Video

[monge]

[It started off innocently enough, Komasan went to get his usual morning cup of coffee only for the barista to decide he became a regular enough to try something...different. The coffee was slightly orange and smelled sweet, something Komasan wasn't used to compared to his normal cup of liquid bitterness. One sip, and his life changed. They said it was pumpkin...something. Komasan never had a pumpkin that tasted anything like this before, but the experience was magical.

And that was only the beginning.

It wasn't long before he noticed that the local bakery was also selling pumpkin-something foods, and then the next place...and some other places. It was all too overwhelming, but eventually he gets to where he is now:

Sitting in front of his desk, said desk covered in an array of different pumpkin spice-flavored goods. Like...an absurd amount.]

T-T-The pumpkin, zura... Monge...

[Komasan looks like he's stuck between being totally confused and wanting to cry tears of joy.]

The coffee...it tasted so good— Coffee can taste good, zura!! A-And the muffins... I have...I have candle now, zura...

[He holds up one of those large jar candles, the ones that tend to cost a pretty penny...]

They sprayed me with...something— I smell so good— S-Someone sniff me, zura! And then...they had it...they had pumpkin soft cream, zura!!

[But he of course ate that one before he got home.]

Is this how US pumpkins taste, zura?! W-Why are they so sweet, zura?!

[video]

[timecapture]

So, I'm in college now! I even got a scholarship for it, since I'm registered and all. [Honestly, it's the least they can do after pulling in a bunch of kids like this.] It's seriously different from high school. I feel like I can barely keep up. I'm going for a photojournalism degree. That way, I can keep doing photography and help out at the same time.

I've started just working on the holidays and weekends at my job, but I'm thinking of maybe branching out into more serious work. [She's not doing Christmas season again. You can't make her.] If anyone has any suggestions, or where to point me, I'd appreciate it.

[Not mentioning that she posts a lot of her photography on her Rumblr, nope.]

Anyway, that's about it for me! How are the rest of you doing?

video;

[stubble]

[ By now, Cullen has figured out the different settings on his phone. Not all of them, but the ones involved with making posts to the network. Thank the Maker for that, because trying to write messages on the bloody thing is a trial and sometimes he just doesn't have the patience for it.

He's sitting on the porch, mostly just his head and shoulders—the latter clad in a simple t-shirt—visible in the video. The bland side of his house makes up the background. Not visible is his mabari, sprawled out at his feet. ]

Pardon the intrusion—[ Using the phone is one thing. Network etiquette is still rather nebulous to him. ]—but I wondered if anyone might have some advice on where I might locate a proper job.

[ His relatively neutral expression dips into a disapproving frown. ]

My current duties are ridiculous and wholly unrelated to my talents. [ The frown smooths out. ] I was the general of a rather large army and have been a soldier for the majority of my life. As a child, I grew up on a small farm. I'm accustomed to being active and prefer it to more idle occupations.

[ He drums the fingers of his free hand against the arm of his chair. He has no idea the protocol for ending communications of this nature. ]

Thank you for your time.

[ Eh, that's good enough. ]

1 / video;

[neverdied]

[The guy on the end of this video clearly doesn’t want to be doing this, hunched forward on an old couch in a dark room, staring distantly at something just off camera and only occasionally flicking his gaze back to the screen. He’s silver haired, stocky, decked in a worn black t-shirt that reveals arms full of faded tattoos, and looks awkward as hell, but even he knows he’ll have far more success in his request if he shows his face.]

I need money. [Gruffly said and to the point, his words sticking to a perfect monotone.]

A job. I need a job… another job. I can do whatever, doesn’t matter, name it. [There’s no sign of this being a joke judging by the unchanging, sullen stare, and it’s honestly better for everyone involved if he keeps it vague and doesn’t start listing off his credentials to the masses. It’d take a while…

A pause lingers for an uncomfortably long few seconds and then he’s leaning forward to turn off the feed, faltering just before he does so.]

Oh. And, uh. Good bingo halls, I need those too. Not Betty Black’s, I already know that one.

[And with that he’s gone.]