#here you go beans!

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

So anyway you repeatedly say we only feel corn husks and similar inedible parts to cattle but Never add a source to back it up. Having worked on farms I’m afraid for the most part the feeds I’ve seen have been parts entirely edible to humans. And like fuck man 5% of all grown soy is fed to humans or however the stat goes, do you really think the remaining 95% is inedible? really?

Anyway yeah I’m asking for a source here cause I don’t want to add this on to months old post

Ingredients such as “grain by-products” are referring to the husks, stalks, and other “green” parts of the plant that we humans don’t actually have the digestive capabilities to eat. The breakdown of most livestock feeds looks like the above when you actually take a look at it.

Different cattle feed, similar ingredients. Still primarily things that, and I have to stress this, you cannot eat. This one is slightly higher in quality and does indeed have actual grain products included. Some of those are edible to humans. Some are not. Generally cattle are fed cattle cubes with supplemental mineral licks and hay. Some also supplement with whole corn, but I can gladly assure you that corn is not in short supply and even if all the corn sold to animal feed was donated to the poor, you can’t actually live off of corn because there’s very little nutrition in it. Hence why in both human and animal food it’s typically seen as a filler ingredient. Keeps the mouth busy with a meal without making your stomach feel full and you end up eating more without feeling satisfied.

Soybeans are really only often used in feed for pigs because they’re a great source of protein for these animals. I would state that soy is also a terrible option to use as an emergency food for humans in need because while, yes, it is indeed a healthy bean, it’s also one of the top eight foods that humans are frequently allergic or intolerant towards. I’d also ask you for whether your 5% of all grown soy statistic is referring to the beans or the entire plant because yeah the beans are the edible part. The rest of the plant isn't especially healthy for humans to eat. I would say the beans are around 5% of a mature soy plant sure.

[inkedberries]

you're in her dms, im on her carrd dni. we are not the same

[beanghostprincess]

"I rewind the tape but all it does is pause on the very moment all was lost" - Yamace Edit

[jojo-schmo]

More Schmojo!! And I decided to name her dark matter friend living in her bubble rod, “Beauregard.” >:3

Plus some doodles I thought of during work, and a lighthearted poke at myself lol.

[muffinlance]

Interest Check: Isopuppy Plushies

Anyone interested in buying isopuppy plushies?

Either as a pattern or actual sewn-by-me toys. Because I have crocheted So Many Toys over my children, and I am thinking it's time to go back to sewing for awhile, but I should also stop rampantly making toys without homes to send them to. So. Casual interest check. I am absolutely making one for myself; this just determines if I should go through the effort of making an actual pattern so I can replicate the process.

[royaltea000]

Finally drew pruk 🔞✂️ing :) - https://freeimage.host/i/J6CwICg

[oliveroctavius]

Let's look briefly at the Coffee Bean in Spider-Man comics!

Contrary to popular memory, Peter's college pals initially met up at a diner called the Silver Spoon (ASM 44, but also 46, 52, possibly 125).

The spread at the top of this post takes a lot from this place's layout. But as newcomer MJ might have pointed out, diners are so fifties. The modern teen needed someplace cooler and edgier to hang out. Somewhere more underground. Literally.

Maps place The Coffee Bean alternately in East Village or Tribeca. The beret and glasses? The lowercase Dante's Inferno quote? The wall-hung guitar? So hipster. Wait, wrong decade. So beatnik.

The OG Bean didn't show up much more frequently than the Silver Spoon (ASM 53, 59, and 82, most notably), but it's the one that stuck in the cultural imagination. I enjoy Tim Sale's take in Spider-Man: Blue with the unfinished basement look and cult film posters.

In early modern flashbacks, the location is plagued by a specific continuity problem: "then [character] leaps through the WINDOW!" from new writers who missed the fact that it's below ground. In ASM Annual '96, JRSr complies by raising the ceiling a level!

The Sensational Spider-Man Annual's approach to the Coffee Bean makes me a bit sad. Dialogue repeatedly emphasizes its unique character and long history and how well MJ knows the place. But it's drawn aboveground and totally generic. (This from an issue with a dozen Silver Age panels directly traced!)

It's not the first time that happens, but here feels like a critical failure of show-don't-tell. The eventual window smash is worth it, but... I'd argue this would work better set at the Silver Spoon (where MJ actually met the gang, old in an uncool way, aboveground) instead.

Brand New Day reestablishes a solid sense of place for the Coffee Bean. Brick and glass entryway, a logo that's less beatnik and more Starbuck, and an interior that reminds me of a Panera Bread.

(If it's supposed to be canon that the new more corporate look is due to renovations by Harry, that's been lost in the shuffle. But it would make sense to me. His effort at impressing Norman with a plan to make the Bean a chain store circa ASM 569 would extend his trend of editorializing his own memories.)

While it still teleports between Astor Place and Tribeca, this version has now had more consistent (and just more) appearances than the original. And, of course, it has a beautiful bank of windows to—

Ah, that's more like it.

The Coffee Bean has become a symbol of innocent nostalgia and a happier past. It was also (as designed by Romita Sr) a virtual bunker: not until 1977 would superheroics be written to take place inside the Coffee Bean. (ASM Annual #11—Romita Jr's first ever penciling job on Spider-Man, interestingly.)

As a silver age icon, the location was physically safe and interruption-free in a way that even Peter's apartments and Aunt May's house couldn't be. The architecture—and how it's changed—has been a large part of that symbolism, underappreciated as it sometimes is.

[fantasykiri5]

lizzie for the drawing/ask game?

SHE’S DONE!!! Lizzie is always super fun to draw

[imerian]

I think i should grace all of with another charms i did, this time it's galex edition ✨

As always version without doodles under the cut and all details in the tags bc i physically cannot not put thoughts into what i do

[chiropteracupola]

Have you seen the Frankenstein Chronicles? The first episode is full of Sharpe references. When he's unpacking his kit you see his greenjacket and sword, and when someone asks who he served with, he says 95th Rifles. And another character whistles Over the Hills in the background. I was giggling and kicking my feet the whole way through.

I had not heard of this show before and after a bit of a wikipedia wander I will Certainly be watching it, and not just for the Sharpe references...

given that this also has Necromantical-Science, A Weird Murder Mystery, Probably A Significant Amount of Meat, and Ada Lovelace, this sounds like the Perfect Show for me!

[whipped-bean]

Spyke splatoon with #68 I want to eat space?

when u bought an electric kettle that has a cord but live in an alleyway that has no outlets :/

[justplaggin]

hoshikawa's setsubun-themed reminder that fifteen vol. 1 releases on february 3rd

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

[beanghostprincess]

Not you dropping the soulmate idea into my head and thinking about how this all would apply to Pudding in a way. I can just imagine big mom doing some scooping and finding out what soulmate band Sanji has so she can just paint over / tattoo over her own child's mark like that because she big sucks and doesn’t care about / doesn’t let her child have negative feelings about this. It’s easier if Sanji thinks that he’s actually marrying his soulmate after all. Convenient

Of course this also would make it even worse for Usopp and Sanji because suddenly the "Maybe the colors are just really similar" theory, which they both slowly started to realize was bs, suddenly holds water again.

It also would be even worse for Sanji because the idea to be forced by his family to marry someone is horrid in itself but because she has the mark it suddenly feels like this is the universes way to tell him it’s justified, that he really shouldn’t complain because it works after all, in some weird way.

AGGHHHGVSHJGHASGDAHGSDGHASHGDHJWEGWEG I LOVE THIS SO MUCH ANON YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW.

I was thinking of ways to make this even angstier and you somehow made it. I love it. I absolutely love it. Poor Pudding, too, that would fuck her up so bad. Especially since she actually falls for Sanji and she isn't even his soulmate it's-- Ughhh. Painful. Horrid. Horrible. I love it. Pudding actually letting Sanji go and learning to be somebody for herself, ignoring even her original Soulmate mark because honestly??? Why would she even get married in the first place. She doesn't want to! Never has! She wants to keep cooking and make a name for herself outside of her family too! Sanji is so right for following his true love. She should do it too, and her love goes directly to chocolate and sweets.

Not to mention Sanji losing hope with the color tone things. It kills me. Sobbing. Crying. Curling up on the floor. He starts wondering if he should actually go against the universe because, even if Pudding is her true soulmate (she isn't. He just thinks she is for a brief moment) he still wants Usopp. And he goes back to his boyfriend's words about them not having to be together even if they're soulmates. And he just knows he can just tell the universe to fuck off, honestly. He finds out Pudding isn't his soulmate when he listens to her conversation with Reiju btw.

Also!!! Sanji saying something like "If I ever had to have another soulmate, It would've been you"

"No, I wouldn't have. But that's fine"

"Seriously. I- I am being serious. You're perfect for me. So much we could've been... Together. But you're not-"

"I'm not him. I know. I know, don't worry"

And it's so heartbreaking for both and ughhhhhhhh you know, sometimes my brain can't handle these things. Sometimes I need a moment to scream. I love you for this, anon. This is awesome.

[merry-finches]

YAAAY TECH ISSUES RESOLVED!

HAPPY "SECRET" GIFT DAY TO....Mo!! <3<3<3 @lotrmusical

Where would we all be without you? :>

I'm so happy to be a part of this little fandom, everyone is so welcoming and joyful and skilled and friendly, gahhhh I'm never over it. And creative, oh my goodness, when I have half a moment to indulge in everyone's amazing creations I've caught glimpses of 👀

So please enjoy mine, I hope you love it :] 💚

I had entirely too much fun pulling from all sorts of places for the construction of this gift 👀 I... wonder... if they will all be obvious! Please do tell me what you spot :] (the invitation is open to all to yell with me always)

I think I managed to hit most of your likes list in one way or another ^.^

And a happy birthday to jirt too!

Heydey 🦵🦵🙌🧍(that looks deranged out of context someone take emojis away from me or get us better ones :D )

🌻🍃🌼🦌🐞🍀🐦🌸🐝☘🐞🐎🌼🍃🌻

[paramountpetrichor]

Not a public proshiper myself because of heavy fear

but Lunar x Eclipse x ruin. Especially with Ruin tricking both to their side to work with them.

first off i am So sorry this took like a week to get to (im still workin on the other thing in my inbox too i prommy </3) and second off, God thats so Real. there's a reason i use a sideblog to be proship instead of my main and that's bc of one huge reason: excruciating anxiety

anygays here's your request <3 if you dont know what the image is based off of please check the cut bc i put it (as well as a lightningless version) under there <3<3<3

ALSO bc this doesn't exactly fit the 'Ruin tricking both of them' part of your request (more like Ru and Lu teaming up to trick Ecci lmao), feel free to ask for another <3 i lovelovelove requests and am actually pretty satisfied with this piece heehee

tha lightningless ver

tha og inspo <3

[verlaines-corner-archive]

somno with fyodor or shibu

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐇𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐨𝐧

-> Summary: You slip something into you son's tea and have your way with him.

-> Pairing: Son!Fyodor x Mother!Reader -NSFW

-> Warnings/Content: Mother x Son [can be either stepcest or bloodcest], mommy kink, vaginal fingering, non-con somnophilia/non-con elements [it's implied that he knows and wants it], drugging, perversion, slight religious content, cheating. Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

-> Not explicitly stated but Fyodor is over 18

-> As stated before this is dark content, please do not read if it makes you uncomfortable! Obviously I condone nothing written here, please take care of yourselves people. This is all fiction, with no reflection on reality. Unedited at the moment. 2.5k

The soft clink of metal on porcelain sounds out throughout the kitchen as you stir a cup of tea, the smell of chamomile mixed with something a bit too sweet filling the air. Plumes of steam rise from the liquid, dancing about to your humming as they rise further, and further, and further, gently brushing past the skin on your face until you turn away, walking to the sink to rinse the spoon before returning and placing your focus on the other cup. You repeat the same process, stirring while humming until your tea is ready and both cups are placed on a serving tray. 

You glance over at the clock hanging from your wall, mind distracted as you read over its worn hands. It’s 7:53pm and your husband is supposed to be home at 10. Enough time, you think to yourself, fingers tapping on the counter brim before moving to the tray. They rest on the handles, nerves buzzing through your veins as you think about the drinks before you. The moral part of your brain screams at you to drain your son's cup, to wash it down the sink and forget all about this plan, but it knows you won’t listen. You never do, not when it comes to him. 

Your fingers finally grab a hold of the handles, and with a deep breath you calm your anxiety. He cannot see you so high strung like this, he’ll know immediately something is off and so with a bit of focus and trouble you calm your demeanour. You spare a glance at the clock before you make your way to the lounge room, your mood shifting to one of suppressed excitement as you enter the space.

Your son, Fyodor, sits in an old leather armchair, curled up against the back cushion with a book in his hands and a pair of glasses resting on the edge of his nose. They’re close to falling off, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. 

“Your glasses are going to fall off you know,” there’s a soft clink of porcelain on wood as you place the tray down, “here’s your tea.”

You move his cup towards him, placing it on the edge of the table before grabbing your own and sitting down.

“Ah,” Fyodor takes a moment to adjust them before placing his book aside and leaning over, “thank you.”

His hands wrap around the porcelain, fingers tracing patterns as he lets the warmth seep into his skin. He uncurls his legs, moving to cross one over the other before leaning back against the armrest and bringing the liquid to his lips, gently blowing away the swirls of steam that threaten to fog his glasses. 

You hold your own cup tightly, gazing down at the contents before taking a sip. A faint smile curls on your lips as you hear Fyodor drink from his own.

“Is it nice?”

Fyodor lets out a hum in response, taking another sip and closing his eyes. You can see his shoulders relax slightly, the tension slowly dissipating from his body as he lets out a sigh.

“It’s a little sweet.” He cracks his eyes open, shifting them from the cup to your own.

“Ahhh,” you’re quick to fake an apologetic smile, “sorry, I must have added one too many sugars. Do you want me to make you a new one, love?”

Fyodor simply looks at you for a moment, expression unreadable before his lips quirk up into a soft smirk, knowing eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“It’s okay, I like this one,” he brings the tea back up to his mouth, taking another drink, “thank you though.”

“Of course, let me know if you want anything else.”

There’s a nod and then Fyodor returns his attention to his book, grabbing it from the armrest and opening it back up to where he was prior. It sits heavy on his lap, an old leather bound tome that you remember giving him a few years back. You’re happy he’s made good use of it, the pages worn as if it’s been read a hundred times over. Knowing him it probably has been. But now’s not the time to stare, and so with a hint of reluctance your focus turns to the tv.

You pretend to get lost in the program, a show about antique auctions filled with pretentious know-it-alls and soon it would seem that time has slipped from you fully, falling through your fingers along with the rest of the world. In actuality your focus is on the clock hung beside the tv stand, so much so that you don’t notice Fyodor placing his empty cup on the table, too busy keeping track of the time. Your fingers play with the hem of your sleeve; it’s hard not to get worked up when you’re so close to getting what you want. 

The clock hands strike 8:25 and you turn to face your son, who’s slumped against the backrest of his armchair. He looks exhausted, eyes heavy and unfocused, staring off at nothing in particular as his world spins and head sways. He barely registers you speaking.

“You look exhausted sweetheart. Poor thing,” you’re crouching in front of him now, hands moving the book from his lap and gently pulling the glasses from his face, “I’m sorry about this dear, but there was no other choice.”

Your words fall on deaf ears as it all goes blank, Fyodor’s body and mind falling numb.

“Don’t worry, mommy will take care of you.”

»»—— • ☆ • ——««

Fyodor’s lifeless body was easy to carry upstairs, having weighed nothing more than if he were a bag of grapes in your arms. 

He had hung useless in your grasp, but now he lay on silken sheets like a delicate pale doll; weak and helpless and yours in his entirety to use and own, even if he didn’t know it yet.

You’d get there eventually.

For now though you’re content with the current scene, with Fyodor laying on his bed in a way that can almost be described as peaceful. There is a gentle smile on his countenance, so unlike his usual expression; cold, vapid, and yet catlike. 

He makes no noise, not a snore or breath can be heard from him, the rise and fall of his chest barely noticeable. Moonlight streams in through open curtains, painting his clothed body in a holy light. Innocent and beautiful, you almost feel guilty as the lock to his door clicks into place. 

You stare for another moment before approaching, standing by the edge of his bed and looking down at him with curious eyes. Tentatively your hand reaches out, fingertips trailing over his cheek and down the expanse of his exposed throat. Across his Adam's apple, dipping over his protruding collarbones, before finding their way back to his face. 

You let yourself sit on the side of his bed as you trace his chapped lips, warmed only by placid breathing. A moment of quiet contemplation and then they’re parted slightly, your pointer and middle finger slipping inside. The inner of his mouth is warm and wet and your fingers slide in and out with ease. You can feel his tongue twitch under your pads and your mind wanders, lost in the vulgarity of your current position. It’s a shame he’s unresponsive you think, though the way his eyebrows faintly knit together doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

A soft pop sounds out as you withdraw your hand, a trail of saliva following behind as you bring the digits to your mouth and suck them clean. There is no joy in kissing a sleeping man, you’d have to stick with this for now.

You stand once more and shed your clothing, letting the articles hit the floor before climbing onto Fyodor’s bed and straddling him. He doesn’t even stir as you get comfortable, your hands gliding over his clothed frame.

Your face twists in annoyance as you look at the woollen plum sweater adorning his body, the material thick and heavy and even though Fyodor lays malleable beneath you it’d be a hassle to remove. So you settle for pushing it upwards, taking the hem in your hands and moving it past his stomach and up further, until it bundles just below his collarbones. 

Fyodor’s torso is almost completely bare to you, save for a silver cross necklace that sits on his chest, taking on a faint blue-silver glow in the light of the moon. In that same light his skin is painted delicate hues of grey, blue, and pink. Soon to be white, but not just yet. 

Instead you take a moment to simply admire him; the curve of his hip bones, the faint trail of raven hair leading up his stomach, the way his ribcage lays visible to you, tempting you to carve it open and make a home in it.  A slender waist leading to broad shoulders, moles mapping along the entire expanse; a constellation for your eyes only.

A single digit brushes down his sternum, the featherlight touch causing a faint sigh to fall dead on Fyodor’s crimson lips. A smile twitches on your mouth and lacking fear you press your palms fully against his soft skin, letting them wander. 

They find their way to his chest, inquisitive fingers moving to his perky nipples. They’re hard from the cold, and unable to resist you pinch them between your thumb and pointer, tugging gently at the bud. They’re sensitive even in his deep slumber, drawing an almost inaudible moan from him and so you stay there until he’s red in the face and his breathing is agitated.

You’re almost aching with desire by the time you’re done toying with Fyodor, and you can feel your son under you in the same state; his erection pressing against his trousers and into your wet cunt. 

A gentle hum, “soon sweetheart, but not yet.”

You move upwards, coming to hover over his upper chest. Slick drips from your cunt, gathering in small pools on his supple skin. The cross glistens as a finger slides between your folds, languidly brushing over your clit and stroking the sensitive skin. 

If only he were awake, to see the expression on his face at this moment would be wonderful. You wonder if he’d push you off in disgust, but some part of you tells you he’d smile and accept your core with reverence and delight. You thrust a finger inside yourself at the fantasy, letting out a soft cry as you imagine it to be Fyodor’s.

He’s got beautiful fingers, long and slender and precise from years of cello playing. Another moan passes your lips as you work yourself open at the thought of them, a second finger slipping inside while your thumb draws circles on your clit. They alternate between scissoring and thrusting, your cunt throbbing as you curl them deeper inside. Breathy moans fill the air, and with a loud whimper the room spins and cum coats the digits inside you.

You hold your hand in front of your face, staring at slick covered fingers for a moment before - with a hint of hesitation - parting your son’s lips for the second time tonight, using his mouth to clean them of your filth. 

Usually you’d stop here, but tonight you want more. Indulging a little hasn’t hurt you in the past. 

Adoringly you stroke Fyodor’s cheek, moving your body down to rest over his hips once more. A sickly smile falls on your mouth as you watch your cum trickle down the cross. Maybe one day he could clutch it while you fuck him, mutter prayers and your name under the same breath. 

Your hands move to unzip his trousers, pulling them and his underwear down and around his thighs - just enough for his hard dick to spring free. You lick your lips at the sight of it, precum dribbling from the tip and down his shaft. 

A sigh leaves him as you grab his cock and line it up to your soaking entrance, the feeling of you against him causing Fyodor to stir once more and quietly, almost to the point where you can’t hear it, he mumbles out something.

“Mommy…”

Fire shoots through your veins, an airy laugh leaving you as you sink down on Fyodor’s throbbing cock. He fills you up completely, your tight heat clenching around him as you slowly begin grinding on his lap.

“That’s right sweetheart, mommy’s here,” your voice is teasing, even though you know it can’t reach him, “ah, you’re so pathetic, calling out for me while I touch you. Being fucked by your own mother and you know it, don’t you? Somewhere in there.”

Leisurely you lift yourself off his lap, coming to rest your hands on his shoulders as leverage before falling back down on him, moaning at the feeling of his tip hitting deep inside you. 

You’re quick to fall into a rhythm; slow and lazy, with the intent to savour every second of the man beneath you. Moans tumble out of your mouth, your composure breaking at the feeling of being stretched so perfectly. 

Fyodor’s red underneath you, his lips parted to make way for his own noises; pathetic whines and gasps mixed with low moans, every desperate sound further confirmation that he belongs to you.

Such a good doll for you, even in his sleep.

Involuntarily his hips stutter up against yours, chasing after pleasure he’s only half aware of. Your vision blurs at the sudden friction, hands tightening on his shoulders as your pace grows faster until you’re bouncing on his lap with fervour. 

You can feel Fyodor’s cock twitch inside of you before he cums with a breathless whine, back arching off the bed slightly as his warm seed spills inside you. Haphazardly you bring a hand to your clit, messily stroking it to chase your own high until your vision spins and shockwaves shoot through your body. 

Your cunt pulsates around him as you catch your breath, resting your head in the crook of your son’s neck. He smells like lavender and breathing in his scent you feel your heartbeat even out and steady.

Tiredly - reluctantly - you lift yourself up and off Fyodor’s lap, watching cum drip out of your cunt and onto him. 

You spy tissues on his nightstand, and using them you wipe both yourself and Fyodor clean before any can drip onto the mattress, until all that’s left to do is redress yourself and him. 

There’s no resistance as you move him under the covers, bringing them up and around his shoulders. He looks just as beautiful as he did when you began, face still tinted red and hair dishevelled. You spend a moment admiring him, fingers pushing his raven hair behind his ear as you lean down to kiss his forehead. 

A final glance around the room to ensure that everything’s in their right place and then you leave, the only evidence that you were ever there being the faint stench of sex in the air.

@sincerelylev [you wanted to be tagged] | Ao3