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@a--random--person / a--random--person.tumblr.com

kaida, she/they/it

one thing visitors comment on is how much Belphie groans in his sleep. like we'll all be sitting in the living room, and they'll say "what in the world is that loud ominous groaning," and then they'll follow the noise to a heating vent where Belphie is upside down on a sheepskin rug, groaning like a christmas ghoul

resplendent on his furs

I can clearly remember the moment I first realised my mother and I were living on completely different planes of existence. I was 7 years old and I came home from my school's first track and field day having placed second or third in every event. the teachers had been making jokes all afternoon about how many times they had to call my name. my friends thought I was cool as shit. my enemies thought I was cool as shit too, come to think of it. I was proud as hell. so I get home with the entire front of my shirt covered in ribbons like I was a military dictator who'd awarded himself every medal, I walk into the kitchen and tell my mum all about my day, and she goes "oh, that must be disappointing not getting any firsts." and I'm like no?? first of all the first place ribbons are red and I don't like red. second of all look at me. there's literally nowhere left on my body for accolades. I am fucking Jacked of All Trades. how could this possibly be a disappointment.

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