#this is about that post i did about

[teal-fiend]

predatory hunger

summary: You ate your friend just to see what it was like, but there are unexpected consequences

content: f prey, implied fatal vore, pre-vore, pred pov, hunger, nausea

word count: 1k

You ate your friend. You had a feeling it would happen some day; you always wanted to try and eat someone, and your friend seemed like the right person.

Alexa was her name. You knew each other for maybe a year. 

You wanted to test your limits, and see if you had what it took to be a pred. And it worked out well for you. You had a great night of digesting her, it felt right, you had the best sleep of your life. And you woke up with a nice, soft and fat middle. What used to be your friend, now some belly fat, and some other fat all around your body. 

You remember hearing her in your stomach, asking you to let her go, saying anything she could but you couldn’t let her leave you. You didn't think much of it at the time.

Her voice never went away. Long after she had been digested, you could still hear her in your stomach. Or was it in your head? It was hard to tell, it sounded like her voice, it wasn’t your own inner dialogue. It was her. 

And she was telling you to eat more people. 

It seemed out of character from her. If this was her ghost, or just your guilty conscience… Why was it trying to get you to repeat your sins? Were you addicted now? Was this like drugs? A voice that repeats in your head, doing everything it can to get you to do it again? You didn’t do drugs. you were a good girl/boy/nonbinary. 

This was like the only thing you’d done that was decidedly wrong or immoral. And now that there were consequences you didn’t know what to do about it. 

You wanted to ask her other things, but she wasn’t having it. The only thing she wanted to talk about was food. 

“You can see them?” “I know that you’re looking at prey, and I want it.” You looked at the guy again, and Alexa interjected, “yes, that one there, eat him.” “No - I can’t just eat someone in public you know. And I don’t want to anyway.”

You looked over to a burger joint. Maybe that would shut her up.

Yes, you were just hungry, and as a way to cope with the trauma of eating someone alive, your brain has decided to turn that into how you experience hunger. It’d go away once you ate, and soon the voice would disappear entirely. This is just how your brain is processing what happened. 

“Hey, no! I don’t want that kind of food. I want prey”

Her voice sounded louder in your head when she said that, but you ignored her. She yelled at you the whole time as you approached the cashier - it was hard to focus on ordering food while an invisible person was complaining and trying to get you to stop what you were doing, but eventually you did it, you had your meal in front of you. And it looked good, but strangely, at the same time, you didn’t really want to eat it. 

Maybe it was because Alexa was telling you not to eat it. Even if you didn’t want to listen to her, it was hard to ignore what she was saying. 

“Don’t eat it, don’t give me that, I don’t want it.”

You took a bite of the burger. It tasted fine, and it piqued your appetite too.

“No, no, no”

You swallowed and felt it enter your belly. It relaxed you to feel the edge of hunger be softened. Alexa said some things that you won’t repeat. 

You finished it off, and the chips, and patted your belly, sighing happily, because you proved her wrong; your hunger was sated, and you didn’t need to eat anyone for it.

Alexa wasn’t happy about it.

“I don’t want this greasy shit - How dare you. I won’t digest it. I refuse”

You rubbed your stomach, “you better digest it. You can’t decide that anyway - you don’t have that power - I will digest whatever I eat whether or not you agree with me.”

As you said that, you felt your stomach churn uncomfortable, and a slight wave of nausea washed over you.

Did she just do that? Or is it just a coincidence - maybe you just ate too fast.

“I can do worse”

Was this even real? You didn’t want to risk it though, not in public.

“Please don’t make me throw up, I’ll consider giving you prey, but I haven’t eaten in a while so if you don’t let me have this, we’ll both be miserable.”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” she said, “but you better keep your promise”

Just like that, you felt the discomfort subside, and you wondered just how good your brain was at tricking your body into believing its delusions. You needed to go to a doctor or something.

You also think about the fact that you didn’t really promise to eat someone, she just inferred that. Or maybe she’s trying to gaslight you.

“What even are you?” you ask. “You sound like my friend Alexa” (who you ate) “but you’re nothing like her. Or at least, she never tried to make me eat people.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything”

“I guess not. But then what? I have to listen to what you say all the time? With no reason to? No explanation?”

“Yes,” she replied.

You had an idea.

“If I eat someone, will you let me ask you questions?”

The voice, Alexa, was quiet for a moment, thinking. 

“If you eat someone by the end of this day, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“That doesn’t really give me a lot of time-”

“I don’t care”

[koobiie]

shoutout to everyone who wants to infodump but cant string together coherent thoughts to form sentences and instead just look at you like this

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[goldensunset]

advice i think we should tell children is that when adults say stuff like ‘now that i’m an adult i get really excited about stuff like coffee tables and bathrooms and rugs etc’ they don’t mean ‘and now i don’t care about blorbo and squimbus from my childhood tv shows anymore’ bc your average adult still loves all the same pop culture stuff they always did; they just have a greater appreciation for the mundane as well. growing up just means you can enjoy life twice as much now. you can get really excited about a new stuffed animal AND about a new kitchen sponge. peace and love

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

License to Kitty.

[jabberwick]

Human Bill Cipher

(Based on Alex Hirsch's "canon" design)

And just to be clear, writing dissertations at me justifying why he should instead be a conventionally attractive twink will involuntarily cause me to draw him with even fewer teeth.

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

Wow, this "gender free" fashion brand sure doesn't have any AMAB models.

[tofixtheshadows]

I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.

Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.

Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.

Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.

I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.

He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).

First, we get this:

Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.

They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.

It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.

We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.

What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?

He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.

In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.

Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!

...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.

Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.

And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.

I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.

And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.

Meals are the privilege of the living.

[stil-lindigo]

frankly, the people whose kneejerk reaction to bisan asking for a global strike form the 21st-28th is to say that it takes years to organize a general strike are really unhelpful! no one is saying otherwise, but palestine will be a smoking crater if we all wait for years to do anything - bisan is asking us to do something now. Like are we only supposed to do something if we can do it perfectly??? At some point it’s a valid critique about the work that goes into social movement, and at another point I feel like some people are just trying to absolve themselves from not putting any effort into observing a week of economic inaction.

like idk! I get it, okay! People have bills to pay that don’t magically go away for a strike, we don’t have nearly enough social infrastructure in place to support people to fully stop going to work for a week. But fuck, dude! Stop immediately responding in such a defeatist way! Cut out unnecessary purchases! Try to shop local! Put more effort into promoting Palestinian voices online! Attend a protest, call a local rep, do something!

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

Of the 19 hijackers who carried out the Sept 11 attacks:

15 were from Saudi Arabia (a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)

2 were from the United Arab Emirates (also a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)

1 was from Egypt, 1 from Lebanon.

None of the hijackers were from Iraq.

None of the Sept 11 hijackers were Iraqi.

None of the 9/11 hijackers were from Iraq.

[demadogs]

nothing can break the bond between a friend who loves spoilers and a friend who just watched an amazing show and needs to tell someone the entire plot from start to finish

[fox-mulder-gets-pegged]

I just wanna say bc I KNOW you're somewhere on tumblr, to the teenage girl who attended Take Your Kid To Work Day at an office building in Ontario, Canada circa 2013 and had a conversation with a middle aged woman in which you showed her your Black Veil Brides fanart and fanfics and ship content and told her about different fanfic tropes including a/b/o verse bc she happened to know who Panic! at The Disco and Fallout Boy were and thus you felt the need to show her your bandblr ship art, that was my fucking mother and I had to clarify all that to her including looking my mother in the eye and trying to explain a/b/o verse without sounding like a lunatic.

It's been 10 years and I still regularly sent evil energies in your direction. Since you'd be probably two years younger than me and thus legally an adult now, please know if this post reaches you it's on sight.

[goldensunset]

did you know? if you do your laundry you can get your clothes back

[xshinina]

*Married life playing in the background

This idea was probably funnier in my head

[artilite]

starclan's grace <3

gorgeous designs by @dropespeon ! GO CHECK THEM OUT!!!