#eating your feed

[littlekingbergara]

WAIT! You can’t just put that in the tags! I had no idea that Andrew made sushi for his cat

omg yeah he did!! it was in an episode of eating your feed! it's so cute and fun he and niki are so excited to talk about their cats and make food for them

[originalartblog]

Don't forget to eat to keep the demons at bay

[yawnderu]

CW: mentions of kidnapping and stolen body autonomy.

Find a way in, kill the enemy, retrieve the hostages, leave. A routine of sorts that gave his life some sense of purpose to avoid going insane for the past two decades. Simon liked to believe he got over what happened in his past... truly, he did; and yet Manuel Roba’s horrors seem to haunt him no matter where how many years pass.

“C’mere.” Simon’s voice held no hostility, he made sure of it, yet your stiff position never changed. Legs angled to the right, hands folded on your lap, and eyes looking forward, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze even if it’s been hours since your rescue. Garrick, Price and Johnny have already tried to get you to talk multiple times, all of them with different approaches. 

Garrick was friendly, trying his best to seem approachable, a bright smile on his lips that you didn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at a wall no matter how much he tried to hold a conversation.

Price seemed fatherly, never once laying a hand on you even if it was itching to comfort you, and so he settled with telling you you’re safe now, how no one will ever get you again now that they're here. His words didn’t seem to do much, either. 

Johnny was… something else. His first attempt was a shitty pick up line, getting a reaction out of you for the first time— a nose scrunched up in disgust, but a reaction nonetheless.  

And Simon… Simon’s approach was different. The man was used to barking out orders and obeying them himself, not to deal with an unresponsive hostage. His behemoth frame was nestled next to you, putting a tray on the table and observing your reactions. From the way you swallowed thickly the moment the meal was presented to you, to the sound of your stomach growling. 

“Go on, then.” Your gaze follows his movements for the first time, the feeling of your stomach rumbling makes you more aware of your hunger, so many years being fed nothing but what was necessary to keep you alive by Manuel and his associates, so many years of being trained like a dog to obey to their very order. 

Simon can see the hesitation in your body language, too tense to allow yourself to dig in the way you wanted, yet no longer as stiff as before. There was a sense of relief at the fact that they didn’t seem to want to hurt you —unlike Roba—, yet years of non-stop brutal training can’t be erased within hours.

Roba’s training was engraved into your brain, and while the sense of security the SAS blokes gave you is something you’re thankful for, nothing guarantees they’re not working for him. You’ve seen other military men come and go throughout the years, always Roba’s friends, and always sharing the same disgusting, sadistic desires.

“Eat up.” The rest of the men watch the way you move, curiosity and amusement mixing at how strange your movements seem, almost robotic. Your forearms rest on the table, elbows away from the cheap wood as you attempt to hold your own cutlery— attempt, because it looks fully foreign to you, trying out different angles to make it work, and yet it's the first time in years you've been allowed to try and feed yourself.

Simon is the first one to catch on, having lived under Roba’s rules for long enough to know he enjoys taking people’s autonomy, to reduce them to nothing but a pathetic mess that depends on him. His gloved fingers are gentle as he takes the spoon from your hand, scooping up some food before holding it up to your lips. His full attention is on you, relief starting to make its way into his body as sees your rather soft lips wrap around the spoon, eating whatever he was feeding you. Lucky for you, this time it wasn’t an MRE… or beans on toast.

His gloved thumb wipes the corners of your lips every time you’re done chewing, and he’s quick to pick up more food from the plate, nothing but patience and kindness shown in his actions, so unlike the brooding soldier he's known to be.

“... two goldfish are in a tank…?” Johnny’s loud groan gets your attention for a second, yet you quickly glance back at Simon, curious eyes looking up at him, almost as if asking him to go on. 

“One turns to the other and says… ‘you know how to drive this thing?’” You can see the corners of his eyes crinkle before he even finishes his joke, clearly trying his best not to laugh at just how awful it was. A small smile hides in the corners of your lips, and Simon takes that as a victory, ignoring the questioning looks he’s getting from his team, for now.

[omuricebreakfast]

Good Morning Tumblr

I present to you My newest Kinito headcanon once he's released from the confines of his webworld prison:

[bigfatbreak]

Hello I love your art!!! I was reading through your changeling au and Felix mentions that fae are creatures of mirth. They literally need attention to survive. But what kind of attention? I guess I'm wondering because Adrien has been in the public eye for a while now, but has been personally neglected for even longer. What does that mean for him? Is he starving? Is he in danger of dying? Does he even know it? (I assume not given he doesn't even know he's Fae).

If he is starving / in danger of starving who is the first to realize this?

it depends on the mirth, on the attention, on what it is they seek. Without making things too complicated - I don't like to define everything into neat little boxes after all, there's fun in nuance - Felix is just explaining from his experience, the Fae he was with tended to be "entertained" by certain aspects of their playing, which was the mirth that kept them relevant. Relevancy more than anything is really what keeps their wheels greased.

In Adrien's case though, the reason he's cloying for so many names and to have so many thralls and attendants is because he SHOULD be a more social creature and has been kept woefully alone. He is kinda starving in the way a fae starves - he's relevant, but only in an image his father constructs OF him, which means it isn't REALLY him - and he has no one to play with. No friends, no lovers, and no rivals, makes a very sad fae

[foldingfittedsheets]

My mom has this awful friend, Cynthia. My loathing goes deep enough that I’m not even going to change her name. If she ever finds this she knows what she did.

On multiple occasions my mom asked this horrible irresponsible chicken brained woman to watch after our animals while we were away. I don’t know why once wasn’t enough, because the first failure was so spectacular that anyone in their right mind would know she couldn’t be trusted with any level of responsibility or direction following.

You might be thinking to yourself, FFS, this level of antipathy is surely unwarranted! But you’d be wrong.

To set the scene, we were living in downstairs of our house when I was about fifteen. My mom has always wanted more animals than can reasonably be kept indoors which is how we ended up with three cats. When she wanted to kick them all outside I protested, and so all three cats lived in my bedroom with no access to the rest of the house.

That really wasn’t great, so in an attempt to give them options we made a window cutout with a cat door in it to give them access to the outdoors. Looking back on this as an environmentally conscious adult it’s wretched, cats should be indoor only, but at the time I was desperate to give them some freedom because one bedroom is too small for three cats.

So my parents and I went on a week long trip to visit family out of state. We told Cynthia to come feed and water the cats, and to scoop the litter box. Most importantly, don’t lock the handle of the door, because we only have the key to the deadbolt.

I’m sure you can see where this is going.

Cynthia locked us out. We arrived home after 12 hours on the road, desperate for the comfort of our own beds. We were met with an unyielding door. With a sigh I volunteered, “I can punch in the cat door and climb in the window.”

I slipped behind the bamboo outside my window and pushed in the cutout. A horrible insidious reek wafted out at me. I paused, prickling with foreboding. But I had a job to do, and by god I’d see it through. I hefted myself up into the window and my hand immediately landed in something wet.

Skin crawling, I pulled myself up and surveyed the darkened room as a miserable odor of decay and suffering poured out of the room around me. I could see dark shapes littering the carpet and it didn’t take a genius to guess that the cats had taken up hunting in a big way during my absence.

I pulled my hand out of the pile of vomit it had landed in and dropped into my onetime bedroom turned now into a hellpit of decomposing wretchedness. I turned on the light. I wished I had not turned on the light.

My eyes scanned across the floor, tallying as they went. Two dead birds, a dead baby rabbit, five dead mice, and one dead snake. I paused on my alarm clock, perplexed to see a stain of white on it. I stepped closer and saw a furtive movement.

The tally suddenly contained also: one live bird that had shit in several places, probably in pure terror to find itself trapped in a room littered with decomposing woodland creatures, which honestly, fair. I coaxed it out the window and finished the survey with five discrete piles of vomit.

I unlocked the door and let my parents in. They exclaimed in disgust at the horrible smell. We stood together in my doorway floored by the magnitude of neglect. The unscooped litter box was a subtle footnote in the tangible reek my living space. I disposed of the parade of ecological disaster, cleaned vomit, and scooped the box after a brutally long day on the road. The cats were fine, and happy to see me. They had a huge dish or food and water so Cynthia’s neglect at least hadn’t harmed them.

Then I slept on the couch while my bedroom aired out, the windows flung wide to dispel the uneasy ghosts of the hunted. I spent the whole night cursing Cynthia’s name for this evil she’d visited upon me. When my mom asked her, "Cynthia, didn't you see the dead animals?"

Cynthia responded, "Yes, they smelled so bad, I just ran in and out as fast as I could." I fully don't believe she did any caretaking, and I'm personally of the opinion that she locked herself out on the first day and never came back.

The next day my room had returned to a habitable level of smellscape and I gratefully crawled into my bed that night. I stretched out and froze as my foot brushed something cold and wet?

The final indignity: one last dead snake, inside my very sheets.

Fucking Cynthia.

[nanstar200]

UGHHRRRR I DONT HAVVE MUCH 💔💔💔 THIS ID ALL I GOT GUYS💔💔💔

HAPPY BIRDTHDAY SPAMTON IM SORRY I LOVE YOH 💔💔💔

Also obligatory spamton doodles because @charrfie said cannon spamton was handsome and I wanted to incorporate some of that into my style! So these r just some messing around doodles (sobs)

IM SORRY THIS IS ALL I HAVE 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

[britcision]

Okay but listen

The Ghost Zone is vast

Infinite one might say

Almost none of its residents met their new King before he was crowned

So like 99.9% of all the ghosts are very respectful of young King Phantom, he’s done great things, saved us from Pariah, 10/10 would crown

The remaining 0.1% is Danny’s Entire Rogue Gallery

And some of ‘em, some of the less common ones aren’t really sure where they stand now, so they won’t give him a reason to fuck them up

The others? Like Johnny and Ember and Technus and Youngblood and Wulf?

That’s their fucking Babypop

King Babypop if he whines but they’ve known him waaaay too long to give a shit if he’s the king

What I’m saying is the Justice League somehow get to the court of the Ghost King to ask him for something, it’s extremely impressive

The buildings are magnificent, the ghosts are their weird and wonderful selves, and every single one of them speaks of their new liege with wonder and appreciation

They make their way to the throne, he looks young but regal with a blazing blue crown on his head and a council of obviously very powerful beings at his sides

Beside the throne is just a fucking brick shit house in plate-mail with a massive sword ready to cut them down if they breathe wrong to the king

The hall falls to respectful silence when this young king speaks

And then half way through the meeting a fucking rockstar with flaming blue hair leaps in through the window and tackles the king straight outta his chair

This very dignified regal figure they’ve been negotiating with (he’s heard of them, he’s been very accommodating and seems to really want to help) is Under Attack

Is it a coup??? His knight hasn’t even moved, the council just continue on as if nothing’s happening, the king is wrassling like a puppy with another ghost who looks about the same age, both screaming profanity

Before the league can decide to get involved, King Danny gets a foot on Ember’s chest, punts her across the room, screams after her that no one can hear you sing in Soup Jail, and returns to the table

“Any way we can add a music deal to this package?”

Ember takes a seat at the table like nothing happened, she’s clearly not supposed to be part of the proceedings but she’s here now and she’s into it

And about two hours later it fucking happens AGAIN cuz Kitty comes barrelling in through the door and goes for Danny’s throat, once again no one else moves except Ember, who fucking dives right in and screams at Kitty for fucking up her new recording deal

(There’s also shit like “defeat Apokolips, defend the Earth, seal Darkseid in a jam jar or whatever” on the table but Ember only cares about one thing)

[puppetmaster13u]

Meme Prompt 9

[dreamtuna]

“What are these?”

You stared curiously at the paper bag that had been dropped onto the table. It wasn’t uncommon for Levi to bring you small gifts and treats and dump them unceremoniously in front of you like this. It was just the way things were between you.

He sat himself into the seat opposite you and gestured towards the bag. Not sure what to expect, you unrolled the paper and peered inside. You gasped, quickly tipping the bag to empty out some of the contents into your hand. You’d never quite seen anything like them.

“What are these?” you repeated, eyes wide in excitement.

Colourful little drops lay on your palm, sugar coating both them and the table now from tipping the bag. Levi tutted, leaning forward to gather the sugar in a neat pile, using the opportunity to lower his head a little to hide the way his eyes lit up at your excitement. You’d caught it though, your grin widening even further at how he still thought he could hide these things from you.

“They’re sweets,” he explained, reaching to grab one gently from you. “They called them fruit jellies.”

You leaned forward to look even closer at these colourful little jellies, trying to decide which one to try first, what colour could be what fruit. But Levi’s hand was reaching out towards you.

“Open your mouth,” he told you.

He placed the sweet on your tongue, the sugar instantly assaulting your senses, but before he could fully pull back you grabbed his wrist, giving him a soft, sugary kiss on his fingertips. The sweetness engulfed your mouth as he slowly pulled back, hand lingering in yours for just long enough to squeeze it gently.

He made a mental note to get more of these in future.

[brewed-pangolin]

A million thank you's to the amazing @temeyes for bringing the enthusiastic menace that is Gym Rat Soap to life.

I can not begin to tell you how much I'm in absolute LOVE with this depiction of him.

I may let loose some very (VERY) NSFW Gym Rat Soap imagines/drabbles that embody Soap MacTavish from the game. But before he graces your screens and steals the spotlight of my inspiration, this is how he appears in my head.

Bouncing around like a madman while I'm trying to maintain some semblance of sanity.

And now he will forever be my snicker (attention) needing gremlin. Powerlifiting his way through the walls of my subconscious until I finally feed him and let him loose onto the unsuspecting Soap Squad.

So much love to you, Tim! 💛

[minnaci]

dreamy sigh... being hypnotized and trained until their commands are well and truly written in your subconscious... being so thoroughly corrupted that all it takes is a certain look or a specific word to make you weak at the knees... but best of all, seeing the love grow in their gaze as they shape and remake you into an object worthy of their affections <3

[inbabylontheywept]

My favorite trope is cynical, underdog characters learning that the will to power is is actually key to making a better world. Seeing them take the lead because power isn't actually this horrible, corrupting thing, actually, it's just how adults get shit done, and god knows we have a lot of shit that needs doing. I love seeing the whole idea of power as a corruption get exposed as a hyperstition encouraged by assholes because it makes it that much easier for them to gather at the top while also pumping all their competition away. No need to even fake being a good person if there's only 2-3 in the entire room. Right? Like I get it, being the underdog is aesthetic, but being The Motherfucking Man lets you move mountains. I like seeing good people drop the simplicity and ease of being the underdog and actually take it upon themselves to start winning. Veternaricore. Letocore. I'm trying to think of more than just those two but it's hard.

[sea-lanterns]

I wonder if Ganyu learned her lesson or if it becomes a weekly situation of having cut goat!Ganyu out of the fence.

Probably not, she gets too happy when she sees you, even if you’re at a distance and not specifically meeting with her at that moment 😭

Her poor fence has been sawed off way too many times to count, so now she’s practically a free roaming goat. No need to keep her enclosed within a specific area, just keep her in your clinic for now on 😅

[reality-detective]

Make sure you löök over your fruits and vegetables before you purchase them. If you notice any markings similar to these, would you trust what you're buying? If they're injecting our meat with clot shots, could they be doing it to our fruits and vegetables? If you have a farmers market or you see roadside stands... Give them your business.

Also if you take a refrigerator magnet to the grocery store you can check the meat at the store. But I highly recommend you find a local meat market and get your meat from there, you'll also be supporting a local business. Don't be afraid to ask them where they get their products shipped from.

Make wise choices. Your body is your temple so feed it well. ��

[bmoreisapunkrocktown]

"Children should be dragged kicking and screaming to school and the doctor's office and grandma's house and the park" is not and never will be a pro-child opinion.

If your kid doesn't want to go to school so much that they throw a temper tantrum and scream until they go hoarse, and your response is "shut up because you have to go" the problem is still you ignoring your kids needs and you're a shitty parent.