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no one says big mood anymore. no one even says mood. no one says anything. all thats left is a dry wind, that scours my face until i bleed

if i were a beta in the omegaverse i'd be so mad watching my coworkers get paid heat/rut leave while i get nothing. it's like when your fuckass coworker gets to take a cigarette break nid-shift and come back smelling bad but instead they get to go home and fuck nasty for a week because they made the choice not to take suppressants meanwhile i have to stay in the office running spreadsheets with debra whose scent patches don't do anything to hide the smell of mothballs or the alpha from marketing she's cheating on her husband with

im glad minecraft isnt real life because by now i would have got my fingers stuck in the grates of a mob spawner trying to grab the spinning pig

resurrected dead wife watching her own montage: wow I looked so hot in that

I’m sick and tired of found families we need more found toxic workplace environments

the most key feature of an oc is they're the specialist in the whole wide world but also a complete loser

“nobody is making you do this” i am driven by unnatural forces you will never even begin to comprehend

When your own OC becomes your blorbo it is both glorious and torturous

i think that i deal with a lot of [remembers this isn't my diary] Nothing. i've never had a problem

if leon kennedy was a little bug with a long proboscis it'd be called resident weevil. but he's not and it's not and i just don't know anymore

Whatever. *Apathetically does a backflip and throws three daggers diagonally down at different angles*