#my cat ate a stick of butter

[crazypossumman]

We’ve had the same butter dish for two plus years, but last night we came home and found that the cats had gotten the lid off of it. They’ve NEVER done that. One of them ate what must’ve been an entire stick of butter, and now he is grotesquely ill. We’ve had to bathe him twice today just based on how absolutely nasty he has gotten while shitting his ass off. He’s perked up quite a bit this evening finally, but godDAMN what a fucking idiot.

[scribbling-dragon]

sometimes I think about my years as a scout. and then wonder how im still alive/sane

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

So, I am hesitantly starting to believe that this new food is working for my cat. After the last time I tried to change his food I’ve been nervous. He used to be able to switch brands and types whenever, but he’s older now and has a pickier tummy, and I can’t trust what he decides to eat because the last time he was excited about a new food it turned out he was violently allergic (but luckily not in an anaphylactic shock way) yet he still ate it so fast and picked the new pieces out of the mix of new and old food because he loved the flavor so much 🤦‍♀️ I can’t trust what his reaction to new food when it comes to eagerness because he acts like those lactose intolerant people who still eat ice cream.

[exhuastedpigeon]

the cat's meow Buddie fic | 4.2k | Explicit

Buck walked into Eddie's house and froze. “Is that a cat?”

“Well it’s not a dog,” Eddie laughed, shifting so he was sitting up. Pinto made a dissatisfied little cooing sound as he moved, but settled in his lap once he was upright.

“When the hell did you get a cat?”

-

Eddie adopts a cat and let's himself have good things.

In case you were wondering, the cat Eddie adopts in this fic was very heavily inspired by one of my own cats, Marty is an adorable terror who demands pets anytime you're in the same room as her, loves to snuggle on you when you sleep, and made us start keeping the butter dish in the cabinets because she learned how to knock the lid off and once ate around half a stick of butter. She's perfect and I love her.

[corancoranthemagicalman]

Do you have any funny pet stories you'd like to share?

Many years ago now I had a Jack Russell Terrier named Cotton who the first time he tried to lift his leg to pee, he fell over. He also jumped in the ditch and it was a good thing I had a leash on him because he straight up sunk like a stone.

We had another dog, shepherd mix, named Ash who ate our wedding album and we needed our marriage certificate for college stuff so we had to go to a government building and tell government officials we needed a copy of our marriage certificate because our dog ate it. She ate other things too during her puppy phase.

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

Awww, poor wee Cotton. When we adopted my old man (who is no longer with us), they told us he was a Jack Russell mix. He grew three times the size and turns out he was an Australian sheep-herding dog. He didn't like water at all and would avoid going out if it was raining or if the grass was wet. He'd prance like a deer to keep his feet out of the wet grass.

Tucker, the old fella, once ran straight through the screendoor because he was going blind and hadn't realized the screen was there at all. It was such a comedic moment for a dog who has continually run into glass before to finally tear the screen. He'd also get so distracted looking at someone that he'd just straight up run into couches, trip over his own feet, etc.

That sounds like a WHOLE ordeal to have to get all of those documents replaced :( I hope it wasn't too much. Tucker's puppy phase was more separation anxiety, so he only got into things and tore stuff when we weren't home. We had to put hot-sauce on a door frame once just to keep him from tearing at it (didn't hurt him, obviously!! Just not a fun experience so he refrained.)

He also hated grapes. He'd want them so so bad, and then he'd bite into one and it would squirt in his mouth and you could see regret on his face. (He only accidentally ate one once or twice, we know they're bad for dogs so we never fed him them, but it fell on the floor and he was a chow-hound—related to that, he'd get so excited to eat anything that fell on the floor, even if it was hot, and watching a dog try to eat a hot french fry is like watching a dog try to eat peanut butter.)

Oh, but the real funny story with him, one time he was out and best we can figure he got ahold of a lizard or a bee? Something he was allergic to. Swole up in his face and looked like Scooby-Doo. You could barely see his eyes over his chops. (He was totally okay! It was only the external swelling, and it went down with a benadryl, so it's easier to laugh at now, the way his lil' mutton chops blew in the breeze of the car window being rolled down).

My cats do cat shenanigans all the time, like climbing on open doors, running along the top of china hutches, hurling themselves body first into glass, but I don't have a memory that really sticks out of one of them at the moment. Might be because I'm just remembering my doggo, but I'll probably have a cat story pop into my head as soon as I post this, haha!

[ohhsodebonair]

catch up tag game

The always-wonderful and truly-insane @thisonesatellite tagged me in this! Thank you, bb 🥰️

Last song I listened to: Too Sweet by Hozier! Does it count if it's a tiktok? I think so.

Last thing I read: Technically, it was Sat's tag post. But if that doesn't count, then a job posting 🥴️

Last movie I watched: I tried watching Next Goal Wins last week, but didn't get to finish it.

Last TV show: @cable-knit-sweater influenced me to start watching The Rookie and now I'm four seasons deep.

Last thing I googled: "boil egg how long" because I FORGET every single time. I'm usually a fried/scrambled egg girlie but occasionally I crave a boiled egg. Embarrassingly, I got used to my dad doing it for me most mornings I wanted one when I lived at home, so the times I've had to boil an egg myself can be counted on one hand.

Last thing I ate: A banana, but I'm also obsessed with kallo's beetroot and balsamic rice cakes

Sweet, salty, or savory: It goes: savory > salty > sweet. I love a little sweet treat but I get headaches so I usually stick to dark chocolate or things like chocolate covered pretzels or Reese's peanut butter cups to help get my kick.

Sleep: I have incredibly poor sleep hygiene. I have discovered that when I get drowsy, I should just go to bed, yet I fight it every time because I never learn

Currently reading: We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian because it was highly recced by @alpineandbucky, although I've taken a little break from it right now.

No pressure tagging: @dreamsinthewitchouse @dharmasharks @mybodywakesup @its-tortle @teenytabris

[melonba11s]

5 Lives Down (Strade BTD fanfic)

I'm not gonna lie to you guys, I had a really rough day. This is a bit cheat-y but I had a fic lying around in my docs for a while and decided to upload it for July so you guys would at least have something to read.

This fic introduces Willow; a cat beastkin woman, and her life with Strade at the beginning. I promise next chance I get I'll upload 2 fics in one day!

contains: canon typical violence, named MC, female MC, captivity, "immortal" MC.

Willow’s cloth slid over the blade of the knife slowly, as she carefully polished it. 10 minutes. In 10 minutes she’d be on film again, entertaining a crowd again.

She wasn’t going to be playing any sort of game though, unless you consider playing with someone's life a game. She hadn’t used to think such a thing was a game. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Around her neck, a heavy metal collar weighed her waifish frame down. It had a sensor on it, which would trigger a painful electric shock if she got too close to the exits of the house. Not that she was able to go upstairs. A heavy chain left her only able to go up a few steps on the stairs before growing taut. The collar was only insurance, in case she somehow got free of the chain.

On her head, a pair of white cat ears flicking now and then. Her tail curled around her thigh in what used to be a form of self comfort. She no longer noticed it. There was no comfort to be found down here.

Strade made sure of that, she was little more than a caged animal. Unable to leave the basement, she was given a dog bed to sleep on, she ate her meals down here as well. She was just supposed to sit around, wait. Wait for him, Strade.

Strade… the man who’d taken 4 of her lives.

She closed her eyes, remembering the first one.

9

8

“Hey, Katzchen.” She had whimpered, backing up as much as she could into the pole. She was exhausted, she didn’t want to hurt anymore. She’d stopped screaming, stopped crying hard, stopped begging. She knew his fun was over. She knew what to expect. He was going to kill her. She was hyperventilating.

He leaned in closer, the glint of his knife as he turned it in his hand.

“They say cats have 9 lives. Let's put that to the test, eh?”

She didn’t have time to beg, to confirm his thoughts, to ask for a last request. The knife slid across her throat like butter. Her open mouth spilled blood like a fountain, as she slumped over.

A perfect slice, right over the artery. He’d done this before.

Those had been her last thoughts as the world closed in around her, watching Strade clean the knife off on his pants.

Then there was the water. The water that she floated down. She couldn’t get up, she could only stare. Look to her left. Grey, Water. Look to her right. Grey, Water.

She closed her eyes, letting herself sink slowly into it, holding her breath. She held it for as long as she could, knowing what was waiting, until her instinct kicked in. Her chest spasmed, her head flew back to reach the surface, her mouth gaped open, a sharp inhale.

And she was back, gasping in musty basement air. It was dark. Her blood, old blood, had coagulated, and was sticking to her. She felt her throat, feeling the clean skin, unmarked.

And she was staring right into Strade’s shocked face, he was mouthing wordlessly. They kept staring at each other for several moments, before Strade’s face split into a wide grin.

“Well, count me as surprised, buddy! I didn’t expect you to actually come back!” She frowned at him, hand still on her throat. Strade was starting to look really excited now, and was no longer kneeling over her, opting to pace around her in a circle.

“See, I thought maybe I was just seeing things… You stopped bleeding, normal, the body doesn’t have an unlimited amount of blood. Then the wound began to close up, not very normal.”

Great, he was going to walk through the stages of her recovery. She’d never really cared to know.

“All of a sudden, there you were! Pristine! Not a single lethal mark on ya! Took a few minutes and suddenly you were gasping like a fish out of water!” He laughed as if it were the funniest joke of the century.

“Really though, I’m honored…” his demeanor changed, as he knelt over her. He gripped her chin in his hands.

“Giving me the first of your lives… I get to have the next eight all to myself too!” Willow gave a frown, her ears flattening against her skull.

“Seven.” She corrected him, her voice soft. Strade stopped now, looking down at her in confusion, then his expression changed to annoyance. Like a child who’s favorite toy they were being forced to share.

“... Someone got to you first?” he asked, his voice tinged with jealousy. Willow shook her head.

“No I… I was a kid. I was climbing a tree when a branch broke under me. I fell about 2 stories. Broke my neck, severed my spinal cord, the whole kit and kaboodle.” She sat up now, staring at her knees.

“I woke up in bed, asked my mom if it had been a dream. Apparently my family has a history of the whole nine lives phenomenon. Dates back centuries or whatever.”

Willow looked back up at Strade now, glaring.

“Why does it matter to you anyways? Come on, let's get it over with.” Strade looked surprised, a new smile on his face now, as his eyebrow arched.

“Get what over with?” he asked simply. The innocence in his voice sent a shudder up her spine. She curled in on herself.

“The other seven. Just go ahead and take them. Or if you want to go faster get the kiln ready and just toss me in. I won’t be able to come back from that.”

Strade turned away from her now, digging in a drawer under the counter of his work bench. Willow closed her eyes, waiting for the sudden pain, the quietness of death, as he came back towards her.

Cold metal around her throat, was he going to choke her out now? Her tail thrashed as the terror of death loomed over her again-

A small click and a beep, she opened her eyes, looking down at the collar around her neck.

“Oh, Katzchen… I have a much better idea. You’re gonna be around for a long long time.” His voice was syrupy sweet as he began to stroke her head.

Willow sucked in a breath, feeling violently ill all of a sudden.

“I just know that my viewers are going to adore you. We can go ahead and meet them tonight!”

7.

“Ah! Woundfucker wants to see an old classic…” all Willow could hear was static, as her empty socket dripped onto the floor. She could feel the stray muscles, nerves, everything, tugging and trying to move around her eyeball. The eyeball that no longer was there.

The eyeball that was now sitting somewhere in her stomach, making her want to vomit. But all she could do was shake and whimper, as Strade grabbed a fistfull of hair. He had unzipped his pants.

“Wh-What are you doing?” she managed to gasp out, spitting out gobs of blood with it. Her canine teeth had been taken, a viewer had offered a hefty sum for them. She could only shake as his thick cock came into view, then slid out of view again. She could feel something… tracing her face.

“No…” she gasped out, understanding what he was about to do. “NO-AAAAGH” she let out a shriek as he forced the tip through her empty socket, smashing her orbital bone to pieces with his roughness.

“Now… You guys remember Ren, right? Our little friend here, she’s kinda like him ya see? But she has something else… special to her.” Strade was talking to the camera again, sliding the tip of his cock in and out, like he was teasing someone's begging hole.

Willow had her spare eye shut tight, screaming. She didn’t want to see the stickiness of her blood and muscles clinging to Strades cock as he teased her hole. She just wanted the pain to end.

“Really though, I’m such an asshole aren’t I? Teasing the girl so, I should just give her what she wants, shouldn’t I?” Strade said, letting out a laugh. There was no cruelty in the laugh, no mocking though. It was the kind of laugh Willow would hear from a good natured father at a neighborhood barbeque.

And that only made her feel even-

Her thoughts were cut off as Strade plunged in, into her skull, tearing apart her gray matter. It was almost instant, she was gone. She couldn’t hear Strade talking about his plans of what to do with her body before she woke up.

She couldn’t hear the pings of chat questioning “waking up”. She was just gone.

Until she wasn’t, until she was back and gasping, staring at the floor. Both eyes were back, though her right one was a bit sore.

“Aaah, look at that! Like I never even laid a little finger on her! What’s that, Willow? Number seven?”

Her eyes darted up to Strade, then back at the computer screen. The chat was flying by faster than anyone could read. She couldn’t catch a single word or comment.

“Well, she seems like she’s still in shock… She isn’t much fun like this is she?” Strade was laughing again, patting her on the back like she had just completed a marathon… not just died at his hand.

Strade glanced over at the chat, before tutting.

“How can some of you say it's fake? You saw what I did to her!” Strade pulled out his phone, opening it up. “Let me show her the pictures too!”

Willow didn’t want to see, she really didn’t want to. But she still felt like she couldn’t move. Strade dangled the device in front of her, showing her…

Skull split open, cleaved in half, he must have taken an ax to it or something. A mess of reds and pinks, teeth strewn across the floor like confetti. It didn’t even look like a person anymore, much less like her.

She could barely feel the bile rising in her throat, until it all hit her at once. She doubled over, gagging as she began to vomit. Her stomach didn’t have much to give, but it didn’t stop her body from trying, hot spit and stomach acid spilling down her chin and chest.

And so Strade had signed off from the stream… patted her cheek, wiped her up a bit, and told her good job…. But it had only been the start…

6.

The next one was also lost on the stream. She had become…. A “favorite” according to Strade. Someone who could last a long time, who they could torture lethally and see her reaction when she came back.

She could remember painfully the feeling of the chain around her throat, her legs kicking for a place to stand, how her fingers trying to pry the unforgiving length from around her throat ended up instead, tearing the flesh away from her tender neck.

How she could feel each major organ cramping and dying when it ran out of oxygen… how finally, the world closed in around her, unable to lift her arms to even try and pry the chain off. Waking up covered in sweat on the basement floor as Strade “signed off” as he called it.

Now he was here again, sharpening a knife, whistling, setting up the camera and laptop.

“Strade please… Anything but that…” her voice was a raspy whimper. Strade raised an eyebrow.

“Aww, little katzchen… But you’re making me so much money… Aren’t you happy to be such a star?” he asked, reaching forward to ruffle her hair. She flinched away from his touch. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to die again, she just wanted to live… anything to live.

“... I’ll do it.” she gasped out, just as he began hooking up the cables. He stopped. What would she do? Her mind was racing. Hurt herself for them? No, she’d just die again. What could she do. What could she do…

“F-Find someone else. I’ll kill them for you.” she jerked at her bonds, attempting to bow before him, wanting to show absolute submission.

“Aah, for me, huh?...” Strade was tapping his chin, she could hear it in his voice. This was amusing to him. But it wasn’t convincing him. She needed to convince someone else.

“I’ll kill them for THEM.” she corrected herself, eyes now darting towards the laptop. “Chat. I’ll do whatever they tell me. I’ll… I’ll be good for them. I’ll do what they want… Just please, don’t kill me again.”

There was silence for a moment. He was thinking about it. Hope bubbled up in her chest. If she got him properly thinking about it, she had a chance. She just needed a chance.

“... You know, Willow.” She looked up as he said her name. He was leaning down now, leaning in towards her. Face to face. “They aren’t that easy to please… They won’t like it if you squirm or hesitate.”

He had an… odd expression. Was that pity on his face? Or something like it? She swallowed the lump in her throat, and straightened up as best she could.

“I’ll do it. I’ll… I’ll be a good host.” she had too. She had to do this. She needed to do this to live. Even if it meant taking another life.

She had cast her die. She had swallowed down her fear. A knife in one hand, a collar with a chain around her throat. Walking in front of the camera, pushing down her urge to cuss them out.

“Good evening, everyone!” she tilted her head, smiling. “I know you’re so so used to me being on the receiving end… Ah! I can see how confused you all are! Don’t worry!” she made her arms make big motions, she bent over to look into the camera like it was a set of eyes.

“You’re still gonna get a show! I’ll just be running it!...” she gave a flirty wink. Her stomach gave a lurch. She swallowed the urge to tell them to be gentle with her for her first time.

Instead, she stepped aside, showing off today's victim. A very pretty young woman, who was hyperventilating as she stared up at Willow. Willow had no idea how Strade got her, she didn’t want to know. All she needed to know was that this was her victim. Her ear gave a flick as the ping of a donation came in.

“Oh! Already with a request?” she kept her voice light, even, bubbly. She leaned over to read. Her smile was a mask, hiding her disgust and horror as she read the request.

B4B3H4T3R: Think you’re gonna be good at this then, bitch? Cut off her clit and eat it.

She wanted to puke. She let out a laugh. A tinkly, unnatural laugh.

“Going right for it, huh! Of course I can do that!” she ran her tongue over the knife, giving another wink.

“By the way… My name isn’t “Bitch.” she approached the woman, who was cowering, unable to read the chat. Unable to tell what was coming.

She gave a glance back.

“I’m 4LivesDown. Or you can just call me 4. I’m not too picky.”

.

.

.

Willow now stood, in front of that familiar camera, waiting as Strade set up again. She had been a hit. She’d done well, well enough that Strade allowed her to live. She was trapped down here still, but she was given meals, her chain allowed her to use the basement bathroom to shower, and if she asked very nicely, Strade would bring her books or puzzles to do.

Today's victim was silent, keeping her eyes on her. Willow ignored them, she got good at that. She had no need to pay attention to what was just a piece of meat.

“Okay, Katzchen! You’re live!” Strade said, before taking a seat behind the laptop. His usual place, for a good view. And once the show was over he’d grab her by the chain and pull her over there, shove his cock into her face or cunt, relieve himself. But she was still alive. And she told herself constantly that that was all that mattered.

“Hello everyone!” Willow turned to face the camera, watching as people poured in. Her smile was no longer forced, she could do it naturally now. She shimmied her hips a little, before bending over the read the chat.

“Aww, I missed you too, FULLYL0ADED!” she blew a kiss towards the laptop, before standing back up. Today’s victim was still quiet, still had her eyes on her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, babe!” The pet name she used for almost every captive slid off her tongue like oil. “Want me to introduce you?”

She knelt down beside them, grabbing their face and making them look at the camera.

“This is chat! They’re all so eager to see you!... and your insides! I wonder what part they wanna see first!” Willow perked up at the sound of a donation, and began to crawl forward to read it.

Her first hint that something was wrong was Strade’s expression. His smile slid down as his eyebrows flew up. He began to stand.

Something had her by the tail, she scrambled against it, yelping in pain as it pulled her back. Her fingers flew towards the camera, knocking it to the ground. It didn’t stop working though, it only served to give an optimal angle to her predicament. She looked up wildly at the laptop, to see her feed.

The glint of metal in the captives hands as she raised a fist above her.

“Where’d you get that?” she asked. Her mind was blank as she watched it plunge downwards on stream, felt something dig into the back of her neck, felt her entire body go limp as she mouthed.

Strade was yelling something now, tearing the captive off her. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She just stared into her own shocked face on the laptop. Watched her own eyes dim, before the world went dark…

Back to the river she had gone without seeing for so long. It greeted her like an old friend, lapping at her. She was going to miss her show. She really needed to get back to it. Panic hit her.

If she didn’t do well on the show… Strade would make her the victim again. She felt like she was moving so sluggish and slow though, she couldn’t make herself dive into the water, return again.

“Let me back, let me back.” She begged the unfeeling waves. “I don’t wanna die…” she began digging into the water as if it were dirt, hoping that if she scooped up enough a hole would open up back to the basement. Her movements were frenzied, until finally, she was able to dive beneath the surface-

And her eyes flew open.

“I’m sorry!” She yelled, almost immediately. “I’m so sorry that happened!” she moved to face where she remembered the laptop was. It’s screen was dark.

“... I ended the stream. Not much to show off anymore.” Strade’s voice was quiet, from behind her. She turned to face him. He was sitting on the ground, her victim lay motionless off to the side. Her hair was matted with blood. It looked like Strade had taken a hammer to her.

She looked back at him. He had a look she had never seen on his face before. He was… observing her. Eyes squinted, eyebrows scrunched, mouth partially open.

“... Come on, Katzchen.” he said, letting out a sigh, then smiling. Like he had just accepted something with himself.

She stayed still as he reached forward, flinching as she felt the chain around her collar unlock, and fall to the floor.

“Let’s get you upstairs, alright?”

[johaerys-writes]

Get to know me

I was tagged by @baejax-the-great, thank you so much pal! 

Share your wallpaper: My phone background for the past six months or so has been the same Patrochilles art that I'm actually not sure if I should post here without permission from the artist lol. But I can confirm that it's the cutest, most loveliest drawing of them, and Achilles looks so baby in it and I love staring at it every time I open up my phone :')

The last song you listened to: Unbound by Asgeir

Currently Reading:  Ten Days That Shook The World by John Reed (don't ask why or how, but my autistic Special Interest of choice for the past 2-3 weeks has been the political intrigue surrounding WWI and how it fuelled the October Revolution so I've been reading any book/watching any documentary I can get my hands on about it), and I've also been listening to The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath while doing chores and stuff

Last Movie: Everything Everywhere All at Once with @baejax-the-great

Craving: Travel :|

What are you wearing right now: My fluffiest house robe and my fluffy slippers and super comfy and soft socks, and yes I'm still in pyjamas 

How tall are you: 167 cm, no idea how that translates in feet and inches lol don't make me google it

Piercings: I have one piercing in each ear, I've often thought about getting more but needles be scary 

Tattoos: 6, and planning to finish my half sleeve by the end of the year

Glasses? Contacts?: Glasses, and I do sometimes wear contacts as well

Last drink: I am currently drinking some lukewarm coffee with oat milk :3

Last show: In the past couple years I've become so bad with starting shows and actually sticking with them lol, but I did do a rewatch of Neon Genesis Evangelion fairly recently..... OH and I watched Interview with the Vampire with @baejax-the-great a little while back which was super fun!! (because apparently I can't watch something unless I can shit talk or go feral over it with Bae LOL)

Last thing you ate: Toast with peanut butter and an apple

Favourite colour: Oooh that's such a hard question to answer!! The first colour that comes to mind is blue -- I always gravitate towards some version of blue, and currently it's deep navy blue, but I also own a lot of powder blue stuff. It's either that or baby pink or cream tbh, but I also own a good amount of gold/mustard things as well. Yellow makes me happy. I find jewel green incredibly pretty though I weirdly don't own anything of that colour (which reminds me I should perhaps make that a priority)

Current obsession: I'm guessing this is a fandom related question, so I'm going to be predictable and say that I'm, as usual, obsessed with Patrochilles and most of the other pairings I am currently writing, even though anxiety over real life stuff hasn't let me engage with them as much as I want lately. I do think about them a lot and have lots of ideas for new stories, and I'm also working my way back into catching up with fics I love, which I haven't been able to do in a while despite the joy it normally gives me. Brains can be very uncooperative at times, but what can you do about it lol. 

Unrelated Obsession: As I mentioned earlier I have been obsessed with Russian and generally European politics of the early 20th century for some weird ass reason lmao, but I've also been reading an in-depth analysis of Aeschylus' life and work I found in some corner of my library, which led me to looking up some academic papers about it, which led me to signing up for an online course about Athenian tragedy, so um?? I don't know what it is with me and going down those endless rabbit holes lately ahah. 

Any pets: I have a cat, aka a baby and a bastard and a devil spawn all wrapped in one (he is currently sleeping like an angel after attempting to tear down the curtains)

Do you have a crush on anyone: Um. Like, on a real life person? A fictional person? I do have crushes on several of my mutuals so if y'all are reading it I'm kissing you on the forehead MWAH

Favourite fictional character: I can't choose, don't make me choose!!!!!!! I can't choose between my children. But if I had to choose then maybe.... Patroclus? But also, Achilles? But also, my OC Tristan Trevelyan and Dorian Pavus from DA? But also Shiro and Keith from VLD? But also -- SEE, IT'S IMPOSSIBLE TO CHOOSE

The last place you traveled: It feels like it's been SO long since I've traveled anywhere. I went to Aegina island last summer but since then I haven't been outside the city for even a DAY and it's been driving me crazy. I just need to see some green and blue and listen to nothing but birds or waves or the wind (at this point I'll even take the rooster that woke me up EVERY DAMN MORNING when I was in Aegina lmao). I'm planning on going on a day trip to Mycenae soon though so I'm very excited about that 😄

Tagging forth to @in-arlathan, @mogwaei, @tessa1972, @aymayzing, @inquisitoracorn, @tevivinter, @elveny, @pikapeppa, @petrowriting @peggy-sue-reads-a-book @juliafied, @vimlos, @gloriesunsung, @figsandphiltatos, @gwensparlour, @glimmerofgold, @sabino-sea, and so many more of my mutuals that I'm actually too shy to tag here. But seriously if you're reading this and it looks fun please do it and tag me, I'm nosy and I want to know everything about you LOL  

[lolwhosalex]

my cat will eat anything left on the counter. he ate a full stick of butter before. full. ass. stick.

[kyevs]

I had a cheat day today bc I spent the day at my parents' cat-sitting and didn't think to pack food so I had a giant coffee, an egg and cheese sammich on a croissant, some slices of american cheese and some cashews as a snack, and then I ordered from duffy's for dinner and had some mozzarella sticks and a grilled mahi mahi sammich with tomato, lettuce, and onion and tartar sauce and a couple bites of steamed broccoli. Oh, I also had like a handful of peanut butter M&Ms. Living dangerously.

Yesterday 7/3/23 I had salmon and asparagus for dinner but I don't remember much past that. I did have a smoothie with strawberries and matcha I think for breakfast. I know I ate a ton of celery with sour cream dip at some point, but I can't remember if I ate lunch.

[surveysand]

fifty.

Do you like using cinnamon on or in any of your food? i love cinnamon butter on toast, but other than that, no.

Did you ever make fortune tellers as a kid? only a few times.

Do you know how to cook or bake? i'm an okay better and a terrible cooker.

Who is the best cook in your family? my godfather.

Which berry is your favorite? strawberry.

What is your favorite thing to eat for breakfast? a bagel and egg.

Do you prefer cappuccinos or frappuccinos? cappuccinos.

Have you ever tried to learn a foreign language? i took five years of french throughout middle and high school and genuinely tried to get it to stick, but i've forgotten so much.

Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean? ocean, but i only will go where my feet can touch.

Do you own any leather-bound books? no.

Which baby animal is your favorite? baby pandas.

Do you like jam on your toast and biscuits? yes.

What was the scent of the last candle you burned? i don't know the exact name (and i'm too lazy to get up and check), but it's a vanilla-based, fall scent.

Are there any plants in your home? only fake ones.

Do you prefer honey, sugar, or something else as a sweetener? sugar.

What food does honey go best with? yogurt.

When is the last time you were lazy and just curled up to read a good book? a few weeks ago.

What was on the last sandwich that you ate? a burger, technically, so a burger patty, cheese, onion, ketchup, and mayo.

Have you ever carved a pumpkin? yes.

What is your favorite type of weather? low seventies, slightly breezy, overcast.

Do you love seeing frost hanging off leaves in the Winter? yes.

Do you love all the rain that Spring brings? yes.

Do you prefer wrapping presents or putting them in a bag? a bag, though i love wrapping them.

If your friend made you a batch of cookies, what cookies would you like them to be? chocolate chip.

What is your favorite book? the book thief by markus zusak.

Have you ever reread a book? many times.

What is your dream house like? a two-story penthouse. closed floor plan. large bedrooms and bathrooms.

Would you ever like to own a chandelier? sure.

What scent is the last body wash you used? coconut shea butter.

Do you have any religious symbols in your home? no.

What religion do you identify with, if any? none, though i was raised in the catholic church.

If you could have a small garden in your backyard, what would you plant? sunflowers.

What pets have you had while growing up? three dogs, a cat, and a rabbit. i got my own dog when i moved out of my parents' house.

If you went to an art museum, what do you think you would want to see first? i just go in order of the rooms.

What type of museum would you like to go to? i would love a to see a queer history museum.

Do you enjoy those tins of butter cookies? i haven't had them in so long, i don't remember if i liked them or not.

Are you diligent with your studies? yes.

Do you prefer to eat ice cream from a cone or a cup? cup.

When is the last time you went to a carnival? several years ago.

Have you ever been to the circus? yes, once when i was very young.

Do you own any art supplies? yes.

Do you have a favorite glass, cup, or mug? yes.

What are some of your favorite scents? vanilla, coconut, floral tones.

What is you favorite flavor of pudding and/or yogurt? vanilla pudding, blueberry yogurt.

Do you have a daily planner that you write in? no, but i did when i was in school.

What branch of science interests you the most? neuroscience.

Do you prefer writing in pen or pencil? pen.

How many notebooks do you own? Are they all filled? a few. none are filled completely.

Do you enjoy flavored coffee? If so, which flavor is your favorite? yes, caramel is my favorite.

What kind of tea is your favorite? sweet. i don't drink warm tea ever.

[aiweirdness]

Botober 2021: pls draw the AI a sluggalope

Because I so dearly love it when humans play along when computers ask for silly things, I have generated drawing prompts for #botober2021!

(full plaintext versions on the AI Weirdness blog post, and also at the end of this post, since Tumblr severely limits alt text length)

I've managed to get GPT-3 to follow themes. Here's "animals".

It turns out the model size makes a difference as to how well a neural net can stick with my #botober2021 drawing prompts theme.

The largest GPT-3 model, DaVinci, really got into the Halloween spirit, though as usual it's weird and wordy.

I got the Ada, the smallest GPT-3 model, to generate a list of Halloween #botober2021 prompts but sometimes its link to the theme is a bit tenuous.

Maybe it's a spooky half a cup of milk?

For my last list of #botober2021 drawing prompts I had the DaVinci GPT-3 model follow "Landscapes" as a theme.

If you draw any of these, please tag them with #botober2021 because I'm dying to see how they come out.

For full plaintext, keep reading!

Animals:

- Opossumsaurus

- Rainbow space walrus

- The roars of roosters

- Sluggalope

- Adventurous stone chickens

- Fricken WHALE

- 4D Stegosaurus

- 8-legged cat

- Bearllionaire

- Impossibly cute pudgy birds

- Muppet sharks

- Fluffy space lemur

- Tiny shelled horses

- Angry jelly doughnut

- Roaring Ball of Feathers

- Butter gliders

- Dangerous swans

- Gleaming toads

- Worm That Ate Chicago

- Teeter-totter-rattlesnake

- Loud frilly cows

- Way Too Much Cat

- Steampunk platypus

- Heavenly caterpillar

- Elderly robot pug

- 6 legged wombatquail

- Angry eohippuses

- Firefly squid

- Porcelain squirrel

- Fabled unicycle beavers

- Godcockroach

Halloween (GPT-3 DaVinci model)

Howling canine ghosts scale the cathedral town pillars

leaves shaped like pumpkin smiles litter the sidewalks

spiderwebs grow luscious on wet pumpkin grins

'thank you' trees lean out of residences

black insects settle leaves

mouth mouth mouth mouth mouth mouth

snaking cobwebs mass on stalks

red eyeballs hit backlit branches

the wet forest steps on soft squirrel skins

murmurous forest insects smell caramel apples

haunting trees grow cuter on lighter dirt

planet-sized moon speaks 'hello'

Thanks for the original drawings, which are utterly delightful.

the night sky kisses blood oranges lined with white

headless animals shiver in their sleep

moustaches creep creepily

slouching gargoyles lay spooky stones

something is sitting in the center of the spectre tapestries

the unseen graveyard stretches for miles

deep-skulled jack-o'-lanterns smell the warmth of my nose

this town is filled with orange dust

mist-sheep chew on tombstones

a scarecrow cuts a pumpkin with a sharp scythe from a wooden block

the graveworm snatches out the eyes of strangers who come by

mist lamps glow with circling green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange...

monsters crawl through alien fur

spooky house skulls peeking out of the dreamlike brambles

gangly moonlit grave rabbits lurk outside the windows

murder rats roam the streets below the buried Earth

a shrub plays the banjo from the shadows

pumpkins melt quietly, quietly

the white skull leans out of the tower of the Palace of the End

Halloween (GPT-3 Ada model)

1. The masked skeleton

2. The question mark from a box

3. Excuse me a minute a giant sphere

4. Five water bubbles in a crate

5. The goliath

6. Half a cup of milk

7. The super hero skull

8. A flappy spider

9. A flappy tea

10. Parts of a cow

11. Parts of a giraffe

12. Robots are weird

13. The watermelon fountain

14. The ghost in the closet

15. One spark walking to the other side of the room

16. Dangerous drops

17. A bat bat bat bat bat bat bat bat bat bat bat

18. Cows face the moon

19. Five eggs eggs eggs eggs eggs eggs eggs

20. Ghost traitors

21. The animals belong to space aliens

22. A zombl

23. The bubbleberry

24. No hands

25. The back of a zombie

26. The funny, psychedelic slime

27. Run like a bunny

28. Creepy cats

29. Old flames

30. A mushroom person

31. Holes

Landscapes (GPT-3 DaVinci model)

Glowing, purple starfish forest

Library of lava

Chalk canyon

Forbidden kale forest

Hillside terrain of hundreds of gray hats

Labyrinth of rocks and steam

Mirror forest filled with reflective crystals

Botanical mazes of white lace and trees

Sea of razors

Greenhouse glade filled with a bubble machine

Noctilucent glaciers

Forest of not-trees

Small rocky islands floating in a sky of lemons

Caverns of glass

Village constructed like the game Mousetrap

Needles of obsidian and frozen squalls

Hospitality space, enviropod

Forest of feather trees and shimmer lights

Ant fort of jeweled pastry, there is a tiny ant fort

Dark carnival caves

Skull forest

Plains of stardust and purple flowers

The fungal kingdom

Fallen horizon

Farm field covered with tiny triangular cups of tea

An outpost of accordion trees

Fortuneteller's grove, toad boulders

Botanical plate tectonics

Geode catacombs

Field of gravity-shifted stones

Perpetual storm field barricaded by a curtain made of clouds

[just-some-random-blogger]

BEL WAS NOT JOKING I DIED

WAIT MY CLIPBOARD ATE IT BUT THE FIRST PART WHERE HE SAID SHE WAS SO EXCITED TO BE DAEMONS MAID me. She like me fr. Me as fuckkkkk

WIAT I LOST OTHER PARTS TOO FUCK I HATER HERE. anyway the parts where she was monologuing about how desperate she was to fuck daemon HAHAHAHAHAHH I felt that but also HAHAHHAAHHAH CALM YOSELFFF FOOL

Also the part where it's mentioned whores are like bottom of the barrel low (👎) and servants are one step higher HAHAHAHA SHE TRYNA GET DEMOTED OR WHAT AHAHAHAH IDK ITS JUST SO FUNNY TO ME AHHHH AHHAAHHAH 💀💀💀

Sweat prickles the back of her neck as he is revealed to her, her mouth running dry at the sight of him, thick thighs slightly parted as he stands with his feet planted. She catches his eye as she glances upwards and her breath sticks in her throat. He is watching her ogle him. The faintest twitch of his brow is his only reaction. She cannot tell if it is amusement or annoyance.

NO CUZ RHE WAY YOU HAVENT PUT ANNYYYYY DIALOGUE HASSSS MEEEEEE GAGGGGGGGGEEEEEDDDDD ITS SOOOO AHHHHHHHH ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT WAITING YEARING FOR THEM TO SPEAK UGHHHHHH CINNEEEEMMMAAAAAAAAAAA (LITERATURE) SOO GUCKING GOOOFFFF

The tightness in his muscles melts like butter beneath her touch as she works her way down the length of his arms, watching the way the tension he has been clinging onto dissipates with every sweep of her hands across his body.

SANA OL (an expression for I wish basically) MELTS LIKE BUTTER

“Do you wish to fuck me, little maid?” he asks, voice low, the slightest of smirks upon his face.

THE GIGGGLEE RHE SWUEALLL I LET OUTTT YOU DONT UNDERSTANDDD AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

She lets out a squeal when, clearly dissatisfied with her silence, he hauls her into the tub with him. She sits astride him, shift soaking wet and clinging to the contours of her body as she attempts to control her breathing. His hands grip her waist, holding her in place to ensure she doesn’t try to climb back out. The hardness of his body against hers, the warmth of the water lapping against her skin, the heady aroma of rose and lavender, it is all too much. Her head swims with the effort to keep her composure. 

Daemon reaches up, tweaking the hardened peak of her nipple that pebbles through the wet fabric, making her whine and clench around nothing. “You didn’t answer me - but I think I already know the answer. I see the way you look at me, the way you prance about my chamber like a bitch in heat.”

SOOOOO URRR SAYYYINNGGGG G UUUUU NOOOTTICCCEEEDDD MEEEEE 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮 FUCK ME RIGHT NOW OLD MAN

“Say it,” he commands forcefully, removing his hand from between her legs.

SAYING IT SO LOUDLY

His fingers curl themselves into the hair at the back of her head, gently tugging her back, an air of smugness etched across his handsome features as he looks up at her. “You will not hide from me,” he says huskily. “You wanted me to fuck you, so you will let me watch you as I do it.”

“Good girl,” he whispers.

The slight threat that simmers beneath his words sends a shiver of excitement through her. The bath water begins to sway with the undulation of his hips as they thrust languidly up into hers. His pace is lazy, unhurried, yet every stroke is achingly deep as the head of him brushes against the rough patch inside of her that causes her toes to curl involuntarily. He is like a cat playing with a mouse, his eyes never leaving her face, studying every slackening of her jaw and slight scrunch of her nose as he fucks himself into her.

THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE BLUEPRINT. THIS IS HOW YOU WRITE SMUT. EVERYONE ELSE PLAYING AROUND THIS IS SO GOOD FUCKKKKKKKK FUCKKKK FUCK MEE

As he coaxes her towards her peak, she feels a familiar pressure building inside of her. It crashes over her in white hot waves, causing her to slump against Daemon’s chest with a cry of ecstasy. She feels boneless, weightless, but he is far from done with her.

He strokes her back absentmindedly, his fingers plucking at the wet shift that sticks to it. “Take this off,” he whispers, “and go to my bedchambers. We shall see if you are as good at warming my bed as you are at making my bath go cold.”

Ask, and You Shall Receive

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x femme Warnings: Mentions of female masturbation, slight coercion and degradation, smut. Word count: ~2k

Summary: Daemon's maidservant has been quietly lusting after him for three months, waiting for him to make the first move. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications for updates of when I post fics. Community labels are for cops. Thank you to my boobear @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for giving this her stamp of approving, and beta'ing what my antibiotic addled mind was unable to.

When she’d first been assigned the duty of serving as Prince Daemon Targaryen’s maidservant, a rush of excitement had run hotly through her veins.

There were many names that the King’s younger brother went by, but the one that intrigued her most was Lord Flea Bottom, a moniker earned for how often he was seen in that particular part of the capital. It was no secret that the Rogue Prince enjoyed the company of whores; he frequented all of the pleasure houses within the Street of Silk, despite his marriage to Lady Rhea Royce, and no matter how much nobles and smallfolk alike enjoyed gossiping about his exploits, he was undeterred from this salacious behaviour. Daemon was not a man who concerned himself with the opinions or approval of others.

She had lusted after the Prince from afar for as long as she’d worked at the Keep, and ordinarily she’d never dream that someone of such high standing would give her the slightest bit of attention - she was a lowborn servant, a nobody - yet learning he frequented brothels gave her a glimmer of hope that he might deign to give her the attention she so desperately craved from him. A maidservant was certainly a step up from a common whore, and at the very least he would not have to part with coin in exchange for her company.

Much to her disappointment, it has been three months since she began attending to Daemon and he has not so much as spared a glance her way. He returns each evening from his duties as Commander of the City Watch, and she draws him a bath before helping him from his gold cloak and armour.

She allows herself the briefest gaze of admiration before averting her eyes, feeling her skin grow heated whenever he stands bare before her, tall, broad and godlike. He is the very image of power itself, surely hand-carved by the Seven.

When he reclines in the tub full of steamy water, her eyes roam appreciatively over the breadth of his chest and shoulders as she drags the dampened wash cloth across them, down the length of his arms and the span of his large hands.

The silken strands of his silver hair are impossibly soft against her fingers as she runs them through it, washing away the dirt of the city. The rumble of contentment that vibrates in his throat as her fingertips work against his scalp has desire pooling between her legs. She wonders what else she could do to elicit those sounds from him. Alas, no matter how deftly she washes his body and attends to his needs, he has never touched her. Though he is utterly relaxed in her presence, it seems to be in spite of it rather than because of it. 

This frustrates her. She goes to bed each night pent up, her hand slipping between her legs and bringing herself to release, imagining what it would feel like to have his dampened body move against her own.

There is fire in his eyes when he returns to his quarters that evening, his brow furrowed in long spent anger, his jaw set in a way that indicates he is in no mood to talk. The darkened maroon splatters on his breastplate are doubtless dried blood, and not his own.

She longs to ask what has happened, but knows better. It is not her place to question a Prince. She has heard talk of Daemon putting tougher measures in place to deal with the rapists of King’s Landing, a recent development. She suspects that this is likely the cause of his bloodied ire tonight. Her heart swells at the thought of his chivalrous bravery. Longing to reward him for his service to the people of the city, and perhaps a last ditch attempt at gaining his attention, she decides to put extra care into his evening bath.

She ensures the water is slightly hotter than usual, scented with rose and lavender, and sets oils beside the tub, almond to use on his hair, and lemon for his body. Her final action is to strip down to just her shift, stepping out of the dress she wears that identifies her as serving staff of the Red Keep and shedding her smallclothes. She wants him to see her. If he takes offence or queries it, she reasons that she will simply apologise and say that the warmth of his bath was making her too hot. However, somehow she doubts he will be offended.

As she steps towards him to begin helping with the removal of his armour, she notices his eyes drift over her body. Covered only by a thin layer of cotton, her silhouette is illuminated through the material by the soft light of the candles that burn throughout the chamber. He says nothing, standing in silence and allowing her to disrobe him. She places each heavy piece carefully to one side, as always, though this time her hands shake with the effort.

Sweat prickles the back of her neck as he is revealed to her, her mouth running dry at the sight of him, thick thighs slightly parted as he stands with his feet planted. She catches his eye as she glances upwards and her breath sticks in her throat. He is watching her ogle him. The faintest twitch of his brow is his only reaction. She cannot tell if it is amusement or annoyance.

He lets out a low hum of appreciation as he steps into the tub, clearly noticing the difference in both scent and temperature. A small smile of pride tugs at her lips as she steps behind him, preparing to begin their nightly routine.

Carefully she wets his hair, cupping water into her hands and spreading it from root to tip, before coating her palms and fingertips in almond oil and working it through his pale tresses. She takes her time, rubbing tight, slightly pressured circles against his scalp, noticing the way his eyelids drift closed, leaning into her touch. She forgoes the use of the washcloth this evening, pouring lemon essence directly into her hands and massaging it into his chest and shoulders. The tightness in his muscles melts like butter beneath her touch as she works her way down the length of his arms, watching the way the tension he has been clinging onto dissipates with every sweep of her hands across his body.

As she moves lower, about to dip her hand beneath the surface of the bathwater, she lets out a small gasp, caught off guard by the suddenness with which Daemon grasps her wrist - not applying enough pressure to hurt her, but enough for her to know she can no longer move her arm of her own volition. Her wide eyes stare at him imploringly, though his expression is impassive as he regards her carefully.

“Do you wish to fuck me, little maid?” he asks, voice low, the slightest of smirks upon his face.

She feels as though all the air has been sucked from the room. Her heart hammers wildly in her chest as her lips part in shock. She knows that Daemon speaks plainly, but she had never expected him to be so lewd, so direct. It has warmth blooming in her lower belly. A dull, throbbing ache settles between her legs.

She lets out a squeal when, clearly dissatisfied with her silence, he hauls her into the tub with him. She sits astride him, shift soaking wet and clinging to the contours of her body as she attempts to control her breathing. His hands grip her waist, holding her in place to ensure she doesn’t try to climb back out. The hardness of his body against hers, the warmth of the water lapping against her skin, the heady aroma of rose and lavender, it is all too much. Her head swims with the effort to keep her composure. 

This is all she has ever wanted. Yet, she knows one wrong move could spoil it all.

Daemon reaches up, tweaking the hardened peak of her nipple that pebbles through the wet fabric, making her whine and clench around nothing. “You didn’t answer me - but I think I already know the answer. I see the way you look at me, the way you prance about my chamber like a bitch in heat.”

She squirms, mewling desperately when he hands push her soaked cotton of her shift above her hips, his thumb dipping between her legs to lightly circle her pearl. She clings tightly to his shoulders for support, wanting to say something, anything, but the words will not come. Mercifully, he is eager to speak for both of them.

“The thing is, little maid, wanton sluts don’t get what they want unless they ask nicely. Did you really think the power of your feminine charm alone would be enough to entice me? I am a Prince. People beg for my attention, not the other way around.”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly with effort it takes her to remember to breathe. Her thighs shake either side of Daemon’s hips as he continues to rub against her sensitive bud. Her brows are knitted together, an expression of both unbridled pleasure and humiliation.

He chuckles quietly. “So, are you ready to ask for what it is you want?”

Resolve crumbling, she nods fervently, hoping he will take mercy on her, but it is not enough.

“Say it,” he commands forcefully, removing his hand from between her legs.

When she eventually finds her voice, it sounds foreign to her, broken and pitiful, not her own. “P-please…Your Grace…I-I want you to fuck me.”

“Good girl,” he whispers.

She barely has time to register the weightiness of his thick cock as it rests against his palm before he is pressing it inside of her, its girth pushing apart her fleshy inner walls with its brutal intrusion. Though she is adequately aroused, it is a stretch to accommodate him. She muffles a squeak into the crook of his neck as he sheathes himself fully within her.

His fingers curl themselves into the hair at the back of her head, gently tugging her back, an air of smugness etched across his handsome features as he looks up at her. “You will not hide from me,” he says huskily. “You wanted me to fuck you, so you will let me watch you as I do it.”

The slight threat that simmers beneath his words sends a shiver of excitement through her. The bath water begins to sway with the undulation of his hips as they thrust languidly up into hers. His pace is lazy, unhurried, yet every stroke is achingly deep as the head of him brushes against the rough patch inside of her that causes her toes to curl involuntarily. He is like a cat playing with a mouse, his eyes never leaving her face, studying every slackening of her jaw and slight scrunch of her nose as he fucks himself into her.

As he coaxes her towards her peak, she feels a familiar pressure building inside of her. It crashes over her in white hot waves, causing her to slump against Daemon’s chest with a cry of ecstasy. She feels boneless, weightless, but he is far from done with her.

Seizing her incapacitation as an opportunity, he grasps her hips, quickening his pace and pulling her downwards to meet each snap of his pelvis, the force of his movements causing the water to cascade over the sides of the wooden tub and onto the flagstone floor as he chases his own end. He grunts in satisfaction as he spends inside of her, and in the back of her pleasure-addled mind comes the hazy thought that she will need to drink moon tea in the morning.

They lay as they are for a few moments longer, as Daemon catches his breath, what remains of the bathwater rapidly cooling around them. When she finally has the strength to lift herself from his chest, she sees fire in his eyes once more, though it is not derived from fury. There is warmth behind his gaze, a fondness that she has not seen before.

He strokes her back absentmindedly, his fingers plucking at the wet shift that sticks to it. “Take this off,” he whispers, “and go to my bedchambers. We shall see if you are as good at warming my bed as you are at making my bath go cold.”

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

newspapers publish some bs gossip about harry and draco breaking up

He'd run an extra mile that morning. Ten years ago - hell, even five years ago - it wouldn't even have made a difference. But now he could feel it in the way his right knee creaked a bit in weak protest. He sighed and Apparated into the backyard instead of running back home.

The house was quiet and still. Regulus was crunching hungrily into his bowl in the kitchen, cat food spilling out onto the spotless floor. The kettle was vibrating on the hob, on its way to boiling. Eggs, butter, and bread waited on the counter for Harry to put together breakfast.

He filled up a tall glass with water and drank it standing up, his legs still feeling a bit shaky from his run. He sighed, taking off his glasses so he could mop his face on the hem of his baggy t-shirt. His reflection in the toaster looked like he could do with a nap, and he spotted a new bunch of greys above his temple that hadn't been there last week, surely.

"Oh, look. You've left me at long last."

Harry was still frowning at his greying hair, lower lip sticking out, and the lazy drawl made no difference to his expression whatsoever.

"What," he grunted.

"I told you I should have cancelled that interview yesterday so I could go to King's Cross with you."

"You'd waited eight months for that interview," said Harry, tiredly replacing his glasses and pulling out a bowl.

There was a soft snort. "You don't even read the magazine."

Harry started cracking eggs into the bowl. "I do when you're in it."

"Seems a bit biased."

"In your favour."

"Well, yes."

"Obviously. Why would I read a potions magazine otherwise?"

"Fair." A pause. "I still read about Aurors."

"Only so you can point out everything that you think is wrong." He sprinkled in some salt and went to fetch the milk. "So, why'd I leave you this time?"

"Because I wasn't at the station to wave off our daughter to her first year at school."

"I'm leaving you for that?"

"No, I wasn't there because you're leaving me."

"Ah." He set a nonstick skillet to heat up and threw in a knob of butter.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah."

"Are you actually upset about this? There have been about seven hundred and fifty three articles like this since we started dating."

"What? No, of course I'm not upset."

"Then what's wrong?"

Harry poured the eggs in and picked out a spatula, gently scrambling the mixture and leaning his weight onto his left arm on the counter.

"When did we get so old?" he said, sounding vague and faraway.

"Excuse me. Speak for yourself."

Harry bit his lip over a grin and looked over his shoulder.

The sight was like something out of a painting. Sunlight slanted onto Draco where he sat at the breakfast table, illuminating his ridiculously fair hair, messily falling out of its low ponytail that was pulled over one shoulder. Delicate, expensive reading glasses were perched halfway down his nose and his silver gaze gleamed in amusement at Harry over the top of the Prophet. The smirk had remained unchanged over the years. His dressing gown - midnight blue with a pattern of gold stars- was knotted tightly around his svelte frame, one long leg crossed over the other, fluffy white slippers on his feet.

"We're the same age," Harry reminded him, slipping four slices of bread into the toaster.

"And?"

"And I found a new grey patch." Harry pointed to his head. "Right here."

"I don't have greys."

"Your hair is white."

"White blond."

"I ran an extra mile today and my knee hurts from it."

"There's a reason I don't exercise."

"We're not all blessed with your metabolism."

Draco snorted and turned the page. "Our kids are. James ate a whole cherry pie last week."

Harry tipped the scrambled eggs onto two plates, sighing quietly. When the toast popped up, he buttered them and sent the plates floating to the table.

"You're not really upset." It sounded less like a question and more like an order to stop being upset. When Harry didn't answer, Draco folded the newspaper and laid it next to his plate, pulling his glasses off as he sighed and got to his feet.

"I'm okay," said Harry softly, leaning back against him when he wrapped his arms around Harry and squashed his face into his still sweaty nape.

"I'm not old." Even in his forties, Draco sounded remarkably like a petulant teen.

"No, not you. Never you." Harry didn't even have to pay attention as he put together their mugs of tea.

"You should get your knee looked at."

"I've spent over twenty-five years on the force. It's an occupational hazard or whatever."

"Use the bloody salve I made for your shoulder, Potter."

"Oh, that. I ran out."

"When?!"

"I dunno."

"Fuck. I'll make more, I suppose."

"See, now this is why I could never leave you."

"Oh, for the free potions and balms?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't hear that in your vows though."

"Yeah, I should've remembered to put that in."

"I'm with you for the great sex."

"Obviously."

"You're meant to return the compliment, Potter. You utter shit."

Harry thumped the tea down next to their breakfast and turned to cup his husband's face with both hands, grinning at him.

"Oh, all right. You're spectacular in bed yourself...Potter."

*

(Send me a one-sentence prompt for drarry and I'll do my best!)

[randomanimehoe]

Tokyo revengers head cannons bc I’m not dead, just unmotivated lol

Baji: -washes his hair with dish soap yet it’s still very healthy and amazing -smells like old spice(he took a bite out of a stick of the old spice deodorant when he was a kid and ever since the smell has just lingered for some weird reason) -Weirdo who eats raw broccoli and mushrooms covered in Nutella and mustard -When he’s out eating with friends, stray cats come up to him and beg for food because they know he’ll give it to them. (He always does) -He had a My Chemical Romance and Nirvana phase, I don’t care if the timing of the bands don’t line up with his life you can’t change my mind on this -He’s the friend that everyone steals hoodies from -He would like crocs -Lives at hot topic -He names the stray cats that show up in his room and got a job just to he could pay to get all his Kitties veterinary care. -He wanted to be a vet himself when he grew up… -His favorite candle scent is Black cherry merlot -Went through a two month bread and butter phase. Like seriously, that was all he ate for a hot minute when he was six -His mom put him in theater when he was little. He played the big bad wolf in little red riding hood and cries when he realized he had to pretend to be mean to his classmates. -Overall, I think Baji was a lot more childish than he let on. I miss him 💔

[hisredhysteria]

"And my one true love called me a monster."

Note: I love Courier, so it kinda made me sad to write the end but.....I love Cutthroat just a little more -? This is not very well written— the concept was a spur choice, but it's a little inspired by Gretel's route in Taisho X Alice.

TW: Abusive, yandereish//possessive behavior, blood, guns, violence...also not completely proofread, and Cutthroat may be a little ooc to fit a more yandere like stereotype — (?)

Summary: I literally never know how to summarize anything I write. So basically, Cutthroat kidnapped you and keeps you in a cage. Everyday now, he brings you a new jar filled with a red substance—

Your hands had been cold to the touch, icy from the light snow that dusted the icier glass ground beneath you. Something hurt, inevitably so—it seemed like the tension would seize to be relieved. If it wasn't the very thought of him that haunted you at every ominous echo, it was the numbness that spread throughout your weakening circulation.

Ropes that bound you were coated—coated in terrible essence of an elixir handed to you. A look of delight on his innocent face, upon the jar it'd been in was a ribbon so red it outshined the contents. No way to refuse his delicate gift, you were allowed a game of pretend with every clear glass that came. Like a cat tied to it's owner, his supply of love was seemingly endless. A familiar present to behold you was everyday, tasking you to act as though the jars of cherry red syrup pleased you. Accepting them with a hesitant smile, it was all you'd manage for the moment until you dared to push them away.

His pure sanity seemed skewed, at least, enough to imprison you. That being so, despite his limitless amount of encased crimson poison, you rarely thought to open the jars that came. Much to your capturers dismay, his pale eyes still implored you to do so with all his thoughtful gifts. Nonetheless, a little bit wise with suspicion, you held back. Now—here they lay, piled a mile high at the side of your antique cage.

"C'mon..." He huffed, eyes soft at your hands. "They're only for you, my angel... please....?"

Loneliness ate away at you, even so close to him. It's not as if you never opened a jar. The man himself even noted the crusted over, deeply rose colored ropes were every indication of that. You'd been desperate enough for escape at one point, hysterically spilling the jars amongst your own aching wrists. Sliding through the binds of knotted rope was impossible however. Even if he gifted you a stick of butter to melt, your hands would never separate far. Only far enough to open the jars with a bit of adequacy.

A simple conversation could be all that caused you to cave. All except for the clothes that gave you a hint. The knife that gave you a clue. Even the smell this time was despicable.

"Maybe next time....?" You said, or one could even say asked.

At your words so quiet his eyes would wander, wander to the stack of untouched jars filled with red all placed towards the side of your bird shaped enclosure. A pout was what you earned yourself because your lie was no better than his. Soon enough a tapping noise hummed at the top of the lid as his jar was tight in your hand.

"I promise it's special this time though..." He whined, a fingernail tracing the circular decor bejeweled at the cap. He was right, it at the very least looked special, but with his words you could only fear what exactly made this one any different than the others.

"Is it...-?"

"His~?"

Your eyes grew wide as you pulled the jar further from his lingering reach. You didn't expect him to say anything of the sort, but it would only be so long until one of his jars came back with the blood of someone you knew.

"Cutthroat...? Don't tell me..." You answered back in a choked voice, tears threatening to flood your cage if the bars hadn't been so wide.

"I was looking for him everywhere... I found him though..! I thought maybe you'd like it..." He was all too cheery to add, the smile on his face hiding his devious intent.

Your eyes were glassed over, now staring back at the jar he had gifted you with. Shattered to frail pieces was your heart because you only knew who the contents of today's jar truly belonged to. It hurt worse than your bound wrists to remember when he'd taken you away and if your intuition was right, the person you were with when he had was still out there searching for you. Hugging the jar close to your chest would offer stale comfort, if only you could. But for now, all that was left close to your chest was dwindling hope.

"You're a monster...."

His innocently twisted smile began to fade and in its place was the look of confused irritation "Huh...? But he was getting in the way...if I didn't stop him soon he'd take my angel from me."

"I never belonged to you though..." You reminded him, slowly backing into the other side of your enclosure.

"Of course you did. He was the one that took you from me. Now that you're all mine though, maybe there's really no need for that jar at all....?" His finger on his chin as he gave it hard thought, Cutthroat's arm would eventually reach through the frozen metal bars you were behind. "Awwwe, don't be mean now... give it back. It was mine first, so I get to decide if my angel can have it..." Ironic as it was, the murderer asking for something back that was his first. To play with him like he had you, using his own logic against him proved satisfying.

"No, it was always mine." And to that, you wouldn't be wrong. The liquid that filled this jar belonged to you in some way, even if it wasn't your own blood, it had been your lovers.

The retort appeared to have struck him. Even if for the moment, maybe your disobedience fit into his puzzle somewhere. Cutthroat was all too ready to respond something of his own to you, however he nearly lost the chance at the thunder of jars cracking and tumbling down from the side of your cage. Red liquid coated the ground like rain as shards began to fly astray amongst the fleeting drops. The first time you missed the din that caused this chaos in your cage to ensue, but the second a shot bounced off metal bars, you knew whose weapon was behind it.

"It's no fun to kill if you keep living, you know. I take it now that you're back you want me to try again though, Courier...?" Threat would prove to be a rather gross underestimate of the tone in his darkened voice or the murderous tinge to his purple colored eyes. Because Cutthroat never partook in a cowards playground, his words were only ever allowed to mean promise. He never meant to spare the man his life the first time around, so it only meant the rematch would be easier.

Your heart mended regardless of the jar filled with Courier's blood in your hand. Careful not to become too overjoyed though as facing yet another loss would drag it back down, you were merely trapped between fresh and even coagulated bloody glass. There was nothing you could do once the startling sound of a gun firing filled the hectic air. With it followed sharp pings of his bullets ricocheting in different directions.

The battle would be cheap, unfair at best. As Courier danced and dodged the fatal knives Cutthroat swung, you'd notice that not only was metallic red leaking through his side, there was a small dark gash at the skin on his neck. You thought to plea out for help, to let them both know you wanted out of your cage, but the possibility of distracting your saviours attention is the only reason you wouldn't.

In an abhorrent attack, the white murderer had an elite upper hand. The sound of heavy metal clashing and sliding across the ground filled your ears and you could only watch with horror as Courier fell underneath your kidnapper. Your eyes would fail to wander at first, but for the moment his gun seemed too far from his reach.

"I told you I didn't like sharing. I won't let you touch my angel. Still, those jars can sparkle in even your red... I'll forgive you once you're in full bloom~" A sick cheshire grin on his lips, Cutthroat's knife dug into the skin of Courier's wounded neck. It almost begged to be sliced through and as if he had room to talk in his position, Courier would conjure up a retaliation of his own through strained breaths.

"You shit. I don't remember agreeing to sharing anything with you." Narrowed eyes, Courier's glance threw dagger's much like his counterpart could. His gun was halfway across the ground and far from his outstretched reach. Despite the known distance, his metal hand still instinctually felt around as he listened for the weapon to slide and give clue to where it'd been. His hand would never find it, though if you were fast enough it wouldn't have to.

Your eyes surveyed the area, lost in a mess of bloody snow and glass. Courier's gun was nowhere to be seen until you looked down at your own feet. In your view as you did was the glint of it's barrel. Whispering so softly, your bare feet would have to quickly muster the courage to walk across sharp glass. There was no guarantee of freedom with your choice, for the person who'd come to rescue you was already playing with death. Still, you winced with your split decision.

Carrying you to the edge of the birdcage, your feet would rip and shred from the jars of shattered glass and blood beneath every step. Finally, the gun was within your very reach. Setting down the bejeweled jar from earlier, you fumbled to use your bleeding foot. It would be Cutthroat's mistake not to have bound you by those too, but with fate a second away from your grasp, you found yourself able to get a hold of the gun as they argued back and forth. It was almost harder to grab the grip in a way to accommodate your tied hands, but with time fighting against you, you did the best your hands could allow. Aiming Courier's gun now, you were granted the option of choosing either of their lives to end or continue.

The logical option seemed to be Courier and thus your aim was bodied at Cutthroat. Your jagged breaths told you that taking the life of another was an imminent problem and right as your finger threatened to pull the trigger, Cutthroat's sudden glare up to your own eyes stopped you.

"Oh, how mean of you ....I'm killing him for us though. I wouldn't want my angel to be lonely if both of us died..." His childishly sorrowed tone implied that even shot, he'd manage to end the others life. As much as it hurt to be taken from Courier, Cutthroat's words proved just enough to let the gun slip from your weak grasp again.