#so...as promised here's your food

[td-art-storage]

"Enjoying the view ?"

[ratatatastic]

Vanha Kauppahalli date: en full, a 2 minute 50 second masterpiece...

Primetime Panthers | 11.6.24 (x)

[kacievvbbbb]

Love how much Luffy just isn't here for people playing with their lives and self-sacrificing.

Like yeah fight with everything that you've got, but if you go in planning to die then you might as well not go in at all cause you've already lost.

[stellewriites]

have to keep repeating in my head; he’s leaving soon he’s moving out he’s got a job so he’s leaving in two months he’s moving out every time i see a mess my brother has made in the house

[taegularities]

some men are textbook villains fr

[fizzigigsimmer]

Antis: Max doesn't care about Billy. He tortured her!

Me: points to all the evidence that says she did. And that torture is a strong word choice for what we actually see Billy do to her. Also that if the way Billy treated Max on screen was torture then Billy was constantly being tortured and isn't that sad.

Antis: Fuck Billy's sob story! And of course Max acts like that! She feels guilty that he got possessed and he died because she is a decent person! But she shouldn't!!!!!

Me: what's your malfunction then? If the empathy, guilt, and grief Max clearly feels for Billy despite their painful history are by your own admission the expected reactions of a decent human being, why are you trying so hard to remove her humanity as well as mine? Why do you need people to hate Billy the exact way that you do? Is it because someone taught you that cauterizing the parts of yourself that make you decent was the only way to be "strong" in the face of your own trauma?

[zzzzzzepis]

Genuinely mindboggling to see "x queer identity isn't oppressed" every six months for some new fucking group. I don't give a fuck about it they're all fucking queer and need support from a community that doesn't police them for having a confusing or complex identity. I think that some of you are like mentally puritan catholic schoolteachers masquerading as tumblrinas. Kill the cop in your brain or you're not welcome at pride either lol!

[orchideae]

🎄🥳🥂Merry Christmas, everyone! If you're like me and you celebrate the holiday tonight, enjoy the festivities, the foods and the presents! I hope you guys have an absolutely wonderful evening and/or night!!

[orchidyoonkook]

rant

just did a budget for february. to track my spending to see if i can actually save my goal amount for europe in time. (june ideally)

guys. i alone spent $550 on groceries. just me. not including the times when my partner footed the bill. One of which i know was $164. so like. $700 on groceries. in the shortest month of the year

and I am not an outrageous over spender. I get the same things over and over and over. but food is just so goddamn expensive here i'm spending almost a weeks paycheque on food apparently.

needless to say that will absolutely not be happening again at all. ever. My budget for food for the month of march is $150. so is my partners. so $300. that should be enough. It has to be. I dont want to spend anymore than that on food. I shouldnt have too. it shouldnt be like this.

meanwhile i'll be looking into additional forms of income cuz right now i have only $400 of wiggle room. and 150 0f that is food, another 150 is debt.

being an adult sucks sometimes. literally how do any of you do this.

[throes-of-warm-tornadoes]

it’s me and these 2 cookies against the world

[astral-catastrophe]

me and the generic extra strong Tylenol and the pure rage in my system

[ratcandy]

do you guys ever think about the beauty of the world

[prlssprfctn]

Freshly adopted Jason, who is so used to taking care of his mother that the first morning in the manor, he wakes up in early hours to cook for Bruce, too.

Logically speaking, he understands that Bruce doesn't need it — he is a healthy adult, and they have Alfred — but it is six in the morning, and his mind is foggy, so he just follows his instincts. Maybe he does not even realise that mom is not here, after all.

Alfred finds him in the weakly dimmed kitchen when he finishes his walk around the Manor before starting with his chores. He is amused at first, stopping quietly behind the child. He is doing great (that's a surprise since Dick intentionally just stirred more trouble), and Alfred can't help but smile a little.

'Good morning, master Jason. If you are hungry, you should wake me up the next time. I promise to take care of you.'

Jason blinks owlishly, still awfully sleepy. His eyes are barely opened, his hands working on the automat.

'Breakfast,' he mumbles, frowning a little. 'For mom- I mean, for dad.'

Alfred's smile falters. His original impression shifts in a late realisation.

Oh.

'Master Jason, you shouldn't really-'

'Finished,' he yawns, putting a one — just one, nothing for himself at all — plate in front of Alfred.

It is a very simple dish, scrambled eggs with some black paper and toasted bread — but not even made in a toaster, just on the pan; this kid probably doesn't know how to use toasters. It smells nice, Alfred compliments mentally.

'Can you-' He yawns. 'Pass to-'

And then little Jason falls asleep helplessly, falling right in Alfred's arms. He catches him, of course. This boy weighs nothing at all.

'Hey, Al,' Bruce sticks his head in the kitchen, no less sleepy. 'What is going on?'

Alfred explains to Bruce what happened, and he is no less distraught. He helps him to put Jason in the bed and eats all the breakfast he prepared, with a mixture of delight and despair.

And when Jason wakes up, embarrassed by the faint memories of the early morning, Alfred puts a big plate in front of him, filled with so much food that his big blue eyes light up instantly.

'Bon appetite, master Jason,' he smiles. 'Your cooking had passed my personal standards for a cook. You are a good soldier.'

Jason giggles, his mouth already stuffed with bacon.

'That I am.'

And that he always will be.

[forehead451]

stream of consciousness type deal.

[serkonans]

some cat owners are fucking ridiculous

[tsuyalovebot]

make him lose his cool.

suggestive and sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos.) no sex, but caleb popping a boner like a victorian man. afab reader (that also wears bras). mc=reader.

"caleb is an ass man!" "no, he likes tits!"

personally, i think caleb would have a near panic attack upon seeing your shoulder, elbow, or ankle.

he just does a really good job of pretending he doesn't mind it. after all, the two of you grew up together. he's had to put his hands on you many times — carrying, tending to scrapes and cuts, tickling you, ruffling your hair, squeezing your face. skinship was a language that the two of you were plenty fluent in.

but the year spent apart failed to maintain this, like some half-assed video streaming subscription, and caleb's the newborn fawn learning how to walk.

so what happens when he knocks on the room to his bedroom — it belongs to you now, technically — with a plate of breakfast before coming in, and he witnesses you sitting up, all sleepy and the neckline of his shirt slightly sliding down your shoulder?

he's going to throw himself off a cliffside. maybe even off skyhaven itself.

the plate hits the bedside table on your side with a loud clatter. none of the food spilled over, luckily. he has half a mind to garble some lame excuse about being busy and a quick good morning before trying to bolt.

but, caleb nearly snaps into two when you tug at the hem of his shirt, slumber still slurred in your words as you ask where he's going. there'd been no strength in that tug. yet, he stopped in his tracks all the same. he ends up listening to your grumbles, ones reminding him that it's his day off, remember? you promised you'd spend it with me.

"i gotta take a shower first," he chuckles, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. please don't notice. please don't notice.

"but caleb," you keen.

god, it's like when he'd take leave from the academy for a few days just to go back to you and gran. always coming home to you, thoroughly acquainted with you not being a morning person but still making the effort to cling to him and savor every second you two spent together.

he assumed it would be the same now, but clearly, that was a mistake. because the coiling tension of warmth threatening to boil over in his stomach was nothing short of treacherous.

caleb does manage to escape; albeit pained by the half-awake whines behind him and the sound of you falling back into bed. god, how badly he wanted to cave into your demands. you don't even know the half of it.

he wonders if you've ever curled into his side of that bed he once slept on, seeking his cologne, his body, his warmth the same way he looks for your silhouette in every corner of this home. a melody he knows, but a name he can't quite place in this shell of a house that transformed in your presence.

regardless, it's really difficult to let this relationship rebuild organically when he was popping a boner over the slightest sliver of skin. the shower's streams are icy on his skin, the impromptu bath having thrown a wrench into his morning routine. he refuses to even touch himself. letting the proof of his sin soften under the biting cold of the water, despite the discomfort.

because nothing was more horrific than having his body react to you like a prepubescent teen discovering porn online for the first time.

caleb thinks he's safe after spending an hour in the bathroom, fingertips pruned and mind cooler than the iciest of planets. but as he's changed back into his clothes, he discovers you beside the door, a blanket around your sitting form and those eyelids droopy.

"pipsqueak? what're you doin' here?" he's crouching down — mortifying boner forgotten as he gathers you into his arms before he realizes it.

then, you stir. a whine muffled into the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him, the vibration seeming to ripple down his spinal column. the blanket falls from your body in the motions, and you're so soft compared to the firmness of his body.

his arms tighten around you on instinct and you let out a pleased sound and—

he stiffens. you weren't wearing a bra.

"caleb, you're done." you yawn, like the spoiled, pampered figurehead of royalty you are. you arch up into him, and he swears he feels several of his neurons die, dropping like flies in the empty cavity of his head.

"take me back to bed." he feels the air shift as you seem to inhale his scent. your voice softer, more content when you say, "i wanna sleep some more."

he's so fucking doomed.