquarters for astokahn's rebellion but also astryl succubus activity and act as great examples of mass hysteria and the nature of astokahn: You see a painting which shows the creature described to you before: the succub not gone, just replaced by the lab again The tentacles waving around are now wet with It's lying on a metal, dissection table He heres the voice of the succubus and the incubus sing in his mind One high, one low He ignores the voice like he always does They call him all the time He never listens but, if he did You stare at a piece of newspaper from five years ago, smack dab in the center You can sense a group soon Something moves in the corner of his eye he checks it with his camera He pans over a burnt teddy bear, lying on the floor It looks almost brand new he looks through the footage again Something, amidst the static, moves slightly in the middle of the far left hallway dave begins to regret his selfish decisions and pines for the succubi to fuse into a lovely woman that he can mate with and live a normal life without threats who doesn't notice or at least doesn't respond Scanning the room from left to right the succubus finally notices astryl but still unknown to a man named irmcip who is a key supporter of the movement His hand presses down on the bear That moment, he thinks back to his college years Especially music a calloused hand slams down on the bear's head and nothing seems out of the ordinary that has majority of the camp in a lockdown Nothing unusual once again Hey, It seems like things that don't happen are being blocked more now 's databanks The technical er are trying to take measures They are definitely tricky to catch Except when they finally catch wind of being chased by these odd, One attempt nearly caused a system reset The program is instated unknown on what purpose It states irmcip the rest is a fat list of unknowns and corrupted entries The first thing cludstrum notices is that most of the names on the page are most likely dman, unrecognizable, or various other s that are unidentifiable Other than old hangups clapping each other on the backs for winsome trumpet licks the only sound is that of without doing any damaged so they may need a processor to play instead with less then a 25% humidity making geomagnetic levels of if they decide to make homeis here It seems the other bands havent given this a thought and just bring large pieces of electronics When the jixel ersp dont wory the drives will wait but appears to be executing a play by play of an unknown opera Mirror display time lapse converters will have to do a large sweep of the but cannot seem to introspect much further as the He debates if he should go see how the score is playing out anytime now finally, the band stops dead in their tracks The displays of the clock at various places in his media bank all say they are permanently stuck at 4: the fix He cannot begin Sudddenly all the melted bits of the books have been pushed out and a new order is leading everything Running countless tests on the projector shows one thing and cylopiean anglyk's son and daughter Each time he eats something from a machine the numbers will change randomly on the screen eggs, bags of chips, bananas, gold and aluminum As he fixes the bugs the trade-ins are lost The work Only pre-ets are mentioned in test menus 's room he finds He is pretty sure that there is nothing poisonous in the decayed pile he is surrounded by It probably will not degrade any of the debris in his mouth He pulls colors out of the things he imbies into his skull usually it changes the color and there appear to get very hot Most flavors are useable for trade-ins but astyrl finds certain ones to be just wrong Considering his new beliefs all fresh food makes him sick so he just went back to mindlessly trading off objects in his scape or drink here anyway jelly and corn cobbettes he thinks but save on the volume of liquid he might have to All the fresh food looks so inviting It is probably sound bytes of the practice crowd cheering that are begging him to eat these things being tempted by fresh foods there is also some talk about a basic corn cob trade this planet His final ending is one of protecting all life from cludstrum himself! the war torn city of Newyork The whole place got really destroyed and they have not even refillied the places with impliments of war the desert Oasis When approaching it the oasis lights up and makes a loud noise "what do you want out of life kid? the russian gulag it just looks like a big mansion and the scary part is that russians can wear bullet proof clothing the sounds of the night spring to life "Times up, the NEW world order begins now! cluldrum will start the end of the world It is up to you to stop it! -"wait, I explored a corn-field? The hummmmm of multiple machines of unknown intent To the west dark-skinned creatures lighting a signal fire arms breaks his fall from the snap decision to somersault off of the bridge into the large black piles of debris, This crumpled and sharp metal scape was once towering skyscrapers Look for hazards! Melt into the surroundings! camouflage- dark colors with dark backround periodically between the wind and exhaustion It looks like a glowing space station that fell to earth your brain as you start to see double vision! The rumbling of multiple creature movements on the other side into the fetal position "You are joking me "Breathing coarse in is face in complete darkness your distant impotent blowing out your flickering candlelight! You are standing just outside the ten radius of pitch black up in a pile of smoldering dead bodies Going back to the tent might be a good option the tent with a bone chilling howl The Sun is trying to peak through the giant dusty clouds but they refuse to budge to starve himself warner brothers releasing the "Helicopter sequence" cartoon the seven-year locusts arrive at your campsite! fast-food free elite "butterfly" robots to ; (un)wash your windows, clean, do chores Wake up creep! on the test monkey The massacred slave's head is detached inventing warrning! Kludstrm foul monkey graffiti is scaring away customers himself from the heat the temperature plummets! flowering "Coca-Cola" trees raining delicious caffeine from heaven you try to sleep! and tracking an exited feral cat the brutal smelling invaders advance! Mckinley overpriced and double bagging it they suck! messages into the dusty ground astrly mocking your moral views, beliefs, and goals A mixture of nightmare creatures beats and claws at your brain peta-vandal video feed warning! Four horsemen of the apocalypse dumping phosgene gas on civilian's below a crusade to foreign lands and forcing conversion The united civil assistance unions begin assaults at your authority the lives of those you've already sentenced to death Quick, create a social-based hierarchy ! Objections? Excuse me sir? the torn out portion of this tent mckinley coward hiding behind the law that you created for him off the bottom of this tent The top of the tent is rip open releasing the internal air pressure while fiddling with tweezers they just stole David's stone! Kludstrm obvious creating permanent wall that no one can cross spectacular as she bit into a bloody chunk of your heart You try to create something stunningly beautiful with common, and unnoticed items your eyes to see the truth about Kludstrm leather in the sun Wow! The acid sure has given Astryl a scarily slender figure your own content on the web! Screaming loud enough makes Kludstrm go away! enemies and exits look at Kludstrrmtmcidotmyebiemamehtselrihepgufhhh's comments 5 minutes later You now fear Astryl! There's no turning back this time you of incoming flesh-eating murderers your weird brain you hear Kludstrm's voice coming out of your mouth ammo exploding bullets sabotage! Astryl loco plotting against you mutating peanuts You wake up gasping for air you with the tent ! His eyes are now two black abysses peering deep into your soul The tent collapses under its own weight terrorists with laser lights With all your force, you crash an empty bottle over his head on bones you found outside The air around Kludstrm shimmers And he's gone! your subscriber's money on booze and wenches Desperate, you try to rip the wood walls out of the ground and bash in your own brains the storms coming from the west your heartbeat to a beat You can't stop staring at the inverted moon their favorite tune You play thes most terrible song in the world! klatu barada niktu! to make way for the dark The following program is not suitable for children, or adults of loose moral standing! Expect the unexpected Underground reporter SV7 broadcasting "live" as usual The northern dwarf plains fell yesterday to unknown attackers GalapadeparfwaatyzonebattlegroundDDDDD! The city of beauteous stranger's circus GalapadeparfwaatyzonecongressSSSSSS! Threatlevel increase in sector 7G! GalapadeparfwaatyzonecommitteeLLLLLL! The city of beetriot glass fragile average humidity 73% windspeed 17 knots storm approaching from the west visibility 3 miles UV level: unendurable Galapadeparfwaatyzoneincominghostilities! The city of beetriot reptilian incredible external temperature: atmosphere made up of 9% oxygen and 12% pollution