#I love it when I do things for future me damn

[erosiism]

A CASE OF REGRETS | YANDERE IMAGINES.

prompt: you die during a rebellion, and he turns back time for you in desperation | reader is childhood friends with claude (OC), both are planning a rebellion to usurp the throne.

character(s): duke, you

warnings(s): nil

note(s): male reader, second person, past tense, not beta read, excerpt from my fic on wattpad, to make amends

FIND MORE MOMENTS OF CLAUDE AND THE READER HERE.

"Y/n!"

Blood spurted out.

"Y/n!"

Your vision blurred.

"Oh gods, are you okay? Are you—"

Your ribs hurt: were they broken? Bloodied? You could certainly taste the horrible taste of iron present in your tongue. It was clear to you that somehow you were dying. That something had turned against you. That you were...

"Please, please, please—"

Through your muddled vision you could make out a figure. A familiar silhouette running towards you, legs stumbling in desperation, breaths ragged.

It was nice to know that when you died, someone would grieve for you. That someone would cry for you.

There was only one person in the world who cared so much for you.

"Claude," you murmured. There was a smile on your face. "There's no need to cry..."

"Y/n, please—no—"

"Save it." You sighed, "there's no way I'm going to be surviving this."

It was true. Blood jetted out of your wound in spurts, staining your tailored uniform with a bright, crimson hue. You had loved that color mainly because Claude had ruby eyes, but now it just seemed gruesome, horrid. Pain had simmered down into a steady brew, and you wondered if your pain tolerance had simply grown stronger, or it was a telling sign of your fading consciousness.

"You were such a brat last time." You murmured. "You used to throw tantrums and everything...for a while, I thought you despised me. Even when we became adults, you were still heartless, cold...so why do you weep for me? Why do you grieve my death?"

I was a fool last time, Claude thought silently. I was a fool. I was a fool not to have shown my affections last time.

Because the truth was plain and simple, written in ink, written in the stars: Claude adored you. Was it not you who had held his hand in the gardens for strolls? Was it not you who accompanied him throughout, was it not you who could make him crack a smile, make him laugh? It had been all you. Every single joyous moment he had was caused by you. When he had finally received the title of the Duke. When he had finally defeated his family and his foes.

But Claude had been so wrapped up in his own troubles he had failed to notice your problems. Your dastardly family. Your...

He had neglected your wellbeing—he hadn't seen your deteriorating state, your weakening smile—he hadn't see any of that. He had been self obsessed, too engrossed in his own matters that he hadn't even—

Claude had taken too long to warm up to you. He could have been sweeter earlier. Made your life easier, no matter what it was. Claude had taken a while to truly open his heart to you: he had been rude, ungracious, curt. And you had been patient. Endlessly patient with him.

"We can save you," Claude said desperately, "we can."

You laughed. A tinkling, magical sound—but at that moment, it was so damned. So fucking painful to hear the cracks inside, the strain hiding inside the tone.

He knew it would be the last time he would ever heard it.

"You are the Emperor. You finally reclaimed your right to the throne. You finally..."

"Y/n," he whispered.

You shook your head.

"You achieved everything you sought for."

Perhaps he did. But the thing he truly wanted had been in front of him this whole time and he had been blind. Utterly blind.

And he would never forgive himself for that.

The tears slipped. His voice felt suffocated; choking.

"Don't cry," you touched his cheek gently and that pulled Claude temporarily out of his panic—"don't cry, alright? It was inevitable, Your Grace. Don't cry. The future Emperor doesn't cry."

Your Grace. Even then, you hadn't referred to him by his name. If he had another chance—just one singular chance—

He would allow you to call him by his name.

You were his everything.

You're my heart, Y/n.

If you die, then that would make me heartless.

There was so much blood, Claude realized. Coating his palms, running down your back. So much of its thick texture, its color, all drenched. Every single bit drenched—

Why was there so much blood? It wasn't his. He  wasn't unhurt, really. He wasn't that well off, but not to your extent. You sounded so tired when you spoke, so faint. So weak. You could have disappeared any second. Claude held you in your arms softly, gently—you could disappear any moment, your breaths wavering and quivering.

No, no, no.

I love you, Claude thought deliriously. I love you. I love you. I love you so much—

The voice grew and became stronger; louder even as you grew cold. Claude rocked you even when your hands fell, holding one to his own cheek. Your hands still had the faintest bit of warmth. He clung onto it desperately; motionless with the tears dried up with his throat feeling like sandpaper.

You can't leave me, he'd thought deliriously, hugging you close and rocking you again and again and again, you can't leave me.

Y/n L/n, I love you too much to let you go.

.

.

Claude had failed to save you. In front of him, your beauty was still visible in his eyes; your (h/c) hair, your (e/c) eyes—because of his arrogance, his incompetence, you had unfairly died. He had not noticed the blooming feelings in his stomach until you had been cold in his arms, and his tears had splattered on your cheek.

The universe has been cruel to you.

He had stood by your side and had watched you suffer and suffer and suffer; and for what? Only for the gods to turn their back on you? What was the point, really? Claude had been with you this whole time. Had seen the sacrifices you poured in, had seen—

He should have been the one that died, Claude despaired. Not you. Never you.

That night he couldn't sleep. The place was too empty without you. He had been crowned Emperor. But there was no you to accompany him by his side.

There was...absolutely no point.

Why was he even alive at this rate? Claude wondered. Everything would go back to life before you. Tedious. Long. Meaningless.

"Your Majesty, the Empire—"

"—do whatever you want." Claude rasped out. "Just...just..."

Please. If the Gods are listening. Please, please—

Turn back time. For me, for Y/n.

For...

[ The Gods have heard your prayers ]

.

.

Turning back time was unheard of. Something in the legends. Something Claude didn't believe in. Yet when he woke up—there had been disappointment in him, he had assumed that this was heaven yet you were nowhere in sight—there was the familiar surroundings of a room.

Not the Emperor's bedroom.

The bedroom from the manor he once lived when he was the illegitimate son of the Duke.

I must be dreaming, Claude thought. There was a flicker of hope he didn't dare to believe in. I must be dreaming of the happier times and the million what ifs.

Pain was tugging at his heart. It was painful. Everything was painful...

"—don't bother him. He just recovered from a sickness."

What?

What?

Delusional. Hallucinating. Delirious. To hear your sweet, sweet voice in such a dream—perhaps this was heaven after all. Claude didn't ever want to wake up. He didn't.

Because you were there. In front of him.

He sucked in a breath.

As sweet, as polite as he remembered. Every inch of his face had been committed to his memory. Every contour, every line. He had mapped you out in his head and had aligned you with the thousands of dazzling stars in the universe because you were the reason he bothered to continue living. Because you had become his reason for living.

You stood, in regal attire, with your posture as graceful as he had remembered. The sunlight streamed in through the paneled windows, caressing your features and alighting upon your lashes. He swallowed, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Ah, you are awake, Your Grace." You smiled at him.

"Y/n L/n," he said finally. "Y/n L/n." It's been so long since he could say this name to someone who would hear and respond to it. So many times he called your name out of your desperation in vain: hoping for some sort of hallucination to pop up, for some sort of inkling that your voice would carry over to his ears.

And you smiled.

Smiled.

Smiled.

Smiled—

Claude reached out to you and buried his face into your clothes.

You gave a startled smile.

.

.

The Duke had done a 180 complete turn.

"Y/n," he spoke with uncharacteristic fondness that you just didn't understand, "you are..."

Tears. There were tears on his cheek. Had you done anything to offend him? You thought not.

"Your Grace..." you reached out to brush his forehead with your fingers, "are you alright? You don't seem to have a fever."

Claude stared at you with wide eyes.

"Oh," You heard him say, and then, "you are as beautiful as I remembered."

What?

"Your Grace, are you really sure you are fine—"

Claude dashed forward, not even registering your words. He crushed you in his arms, a hand in your hair, head buried in his neck. He missed this. This warmth and this scent. Home, home. It's the smell of home. It's the smell of you. It's you. It's you. It's you. 

It worked, he thought. It worked. It fucking worked. I traveled back in time. 

"... Well then," you gave a small chuckle, confused upon what was happening, "it's a relief to see you have awoken—why are you crying?"

"You're here," Claude breathed, his first tangible words since his return. "You're here."

"Of course I'm here, Your Grace." You looked at him with confusion etched all over your features, frowning. "What's wrong? You..."

The Duke was looking at you like you were the only one that mattered in the world. And that—

Wow. What kind of coma did he have, to be behaving so peculiarly?

You wiped his tears, sighing and fussing.

"You know what—never mind. Tell me later—why are you still crying, Your Grace?"

Claude held onto you tighter.

Maybe he had bad dreams in his coma, you thought. He was holding on to you like you were a lifeline. Like you would disappear any second, any minute.

As though he would never let go of you again.

You patted the Duke's head gently, slowly, fingers running through his hair. "Don't cry. The future Emperor doesn't cry."

Those words. It was so hauntingly painful to him.

Claude didn't want to remember anymore. He didn't  need to remember. He had succeeded. The Gods had listened to him. You were alive and breathing, in front of him. You were—

Alive.

reblog/like the post! comments are appreciated even if you read this before :)

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Jealousy

Fill for #7 on this list featuring poor Rolan watching his fiancée get hit on at a ball. He decides to do something about it. NSFW.

“Rolan, at least try to smile, sweetie.” His fiancée’s mother lightly chided the Master of Ramazith’s Tower. He, Amelie, and her mother were attending yet another boring ball hosted by idiots. He was already in a sour mood when they arrived. There’s been a setback in repairing the glass observation dome at the tower. There was a parade of rude customers in the shop today. These new dress boots are hurting my damn feet. The wine here is piss.

But then he saw something that made him seethe.

His beautiful, perfect fiancée was speaking to a human noble who was standing too close.

Too, too close.

Amelie very clearly knew the gentleman, chuckling softly at something he said.

He had not felt it in the months, not since their engagement was announced and her companions went their separate ways.

A dark, ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach.

She is mine. MINE.

“Rolan, there’s…oh dear. Off he goes.” The countess laughed, shaking her head, watching her future son-in-law stride with purpose across the ballroom.

Heart pounding in his chest, Rolan downed the rest of his wine and placed the chalice on a tray before resuming his mission.

Yes, mission.

To save my beloved from…someone she knows and is happily speaking to.

Turning her head, the half-elf caught his glance and grinned. “Oh Stannik, this is my fiancé Rolan—”

He as discreetly as possible wrapped an arm around her ample waist, his hand resting on a hip. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” he began as politely as possible. “But may I borrow you, my dear?”

Borrow.

As if I should have to borrow my future wife from an ingrate like this “Stannik.”

As if I should have to be gracious when he was CLEARLY flirting with her.

As if I should have to be a gentleman at all times…

Unaware of her fiancée’s inner turmoil, Amelie smiled at him. “Of course, love.” She looked at the human and nodded. “Please excuse me.”

Pleasantries out of the way FINALLY, Rolan guided her out of the ballroom.

“Rolan, is something wrong?”

There must be a private room somewhere…

“Are you alright, love?”

I am FINE AND DANDY, sweetling.

There!

He hastily unlocked the door, which turned out to be a washroom. Both now inside, he locked the door.

For privacy, of course.

Amelie barely opened her mouth before his lips crashed into hers.

Mine.

Mine.

My Amelie.

She is mine.

All mine.

Forever mine.

My intellect, my talent, my heart, my soul, my body…all belong to her.

She is mine as I am hers.

Breaking the kiss and completely breathless, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Rolan, what has gotten into you?”

He truly wished to say, “You.”

Instead, he huffed, “He was flirting with you, Mia! And I was standing across the room! Watching him! Flirt with you!” His hands stayed firmly on her hips, which he noticed were fuller than they were previously. She told me yesterday that she’s the happiest she’s ever been. Happy and content with our life together.

She blinked. “Was he?”

Rolan groaned. “Darling, really!”

“How was I supposed to know? He’s always been nice to talk to at these things, but I never thought he would flirt with me.” She frowned. “I’m sorry?”

FUCK.

You idiot.

You fool.

You utter swine!

“No, no, no darling. That’s not what I meant. I’m not blaming you in the slightest. I simply—”

A manicured nail touched his lips, silencing him. Any trace of sadness and confusion in her golden eyes was gone and replaced with amusement. And lust. Gods. “You simply wished to remind Stannik that I’m your fiancée and not his? That I’m going to marry you and not him?” She closed the admittedly small gap between them, her body flushed against his. Hands once again on his shoulders, her lips curled into a smile. More like a smirk, you saucy little— “That I’ve given you my all and not him?”

He nodded. “Y-yes.”

“Did you want to take me in the middle of the ballroom, my love?” she whispered against his lips. “Scream that I’m your Mistress of Ramazith’s Tower?” Amelie captured him in a quick kiss before she let out a squeak as he gripped her hips and forced her backwards against the sink.

Chuckling heartily, Rolan pawed at the hem of her gown. A light and airy rose pink gown with various embroidered summer flowers. Another piece from Astarion. “No, but I do want to take you here, sweetheart.” He began to pull at her smalls, getting off and placing them on the counter. He then grunted as he undid his trousers. “Going to show you…how much I…” How much I love you. How much I desire you. How much I need you.

Bringing his face to hers, she kissed him slowly as he lined himself to her entrance, gasping at how bloody wet she is. Zurgan, she’s going to be the death of me. Moans escaped their lips as his ridged member slid inside her. “Rolan…take me, love…”

As you wish.

He was going much faster than he would have been if they were at home and not in a washroom at a ball, much to his dismay. Still though, I’ll make her feel wonderful. How could I not? With a few deep thrusts, he came just as she did. His hold on her remained firm as she was more than a little unsteady. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you, sweetling. I’ve got you.”

Long, soft arms around his neck, his fiancée nodded wordlessly, still catching her breath.

I will always have you, dearest. Always.

“I do believe this is the longest time we’ve gone with you cleaning us after lovemaking, my handsome wizard.” Amelie teased.

Gods, I love seeing her like this---happy, carefree, full of joy.

He grimaced and then muttered the spell. “I barely call whatever that was lovemaking, sweetheart. It was barely a fuck.”

A wave of giggles erupted from her as she kissed all over his cheeks and mouth.

Perfectly content being in a washroom with her future husband.

Certainly better than going back to that bloody ball.

[witherwallflower]

warnings: angst , alc & weed , lots of miscommunication , chris is dumb, not proof readdd

situationship!chris x oc : ciara loveland

a/n ; yes this story is connected to fishes n polaroids and this isn’t that great to the song but bare w me

“miscommunications lead to fallout”

“the story of us seems like a tragedy now”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

chris and ciara have a complicated relationship. ciara was basically down bad for chris, she would tell herself and friends that they were “in love”, how they’d get to tell people when they’re older about their easy love story.

but then for chris it was supposedly the opposite, on his view he told his brothers and friends that “it’s just a talking stage” and in the next year or so she won’t matter to him.

chris wanted to focus on his youtube career while ciara just wanted a future with the one and only chris sturniolo.

flashback (2 months ago)

ciaras pov

recently chris has been very distant. yeah sometimes he needs days to himself but it was different this time. one word responses, always finding a way to cancel plans or ignore them and so much more.

i’ve decided to go over to the sturniolos today. not just for chris but i was invited by nick to come over.

once i reached the house, i knocked a few times. no answer. the door was unlocked so i just invited myself in, “they won’t mind” i thought to myself.

i was about to enter nicks room until i heard chris’ voice, “i know im leading her on guys but she should know im not a relationship type of person!”

i felt as if my heart dropped. me and chris are just talking but leading me on? tears took up my vision and it was like i couldn’t move my own feet.

“it’s not right either way. you got to tell her it’s been like 6 months of you guys talking or whatever you have.” nick told the younger triplet while matt hummed in agreement.

they’ve all knew this entire time and never bothered to tell me. after nick said that, i just walked out the house. my heart has never felt so heavy until now. my bottled up emotions came out the second i got in my car.

crying on the way home i called my sister aubree, “hey, can i sleepover? i think im finally done with chris.”

flashback ended

after the hard 2 months ciara pained through, she’s still trying to pick herself back up, yes it was just a situationship thing but chris took up 6 months of her time for nothing.

she hasn’t spoken to either 3 of the triplets. she knows she shouldn’t do that to nick and matt but having the thought that they knew she was being led on and not speaking up about it hurts her.

she’s only ever seen matt a couple of times because he’s dating her sister but they’ve only said hi and bye to each other. ciara knows damn well that matt wants to ask why she ghosted them because aubree refuses to tell him and the other 2 the reasoning of ciaras ‘disappearance’.

what also damaged ciara was that chris never even tried texting or calling her again. after she went ghost, he never texted first.

she saw him living his life on his social medias, he would go to parties, events and looking like he was living his life on the youtube account. while ciara would stay at home crying or even stay at her sisters house for some type of comfort.

but today, aubree made it her life goal to get ciara out of the house. “pleaseeee just come to this party with me! you don’t even have to drink or smoke or dance, get out the house for once.” the older sister begged.

“aubree you know how i’ve been doing these past months.” ciara frowned at her sister still glued to the couch. “babe, i know how you feel but it pains me too much seeing you this hurt. i don’t want you to isolate yourself forever.” she said softly, seeming genuinely upset. “fine.”

and now she regrets that. here she is standing in the corner of the room watching everyone dance and have fun while she’s sulking.

the smell of alcohol, weed, sweat and overall stench is taking up the room. ciara found herself thirsty and went to find something to drink. she didn’t want to get completely shit faced so she took 2 shots of who knows what and grabbed a can of dr pepper.

having fixing her thirst, she sat down on a couch that had an amazing view of where everyone was dancing. seeing people grind on each other, make out, or just have the time of their lives. ciara wishes that could be her.

she shook her head and looked to the right side of the room where everybody was standing and just talking. a certain group of people caught her eye. the triplets and some other random people. but she was mostly focused on someone.

chris sturniolo.

midway of him talking to nick, he turned his head feeling eyes burning through his side profile. and there sat ciara. he was completely speechless.

nick and matt had noticed this action and questioned what he was looking at and even turned their own heads in curiosity.

the triplets were all staring at ciara but her eyes were stuck on chris. she got up in disbelief and walked away.

“is he even has hurt as i am right now.” she thought to herself. ciara tried escaping by sitting in the bathroom alone until aubree wanted to leave. “did aubree even know they were going to be here?” thoughts scattered her mind until she reached the bathroom. but of course it was occupied.

ciara tried knocking many times but to no surprise she heard 2 voices. and it was just moaning. she rolled her eyes knowing that those people were going to take a while. she put her back against the wall beside the door waiting.

while her thoughts were going 100 miles per hour, she saw someone walk up towards her. it was chris. ciara was in absolute shock. why would he even try talking to her after all that’s happened.

having enough she pulled herself up and walked towards the doors. she didn’t even care is aubree was her ride, ciara was certain to walking home.

after squeezing herself by many and many people she finally made it out, breathing in the fresh air. but it was interrupted by chris.

“ciara please wait up” he tried begging the girl, but she just kept walking. “im not going to stop following you until you talk to me!” he yelled out.

she turned around and viewed the boy. only the street light giving them a way to see each other. “what do you want christopher.” she said sternly.

she’s never called him his first name which brought chris a slap of regret. “why haven’t you talked to me in months?” he said seemingly upset.

“you’ve got to be joking me right?” ciara said laughing as a way of sarcasm. chris just nodded at her because he was confused.

“you aren’t a relationship person remember? you led me on chris,” she paused, “i heard you that one day i came over. you never cared for me.”

chris felt as he stopped breathing. he knows exactly what she’s talking about. “ciara, i did care for you. im so sorry.” he tried telling her and taking steps closer to her.

ciara was not buying anything he was telling her. “no you didn’t. im not believing anything you’re saying. i want to believe you chris, i really do. but after everything you put me through?” she told him feeling herself start to cry.

chris had no idea what to say or do. he just stood there and took what she told him. he looked to his feet knowing the pain he caused to poor ciara.

she was done. finally using her feet and walking away.

mahli talks!! holy moly. this was so fun to write mwahahah anyways pt 2 will either come out tonight or tomorrow don’t know but do know it will have a happy ending cuz i love happy endings sue me 😝

[puppypopcornpizza]

hawke

[spotsupstuff]

i sense how on the contrary, when moon is in Zeph’s local group the members will all go ‘omg youre actually letting us do this’ or be surprised of her leniency with almost anything(or if she gets upset she wont be yelling her ass off and will try to remain calm), because of how Zeph would usually be so strict with em and they didnt expect better

see- first you gotta understand that the chancla doesn't really Hurt the iterators. while they definitely can feel through their puppets, those things are made to be sturdy (throw a normal or singularity bomb into Pebs' chamber,he's fine, i know he just doesn't have health but worldbuilding is worldbuilding so i guess a fully functional iterator is fine with blackhole into the head). it maybe stings for a sec but it's not worse than gettin pinched (also where did you get that she yells at em, she's only exclaimed so far i think. if you check how she handled Innocence, that's how she generally goes about it- no yellin for the sake of puttin 'em in place, she's just venting out her frustrations into the air)

the Point of the chancla is to get the target's unwavering attention so she can talk some sense into them WITHOUT using the senior privilege which is far more invading since it cuts straight through their systems and forces the juniors to stop everything to pay attention. these things are giant supercomputers! they are going to have a different perspective on what counts as "too much"/"too bad" than us humans! it isn't used to limit what they are doing unless the thing they are gon do is explicitly threatening to their safety, the limiting is what the Senior Privilege does!

in that lil comic with Pebs, Suns, Nish, Inn and her, she doesn't actually even hit Nish in the last panel, the chancla is only supposed to suddenly appear from behind next to his face n he gets startled + drama queen points. i've admitted in the tags of it that i gave up on the last page so i don't blame anyone for not gettin that since i haven't put enough effort into communicating it

with what she's doin back in her own group, she Needs to be this strict if she wants her plan of keeping everyone reliably long-term safe to work

and her groupmates would undeniably miss her. they love her! they don't want some lenient stranger without constant spice to her instead of their ramshackle beloved Azzie!!!!

[meimi-haneoka]

Every time I see the English translation of a certain Clear Card panel with Touyuki appearing on my TL I want to pull my hair because that line was mistranslated so, so badly and people are making speculations and going nuts about it in the tags and it's all based on something that doesn't exists because that's not what Touya says, not at all. Like, not even remotely. It's also so out of character for him to say something like that, I don't know how his fans don't realize something is off in that line.

One day I will compile those translation mistakes in one giant google sheet or something, I need to turn this into a mission because it's honestly so irritating to see how riddled with mistakes this localization is, sometimes to the point of messing with important parts of the plot. I don't see them releasing a decently translated edition in the near future, so it's all I can do to give back some respect to the story. Clamp are aware of the translation mistakes and how they change the perception of the story for the foreign readers, just as they are aware of the posts I've made about them over the years (they talked about this in a Space long time ago, and I still cherish that mention in my heart with pride). But there was basically nothing they could do at the time, if not suggesting the English readers to check the posts mentioning the translation differences. That's great and all, I'm glad I have their blessing but this is also not really how ideally one should read a story. My posts are long and filled with personal comments and maybe that would deter many people from checking out what a certain line actually says, so I need to find a quicker and easier way. Also, I started to do those only from chapter 40 onwards (and in the beginning I was way overzealous, I would need to revise) and this panel I'm mentioning above is part of the butchery they did in the first volumes, which weren't covered by my posts yet.

[vilevampire]

I'm hyperfixating on viewtiful joe again btw

[spaciebabie]

i have been debating whether or not ta kill off this character for 5 years now

[yelloworangesoda]

gotta get off the internet and only interact irl with people who were 30 before they got their shit together i cant keep doing it like this

[goldenkid]

also tinder sucks ass

[savage-rhi]

Magenta.

[nogchompa]

Feeling a little troubled ...... last night (a few hrs ago ig) my nana (whom i moved in wit bc the tenant she was renting the upstairs 2 died n i needed 2 get out of a shitty roommate situation so the stars aligned etc) mentioned in passing that she was in my apt while i was gone, she mentioned she was looking 4 something bt then changed it 2 checking 2 see if i caught the bus.....i told her basicly i loved her n ment no offense bt my privacy is rly important 2 me n so could she pls not go into my pad when im not there bc it gives me anxiety (which she has also so i was tryna rel8 a lil bit) n she just kinda shut down n started feeling bad abt herself n getting upset tht i thought she wld go thru my stuff . Idk i jus had 2 put this down sumwhere n i havent gotten a new journle yet sigh

[arcadian-vampire]

Nervous giggles

Even more nervous giggles

There are so many professional paintings here, so many technically advanced, highly impressive works, and I'm just like [slaps some crayons down] y- yeehaw,,

I'm keeping the Escape Motions site Exciting. keeping it Interesting and Ridiculously Colorful

[noxtivagus]

i seriously love music & stories so much

[flippedorbit]

My mom didn't even fucking actually discuss anything with me. All she said was “help out more” as if I don't do anything ever. Despite the fact that I do a hell of a lot of shit around the house that I don't get asked or told to do. “Help out more” how am I supposed to do more if I’m already doing everything I fucking can. I can’t juggle every single fucking chore in the house because my sister doesn’t want to actually fucking help out so all her chores get pushed on me to do. “You should come out of your room to learn how to cook” I already fucking know how to cook, if everyone and their mom wasn’t in the kitchen when I want to cook I would actually be able to fucking cook. “You never come out and help us” maybe if everyone was fucking tolerable and not an asshole to me every moment I’m awake I would leave my room a lot more

[arolesbianism]

Sorry for failing to post more than once every 3 am anyways more stalien icons 👍