#pretend toe beans

[originalartblog]

New gloves!!!

[karmathehalflander]

I had an idea and was incapable of doing anything else until you all saw my vision.

[kiadanta]

Truly the babiest of creatures

[anew-flame]

Almost there Tabbi, almost there

[d3l3t3d-deactivated]

meow

[totsandnuggsrebloggs]

Treat!

Happy Halloween!

[parisiterileymoon]

can you make more cursed cats head cannons please maybe where cat reader got pregnant and maybe see how normal Alastor, Lucifer and Adam would react to finding out cat reader is pregnant 🤰? I love your little cursed cats head cannons and I was hoping for more please

thank you hope you have a great rest of your day

Alastor, Lucifer, and Adam x cat reader (separate)

BAHAHA

~~

You’ve gotten bigger lately. Not to say you’re fat but just noticeably bigger. Lucky, for plot reasons there is a vet in hell. Surprise: it’s kittens not kibble.

Alastor

He wasn’t exactly pleased about this development. “As soon as they can open their eyes we are selling all of them” then you bit him and hissed. No chance you’re getting rid of your kittens. He lights a fire specifically for you to lay by. Gives you treats but pretends he didn’t.

Lucifer

Carries you everywhere. Feeds you people food because his baby deserves the best. Seriously he pampers you. Like rubbing lotion on your toe beans to make sure you don’t get hurt. He also brushes your fur and scratches you in all the right spots. Paints your nails and stuff.

Adam

Hunts down the cat that got you pregnant. Unacceptable. “Cough up the child support, bitch.” He also carries you everywhere. Extremely protective. Uses one of those cat backpacks. After you give birth, he gets you spayed IMMEDIATELY.

[mx-pastelwriting]

GOW HC - Reacting to you having a cat

God of War x GN! Reader

Summary: Reacting to you having a cat.

Warnings: Fluff, Established Relationship, Cat Owner, Fluffy Cats

Characters: Kratos, Thor, Freyr, Heimdall

Kratos

- Didn't care first, but as cats are making a point to cuddle up to him every time he sat or laid down. Pretends he doesn't like them moving the cat to your lap or side of the bed, only for them to come back, and he accepts it.

- Hates it when the cats get in the way of cuddling you in the middle of the night, especially when they take over his side of the bed. Asking you to move the creature, having been down that road before, coming out of it with war injuries.

- Doesn't think twice about leaving you alone at home, knowing what it did to him, ensuring you could throw the cat and be fine against an intruder.

- Loves seeing you cuddle up with the cat. Slowly, he comes to love the furry creature, little by little, when he leaves the house, placing a kiss on your forehead and sometimes the cat’s. They also come to love Kratos mostly for the body heat; purring in his presence for the first time scared the shit out of him.

- Only lets up when secretly catching him cuddling the cat, even hearing how he talked cutely to them, playing with a feather that came from a bird you had for dinner nights ago. When coming out of your hiding spot, shock is the first emotion on his face. Laughing at the situation, from then on, he's not so shy.

Waking to the chaos of Kratos trying to pick up your cat, the ball of fur in his hand, attacking the chain-scarred arms. Quickly removing the angry cat from the bed, watching as it scurries off and out the door, you hold back a laugh at Kratos's state.

Looking at him with tired eyes watching as the scratches on his face heal, "You okay?" you ask, getting only a deep grunt before taking you up in his warm arms.

Minutes later, your cat comes back, having it out for Kratos, laying so elegantly on his pillow, waiting for the moment he would turn over, getting a nose full of hair and toe beans.

-

Thor

- Adores them, being a little distant at first from past experiences, but comes to love them as they comfort him after Odin's words when you're not there too.

- The cat learned not to sleep next to him, being crushed by the thunder god too many times. Though loving the heat from Thor, only now sleeping on his pillow, feet, and hand that is thrown over your waist when cuddling.

- Swearing it was his cat now, from cuddling to kisses, they always welcome him home, forgetting you completely. Though they have their rough patches from your fights or drunken nights, the cat takes your side, making him apologize quickly.

- Feeds the cats most mornings, making sure they get the freshest mix of meats. Talking cutely, not caring if you hear, though gets a bit blushy when you "aww" at it, always gives you both a kiss before heading out for anything.

- Comes to you asking if he could get another cat; depending on your answer, he still brings one home from the wild. Loves cats at any age, would bring home a pregnant cat, watching as him so careful with the mess of the feral mama cat.

Walking through the tall, thick wooden door, greeted by the sight of Thor cuddling up on the bed, spoon-feeding the kittens of the pregnant cat he brought home months ago.

Still remembering how broken his reaction was to you saying that the kittens had to go, tears welding up in his eyes as you explained that having almost ten cats in the house, let alone your bedroom, would drive Odin up the wall, seeing as you both were already on thin ice from just having one.

Hearing his stomached laugh as they all climb on top of his body, fighting to get a lick at the spoon as their mama lay next to him sleeping.

-

Freyr

- Two words, Cat Dad. Love at first sight, even if they hissed, he would talk to them in a cute voice while trying to pet them. Quickly getting the cat to love him took only a few days, with some good treats and tasty critters.

- Gladly gives up his pillow to the furry creature, liking yours better anyway. Sometimes ends up cuddling them instead of you, making some good stories for the crew to hear the next morning. Has no problem with them taking up most of the bed, as it allows him to cuddle closer to you.

- Trains them so that when you go on your trips to other lands, walking along shoulders, staying close, and hunting for meals, the cat will know everything. When the cat isn’t with him in the wild, he brings them back little charms for them to play with, hanging some while others are tied to a stick.

- Overfeeds the poor thing, but it all works out, having them work off the treats in the forests of Vanaheim. Making sure they eat a good meal before coming home to you after an afternoon of exploring the land's forest.

- Gets a little jealous when the cat gets someone else's attention, wanting his furry baby to want him. Cries at night, saying, "They're all grown up" and "They don't need me anymore," with you reminding him they're a cat.

”Jump,” Freyr’s voice commands, making the furry ball jump off his shoulders to a tree branch, earning laughing praise from Freyr.

Walking along the dirt path in the Vanaheim jungle on your way back from one of your favorite stops to relax with the sunset, bring the cat along to get some training in.

Holding the Vanir god’s hand, ready to get home to cook something up, meeting his brown eyes, which sparkled with happiness. Planning on taking the cat to Alfheim, wanting to make sure the furry ball could handle adventuring in the wild alongside you and their papa.

-

Heimdall

- Does not like cats, but when you point out that he acts just like one, something in his brain takes a one-eighty. When you're out of the house, he looks at them, wondering and watching if they are similar.

- Takes naps with the cat; whether knowing or not the cat sleeps against his stomach, it still leaves you to find them like that on the bed. At night, he kicks them out of the room, not wanting to share you or the bed, but as soon as he falls asleep, you crack the door, allowing the cat to cuddle with his pillow or feet.

- Jealous of the creature, if you give them a head kiss, Heimdall wants one too, says their nickname; he wants one too; head scratches don't matter; he wants some too.

- Doesn't hate the cats; he actually kind of likes them, of course, after some time. Pushing some meat straps to the floor, smiling at the cat eating it, softening when they look back up at him with big eyes, making him want to dump the whole plate on the floor.

- When you finally catch him kissing a cuddling the cat, his face drops immediately, moving away quickly, but the cat persists, rumbling up against his arm with their tail feathering his nose. Laughing at the sight, he relaxes a bit but is still a bit shy to show the furry creature some love.

Laying next, Heimdall cuddled up to his leg, purring away as the Aesir god scratched the top of their heads, watching from the kitchen, loving the sight.

Smelling the aroma of the food that sizzled in the pan, risking another look at the pair. As Heimdall reads a new book while the cat rolls over, allowing his hand to scratch their belly, quickly moving away as the cat is going to bite.

Laughing caught the attention of both, embarrassed Heimdall looked away, taking his hand off the cat, causing them to roll over, pressing their feet against his side, cutely winning his heart back. Hesitantly, putting his hand back into the soft fluff, started up the purr machine once more.

-

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @fullmoonwolfer1 @loki-love

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their work being copied, translated, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

[themotherofhorses]

"Simon Riley is toxic," "Simon Riley is a cold and distant man that enjoys inflicting harm on others," and "Ghost is a red flag."

Yada yada yada. Anyways.

Simon Riley LOVES cats.

When she first read his personnel file, her eyes immediately took notice of one certain detail, jotted down on a little yellow sticky note, in red penmanship. Price’s handwriting, she believed.  “Enjoys tattoo art & animals.”  SilentDove smiled at that. Simon Riley, 6’4” and with a fearful reputation that always preceded him, possessed a soft spot for animals — cats, she soon learned. He never spoke about it aloud, but there were signs: the small glances toward a stray kitty sunbathing on the sidewalk; his blue eyes softening the moment they caught sight of the kittens at the local petshop, and all the cat videos he pretended were not clogging up his YouTube history.  Yeah, there were countless signs. 

“Saaayyyy….you ever wanna adopt a kitty-cat, Lieutenant?”  “That’s above ya’s pay grade, Reyes.” 

Three months later, Dove tried again.  "A little brown kitten, Ghost, with pink beans on its toes! Imagine that!" She was holed up in the Lieutenant's office, pestering him with pictures of cats she found on Pinterest. "Brown kittens are super duper rare, y'know that, right?" she asked, showing him a cute brown cat with amber-like eyes. "Look, even the nose is brown!" But all she got in response was a stupid grunt; he didn't even look up from the paperwork he was filing out. Stubborn bastard, Dove thought to herself with a sigh. She fell silent for a moment until Simon suddenly spoke up. "I'd like a Norwegian forest cat," is what he muttered, peeking up to look at Dove. His bright, baby-blue eyes met her dark ones, and the Native American could see a certain softness pooling inside them. A smile twitched on her lips as she sat up straighter.  "Yeah?" Simon hummed. "Damn things are beauties. Ever seen one?" He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Wanna get me one once I retire from all this shit. Name him Shiloh, get him a bell and collar." "Shiloh," Dove breathed out, nodding. She liked the name; it sounded nice on her tongue. Shiloh…c’mere, Shiloh! "Didya know that Viking brides were given Norwegian forest kittens as a wedding present?" as her chin came to rest atop her palm.  His gaze dropped to follow the slight movement before flickering back to her face. "Is that so?" His voice dropped a little, suddenly taking on a huskier tone, instantly sending a small flutter of butterflies inside her tummy. Dove swallowed with another nod.  "Mmmm, in honor of Freyja, the goddess of love. According to the mythology, her cart was pulled by cats; Vikings loved cats, and it was a sorta…good luck for brides to have a kitten in her new household." Dove paused before adding, "—when I get married, I'm gonna ask for a kitten as well. No fancy pots, pans, or cutlery. A cat, one that I'm gonna name Ésevone." "Ésevone?" Simon repeated, cocking his head to the side.  "Buffalo in the Northern Cheyenne language."  "Ah. Ésevone," he rasped again, this time with a nod of his own. "Ésevone and Shiloh. Not bad."  A few seconds of (comfortable) silence fell over the two before— "—Y'know, Ghosty, you actually look like a TOTAL cat dad. Like you got the entire "cat dad" aesthetic down to a T." "Shut up, little bird." 

note: just a small snippet as i try to dive back into writing :D

[saintbleeding]

Hii~

So i saw this on a tumblr post but is very jonmartin

"Jon and Martin are planning their wedding, they want to have their cat as ring bearer (is this how it's called?) But Martin doesn't know the name of the cat because they always call it different nicknames and jon just doesn't tell him and he don't want to admit that after all that years don't know.

Because jon didn't know either! he thinks that the cat is Martin's and he also is trying to figure out the name."

Martin’s not a cat person.

Honestly, he’s just not really an animal person. Like, in general.

The same isn’t true for Jon, of course. On, like, their second date, Jon—who, up until that point, had been all leather elbow patches on his stupid tweed jackets and “hmm, perhaps” and thoughtful squinting—got approached by a cat in the street, and pretty much melted on the spot.

Martin melted, too, but for slightly different reasons.

So it wasn't really a surprise when Jon moved in and Cat started turning up. Sure, it felt a little bit out of character for Jon not to excitedly announce that, one, he'd gotten a pet cat really recently, and, two, he was bringing it into Martin's place, which is a relatively humble little cottage, but Cat seems to free-roam most of the time, so it's not like she's encroaching on much of the space. And, anyway, it's not like Martin hates cats, so he doesn't mind. He just sort of thought Jon would have said something. But he didn't.

So.

You know.

There's a cat.

She's grown on Martin over time. In fact, it's usually him that wakes up with her purring and headbutting him at fuck-off o'clock in the morning, and Jon's not a heavy sleeper, so if she'd attacked him first, Martin would know.

But she's nice. Lovely little tufts of fur between her toes, and quite a deep meow for such a pretty lady. He'll call her Lady Catherine sometimes, and Jon's got the gall to pretend he doesn't think it's hilarious. Mind you, Jon's terms of endearment for her skew a bit more—pejorative, for lack of a better term? Like, Cat will take the opportunity when Jon is hunched over a stack of student essays at the dining table, and she'll leap onto his shoulders, and do that loaf thing, and Jon always says "unhand me, you infernal creature", or the few times she has bothered Jon in the middle of the night for pre-dawn breakfast service, he's grumbled "vile beast" even as he gets up to feed her.

Martin's tried telling him he shouldn't be encouraging her. But Jon just turns around and says "yes, I know, that's why I chastise her".

Martin stays impressed that someone so smart can be so stupid. Which he means affectionately, obviously. If he didn't, they wouldn't be getting married.

Which is great, by the way. It's great.

Does present some—unique problems, though.

Martin's got absolutely no bloody clue what her actual name is.

Which, you know, it's not like he's filling out adoption papers or anything, but at some point after some late-night banter it became part of the plan that Cat should be the ring-bearer at the wedding.

And he can't not know the name of a member of the party at his own wedding.

So he starts sleuthing.

"Hey," he says one evening, when GBBO is over and they're just sitting there with the telly on mute.

Jon looks up from his thorough inspection of Cat's beans, her paw gently clasped between his thumb and forefinger, and goes "Mm?"

"Been thinking."

Jon lifts one eyebrow. "Mm?"

"We could get her a proper little collar and everything."

Jon blinks a couple of times, then smiles. "Oh, for the wedding, you mean?" Martin nods. "Oh, yes, it could match your tie."

Okay, that's adorable, but also, unfortunately, not the point.

"Ooh, yeah," he says, then: "Oh! And, like, a little engraved name-tag. Really fancy."

Jon's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

"Yes," he says, tone completely unreadable. "Silver or gold, do you think?"

Martin's suddenly wondering if it's a trap.

"Dunno," he says, turning his eyes back to the brightly-coloured advert on the screen. "What's her vibe, you think?"

In the corner of his eye he sees Jon's jaw working silently as he searches for something to say.

"I think your input should be taken into consideration," he says, lifting his chin as Cat stands, stretches, and headbutts him. "Since... you know."

Martin considers whether or not Jon's messing with him, because frankly, he very much does not know.

"Mmm. Well! Uh- I- I like gold. Would match our bands."

"True enough," Jon says. Cat leaps onto the back of the sofa, and they're both silent till she curls up there and falls back asleep.

Jon doesn't seem very eager to say anything else.

Bugger.

"So..." Martin says, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes. "Um... what's the spelling, again?"

Jon's blurry form sits up straighter, and when Martin puts his glasses back on he sees his mouth open in shock.

"Might I ask why you're asking me?" Jon says, which doesn't make any sense.

"W- um. Y- you know, you're the English teacher."

Jon inclines his head to the side, frowning. "Hmm," he goes. "W- I- I- yes, I—mm." He lowers himself back against the sofa again. "The usual way."

Martin sighs.

"Right," he says. "Okay."

The silence gets a bit fraught, then. When Martin stands up to take their mugs to the kitchen, he might be a tiny bit huffy. It's possible.

Jon follows him, and he stays huffy, because it's easier to keep up than neutrality when he's trying to hide that he's a bit annoyed and a bit embarrassed.

"Everything alright?" Jon says, leaning casually against the fridge as Martin puts way too much effort into scrubbing both mugs clean.

"Mm."

Several seconds pass.

"Could I say something?" Jon asks, a bit hesitantly.

If Martin had to guess, he'd put money on "you're a negligent idiot for not paying enough attention to know my cat's name and I hate you".

"Yeah."

Jon exhales audibly behind him, as though amused.

"With all due respect and affection, darling—" He pauses till Martin is finished aggressively rinsing the mugs. Martin still doesn't turn to face him, though, because he's a tiny bit scared of where this is going, honestly. "If you've forgotten how to spell your own cat's name, that's not, strictly speaking, my fault, is it?"

Martin turns around.

Several things occur to him at once.

First, Cat's a dirty freeloader who owes Martin like fourteen months of rent.

Second, it might, legitimately, have been a coincidence that she and Jon moved in around the same time.

Third, he can't remember a time he's heard Jon use any method of address on her except for creature, or beast, or the ones Martin uses himself.

Which means, fourth, Jon doesn't know her bloody name either.

Because she's not his cat.

Well.

"Okay," Martin says. "Let's assume I have forgotten. Couldn't you just—help me out—and spell it?"

"Martin," Jon says disparagingly with a frown.

"Jon," Martin says, trying really hard not to smirk.

Jon does that thing where his mouth starts in a flat line, but as his irritation grows, his nose scrunches up, and the line of his mouth slowly rises up his face until he exclaims inarticulately and throws his hands in the air in defeat.

"Fine!" he says. "Fine, okay, alright, fine. I—I don't—I don't know. I don't know! I meant to ask, but I felt negligent not having known when I moved in, and then, after a month or seven I couldn't very well come out and ask, could I? And then—good heavens, it's been more than a year, there was no subtle way to recover!"

Martin's not laughing at him.

But he is laughing.

Breathlessly, uncontrollably, doubling over—to the point where Jon actually crosses the few steps separating them in the tiny kitchen to place a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him upright with a concerned look on his face.

"Sorry," Martin manages eventually, wiping tears from his eyes. "Christ, sorry, I'm just—"

He takes a deep, measured breath.

"I've got to tell you something," he says sheepishly. Jon puts his hands on Martin's shoulders and looks into his face with the earnest sobriety that, even now, gives Martin butterflies.

"Anything," he says, still frowning intensely.

Martin averts his eyes. "She's not my cat either."

When Jon stops laughing, he spends the rest of the evening lecturing Cat in his Not Mad Just Disappointed voice ("identity fraud is an extremely serious matter, young lady, and you are terribly lucky you have such sweet little eyes, or I might be compelled to take legal action against you, please let go of my nose").

Oh, but they do end up getting her an engraved gold name-tag for the ceremony.

It says 'Lady Catherine (Beast)'.

[isa-ghost]

Any specifically avian related qphil headcanons? I love that Phil being a bit more birdy is canon in the qsmp but whenever we get lore about it its angst

/I don't know why I'm asking if you have any, I know you got them /

*cupping my hands together and holding them out*

/give em here/

/pretty pleasee/

Oh fuck yeah man. I have an angel OC based off Phil, I've got PLENTY of avian headcanons >:)

Previous Headcanon Sets (x8)

MORE: Avian Edition

I've stated it in a prev set I think, but if you put this man in water his wings will sometimes involuntarily flap like he's in a birdbath. It's somewhat of a stim, bird brain just goes "you gotta."

I've also stated before that when he's stressed, his wings will flap kinda like the way someone might nervously shake out their hands.

Another restate, sometimes his laughs and startled yelps sound almost like squawks. Also his hiccups. It's very rare, but whenever it happens, he gets teased for it. Especially by Etoiles.

Another restate, sometimes his echolalia is his bird brain mimicking a sound he heard if it scratches an itch.

Yknow what just skim the previous headcanon sets I linked bc I talk so much about his wings & what he does with them & how he communicates using them. All those apply here.

Obligatory mirror and windows struggles mention.

Obligatory molting & preening struggles when stressed mention.

We've all seen the way he perches above everyone. It's probably his most prominent/noticeable avian trait.

Apparently camomile calms birds down. If this fool liked hot drinks, he'd have another way to settle his anxiety.

His obsession with noodles got him accused by Tubbo of enjoying them bc bird brain likes worms. He was NOT pleased. Almost gagged.

As long as you're careful around his wings, he LOVES back rubs. (It's bc the dumbass mf slept in that damn chair too much so now his back riots)

DO NOT THE WINGS. Petting them is one thing, he loves when Lullah hugs them, he thinks it's cute. But omg do not dig your fingers into his feathers. They're very sensitive. And that could mean tickling OR pain.

However if you gently do it, his wings will spread a little and his feathers poof up, which is kinda funny. It's like how if you touch a cat's foot the right way, their toes will spread out to present The Beans(tm). Blessed.

He likes to gift his shedded feathers to people he trusts. Chayanne, Lullah & Missa each have one. Although he's extremely close with Etoiles and Fit, he feels too awkward to give one to them yet. Feels a little too intimate.

Gift giving in general is a HUGE part of his love language though. Crow brain must give shiny things to people he loves yesyes.

Bird zoomies!! Wings poof up, he starts hopping all over the place like a big dork. He'd fly all over too, if he could.

Bobs his head to music. Those videos of pet birds dancing? That's Phil babey!!

Another one of his fave bits is pretending to understand and have a full-on conversation with birds. Loves pretending to gossip with them right in front of the person he & the bird(s) are "gossiping" about. However the crows he DOES understand & gossip with.

When he can fly, he's an expert at dive-bombing targets like a bird of prey. It's TERRIFYING. And very attractive depending on who you are (*cough* Missa *cough*)

Lullah once tried to test if throwing a blanket over his head would make him fall asleep like how if you put a blanket over a bird's cage they'll think it's night time and go to bed. It didn't work. He was very confused.

Birds whenever they're happy to see you will stretch their wings out like "Hello yes!" Phil do happy wing stretches when he see the kids :D

His hearing and eyesight are fucking amazing. The only reason he's able to be snuck up on is bc he hyperfocuses on things or the things that sneak up on him are super fast.

Rare Isa Fluffy Headcanon: He make blanket nests.

When stressed or overwhelmed, he'll wrap his wings around himself or raise them to shield his head. He doesn't do this so much after his wings were clipped & injured. They hurt too much.

100% will spread his wings all the way out (when they aren't hurting a lot) to look more threatening towards enemies. They almost autopilot do it when he's angry, but if they hurt too much they'll stop. He's pissed they don't look as threatening after The Federation clipped his wings

[machveil]

okay pookies!! I’m in a writers slump so I’m going to pop off some mini blurbs with Instagram links<3 because the words are not being written correctly for my wips [cries]🎀✨

Simon “Ghost” Riley

playing with his cat

admittedly, Simon is up at odd hours from bouts of insomnia. it doesn’t really bother him when his cat is up too, sitting in bed and flipping him around. it’s cute, more so funny when he flips his cat off and gets pounced on, not taking it seriously - one of the rare times he’ll let chuckle and crack a smile to himself

John Price:

pranking Price by telling him your tampon is stuck

John comes as soon as you call for him - what he wasn’t expecting was you telling him your tampons stuck. but John’s smart, he sees your phone in his peripheral and doesn’t say anything about it. he knows your pranking him, if it wasn’t obvious from your phone recording him and the way you giggle, well, “I know you’re cycle, love.”

driving around to see Christmas lights

John loves his dog, just a sweetheart. one thing his dog loves is seeing Christmas lights - John doesn’t really know why, but he’s more than happy to drive around so his puppy can see them all. it makes him chuckle seeing their tail wag, heater keeping the car nice and warm as they drive down a couple blocks

John “Soap” MacTavish:

bear hugging Johnny

you didn’t really know what Johnny was doing, you just knew you wanted to hug him. it’s out of the blue, catches him off guard in a way that has him asking if you’re okay - and you are. he doesn’t waste time, moving to scoop you up, hold you close and goof around. he had been organizing your books, just a little surprise

asking Recruiter!Johnny questions

Johnny didn’t want to be stuck recruiting people, but he somehow got picked to do it. what he wasn’t expecting was your question, “Are you hot?”. he wants to sputter out, try to be slick - respond with a, “Well, you can come find out.”, but he stops himself. he knows he’ll be telling the 141 about this, chest puffed up and a lopsided smile as he brags

showing off for the neighbors

Johnny is springy and flexible, his ass can dance. if you catch him while he’s on a jog he’ll flag you down and start flipping around. he’s a show off, it goes to his head how the neighborhood moms watch him. his show is for you, but he won’t turn down the ego boost he gets from others eyeing him up

“you know where the matter daddy is?”

Johnny’s a menace when it comes to the 141, calling Gaz for ‘help’. he can barely get the opener out without laughing, hitting the punchline takes a hot minute. Gaz can hear him sputtering on the other side, little bursts of laughter leaving him. it’s amazing that Gaz falls for the joke at all, Johnny laughing harder as he grips his phone

König:

playing with his cat

does König talk to his pretty kitty in German? of course he does, and he’ll goof around with them too. his favorite thing is pretend dialing on his cat’s toe beans. he’ll pretend to meow for his cat and voice the person ‘on the line’. totally straight faced, he takes business calls with his kitty very seriously

parenting his cat

sometimes being a parent is having human children, other times it’s cradling your baby kitty in your shirt while you make lunch. König is the latter, and he’ll always say how easy it is to be a parent. “Ja, she is a little thing. Here, I have photos—”, he carries printed photos of her in his wallet to show off, his favorite is of her swaddled in bed with her favorite blankie

walking his cat

König likes getting out, it’s natural for him. it gets a little lonely sometimes though… and boy is excited when he learns cat harnesses exist. weather permitting, he enjoys going on walks with his cat. sure, his kitty might wander into a bush here and there, but König will get them out before trailing down the block

[altosys]

nah because something we realized is that people will fakeclaim until someone brings up the "traumatic enough for [person's] opinion to count". like literally that's all it takes. someone getting told they need to stop pretending they're a system? just get someone pullin out the "yeah my uncle put me through cold-war cia interrogation tactics for the hell of it" somewhere and bam, the haters agree with the person being fakeclaimed. it's actually kinda sad. anyways non-traumagenics this is your reminder to pull out the bat signal if you need us traumagenics to back you up in an argument ah bean-toe /lh -circu

[daisychainsandbowties]

what about: sneaking out

let's pretend this isn't from december and also that it didn't get stupidly long and turn into a whole au

//

The crane shifts uneasily as Ava hooks her hands in between its struts, her boots making slippery sounds on the metal that must travel some distance through the night.

Pausing for a moment with one arm hooked around the crane, Ava peers down into the canyons that crack every aspect of the land, but nothing moves. She can hear soft croaking from where the tundra frogs are sleeping up against the warehouse walls, their lumpy bodies no more than suggestions in the dirt.

Ava used to draw pictures of them when she was a kid, with the crayons that the old grocer used to bring with him when he dropped off big sacks of rice and cans of baked beans that Ava and Chanel would spend all day ferrying into the storerooms.

Both of them with their hair buzzed short and Ava hiding her favourite flavours of beans where Grim – who had saved them both and yet somehow managed to overcook the beans every time - wouldn’t find them. So they could have snacks when Chanel managed to pirate a movie off a passing satellite. She’d fixed a projector so that they could put it up onto their bedroom wall, both of them listening to the dialogue and the music and the shouting and the explosions through Chanel’s interface.

Ava wore her headphones, which she’d covered in stickers torn out of magazines, and her pyjamas that glowed in the dark. She’d draw frogs while glancing occasionally up at their improvised screen, her spoon stuck up in the can of beans balanced by her knee. Chanel would sometimes manage to steal sugar cubes from the kitchen so they could add it to the over-salted beans.

Some of those drawings are still pasted to the walls around their bunk – little frogs in messy red and yellow and green and purple streaks. Ava used her pink crayon only sparingly, to give them eyes.

But the tundra frogs are dangerous, like most things on this planet, and Ava checks for them when she crawls out of the window. Looking down first and only then up, her fingers reaching for the first, familiar handhold. She checks for thwogs, too, with their strange, three-eyed faces and batlike wings.

At night they like to cling to the various wires and ropes and old chains that dangle between the repair shop and its sentinel crane and the storerooms (still infested with beans). But they respond to movement, not sound, and the soft squeaks of Ava’s boots are not enough to wake them.

She’s safe.

Unless, of course, Chanel hears her through the window she left propped open with a stack of physics textbooks and half-empty box of crackers. She promised – yesterday, in fact – to weld the window shut if Ava left it open again.

“This planet is literally infested with monsters, Ava.”

“They’re called fauna. And they were here long before the first moron with a hard-on for desert landscapes put down a temp-hab here. They don’t know this is our room.”

She did not mention that she’d seen one of the tundra frogs swallow a housecat whole the other day, spitting out its bones ten minutes later (picked clean of meat but streaky with blood). When Ava climbed up out of a canyon-crack to poke at them later she found that each one had split right along its centre, marrowless and as easy to snap with the toe of her boot.  

And all of that was fucked-up, sure, but cats are an invasive species, and the tundra frogs can’t climb the warehouse walls, so Ava put down a mag-web to deter smaller predators and left the window open (again) because she only wants to sneak out, not camp out.

She climbs the last fifteen metres of crane mostly with her arms, letting her feet dangle and using her knees for anchorage when she needs to, just in case the sound of her boots crawls in through the window and wakes Chanel, who (sadly) grew out of her ‘sleeping with headphones on’ phase several months ago.

But Ava’s been using her arms a lot longer than she’s been using her legs though, so the climb isn’t difficult even if it makes her sweat on her favourite hoodie. She reaches the platform on top of the crane, which is hardly even scrawny girl-sized, but big enough for Ava to sit or lay back on, watching the stars.

Ava does this most nights – the breakneck climb, eating crackers in her bed until Chanel falls asleep on the bunk above her and she can crawl out from underneath her faded blanket, slip into her Galactic Rangers hoodie (third-hand, with the “gal” part gone thanks to an incident with one of Grimroth’s old grenade launchers), and ease the window open like it’s a girl’s mouth.

cont. on Ao3

[33max]

Bean,

It is quite normal for children to fall and injure themselves. So I imagine Max is clumsier as a child, so what happens if he trips and falls and skins his knee, for example? He cries or tries to be a big boy? Daniel kisses it better? 🥺

There have been times (mostly when he first starts dropping) when he falls, gets a graze or a big bruise and tries to hide his injury from Daniel 🥺

Back when he was a kid his dad had very little sympathy when he grazed a knee because “You should not have been running, Max” and “You will have to drive anyway!”

And so if he trips, or stubs a toe, or burns himself by touching the oven when he shouldn’t… he pretends he hasn’t hurt himself and hides ☹️ if it really really hurts he sobs into a pillow so Daddy won’t hear him.

One time he is running to show daddy a drawing and he skids on the living room rug, feet flying out from under him, and he lands on his butt. It really hurts. He tries to blink away the tears, but Daddy has already rushed over to him and is scooping Maxy into his arms and saying “Oh baby, I’m so sorry. That naughty rug. Are you okay? What hurts?”

Eventually with Daniel he realises it’s okay to tell Daddy he has an ouchie. Daniel never blames Max. He even replaced the rug for a more grippy one ♥️

[rainbowdaisy13]

So one of the producers that Taylor collaborated with on So It Goes, Oscar Gorrës, confirmed that Taylor sent it over to him to start working on sometime not too long after his first kid was born in *March 2015* a couple of years ago, and Taylor herself mentioned in an interview in 2017, I think, that she had written parts of Dress over two years beforehand, and now Taylor's ex personal assistant is like "Hey Swiffers who wanna pretend that the "ghost/phantom" that Taylor was being big sad about in TTPD songs is Toe-jam, she wrote Ready For It during the 1989 Tour just so you guys know that it's legiterally impossible for, at minimum, three songs on reputation to be about that bland, boring stale white bread blonde British boy, he was never no phantom holding her for ransom" lmao

It looks like Taylor *REALLY* hates the idea of reputation TV being attached to Toe lol, good for her, I think we should encourage Taylor to keep letting the beans about how a bunch of reputation songs were being written/worked on by Taylor since possibly as early as late 2014 but definitely since at least March 2015 be spilled to the world lmao, it's just too funny not to encourage her to keep doing it and I bet if feels great to Taylor to retcon away as much of the credit that Toe undeservedly got as her false muse for being a really shitty understudy for Karlie as possible

Agree 100% with all of this

She’s like watch THIS