junifesto

[junifesto]

Uncomfortable facts of life:

Nobody's going to magically swoop in to rescue you. You can't just sit there and expect someone else to come save you. You have to get your shit together and do it yourself.

About 90% of the time, the "it" you have to do on your own is pushing yourself to walk up to someone else and use your words to say "hey I need help."

[junifesto]

Getting blacklisted from trading with local fae because you've been paying for their favours with stuff like childhood dreams and the memory of your mother's smile, trading their goods for what would have otherwise been absurdly highball prices, but then they found out that the things you've given them in return are worthless because they mean nothing to you. After going no-contact with your family you just wanted to get fucking rid of all of the things that are attached to them, and if you could, you'd give your memories of them away for free on craiglist.

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what do i do if im cutestyle

kill and kill until there's nothing left

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[junifesto]

The World of Ultimate Gaming

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Shitty parents will guilt their kids about how much they have to suffer to put a roof over their head, like having kids was the only reason they had to grudgingly give up on a lifelong dream of being homeless.

[junifesto]

Imagine being at home minding your own business, when suddenly some entity so massive it's barely within the range of your comprehension just breaks in, looking for food, and just when you panic and fear for your life, it just goes "sorry mate, not here to eat you, just your house", and when you go "you fucking what" and it goes "yeah unfortunately you kinda built your shit in the wrong place, I'm taking the foundations" and gently rips apart your walls and proceeds to dig for the cornerstones you built all your shit on. And once done it's like "yeah thanks and sorry lil buddy, build your stuff somewhere else the next time" and fucks off, never to bee seen or heard of again.

Because I think that's pretty much how it's like for the tiny spiders who build their webs on the blueberries when they see me coming.

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Some reptiles shed their outer layer in one full piece.

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Went on a blocking spree on this Zionist blog. I simply blocked people who like their pinned post.

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i hope a ceiling fan falls on the empty spot in the bed next to you and it starts understanding your needs

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cleaning house canceling a bunch of subs and free trials and shit and this 5-character non-optional complaints section made me scream

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Whispering to my gamer gf "the narwhal bacons at midnight" so she has a nerdgasm blasting awesomesauce on my face

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[junifesto]

DogPhone will let dog use phone

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[junifesto]

"All monsters must die bloody, and by a hero's hands, and soon," he says over brunch.

He doesn't think it's a rude thing to say in front of a monster. There are no rude things to say to monsters, only rude things monsters say.

"Don't worry," she says between bites, "You're one of the good ones."

"But I am still a monster," I do not say. I do not say that I love my claws and teeth, my prehensile shadow and my glowing eyes. That I cannot imagine giving them up even for survival, that to hide my shadow and trim my claws for them makes me feel diminished. In public I cannot say that I do not wish to be human.

They're progressives, this bunch, even if he carries a hero's banner with its proud history and none of them ask him to put it away. They know there are good monsters, monsters who can speak eloquently and hold the fork right, monsters you can be seen with in public. Some of their best friends are monsters.

They do not know the monster who is invited to brunch knows solidarity with the monster who is not. Believes and understands the monster who is not invited more than the human who does the inviting.

"Isn't that a little harsh?" says a third human, and I have not forgotten I am outnumbered. "We have ways of killing monsters without blood now, painlessly. And, of course, a monster should be allowed to live if it never growls."

He has never seen me growl. Yet how loudly and endlessly I will, when I'm out of earshot. He's talking about killing monsters who cannot stoop to civility, about mother and brother and lover who were never able to mute themselves like me, and does he not know how small a child who can only growl is?

"To growl is not to kill," I say, and all heads turn toward me. It is one of those rude things monsters say.