I FEEL LIKE DEATH, DEATH WARMED OVER, THIS IS HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE I TELL YOU HORRIBLE.
Is this what you all normally feel like when you've drank two bottles of rum? I can't stop throwing up and my head, oh my god my head.........................
I know near none of you and this question could possibly be imposing, if not an invasion of your privacy, but I was wondering how everyone came to realize who they were? Had been?
Were you able to piece dreams and memories together? Did something particular spark the connection? A sort of aha moment? Or did any of you have research key points of reoccurring dreams to gather any sort of implications of just who you might be? If did this, how were you able to deduce that the information was accurate? That the assumptions you had made were not you simply impatiently wanting answers?
I am almost certain that I was But how arrogant of me to think that I could have actually been They called him perfect, I am not even close
[PARIS & ECHO.]
Might I be allowed to make you both dinner?
[video : like a boy.]
[Belphegor is pissed. Regardless of how hard he tries, how much makeup he puts on, or time he spends on his hair, he just doesn't look right. So, he's crowded himself into a gray sweatshirt, and turned on his webcam, arms covering his face. Bright pink hair sticking out in strands. A Hello Kitty plushie is safely tucked in his arms, helping to obscure his face.
He doesn't look unattractive this way. Just…not quite what he's used to. He looks like a boy more than anything else. His features retain their most basic natural femininity, but now?
He's just a guy.
And he groans, burying his face further into the safety of his arms.]
Guys. Guys, I'm done. I'm taking a nap until this bullshit is over. [Even his voice is a bit lower. No, a lot lower. He can't even try to speak the way he usually does. There's no purr, no seduction, no nothing, and he winces.]
How am I even supposed to get laid like this? [He gestures to his face.] It's so not fun. [Blue eyes peek out over the pile of fabric that is his sweatshirt and bedsheets.]
God. Fucking…I'm so done. Like,- this isn't even cute anymore. Ugh. I don't even have any guy clothes. and fuck shaving…
[He sighs, grabs his plushie, and turns onto his other side, away from the camera, reaching back to shut the feed off. The last thing visible is a short, messy spray of pink ponytail against cotton candy-pink sheets.
At least he still looks like a girl from this end?]
[filtered from admin and staff]
WHAT THE FUCK? AM I NORMAL NOW? Can't cope, must drink, who's coming with?
[FILTER: Nike]
You have no choice. You can bring your boyfriend and your weird ginger friend without taste. Just make sure she wears something that shows off her tatas.
forty-nine.
FUCK, IT'S COLD.
AND I THINK I BROKE MY FUCKING HAND PUNCHING FUCKING THE DOOR.
FUCK FUCK FUCK.
９ ❦ Ａｐｐｌｅｓ
...Huh.
[Filtered from Admin/Staff]
Students of Montenegro, a kindness:
Get me all the booze you can.
[Mena]
How are you, power wise?
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