At Home, No Matter Where I Am What Room I'm In Or If I'm Alone Or Not I'm Constantly Trying Not To Do

283,000 likes………giant meteor strike the earth rn holy shit. oh my god.

just learned that a mutual of mine is pro israel (they’re now blocked) so i wanted to take the time to say that if you believe what’s happening in palestine is not a genocide than you are not welcome here. unfollow me block me whatever i don’t want you interacting with me at all

What?

THOU WILL NOT LET ME REST!! THOU LIKE THE VOICES WHOMST IN MY DERRANGED CRANIUM!!

I must CONTINUE!! MY DESTRUCTION!!

Sexualy explicit content

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

Louder for the dipshits in the back.

of these foods that I consider classic, cliche autism "safe" foods, which one do you not like?

The responses I get from people learning my roomate is a catboy can be narrowed down to three things: a weird pervy look, concern, and not really caring.

Of course, these would make sense if he was a normal catboy, like a munchkin or a Ragdoll, a tuxedo or black cat even.

But of course, he isn't.

A loud crash echoes through the apartment, I sigh deeply through my nose and sit up from my bed, checking the clock as I move out my room.

3:30 am. Eli's favorite time to pull some bullshit and an get us more complaints from our neighbors. I open my door and look into the dark apartment living room and kitchen, a single sweep of my eyes I find bright yellow ones staring at me from the kitchen counter. "Eli." I say slowly "get off the counter."

A slow blink in response. I can tell he's moving his arm to something else on the counter.

"Eli." I say again "Eli no." his eyes flick from the object I can't see and me. And then he hold my gaze and I know what's about to come. Another crash. I flinch at the noise before groaning loudly. The noise getting the expected response: Eli losing his shit and falling off the counter and running into his room to likely have his freakout before he comes out again and starts acting like the very species he was. I sigh and flick the kitchen light on, rubbing my nose at the sight of two broken plates on the ground, "Your paying for this!" I shout at my roommates dorm, receiving little snickers as a response before it was followed by the sound of sheets moving.

We both knew he wasn't going to pay, and we'd just be down for few months before I'd forget and buy more plates. "Orange cats." I sigh as I grab the broom, "Menaces."

The Good News: Your new roommate is a cute catboy. The Bad News: He’s an orange tabby.