#fly chasing cats

[kittypatch]

This is considered high times for indoor cats!

[sashthesloth]

I've taken one of the prettiest photos of my cat

Immediately followed by one of the silliest

[flannelepicurean]

i wanna see goku and raditz fight like brothers. like BROTHERS-brothers. i wanna see an extended sequence that's like that group of bros bopping and swatting and chasing and skidding and sliding and hopping like bro-sized kitty cats through a house and out into the fucking snow.

except it's two saiyans who can fucking fly, and they instinctively scamper, and one of them is enormous and made of hair, and they are both Grade-A King Shits when it comes to fucking with each other, and they love to chase.

i wanna hear, "FUCK OFF, RADITZ!!!" and then a zillion things falling over while raditz goes barreling through the entire zone, guffawing with hellion glee, and goku comes bounding after him in all three dimensions like a molten pinball.

i wanna hear, "DAMMIT, COCK-ROT, I'M GONNA--!!!" and then goku streaks past, shrieking like a boiling kettle and trying not to pee his pants from laughing so hard and running so fast, and raditz comes bursting around the corner like a tornado full of avalanches.

[svere-online]

Shout out to everyone drawing really emotional and beautiful art about the light dragon y’all have beautiful hearts but I personally think she doesn’t mind if I harvest her scales Yknow a dragon is a dragon and a scale is worth 150 rupees and an arrow it’s what she would want for me, I think

[ettawritesnstudies]

concept: a character who's skin resists marking. It isn't even anything particularly dramatic - their scars heal over quickly and cleanly, fading so that you can barely tell they're there. They don't bruise easily and the purple marks rarely last long. Their hands resist building up callouses, they train hard with punches and pushups but their knuckles never harden and protrude like other warriors. Even as they get older, their face stays relatively free of both worry wrinkles and laugh lines. It's lucky, a boon of good health that they shouldn't take for granted. But even so, they wish that they had something to show for what they've experienced.

[whompthatsucker1981]

guess who just had her first bee encounter now

[gaypornluvr420]

“but is there really a difference between sci fi and fantasy” YES but it’s based entirely on vibes.

[thalion71]

such day. very rain

[imababblekat]

Sigh, oh to be a lil cat living life around Hyrule~

(*´ω｀*)

[zimzshite]

dummmppp

[hafwen]

There's a fly in our room but that's okay Mackie is on the hunt

[wirmageddon]

Having a high prey drive cat is great. I never have to worry about any flies that get into my apartment. It's just free enrichment for him (plus a little snack <3)

[staringamassivemistakeintheface]

I need there to be a Warriors-style story about the cats living in archeological sites.

I'm on an amazing trip in Greece (with a few days in Rome to kick it off), and almost every large site has had a few cats lounging around. In particular, there's an archeological park in Rhodes that's open to the public, and it has to have a population of at least 50 cats, maybe even 100.

Imagine the stories that could be spun. Cats and crows as two main societies, coexisting with varying levels of peace with the humans, living in the strange landscape formed by the ruins.

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Idk why but theres something so funny about watching a 63 pound dog hunt flies

[vaisaur]

Saved a swallow fledgling from being wedged in a storm grate yesterday. Lil dude was tuckered out!! I put him outside the next morning when i knew the parents would be out and flying and he immediately started chirping for them 🥺

[nuitnotions]

Task Force 141 ; It’s in the Little Things

john price is a gentleman, well, he tries incredibly hard to remain so to you in particular. when you step forward, stretching out like a cat to hug him, arms around his neck, happy sigh against his chest. the expanse of his warm palm finds the sliver of skin exposed from your shirt lifting with your stretch. he presses his hand to it, to share his body heat or to steal yours, he’s never fully sure but he indulges in it for but a few seconds before his fingers are tugging the seam of it down, palm back over the material to rub soothing circles there as if to preserve the heat he gathered. you always melt further into him when he does so, and it only gives him more of a reason to lay a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, resting his chin atop of it with a serenity that only you are able to evoke in him.

kyle garrick is much too good at undressing you, deft and nimble fingers snap buttons with quick flicks, zips fly apart with a swipe and then those big hands are welcoming all the skin he loves to lavish with his warm and wet kisses to the air around the two of you. but when he’s not disrobing you with an ease that always has you raising an eyebrow at him, his fingers are curling into the ends of your clothes, any opening or gap has the pad of his finger tracing promising circles against your skin. it’s always mindless, something of a bad habit that applies strictly to you, as if his fingers cannot help but want to have all of you, the bare of you pressed against his fingertips. you spare him a knowing look when that sneaky finger finds its opening, but all you receive in return is a wink and traced words on your skin you can never fully decipher.

john mactavish is a fiend. one you scowl at, hands batting his away when he laughs lowly and only chases after you like the metaphorical slap on the wrist is more bait than punishment. and maybe you should start considering reverse psychology for this man because whenever you’re in reach, his hands wriggle beneath your clothes, two thick fingers hooking into the elastic bands of your underwear and snapping, his mouth always swallowing the hiss you let out, your own hands shoving unconvincingly at his hard chest. “you fuckin’ love it” he always makes sure to whisper when you bite at his lip in retaliation and you do, but johnny mactavish remains a fiend all the same.

simon riley has a thing for pockets. particularly those too small for the imposing size of his hands, but like a cat, that does not deter him from squeezing his hands into the front pockets of your pants as he stands behind you, forehead resting on your shoulder. you smile amusingly whenever he does so, laughing inwardly when he cusses beneath his breath at the tightness that displaces at his skin and all but traps him in the confines. there are days where he is purposely tugging his hoodie over your head, hand on your lower back then nudging you out of the door for it hours later to sneak comfortably into the front pocket of his hoodie as he comes to stand behind you. the sigh he lets out is warm on your shoulder as he breathes a “much better” and all you can do is shake your head and lean back into the strength of him, your own hands resting atop the pocket locking him into you.