I FUCKING - Blog Posts

What r u sellin'?

[[plaintext]] UNDER THE CUT.

S: .... HEY [[giggles]].

J: nutcracker!! are you okay? okay?

S: YEAH, NO WORRIES.

J: how are you feeling? are you well? well?

S: [[Peachy keen]].

J: are you hurt? do you need healing?

S: HM SAME AS EVER, THO ILL TAKE SOME [[tender loving care]] ALWAYS

J: i was worried. worried.

S: YEAH,, SORRY [[bouncy ball]]... IM GOOD NOW

Anon also asked: damn. those strings look nasty. does spamton really need to lose his tic anyway? i understand him just fine. *sends jevil a whetstone for his shears*

Anon also asked: Red strings are usually associated with Kris’s soul. I’m a bit concerned about the implications there

Anon also asked: *Act, *Spamton, *Check? maybe we can at least figure out what those strings are exactly since it seems they won't break

S: THE STRINGS ARE HARMLESS. SEEMS LIKE [[3mm standard bungee cord]];

@cosmos-hime asked: So does that mean you really know everything? How he got corrupted and lost everything? Poor dude has a lot of baggage. (And strings!)

S: WELL WE BONDED OVER KNOWING [[more than meets the eye]] SO TALKING CAME NATURALLY ITS A [[the friends we made along the way]] TO HAVE SOMEONE TO TALK HONESTLY WITH. AS FOR [[my wares]] I GUESS ITS OLD BREAD, BROKEN SCISSORS, AND A PIECE OF STRING.

It’s nice to see that other people also feel like this

I LOVE doing those stupid mundane tasks like sweeping stocking shelves and picking up trash HELL I even enjoy working customer service and waitressing BUT NONE OF THOSE JOBS ARE VIABLE FOR ANYONE

And I hate how society tells me that I should feel little and worthless even if I were to work these jobs

Like I literally feel like I should be embarrassed for even wanting to work as a janitor or waitress. I’m told that those are jobs for people who are still in highschool or people who flunked out of college. But why??? They aren’t!!!!! They are very real and serious jobs!!!! That are important!!!!!!!!

#LateStageCapitalism

idk where to put this but I'm overflowing with emotions so here

Family is weird. I've found I collect my family as I go, like a funky jigsaw where the pieces are revealed by moving furniture or sweeping under the fridge. Pieces have been lost, left in old apartments to be picked up by others, to because part of someone else's puzzle. I just hope that the people I call my brothers see me as one too, that the people I have playfully married see me as a husband, a wife, or see me as a piece that they've loved as well. I hope to plant myself in as many puzzles as pieces I've collected. I hope that my current pieces, my work boss who is now a weird older brother, my two best friends in states I cannot visit whom are my two younger brothers, my wife whom I rarely speak to, and my own parents know I love them as much as I know they love me, maybe more so. I hope these pieces don't get lost with the dust collecting in the corners of my closet, the darkness under my bed, in the mess of my art supplies. I love my weird family.