#I saw my own birth

[the-broken-pen]

I go somewhere without service for ONE DAY and suddenly everyone decides to tag and follow me. I love y’all but now I have to go find which WIP I left my latest rambling in and slap it into a tag game post.

I’m a little sleep deprived ❤️💪

[kacchanot-fucking-deal-with-this]

explaining mpreg to my boss wasn't on my 2024 bingo

[hauntingblue]

NAMI NEEDS TO GO UP THERE AND FIGHT BIG MOM I AM SO SERIOUS!!! THIS IS A BATTLE FOR THE ROMANCE DOWN TRIO!! SANJI DO NOT DARE TAKE HER SPOT!!!

[neverbeforeandneversince]

season 3 of The Bear isn’t good...

[anadorablekiwi]

hugs?

Yes please

[fantasyhighdreamerz]

Yani's Mom (to be named....)

Local snake mom who over sexualizes her child for her own personal gain and for the goal of mortal power/prestige, thus ruining said child's perception of people in general. Leaving said child to believe whole-heartedly that everyone is her enemy especially other women who could threaten her position by also using the men around her. Unaware not only of the fact that solidarity between women exists in the first place but also that men themselves have personalities, dreams, goals, and emotions beyond sex.

Yani's mom everyone 👏👏

This woman is like a piece of work let me fucking tell you. The only thing she hasn't done is forced her child to go through with lip injections, nose job, etc other 'beauty' enhancers as a little kid. She's logical to a fault, and is aware of some of the damage that could do to a child/teen so she's waiting for Yani to come of age. The nose job thing is the first thing she wants Yani to 'fix' since Yani has a hooked nose. Though Yani's mom herself isn't 100% on what more humanoid beauty standers are given she lived in a Yuan Ti run district an yuan ti think humanoids are ugly as sin LMAO.

It's one reason why she was kicked out made her bitter as fuuckkk. Her and Yani live in a shit hole of a house, not that they don't have money her siblings who felt sorry for her when she was kicked out kinda send her a monthly check (they are aristocratic snake folk so the amount they give to Yani's mom is a lot to you and me but to them its like a drop of water in a bucket) she just refuses to use it on anything that isn't to help boost peoples perception of Yani. So Yani has all the best clothes, the newest crystal, shoes, nails accessories and anything else that's popular within richer society. What she doesn't have though?

Baby pictures ): only pics kept are ones that involve Yani's achievements. Her room is filled to the brim with clothes shoes bags and such but her walls are empty... Bookcase filled with things she doesn't care about and a desk with the state of the line pc but said pc just has a default background.

[area51-escapee]

I start to get annoyed when people start discussing periods because there’s always this specific type of person who acts like the only reason someone would genuinely hate having a period is because of sexism, and to be clear sexism can definitely play a part in that, but also sexism plays no role in the debilitating cramps and nausea and migraines that leave me bedridden for most of the week. Sexism plays no role in the personal discomfort and sensory hell that comes from having a period and having autism. It doesn’t matter that what my body is doing is a “natural cycle”, it fucking sucks, it’s miserable, just because it’s natural doesn’t mean I have to love it, I started researching ways to stop my period or get a hysterectomy when I was like 11/12 because I was in such unbearable pain every single month. Yes misogyny can absolutely cause people to feel negatively toward having a period but this ain’t misogyny, this is horrific pain that kept me miserable for the entirety of my teenage years and I only resent it less now because I found out how to manage it with birth control.

[portraitofadyke]

I just saw a girl on tiktok talking about how her Palestinian grandma won’t be able to renew her passport with her place of birth as Palestine. She will have no place of birth.

Tell me why people were trying to compare it to Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia etc.

My whole ass family was born in Czechoslovakia. Guess what. They now have a passport in Czechia/Slovakia, depending on where they lived. They have a country to call their own. They have some of the strongest passports in the world.

Palestinians are intentionally being eradicated. Their land bombed and stolen. Please educate yourselves before you say bullshit on the internet.

[paperenthusiast667]

[saturdaymournings]

Just watched pignorant and holy fucking shit was it crazy.

[breaking-everything]

MAY THEY CONTINUE TO DESTROY EACH OTHER

[pseudowho]

"Oh! Kento-- wait-- please please please--"

Kento turned back on the bustling Tokyo street, the night bullied away by neon signs, light pollution, and the pollution of the wayward drunken laughers. He only came on staff nights out, now, because you'd be there. He peered at you, tie-loose, hair-mussed and bleary, as you knelt in front of a Gacha machine. You rummaged in your purse for a coin.

Kento grunted, smirking, and reached into his clinking pocket, swaying back to you with liquor-rusted words.

"You're drunk. Here--"

"A-ha!" You birthed a 500 yen coin from your purse, triumphant, and Kento felt childishly disappointed that he couldn't pay for your inebriation treat for you. He watched you fumble the coin into the Gacha machine, and turn the wheel, crank, crank, cranking until there sounded a hollow tok, and a skrrr-skrrr-skrrr, tok.

The Gacha pod landed in the dispenser. You gasped, biting your lip in sweet anticipation, and looking up at Kento. He could barely contain himself from his own adoration, wanting nothing more than to reach down and grasp your plush cheeks and press his lips to yours and taste the drink off your tongue and--

"Kiss, Kento."

Kento frog-blinked, wondering if he'd spoken such impurities aloud, and opened his mouth to apologise. But he paused again, leaning down over you, knelt on the pavement, where you held the Gacha pod up to him, and repeated yourself, ditzy-drunk.

"Kiss it, Kento. For luck. For me."

Self-conscious, and grumbling in a way that only deepened your grin, Kento leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to the Gacha pod as you laughed. He straightened up, looking up and down the street to see if anyone saw, his vision a few seconds slower than his mind, wading through whiskey.

Heat rose up Kento's neck, and he opened his mouth again to suggest something stupid like why don't you come back to mine for another drink and--

"Awww, damn! This one again!" Kento looked down at you, owlish and inquisitive. You held up a little keychain, with a disappointed half-smile on your lips. You grimaced up at him, shrugging.

"That was my last shot I think. This line discontinues next week. Never mind." You tapped the front of the Gacha machine, stroking the green image of the one you were after, wistful.

Kento pulled you to your feet, and you linked your arm through his, swaying down the street together. Kento swallowed hard, wishing you were on his back, but instead blurted out;

"I'm sorry my kiss wasn't lucky enough."

You sighed, pensive, swinging your keychain on one finger.

"I'm sure they're plenty lucky. Just, maybe not for me."

Kento barely registered your words, distracted and glancing back down the street at the flashing Gacha machine, growing ever more distant.

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Between lessons a few days later, you crept into your office to dump essays on your desk, and snatch five minutes of peace. Settling your mug down, you saw the glimmer of brightly coloured plastic on the centre of your keyboard.

You blinked, curious, before a smile of realisation broke out across your face. A Gacha pod. You recalled, with your cheeks growing hot, how you had begged Kento for his lucky kiss, and how he hadn't corrected you when you told him that his lucky kisses would only be lucky for another girl. You felt a sting of humiliation...

...but, nobody else could have left this gift. Taking a deep breath, and pressing your lips to the pod (unknowingly stealing a kiss that had already been left there for you), you cracked it open-- and squealed with delight, ecstatic and fizzing with joy, to find your collection completed in the eleventh hour.

Later, at the first ring of the lunchtime bell, you knocked on the door to Kento's office. No answer. You knocked again, and gently opened the door, peering round and calling out.

"Kento...?"

Still, no answer. You crept in, closing the door behind you. His office was empty, his desk sparse and functional as always, not wanting to turn his desk into anything that would suggest he thought of work as home. The cupboard on his desk, was, however, straining at its latch, wonky at the closing seam from something stuffed inside.

Curious once more, you stroked the bursting seam of the cupboard, and undid the latch.

A veritable ball-pit burst forth over the office, with Gacha pods of yellow and red and orange and pink and blue and purple and black and white and--

--and every colour, except for green. Dozens and dozens of Gacha pods...except, for green. That one, you held in your purse. You swallowed hard, blinking back tears, and collected Gacha after Gacha, from beneath cupboards and radiators, rolled to all four corners of Kento's office.

Setting to work, you sat cross-legged on the floor, emptying the pods of their keychains one by one. Thousands and thousands of yen tallied before your eyes, and the plain, unassuming desk behind you said nothing of your coworker's secret obsession. And how he couldn't face you. And how you would never have known.

You sat in silence, with a lap full of empty Gacha pods, and listening to the birds singing songs of summer outside the window. You thought, and thought, and thought. You ripped pages from your notebook, tearing them to shreds, and set to work once more. By the time you were finished, the lunch bell rang again. You crammed the final Gacha back into the cupboard.

You could only wait, and hope.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The warm summer rain started as evening began to roll in. You looked out of the Bistro window from your table for two, your belly twisted with nerves. Your green prize was clasped in your hand, a lucky charm; one earned with far more luck than a simple kiss could give.

You heard the jangling of a bell behind you. You dared not look up, instead just listening-- slow, familiar footsteps. The rattling clunk of a tote bag being placed before you, filled with Gacha pods. The rustle of a stack of carefully unfolded little notes, all with one word on; 'tomorrow'. 'Café'. 'You'. 'Me'. '8pm.'

"You broke into my cupboard."

You pursed the smile between your lips, your eyes closing with the silken chastisement, made without venom. Kento's cologne washed over you as he sat on the chair opposite, removing his glasses in a way that softened his face completely, looking at his lap with a smile. When he looked up at you, it was with a love so unapologetic that you could have cried.

You felt your nose stinging again, and set your green Gacha prize on the table between the two of you. Sheets of rain washed down the Bistro windows, and you cleared your throat, your voice cracking.

"This is quite the prize."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Kento! I'm home!"

You dumped your shoes and bag at the door, padding into the living room on bare feet. Kento leaned away from the stove, twirling spaghetti, and offering you the smiles he offered nobody else. He anticipated you, as your mouth opened.

"--yes, I went to the Gachapon. They're on the sofa. Pre-kissed."

You gasped in delight, in the same way you had that night, and bounced onto the sofa, two Gacha leaping with you.

"Two?" You cried, to his shrug, "I only said one-- you can't keep funding my habit, Kento--"

"I'm sure one would have been fine. But, just in case."

You barely registered Kento stepping over to you in his apron, with two steaming bowls, so focused were you on cracking open your Gacha pods. Taking a deep breath, you undid the wrapper...and cheered, your arms flinging into the air.

"Your kisses really are lucky, Kento, gosh...well, one more, then, I--"

You had cracked open the final Gacha. A ring tumbled into your hand, and your brain short-circuited. You trembled, rolling it around in your palm. The two halves of the pod clattered to the floor, forgotten. Your vision swam, and you sniffled, and looked up.

Kento had dipped onto one knee before you, aproned and still, with two bowls of pasta In his hands. In the crucial moment, he seemed anxious. He cleared his throat, his voice thickening.

"I would...like to fund your habit for the rest of our lives. If you'll have me."

A laugh bubbled through your tears, and you wiped your cheeks, allowing Kento to slide the ring into place on your finger. You held his broad hand in serene silence, time standing still, before you spoke.

"...so this ring is just...just one in the collection, right? Wait-- no, Kento, COME BACK, PLEASE-- I'M JUST FUCKING WITH YOU--"

[a-sleepy-ginger]

29/3/24

✿❈✿❈✿

Artms release!!

Grapes

Got a good start on my history assessment

Laughed with family

[prudereality]

oofta

[charlott2n]

It just sucks so bad. 21, the age at which i realized i was trans, isnt at all "too late" to realize, but it sucks so bad what our society, what the institution of transphobia, gets away with. The lie it forced on me for so long. I feel like i had so many moments when i could have easily realized i was trans as far back as about five years old when i saw something on the news about a trans girl and at the same time i was having thoughts like "What if reincarnation was real but you had to be a boy every time and could never be born as a girl?? Wouldnt that suuuuuck???", but they want you to think it could never be you. And it worked on me!!! Between my family and our society, i was conditioned to think that while it was totally Okay for somebody to be trans, it could Never be me, and i shouldnt even think about it unless i was 100% sure since birth- which, on some level, i believe i even was! But what they Want you to believe is that all trans people know without a doubt that theyre trans from birth, a lie which suppresses so many transgender people out of ever being happy. When i was in my teens i even had two friends who came out as transfem, and i was really happy for them, but even more, i was jealous. I wished i could be trans so that i could be as happy as they were! I wished i could experience that! But it just never clicked for me that i could easily have that just as easily as them. It was all about overcoming this feeling that society instills in you, that it could never be you. And the fact that even well meaning people perpetuate these sentiments is appalling. When my dad was accepting of me but also made sure to ask me How Sure I Was, he was himself a microcosm of what society worries itself with foremost- Are You Sure You're Trans? Have you wrung out every other possibility? Are you sure youll make it? They busy you with doubts and fears, because ultimately they of course want to dupe you out of it. They express possibly genuine and well meaning concern for your wellbeing and happiness without letting you make up your own mind. Railroading you into the mindset that if it was You, you would have realized long ago.

[everyone-calm-down]

The plebeians may call it bacon grease, but I (classy, modern, clean-girl, rich, yadayadayada) call it pork tallow