cattfeine

[cattfeine]

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how old were you when you had your first kiss? 💋💋❤💋💋

13/14

14/15

15/16

16/17

17/18

18/19

19/20

20/21

21/22

22/23

Over 23

I haven't kissed anyone

I hope you don't mind but I think the options might be a bit confusing (with the overlapping ages) so I've simplified it

[cattfeine]

the fact that Reylo discourse is now almost entirely 'is this ship toxic :)' always throws me off so much because I genuinely think the MUCH bigger issue with Reylo was that it pushed a black man to the side as Not Love Interest Material in favor of a white nazi. Like the issue is that shipping Reylo arrived transparently because people did not care about the black man – which I know, because the ship became popular before we even had The Last Jedi! When they'd barely interacted! If Kylo were black and Finn were white, Reylo would not be popular and it would never have become canon in any way, and I do think a refusal to grapple with that is honestly very embarrassing.

[cattfeine]

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[cattfeine]

If it ain't broke, Trump'll break it. #immigration

[cattfeine]

It’s 106 degrees outside, perfect time to mop these stupid “wood” floors

[cattfeine]

PROOF OF LIFE ACCEPTED

Omg that’s a hell of a nightmare lol I can’t believe he ate the pasta 😩🤢

Yankee Doodle Dandy

Pairing: Clint X Nat

Summary: Clint just wants to relax in the vents. The day has other plans

Word Count: 1109

Warnings: Tower AU, extremely stupid fluff

Author’s Note: Please take this offering as proof of life

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If Clint was self-aware or deep into therapy, he might be what's called an unreliable narrator. But that all changed the day the noodles attacked. Yes, you read that right. They were macaroni noodles, to be more precise.

Clint had his new favorite cup of coffee, even though it was well into the afternoon, and he was currently looking at one of his favorite vents in the Tower. It was easy to access, but not in a place where people would be around to question him crawling into it. Not that Clint minded, most people knew he hung out in the vents. It was just a mild safety concern blindspot thing while he crawled into one.

It was at that moment the grate fell off, and out flew four giant Macaroni Noodles. One smacking Clint in the face on its way past him. He blinked several times, in stunned silence, turning to follow the Noodles flying towards one of the common rooms in the Tower.

Clint gulped down some coffee, not wanting to waste any of the precious bean juice, as he started running after the Noodles.

“FRIDAY, get Nat.” Clint called. He didn't know exactly what was up yet. But he knew he wanted backup.

The Macaroni Noodles were in one of the large living rooms, seemingly surveying the lay of the land. Clint gently placed down what was left of his coffee on the closest surface.

Clint watched as the Noodles seemingly scanned the room. They would look at objects, squish and rotate around, reorienting themselves.

A tap on his shoulder let him know that Nat had arrived. He turned to look, wondering when the elevator had gotten here. On second thought, she must have taken the stairs.

“Are those Macaroni?” Nat asked, signing along for his benefit. Clint nodded.

“Came out of the vents. Don't know what they're doing.” Clint said, side eyeing the Noodles. They had drifted to the middle of the room now, and seemed to be conversing.

“How does one incapacitate a noodle?” Nat asked, seemingly only slightly sarcastic. Clint shrugged.

“Could try to eat them. But we've gotta protect the Tower. We don't know who sent them.” Clint said, and Nat gave him a look. It was a look he knew very well. She couldn't possibly fault him for thinking to suggest that they literally looked like food.

“Threat detected.” It was an AI voice like FRIDAY, but not as good. Clint could hear it, but there was a lot of distortion. He wasn't sure if that was because they were Noodles, or because of his hearing aids.

“Guess it's go time.” Nat said, as the Noodles started to glow several shades of red, orange, yellow and green. They were also rotating restlessly.

The Red Noodle folded in half, and then the three behind it flew at Clint and Nat. Clint was at a disadvantage because he didn't have his bow, but that wouldn't have worked in such close quarters anyway. Nat was already wrestling with the Yellow Noodle.

The Orange Noodle came at Clint. It was wiggly, it was glowing. But he was going to protect his home. The Macaroni flipped horizontally, about as high as Clint's chest, which made choosing an end to focus on difficult. It twitched like it was flexing, then it flew at Clint’s face. He threw his hands up, grabbing it by its wiggly middle.

Before Clint could do anything stupid, like say take a bite out of the three-foot Macaroni Noodle, it had shrunk and slipped through his fingers. He chanced a glance over at Nat to see that her Macaroni Noodle was now larger than she was. Which, let’s be real, that’s not hard. Nat was pretty tiny.

“It’s gone Bigatoni.” Clint said, whacking at the Orange Macaroni Noodle as it flitted about his face like an annoying hummingbird.

“Bird brain, they're not even Rigatoni.” Nat snarked at him, as she attempted her signature thigh takedown move on the Yellow Noodle. She fell to the floor with a thud as it, too, shrank down.

“I'm revisiting the eating theory.” Clint said, as Nat picked herself up, glaring at him the whole time. The two little Noodles flitted about together, and the other still normal-sized. Well, Clint guessed it was normal-sized, as that's the size the Red Noodle was that was still just orchestrating the attack. The Green Noodle flew at Clint's face in an odd sense of deja vu.

This time, the Noodle was still vertical, and it slapped Clint in the face and seemed to stick like an Octopus sucker. This time, he didn't think about it, he just bit into it. Clint promptly spit it out, as the Noodle made a distorted AI screaming noise and flew back to the Red Noodle.

“You know, birds really shouldn't eat pasta.” Nat snarked at him, as the two Macaroni’s she was fighting with had gotten ever so slightly larger. If Clint had to hazard a guess, he'd say instead of a hummingbird they were the size of a small Chihuahua.

“You could have told me that before.” Clint whined, glancing between the Red Macaroni and Nat with the two other ones. He knew better than to try and step in.

“I thought it was best to let you figure it out on your own.” She said, finally landing a solid open hand strike on the Orange Macaroni Noodle. It made an anguished garbled AI noise and flew back behind the Red Macaroni Noodle.

“Is that one controlling them?” Clint asked, and Nat quirked an eyebrow at him. She was still dodging the yellow Noodle.

“Go find out.” Nat said, struggling with the Yellow Macaroni Noodle. Clint nodded briefly, more so stealing himself for what seemed like a boss fight then in acknowledgement. He launched himself off the wall and towards the Red Noodle. It squished angrily, but didn't move from where it had been stationed. Clint landed on it with a bodily thud, followed by a squelching noise.

“Game Over.” The distorted AI voice said, and that's when the Tower defense system kicked in. Alarms blaring and lights flashing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint woke violently gasping, and flailing. He was tangled in the sheets, and then he fell out of bed landing hard on the floor.

“Bird, what are you doing?” Nat asked, before her head appeared over the side of the bed.

“Nat, the noodles attacked. They were Macaroni and you couldn't even eat them. They didn't salt the water.” Clint said, and Nat shook her head. She disappeared back into the bed. Clint shook his head, and got back up and climbed back into bed.

[cattfeine]

It’s a little early for period induced sobbing but fuck it we ball. 😍😭😭😭

so i’ll calmly wait to have your love again || michael robinavitch

Summary: You bump into your ex in the middle of the pain killer aisle on the worst week of your life.

Pairing: Michael Robinavitch x fem!reader

Warnings/themes: Robby being self sabotaging, mentions of a break up, age gap relationship, insecurities, mentions of having a period, hurt/comfort, angst, lovers to exes to maybe lovers again? , here i go writing Robby again even tho i am not good at that at all

p.s: if I see you reposting, stealing, feeding my FICS into AI or some other fuck shit, don’t. 👀🫵🏽

It was only day two of your cycle and you were going through the worst, on top of everything else.

Your hair wasn’t cooperating, your skin felt an odd and very specific sort of ickiness, and nothing you wore felt comfortable. On top of that, your hot water bottle needed replacing, and your pain killers were hidden somewhere that you couldn’t even remember no matter how much you tore the place apart.

You essentially looked and felt like a walking tragedy, dragging your feet while perusing the aisles of the store for something that would bring you some modicum of comfort.

Everything felt too bright, too loud, too…much of everything.

Hell, you even stepped foot outside in sweatpants and a hoodie that had definitely seen better days, and was definitely far too big on you, but it was the one you had.

There’s a feeling you can’t shake while perusing the painkiller section, as if you had had eyes on you for a while. It didn’t feel weird, or wrong, but there was a certain weight of a knowing feeling that was confirmed as soon as you turned around to make your way to the check out counter.

If you weren’t so tired, you might’ve bothered to pretend you hadn’t just seen the ghost of a love once lived.

His hair is a little longer, faux hawk grown out awkwardly as if he hasn’t had the time to get a proper hair cut. His beard, more grown out and patchy in the place you always used to kiss. The tired lines and shadows around his brown eyes only thinly veiled the surprise in them when he looks at you.

Robby looked like he hadn’t slept thoroughly in weeks. But of course you’d know that, you had lived together for a year after all.

In his shopping basket: tagliatelle pasta from the brand he always got because you liked it, a jar of the off brand tomato sauce you definitely didn’t like, a brick of the espresso you both used to drink together, and some other bare essentials.

He looked….over it all. You could see it in his sad eyes, conflicting emotions thinly veiled by his slow blinks.

And god damn it, the way he smiled at you in the way that made your stomach flip. The way his hand moved made you feel like the ground should open you up and swallow you.

It had been a year since the break up.

You were forced to choose between your relationship and your career. Robby wanted you to choose yourself - he easily had at least almost two decades on you, prattling on about some nonsense of not wanting to steal your youth. And the way you cried made him hurt in a way that he hadn’t known for a long time, wanting to be with him through whatever life had left to give him.

You hated it, the way that there was no way to be fair about any of it. Not with the way your hearts broke because nothing about his schedule let you live a life that wasn’t constantly tearing you apart.

It’s not like you weren’t friends, but neither of you hadn’t spoken since you had moved out of his place.

“Hey..” Your voice is awkward and small, nothing like the first time you had met him at that bar, walking up to him full of tipsy swagger.

Robby doesn’t say anything, but his eyes said it all as he scans you over. You had to be real, because only you would buy the hot water pack with the cute design on it and those god awful sour licorice candies he hated. There used to be a drawer in his kitchen filled with all the snacks you’d have to bribe him to try with a kiss. Cutely designed things that made his house feel like home that he never had the heart to take down.

You were present in his home long after you’d gone. A forgotten bottle of perfume on his dresser. Your pictures on the fridge. A post-it note with your rushed half cursive half print handwriting reminding him his coffee tumbler was by the keys on the counter. Books about places you wanted to travel to together with tabs in between the pages.

Robby had given you every right to leave him, and you did. But he couldn’t let you go.

“You look…” He shifts the weight on his feet, trying to decide if he should stay or go, “good.”

“Yeah um..i-it’s good to see you too. How are you?”

“I’ve been good..” He clears his throat, “Better.”

There’s a kind of silence that expresses all the hurt left unsaid, and the bridges yet crossed.

If you admitted how seeing him now made you feel, what would even happen anyway? That’s not how the world always worked.

“ ‘sit that time?” He asked, nodding to your basket, and you only nod.

“Yeah, I can’t find that painkiller you got me last time? I can’t remember what the name of it is but it was something with an ‘n’ ?”

“Naproxen sodium.” He finishes for you helpfully, carefully stepping into your space to help you search the highest shelf. “Looks like they’re all out. I have some at ou-my place, if you want to come over and have something to eat?”

The words are out of his mouth before either of you realize, your heads turning in disbelief.

Robby uses his free hand to rub his neck nervously, lips tightening in a thin line. The way you’re looking at him, scared and undecided, makes him feel foolish. As if he over stepped a line that he had annoyingly established against himself.

The silence between you two floats in such a fragile way, Robby doesn’t know if he’s ready to bare the heartbreak all over again. Despite not knowing what he wanted out of this beyond this moment, he knew he couldn’t miss the serendipity life had planned for you.

You’re looking at him as if you’re trying to convince both of you that missing each other wasn’t supposed to happen.

But fuck, if it wasn’t hard to make good on boundaries where Robby was concerned.

This felt like the first time he officially asked you out, except on a much weirder scale.

There’s a warmth that washes over Robby’s face when he sees you smile shakily, trying to keep yourself from crying as you nod.

You’re far too exhausted from the pain to argue with him about paying for both of your things, so the only thing you do is stare as he pays, and he dares to take your hand in his big, warm one as he leads you back to the place you both used to call home.

–

It’s a special kind of nostalgia how home can still feel and smell like home, no matter how long you’ve been away.

You were curled up on Robby’s expensive leather couch, on the L-shaped corner you loved so much, under one of the heavy blankets with the kitschy lion design that his neighbour Maria gifted him one time for recommending a vet friend of his to take a look at her sick dog.

It was the couch that had seen i’s fair share of period cramps and Robby holding you when he used to be able to soothe your pain away.

The show he put on serves as a welcomed background noise while he makes the both of you something to eat. He insisted on you eating a banana before dinner, to at least have something in your stomach before taking the medicine he promised you and long enough to hold off until food was served.

The conversation during dinner is easy enough, with the show serving as more than welcomed distraction for the silences in between.

–

Somehow, Robby is relieved you haven’t run away from him yet.

Sitting next to you while watching another show about some 19th century New York City tycoon, he thinks it’s a little sad that it’s been this long since he’s had anyone over.

There’d been a lot of sleepless nights for him. The kind where he’d forget that he had pushed you away from something you’d never been afraid of. Where he’d wake up expecting to find you there, and being met with the coldness of the reality that living without was like living without air. A forever that was too long without you.

You’re cocooned into your favorite corner of the couch again, trying not to care that you were at your ex’s fiancee’s house and he was taking care of you as if nothing had happened.

You adjust the way you’re sitting, mostly ignoring how you can feel Robby’s eyes on you when you tuck your feet just below his thigh to keep them warm.

Fuck, he felt like he wanted to explode.

Robby tries to ignore the way his heart is about to jump through his throat when he dares to put a hand on your foot, giving it a small squeeze before resting on your ankle, rubbing small circles there with his thumb.

“I uh…” He coughs, feeling his eyes and throat sting with the weight of all the things he should’ve said to you a long time ago, “I missed doing this with you. I miss you.”

“Robby, that’s-” Your heart sank. How were you even supposed to respond to that?

Robby sighs, his other hand rubbing his face before pinching the bridge of his nose. He tosses the remote aside, letting it clatter on the coffee table before looking at you.

“Please, let me just say this.” You sigh defeatedly, nodding at him to go on, “I was an insecure ass. I was so afraid of what I could give you, what I have left to give you. I was an asshole and assumed what you wanted. Put words in your mouth that weren’t even true. And I regret that every day since I pushed you out. I’m so fucking sorry for all of it.”

“Robby, I don’t even…” This hurt so much fucking worse than the cramping, “We were together for four years. I chose you every single day. You don’t think I don’t know my own mind?”

“I know.”

“You broke my fucking heart, Robby.”

“I know.”

Fuck, when he looked like this - like a sad puppy that just wanted to be held, it made your heart squeeze. You hated how he beat himself up when it came to his personal life so much. Hated how he felt like he couldn’t trust himself to feel safe enough to want things that were good for him.

“You didn’t take any of my stuff down.” You continue after a while, not knowing what else to say. Did he want you to accept his apology? To say you were moving back in tomorrow?

Robby busies his hands with your ankles, massaging them softly and noticing how cold they were.

“Just never got around to it.” He adds, “I wasn’t really home a lot, only came back to sleep, if I could even do that. The nightmares started a little after you, I..”

Something between a sniffle and a sigh escapes you, and you remove your legs from his lap so you can get off the couch. Fuck, you wanted to hug him and hold him and will away all the hurt he still carried, but you needed that from him, with the way he broke your heart into pieces.

“C-can we go to bed please?” You asked, almost embarrassed of the idea of missing him at all. “It’s late and I don’t feel like calling a cab.”

“S-sure, yeah, alright.”

It’s almost comical, watching a 6’2” man scramble after you after turning everything off. You didn’t even wait for him while walking to the bedroom you used to share, nor when you slowly crawled under the blue sheets that smelled so much like him and felt like a home that had been aching for you.

Robby walks into the bedroom, something conflicting washing over his face.

“Let me get you the heated blanket, I should still have it.”

“Can you get my socks? The fluffy ones?”

Robby hums, disappearing for a moment before coming back with the things and helping you settle into bed. His hands shake a little, as if he was touching you to make sure you wouldn’t disappear.

“Come to bed, Robby.”

“Y-”

“Please? We can deal with everything else tomorrow.”

For the first time that night, Robby hears the way your voice cracks, like when you’re about to cry, and it galvanizes him to tuck himself into bed next to you.

A shaky breath leaves him when you turn around, curling into him and tucking your face into his shoulder. The tears slowly fall from his eyes when he feels you shake, and he scoops you into his arms, trying to will away all the hurt he ever caused you.

“Robby?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I loved you. I still do, so much.”

Robby hugs you tighter to him, placing a soft kiss to the side of your head, breathing you in like you were a balm for his aching. The heated blanket between you, slowly healing all the hurt that sat like a soggy spot in the mattress.

There was definitely a conversation to be had, but for now? You’d let each other indulge in the idea that not only had you both crossed a physical bridge, but one of the many emotional ones.

–

© espressheauxs, 2025

[cattfeine]

PUPPY INTERVIEW ❤️❤️❤️

[cattfeine]

Last week at the local thrift store I found a set of 4 Hilda glasses! ($10 for all 4)

There's a slight chip on the rim of the water pump one but these are gonna be displayed, not actually used.

@shiftythrifting

[cattfeine]

Lemon sponge, elderflower buttercream, roasted strawberry purée. by allday.cake

[cattfeine]

Im not trying to yuck anyone’s yum but some of y’all are entirely too uneducated about kink in a irl situation of like ANY kind. There are too many ways to check consent in the middle of a scene for amount of bitching happening here.

[cattfeine]

I. He. You. I can’t. I just. I mean. THE SHIRT! whydidhecomeouttathebedroomtheyweresoclosesosofreakinclose?!?! I. OMG. WHERE. *shakes post* IS *shakes a little harder* THE REST *sigh of desperation* OF IT? I need to know what happened. It’s Robby. He’s literally holding his clothes. The brotherly reflex is best anyone that has been inside his sister has snapped but ITS HIS FRIEND. HIS BEST FRIEND.

robby secretly getting with jack’s sister

i feel like this has been done so well by so many people already that i cannot possibly add anything worthwhile but. what the hey. the people ask and they shall receive. i will throw my hat into the ring!! also just a quick note that i made reader adopted to keep her physical features ambiguous

Your legs were bent nearly behind your ears when you heard Jack knocking and calling your name at the door of your apartment.

Robby was so deep inside you, scrambling both nerves and thoughts and any fucking sense you had that it took you too long to register who it was. You lost precious seconds of potential crisis management to the relentless stroke of his cock inside you, your walls clenching tighter and tighter around him as you were being dangled off the steep cliff of bliss until—

“Fuck—Fuck! Stop—“ You tried to push against him, but it was no use, the man might as well have been a fucking boulder.

Robby only pushed deeper, making it impossible for you to continue your squirming, “Just don’t answer it.”

“He has a key—“

Finally, his hips halted and you watched, stricken, as the pleasure in his eyes slowly drained and was replaced with steady horror as you both heard the jangle of keys outside the door.

He cursed under his breath as he nearly leaped off and out of you—the sudden absence of him leaving you with a feeling of hollowness.

"Get in the closet." You hissed, hopping around as you tried desperately to pull on a pair of pants. You heard the clatter of keys against hardwood and Jack's soft cursing and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the universe for granting you more time.

"You want me to get in the closet?" Robby hissed back as he tried to collect his clothing, strewn haphazardly around the apartment from when you had been frantically making out and ripping each other's clothes off, "Have you seen my shirt?"

"We don't have time for this," You whispered and placed your hands on his chest, pushing him backwards until you were at the closet. You opened the door and unceremoniously shoved him inside it, not waiting for his response before closing the door in his face.

At that same moment, your apartment door opened.

When you started at PTMC as a surgery intern and Jack introduced you to Robby, the infatuation had been almost instant on your end. There was nothing you loved more than a tall, bearded man who could be a little mean. Whenever the ER called down for a surgery resident, you practically jumped at the opportunity, bouncing up and down on your heels as the elevator slowly ticked down, down, down to the Pitt. It had been an effort to finally get him in your bed, more effort than you had probably ever put in for a sexual partner. But it was worth every second.

It was immediately obvious to Robby that you had a chip on your shoulder from being raised in your brother’s shadow, but he was oblivious to your yearnings for an agonizingly long time.

Because your parents had adopted you when Jack was well into high school, he affectionately referred to you as their mid life crisis. Jack adored you, but he was your brother. And so he pushed and teased and mocked your whole life.

So while it was nice that Robby was your type, it was more thrilling to know just how much it would get under Jack's skin to know that Robby was fucking you. Because regardless of your differences, Jack had always been protective of you and you knew he would lose his fucking mind if he knew. And Robby knew it too.

And so, even though part of you wanted Jack to find out, to grant yourself the satisfaction of knowing you had pissed off the unflappable Jack Abbot, most of you was a little nervous to find out what he would do if he found out.

You were running to the front door when Jack walked in, looking at you with confusion as he took in your appearance. Clothes crooked, hair mussed, mascara smudged under your eyelids, face glowing and sticky with exertion.

Slowly a smile stretched across his face, "Are you—Is someone here?"

"No," You said quickly, too quickly, "Just me. What're you doing here?" You hugged your arms around yourself subconsciously.

Jack continued to eye you curiously and held out the Stanley cup in his hand. Your Stanley. "You left this in the Pitt."

You took it reluctantly, "You could've left it at my locker."

"Yeah, I could've, but I wanted to see you. Feel like I haven't seen you in weeks—"

"Well, I'm busy, so. You should've called first." You snapped.

Jack was unbothered though, "Who's here?"

"No one you know. Now could you please get out?"

Jack gave a short laugh, "Right. No one I know. You don't have a social life outside the hospital. You want me to believe you're sleeping with someone I don't know?"

Before you could argue, your eyes caught on a black scrub top to your left, poking out from under the console table in your entryway. You remembered now how you had whined desperately with Robby's body pinning you to the wall until he had pulled it up and over his head.

And Jack followed your gaze, smile only growing when he saw it too, "That's a black scrub top." His eyes went back to yours, "Who are you fucking in the Pitt?"

He was moving towards the shirt and you stepped in front of him, "Jack—"

"Is it Shen?" He was stronger than you, so it wasn't much of a fight for him to push you to the side, "Or… It's not the Whitaker kid, is it?" He made a face as he bent to pick up the scrub top—

When his hand closed around it and he started to straighten to standing, there was a clatter as a badge, forgotten beneath the heap of a shirt, fell back to the floor, face up.

You watched, frozen, as his eyes took in his best friend's smiling face looking up at him from the piece of plastic. You thought from the look on his face, he was probably processing denial for about twenty seconds before he moved to the next stage of grief: anger.

He clenched his jaw as he looked back up to you, Robby's shirt still clutched in his hand. You watched the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed and whispered, voice soft as death, "Where is he?"

[cattfeine]

The core appeal of Willy Wonka is that he's a nigh-omnipotent maniac who uses his near limitless powers over reality to trick shitty people into killing themselves. You can't make him the protagonist of a whimsical coming of age tale - you have to treat him like Jason Voorhees, or Dracula, or any other horror icon. Give him some new victims and new interesting kills and set him loose, that's all audiences want.

[cattfeine]

[cattfeine]

Borghesani

Bar, 1969

walnut tree, bronze

Vladey