Is That Too Much To Ask - Blog Posts

61 summons and I still don't have mammon's 'Overflowing Feelings' UR+. 61 fucking summons. My entire savings of demon vouchers gone. Dissappeared. You know what I do have though? 10 OF SIMEON'S 'A SWEET APOLOGY' CARD! I DON'T NEED 10 OF THOSE! I DONT EVEN NEED ONE! I just want mammon.

I want my mother; the woman both a room away and ten years out of reach.

Isn’t it funny?

A tear turns into sniffles turns into sobbing turns into six years old with hands outstretched.

Hands soon to be smacked away by the bite of thoughtless words.

Hands that learn it’s better to cinch at the waist lest they get smacked once again.

Hands that soon don’t even bother to squeeze back once taken back in an effort to mend.

The tears that don’t seem to stop, even when the pain has long since passed.

The urge to cling and beg for mother’s attention that will not be given.

A woman who is not at fault, but will shoulder the blame anyway because to place it elsewhere is to place it on the intangible.

A woman who sleeps only a room away yet stays ten years out of reach.

KP AU

where everything is the same except Macau and Kim are trans. Kim is FTM but likes to fuck with gender (in true Jeff style). WIK is an open lgbt supporter and supports lgbt youth charities but is not open as trans (cause wik was formed after he had transitioned and he just enjoyed being seen as male and completely forgot to mention that he had been born in the wrong body).

Kim is the mafia son who was a daughter and who’s only future was to be sold into marriage alliances. That would explain so much about Kim’s alienation from his family. He moved out as soon as he could and got everything changed, name, legal identity. He got surgery and testosterone. Tankhurn helped with that. Also he and Macau vibe every so often for complaining sessions. He helped Macau get access to good medical care.

Nothing about the plot changes. Kim completely forgets to tell Chay (he’s so comfortable in himself to see it as a thing that needs brought up). Until one day they’re changing together and Kim pulls his packet from his trousers and Chay goes brain dead. 😂

How The Duffel Bags left Billy Post-Starcourt:

How fans fix it:

And I think that’s beautiful

im sad and i have a headache and i just want a little kiss on the forehead

older bf! aizawa fixing all of my daddy issues. yeeeea. yeeeeeeeeeea.

i don’t even mean sexually!! like imagine opening up to him for the first time. you’ve been dating for a while and he knew some of your familial relationships were… strained to say the least, but he didn’t know the extent of it. you’re recalling some of your experiences — maybe a specific event, maybe just an overview — and he’s humming and nodding while listening to your words, his brows knitting together in a pitying expression. you think he’s pitying you anyway, you’re kind of avoiding his eyes as you speak.

your voice starts shaking after a moment and you’re internally cursing yourself for tearing up because why are you still so affected by the actions of your father? you pause for a second, swallowing against the lump in your throat and it’s so humiliating to fall apart in front of your boyfriend like this and—

and shota places a hand over yours. his hand is rough and calloused from hero work but so warm. he’s gazing wistfully at where your skin meets, his thumb so gently grazing over your knuckles before giving your hand a small squeeze. “i’m so sorry that happened to you, baby. you didn’t deserve that.” oh and his words are just barely there, but they ring louder than what anyone has ever told you in response to your past.

your eyes meet his after he speaks. you want to snap back out of some deep seated need to defend yourself (to make yourself seem less vulnerable, less pathetic, perhaps). of course you didn’t deserve what happened to you, that’s a dumb thing to point out. that’s what you’re about to say when your lips part, but only a small, shuddering breath leaves you.

you don’t even notice the tears rolling down your cheeks until shota brings up a warm hand to wipe them away, his body leaning closer to yours to press his lips against your forehead. you want to curse at him, to push him away and storm off for even daring to see you in this state… but you don’t.

instead you wrap your arms around his middle and hide your face in his neck (shame, maybe?) and cry. you’re not sobbing, but you can’t help the hiccuped breaths that leave you when his hand slips under the hem of your shirt to run his warm palm up and down your back. he doesn’t say anything after that.

As a big fan of both ranboo and my chemical romance I absolutely fucking loved this moment

I want a Crash Bandicoot and Sonic The Hedgehog Crossover.

i don’t know why my brain works this way

sometimes i say things then people want me to clarify like no i didn't have an example i lied i'm a terrible little liar

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All I really want out of life is Evangeline Lilly's updo

Martin and Benedict pointing at each other at the Hobbit premiere.

I want to be a rock.

Like, rocks have it so easy. Just stay there; relax, let moss grow over your rough texture. I want to let nature swallow me in its attempts to make everything beautiful.

Anyone else overwhelmed with modern life expectations?

Like I could probably have graduated some housewife school like three times over now. I know the cleaning hacks. I know the social planning. I can perform the femininity, in skirts and pants. I know the sewing (functional and recreational) and the crafts. I can cook very well. I know other people of varying gender identities who can do the same (with or without the femininity, as it were).

What I can’t do is focus long enough to write 16 pages of essay on topics I am burnt out on (because of my university taking away spring break cause the Greek life kids couldn’t be responsible about the pandemic and not party for five minutes last semester), to further my education, for a career I never planned to even have as a kid, so I can be self sufficient (good) and avoid being told I’m wasting my potential (bad). Even though I’m smart enough for it, it’s not what I’m truly passionate about.

It’s all so much, like in another life I could have had a couple kids and a husband and a reasonably clean house and been living my best life by now, but instead all I have are increasingly taxing assignments, the single life, a messy house, no time for anything else and enough stress and anxiety to have been institutionalized over back then. Like I just want to be a homemaker. Thanks capitalism

I just wanna be someone's number one