The “science wing” of our high school was four classrooms in a square, connected via a storeroom so the teachers could move through them without having to loop through the halls. The teachers that controlled that part of the kingdom were some of the best weirdos in the building.
In one corner was an older man who’s voice was so good at putting people to sleep that his pass rate was actually pretty low. People fought to get a good grade simply because they couldn’t manage to stay awake long enough to absorb any of the material.
Next to him was a hardass who would only let kids use a specific bathroom in the school. He liked running chemistry experiments where students would light various chemicals on fire and determine what they are based on what color they burned. It was during one of these experiments that we learned, much to our horror, that he is totally colorblind and was relying 100% on our abilities to tell one unmarked chemical from another since the test would tell him nothing.
The other two were somewhat of a shipping legend among the more romantic of the students. Both were married (to different women, not that it stopped us from talking) but were apparently friends in college or something. The end result was a playful kind of banter between them that lasted all year and amused the students to no end.
We would be having a test in one room, everything is deadly silent, when a periscope sloooooooowly emerges from the storage room door behind the teacher’s desk. It glances around until someone notices it and snickers. Teachers head whips up, periscope is GONE. Everyone calms down, he goes back to marking papers. The second teacher sneaks through the door, tip-toes behind the first teacher, makes faces at him while we struggle to maintain composure. First teacher whips around in his chair but the second teacher has silently booked it out the door and into the hall. This went on all exam. First teacher thought he was going crazy until he finally caught the imp and chased him out of the room.
Another day had the first teacher tired and stressed out from family issues so we were on a light day. Second teacher came in and randomly started giving first teacher a shoulder massage. The sound of manly purring had most of the girls in class in a state of crazed hormonal overload.
Even separate, those two were pretty awesome. First teacher had a soft, kind voice and loved to do practical hands on experiments like making soap or brewing our own root beer. Second teacher had enough plants in his class for it to feel like a greenhouse instead of a classroom, and he was fairly absent minded. At one point, he walked smoothly into the class, scooped up a marker, paused just as the marker tip hit the whiteboard, his eyes slowly widened and he yelled “OH SHI—-” and RAN out of the room leaving us all stunned and confused. About 2 minutes later he came back carrying a huge plant. Apparently he had left it in the girl’s shower room to leetch something out of the soil under the water and forgot about it. I wish we could have watched him trying to sneak into the change rooms in the middle of class to steal a plant! He was also responsible for the plague of crickets that tormented us during final exams. The crickets he was breeding as food for his lizard got loose and spread through the school. Imagine trying to write a final in a huge silent gym with the odd chirp sounding for no apparent reason. So annoying…
No ask compilation today, but we do have another comic page going up, as scheduled!
Behind the scenes, we’ve had many various fire-drills that threatened to delayed comic updates (work emergencies, school commitments, traveling, sickness, etc), but this last weekend may actually take the cake pie.
Last Wednesday, Nacho’s internet was abruptly disconnected, due to a “one in a million” faux pas on the provider’s end. We were already running slightly behind schedule but this unprecedented blocker threw us for a loop. Without internet, communication between Nacho, Ellipsis, and I was severely limited. Sending the comic page back to me required ridiculous effort, moving the huge photoshop document to her phone and uploading through Google Drive (which, for some reason, did NOT want to cooperate that day). But our struggles were not futile: through a mixture of obscenities and encouragement, the page made it to my computer, where I was able to quickly wrap it up and schedule it, right in the nick of time!
In the end, the only drawback is that we were not able to roundup asks for the compilations that we usually do between pages. You guys sent in some great ones, so rest assured we will be publishing them eventually, probably when we are operating with all hands on deck again. ^^; Nacho’s internet is STILL dead but hopefully she’ll be back online sometime tomorrow. At least we were able to finish up more coffee art (and kicked off the highly anticipated nsfw blog) despite bad luck getting in the way.
There may be a day when we have to delay an update or take a hiatus, but by god, that day is not today.
LAST STREAM DRAWS. REQUEST FOR @somesketchyshit HELLLAAAAAAAAAA she asked for two people wearing a scarf and drinking hot coc… she forgot the o so i’m just.. repeating her mistake sorry(notsorry) HHAHAH
so i drew Young Jack and Adult Angel. and they make the cutest father daughter team and i’ cry but this is a happy post so no crying. .-.
Since I haven’t seen anyone talk about this, I will. With this loop that Yuri created during the end of this duel, not only is he killing Yusho slowly and painfully, but he is also indirectly torturing Yuya and Yuto by continuously summoning Starve Venom to out right poison them almost with Zarc’s Darkness. And it is just sicken to watch the pain expressions on these two faces while Yuri is getting a kick out of it. Keep in mind, he could’ve beaten Yusho without even using this loop but did it just to entertain himself because he is that much of a sadist.
I love Yuri, I really do, but I honestly hope now he doesn’t get redeemed. I know he is, more then likely during his and Yuya’s duel, and more then likely from BS reasons too, but I seriously hope he gets what coming to him first.
…. H M….. i like to think yautja could actually pronounce words without their animal loop/recorder. a few have been shown in the moves + comics to do so WITHOUT their helmets so i’m like maybe if they have the practice for it, and really work the muscles in their throat and train their tongue to twist out certain sounds they could sorta SPEAK ?? but after so long it makes their throats ache so they keep sentences short and very blunt. sometimes fall back on recordings. sometimes just hand gestures. BUT YA..
Standing at the side of the rink, Viktor was putting together a program, scribbling down ideas about what might or might not work. It wasn’t for competition, no, it was much more important than that. It was deep, and it was personal, and he couldn’t decide whether or not this particular segment of the music should be skated with a backwards spiral or a triple loop, and, looking up, he caught the attention of another with a wave and asked without preamble, “– Loop or spiral?”
Analog Africa Selection Vol.6 (2017) - 10 Years Anniversary Mix
From Cosmic Cabo Verde to synth-reggae in the Horn of Africa.
(Special Mix for Vinyl Factory) Frankfurt-based label Analog Africa is easily one of the most noteworthy labels rescuing and reissuing Afro sounds.
In 2015, the label gave us an exceptional anthology of Afro-Cuban pioneer Amara Touré, not to mention a compilation of tracks plucked straight from the dance floors of ’70s Senegal. Last year, they blew our human minds with some of the most extraterrestrial synth music we’ve ever heard on Space Echo.
This year, the label turns ten. To celebrate label boss Samy Ben Redjeb and his DJ partner Pedo Knopp have recorded a special mix which we’re delighted to share here.
“What is special about this mix is the fact that all the songs, except one, will be released on Analog Africa in 2017,” says Samy. “They have all been handpicked by myself and mixed in real time, without loops or any other kind of gimmicks by Pedo.”
It’s a synth-ridden journey from reggae in the Horn of African to Cosmic sounds of Cabo Verde, wavey soca-boogie monsters and other proto-electronic Afro jams.
I’m very aware that It’s quite a weird behaviour and I go through phases of questioning it from time to time. Fixation possibly, thrill seeking maybe, meditative definitely. That’s how my inner narrative loops without ever really asserting a conclusion. But even in my late 20′s I can’t stop enjoying it and it’s fairly harmless in the grand scheme of things. It did however develop a sexual tint after witnessing a friends accident in my mid teens. Until her incident I just occasionally pooped myself for the naughty satisfying relief but ever since, it’s definitely become an abstract fantasy fetish that’s actually possible to live out.
She wasn’t my best friend but was in our group at that age back in 2002 and we’d smuggled some alcohol out to a local park for the annual music event there in June with bands and the general festival paraphernalia. After we’d been sneakily drinking in the woods for a while and then ventured out to see the band, she started complaining of cramps. We were all quite drunk and were enjoying the event so we didn’t respond quickly enough when she returned from the portaloos saying the queue was too long and that she needed to go home. Soon after, I think she’d maybe already started to have an accident as there was no nonsense now, she was off, so we went with her. I’ve lost touch with her but she was very pretty and was wearing cream hot pant style shorts with a ruffled high waist. She stopped and bent over grimacing and then sat down to the curb and we heard this blarp sound followed by a noisy crackling. As she was pooping she lifted herself from the curb slightly with her arms behind. We were as shocked as her. I was mesmerised. The poor girl stood up and most of it was contained as she was leaning backwards on the curb with her knees bent while she went but now it was starting to stain through. It was a large poop, not totally liquid as it didn’t go far down her thighs but very messy and smelly. For cackling drunkards we were impressively comforting and walked in a cage around her so nobody else could see. She was understandably mortified so I felt bad for finding it so arousing. But nevertheless that’s stuck with me ever since and it escalated my own habit to recreate those unthinkably embarrassing moments.
Its been totally private for 20 years, I’ve kept it from all partners and it’s my biggest secret. I’ve been fine tuning the process in terms of diet, locations and clean up for ten years. I’ve posted pictures on other websites that cover the fetish but those sites are quite pornography orientated with lots of explicit scatty images and videos which I’m not into. My core interest is the moment, the unpredictability and then capturing the image of the aftermath, as it would be if it were real, in normal clothes. Clothes are huge to me; I’ve tried it in all sorts. My favourites evolve with each year but usually are jeans, leggings/jeggings, skirts and shorts. I’ve spent way too much on clothes bought with the sole purpose of destroying them!
Away from this I lead a normal life. I won’t say too much as ambiguity is the only way. I won’t show my face in any pictures and videos are too risky. But I’m rational, empathic, not religious and have an awe and fascination with the cosmos that always lifts me from inevitable spells of depression that everyone gets. I’m 5′6 and have blue eyes. My stories are as accurate as I can remember but some will be from years ago so the finer details may be a little hazy. Every summer I’ve always had an excuse to be away on a Sunday once or twice a month, and more often than not I’ll be wondering around a forest or somewhere scenic that helps with the pictures I take. More recently I’ve been a little braver and have pooped my pants badly in much more public places which I’ll write up soon.
I find poop as horrendous and disgusting as anyone, but when you let go of the strain you’ve been dealing with and planning for days, the overwhelming relief combined with the large naughty mess and smell takes on an entirely different experiential form to when I normally go to the loo. Maybe it’s a distant resonance back with the comfort of early life. Trying to figure out why I do it again.. Whatever, I do it and I love it.
Feel free to ask me anything and I hope you enjoy my accounts. It’s not for everyone and I don’t expect everyone to understand, but for me, it’s a freedom unparalleled.