#head=empty => pets

[primebussy]

A true inspiration ✨️ 👏 ✨️

Chomp

[pancakefrisbee6279]

This was my best friend’s cat Tigger. We just recently found out that his picture got around and that he became a bit of a meme.

He’s no longer with us, so thanks everyone for letting his goofy lil self live on.

Enjoy the extra pictures:)

[statementlives]

chester and norris potentially communicating through case files will be the death of me i fear.

[joyousjoyfuljoyness]

Number 2 of the Close Encounters Collection, "Green Eyes"!

[witchyinsomniac]

The masseur is accepting new clients.

[hypnoness]

old one that never got posted, glowy and pretty entranced woman 💕✨

(coms are still open <3)

[ohbeffinitely]

Hug your babies close, my friends.

I lost my perfect beautiful baby girl this weekend.

I picked her out eight years and two months ago - she was the runt, but she was my baby, weird and independent, loving and smart.

She's laying in an eternal sunbeam out there now, but holy hell do I miss her stinky little butt.

If you feel like throwing a dollar or two for her (ridiculously expensive) end-of-life care, my kofi is here. I can't offer doodles or comms at this time, but anything is appreciated 💖

Thanks, y'all.

[driftingpast1999]

Pettin’ the Kalymos ♡

[baksuz-art]

saw this screenshot, and this cat is 100% certified baksuz, it had to be done

reblogs are greatly appreciated! 🖤🤍

[letmetakecare]

The General’s Command

The cold, sterile walls of General Aldric Vale’s office felt as though they were closing in around me, their grey surfaces reflecting his unyielding presence. I stood at attention, my body rigid and focused. I had been here countless times before, but each encounter left me feeling both the weight of his authority and the subtle, unrelenting pull of his control.

General Vale was a figure to be respected, not just for his rank, but for the quiet power he exuded. Dressed in his signature dark leather uniform, each piece perfectly tailored, he seemed as immovable as the walls themselves. His gaze swept over me, sharp, calculating.

"You’ve come a long way, Lieutenant," he said, his voice low but commanding. "You’ve been trained well, but there's still much for you to understand."

I felt my heart rate quicken. There was always more with him, always another level of control to be reached. His words weren’t just about physical endurance—they were about submission, trust, and unwavering obedience.

"You remember the simulations, don’t you?" he asked suddenly, his voice almost a whisper, but every word sliced through my thoughts like a blade. I nodded, the memories flooding back.

The simulations had been grueling—designed to test not just our physical limits, but our mental resilience. But they were more than that. The real challenge had been the subtle commands woven through them. The sessions blurred the line between reality and suggestion, where every instruction had been designed to embed obedience deeper within us. Those moments where I had felt my mind slip, the heavy weight of his voice wrapping around my thoughts until I no longer questioned his authority.

“Those simulations were never just about action,” he continued, his voice steady as ever. “They were about you learning how to listen—really listen. To trust me. To surrender, willingly. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, my voice barely more than a whisper. I could feel the pressure of his gaze on me, each word drawing me further into a state of calm, quiet obedience. The power he had over me wasn’t just physical—it was psychological, deep in my mind where his commands lingered long after the simulations had ended.

“Good,” he said, his tone like a gentle affirmation, but the underlying command was unmistakable. “Now, I want you to stand.”

Without hesitation, I obeyed, my body moving as if it were no longer entirely mine. It wasn’t just obedience; it was instinct. His voice, his presence, had conditioned me to act without thought, without questioning.

“Remove your uniform,” he ordered, his voice now steady, as though this were simply another instruction—another step in the process.

I stood still for a moment, his words echoing in my mind. It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked to do this, but this time felt different. His eyes remained locked onto mine, piercing through me, and I could feel the weight of his expectations pressing down. This wasn’t just about the physical action—it was about reinforcing my submission, reaffirming my role as his soldier.

The actions were automatic now, as if my body knew the drill before my mind did. Slowly, I reached for the buttons of my uniform, unfastening them with deliberate precision. My hands, though steady, felt the weight of his command with each movement. The air around me seemed to grow heavier as I stripped away the outer layers, leaving myself standing there naked.

"Every time you follow my command, you grow stronger," General Vale’s voice cut through the silence. “It’s not about the uniform you wear—it’s about the mind beneath it. And you’ve learned, haven’t you? The more you let go, the more control I gain over you.”

I stood there naked before him, exposed not just in body, but in mind. My thoughts had been trained to obey, and each action reinforced my role under his influence.

“Do you feel it?” General Vale asked, his voice gentle but carrying an undeniable weight. “The surrender? The freedom in obedience? You don’t need to think anymore. You just need to obey.”

“Yes, sir,” I murmured, my voice distant, as though the words were no longer entirely my own.

His gaze softened, but only slightly. “You are a good soldier, Lieutenant. The best I’ve ever trained. And you’re ready to go further.”

I couldn’t think of any response except to nod, my body still at attention, but my mind already retreating deeper into the space where his commands ruled. The simulations had been the first step, a slow process of breaking down my resistance, allowing me to surrender my will to him bit by bit. Now, it wasn’t just a matter of obedience—it was the very essence of who I had become under his control.

“Good,” he said again, his voice almost a purr of satisfaction. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”

Then, without another word, he stepped back slightly and issued his next command: "Kneel."

The word was simple, yet the power behind it was undeniable. I felt my body respond without hesitation. Slowly, deliberately, I dropped to my knees in front of him, my eyes lowered in respect. There was no room for defiance. His authority was absolute, and I had learned to accept that.

I knelt there, completely still, waiting for the next command, my mind already sinking deeper into a state of readiness and obedience. Every movement, every gesture, had been trained into me. And in this moment, I was his soldier, completely attuned to his will.

General Vale shifted his focus, sitting at his desk. His leather-clad hands effortlessly moved through a stack of paperwork, the sound of pages turning in the otherwise silent room. I remained on my knees, lost in the stillness, my thoughts drifting far away. His presence loomed over me, a constant weight, and I found my mind sinking deeper, as it always did in his presence. The paperwork, the mundane tasks he attended to, became distant in my consciousness.

Occasionally, I felt his eyes flicker over me, assessing, observing, and, at times, giving me the smallest of gestures—his fingers brushing lightly over my hair, a slow, deliberate touch as though I were an object to be maintained, a pet to be handled with care. Each gesture, subtle but unmistakable, reminded me of my place. He was always in control.

"Good soldier," he muttered under his breath, though I knew he wasn’t expecting an answer. He didn’t need one. His words alone were enough to send a wave of satisfaction through me, reinforcing the control he had over me.

I could feel his attention shift back to his papers, but it was as though I was no longer fully aware of the room. My thoughts began to fade into the background, my mind sinking deeper into the space where only his presence and his commands mattered. The weight of his authority was the only thing that filled the air now. His occasional glances, his light touches, and the soft cadence of his voice reminded me of my place in his world.

And as he continued his work, I remained there, kneeling, mind wandering in the depths of submission and obedience, lost in my thoughts. There was nothing else—just him, his authority, and my unwavering devotion to his control.

[cutep1e33]

can someone train me to be a good little mutt and know my place? (pretty please <3) i also love hypnosis

[rottedsoulx]

This is Oh and he is an echo troll! (aka: pet trolls)

My precious little trolls oc,,, he lives in a hamster cage and was bred to be a pet//mp3 player for these big elven creatures.

More echo troll ocs & lore under the cut!

Echo trolls are trolls that have been "domesticated" in the way that humans have domesticated animals like rabbits, mice, and dogs. (my main inspos design-wise). The big creatures that have tamed them cannot speak common, and they live extremely far and isolated from other big tribes.

They were created to be pets, and aren't very tasty. Like pets irl, they are kept & cared for mainly for a main use. Their incredible memory, and ability to replicate any sound they hear. Like an echo.

Although, this ability comes with a price. It's incredibly rare that an Echo troll has it's own voice, and usually they cannot produce music themselves. This, and the fact that their big friends' language is incredibly hard for them to understand, makes it impossible to truly communicate. Though there has been some cases where their elven giants claimed that they could teach their trolls to speak, there is no scientific proof that can back up these claims. (Think: parrots, almost)

Living inside big homes have dulled the survival instincts of these trolls a substantial amount. That paired with selective breeding to keep them docile and less dangerous makes them useless in the wild.

Their hair serves no function other than to be decorated, and their teeth and claws are very dull.

Very rarely, an odd stray makes its way into the settlement, and different variations of trolls with different styles may appear.

[kedreeva]

How would you rate peafowl in terms of intelligence, in general or socially? Any of your animals outstanding in that regard and where does Bug fall on the scale?

Honestly they have a huge range of intelligence and personality. They're GENERALLY smarter than chickens, not as smart as crows. They do have complex social hierarchies and rules, though, and violating the rules has consequences for social standing. Rude boys, for example, do not get the girls.

They also have long memories for some things- for example if you frighten or anger or hurt them, they remember that and they will likely not trust you again, if they don't outright try to chase you off. My dad once made a swipe at a nosy hen and she never forgot. She threatened to fight him every time she saw him after that. LOTS of people report that their birds can be caught 1 time by a bird net pole, and forever after they will bolt if they see it (and we have the same experience here, and I don't even have to have caught them personally if they even SEE me catch 1 bird with it, that's it. This is why I move them into a coop and turn off the lights to pick them up). I know people who have tried to solve berserker males problems by hitting their birds with brooms or sticks or spraying them with a hose, and what they find is that this makes it a thousand times worse because the male's understanding of the situation is only confirmed- you ARE a rival and you DO want to fight him. And since you (the intelligent human being who understands birds and money and probably a) like this bird and/or b) spent a lot of money on this bird) are unwilling to purposely cause severe injury or death to him, he will always hold a grudge and always think he has a chance to beat you.

They do have some amount of social learning, at least from my observations. When I taught Eris to use word buttons to ask for specific treats, Artemis learned without actually ever being taught. With 12 buttons on the board at the time, she removed the "treat" button and guarded it so she could tap it instead of Eris. More commonly, if one bird thinks a treat or other potential food item is yucky, they will start shaking their head no and clacking their beak the way they do when they taste something they hate, as if they took a bite and it tasted bad- but WITHOUT having actually touched the item. This triggers all the nearby birds to have a look, and they all start shaking their heads and clacking their beaks. Once one of them figures out how to do something - like get up onto the pigeon perch in the rafters they're not supposed to be on - the others will watch and learn how to do it, and start doing it, too. I just recently had to put an extra lock on the barn pen door, because I caught Wendy pulling our emergency latch release for dumbasses that lock themselves into the pen on accident, and the others were Watching to learn. Eris had to be moved out of that pen because she also learned how to let herself out of the pen that way.

Then you have birds like Callisto. Who will come over when you call for treats, and despite that the treat gets held right in front of her or dropped close by her, panics and can't find it to save her life, and you find yourself standing between her and the others to give Callisto enough time to look at the ground for the treat.

Or stan who, every morning, gets let out of the coop and walks calmly over to the fenced door between pens to be let out into the pen. Except the door is open.

So. It's a scale. it's a scale that slides between "mocking me with word buttons I taught her" and "repeatedly waits at an open door to be let out"

[dismas-n-dismay]

The Broken is the kind of poet Smitten wishes he was- the angst and depression allows you to write REAL poetry for a woman hot damn

[breadxrust]

Hey so I hate HTF, why the heck is this show INVADING my mind like, all the time? Is the only thing I can focus on, only thing I can purely enjoy, only thing I feel interested enough to put a lot of time on it without feeling like is getting wasted, I just think about a future dull of HTF thing and HTF inspired outfits and just, make my lifestyle be about HTF.

[drearydroplet]

Chat, being a dog is like peak existence. Like, turning your brain off and barking at your dog friend and play wrestling is like the most surreal and comforting thing ever. I’m so glad I just accepted being a petre. It’s made life a lot more comfortable.