bell your cat

Hey Baseball Tumblr! Let's have some fun!

Reblog and put your favorite current players in the tags. List everyone you can think of. No particular order. :)

If I get a good number of responses, I’ll make a cute li'l graph of everyone’s faves 💕

annaandthelion  asked:

Hi! Suppose you find a dead animal with its flesh still there. What do you do to get the skull? (The cats are constantly hunting and leaving dead animals at my door step.)

Hey! I start skinning them and then I rot them down in a wooden box in my garden. Once the bugs have eaten as much as they can I pick off any remaining tissue. Then I macerate in a bucket of water. I add biological washing powder to whiten and remove grease. With very small items I skin and go straight to maceration sometimes If it needs whitening more I soak in hydrogen peroxide. That’s a brief overview! :)
Also please consider putting a bell on your cat or something to deter it from catching so many animals!

Cat got your tongue? ♡ Bellamy Blake Imagine

A/N: ‘reader is a grounder and likes taunting a nervous bellamy but is ACTUALLY FLIRTING’ I sort of had a bit of trouble writing it but i hope this is sort of what you meant. Also I’m a terrible flirt so idk even if this is flirting but hey. I hope you enjoy 😂💕


The sword’s hilt melted perfectly against your palm, providing it easy to slice through anything, whether it be materials, bodies or in this rare case, Bellamy Blake’s confidence. You had found him in the woods near Tondc, and before you could register who it was your blade was already pressed against his throat. When you did see it was him however, you smirked at his shocked expression with mouth slightly agape.

“Oh Bellamy? Sorry, speak up I can’t hear you,” You teased watching as he scowled softly and pushed you off seeing as you’d relaxed your hold.

“Nice to see you too, Y/N.” He stammered, coughing nervously. Before you had the chance to make a passing remark he’d walked off, apparently your sense of flirting style was going to take a while.


You continued your efforts for a while having many instances where he couldn’t get the hint.

He was organising a hunting party this time. Barking orders, left and right. It was a good look. But you figured every look was hot for him.

You sauntered over and stood right next to him, your shoulders brushing and you saw him blush out of the corner of your eye.

“Hard at work are we Blake?” You laughed, turning your head to look at him. He just simply nodded and averted his eyes.

“Maybe you could be doing something or maybe someone else harder?” You grinned slyly, chuckling to yourself when Bellamy’s eyes widened and he stumbled over his words.

“Aww what’s the matter Bell? Cat got your tongue?” You’d picked up the saying from Octavia and you figured what better way to use it then on her big brother.

Again he kept his mouth shut and just stared defiantly at you but the shade of red on his cheeks made you feel as though you couldn’t take him seriously. You punched his shoulder playfully and started walking away.

“If you change your mind about wanting to do something hard you know where to find me!” You called over your shoulder pleased to leave him there with wide eyes, red cheeks, and thank god, a small smile on the edge of his pretty lips.


You were different. You weren’t as aggressive as the rest of the grounders. You could still kill whoever you needed to in the blink of an eye. But you were trusting, open, aware and full of humour, picking up sky people jokes with ease. You were special. Maybe that’s why Bellamy became interested.

Also, maybe that’s why you were called to meet with the Heda. You ended up walking past Bellamy on the way to her tent and you were estastic to find he started a conversation. Not that you showed it.

“Where are you off to?” He asked, you’d fogotten just how sexy his voice was this past week or two and you had to bite your lip.

“Lexa want’s to see me. Don’t worry Bell, there won’t be any girl on girl action without you. You’re the only one for me.” You reassured, winking, leaving him once again with a red tint to his cheeks. It was getting easier and easier to do so, you thought.

The Commander just ended up talking to you about the alliance with sky crew and how you’d made it known you saw them as allies. You replied with snark and sarcasm as you usually did and it was only because you were friends with Lexa that your heart was still beating.

You were shocked to find Bellamy waiting outside the tent.

“Listening in to the action are we?” You sniggered.

“I was just trying to see if I could hear what it might be like when you moan my name.” He replied in an instant, laughing as you were the one with the flaming cheeks this time round.

“Good Blake. We’ll make a flirt out of you yet.” You admitted, hands up in fake surrender.

anonymous asked:

okay so like we let ur cats out durin the day occasionally and then bring them in at night and feed them and give them beds and stuff so like, is that bad? my cats r super healthy and well cared for,

the biggest concern is actually impact on wild bird populations so its best to keep it supervised or at least fairly brief. putting a bell on your cats might help prevent them from being able to catch birds in that time but its no guarantee

also coyotes and foxes tend to be more active around dusk so its probably best to have them in before then, tho theyre a potential threat no matter how briefly your cats outside. same with cars, a lot of people say “cats know cars are dangerous” but squirrels know cars are dangerous too and that doesnt change how many get hit lmao. i see cats dead on the road a few times a year, which is a pretty substantial number all things considered.

point being its dangerous no matter what, theres some scenarios where its safer than others and like the likelihood that anything will happen in a couple hours outside is low but the risk is always present


for afairytalekindoflove because she’s my favorite and i love her a lot

Are You Missing Underwear?

Rumbelle ficlet. Based on that post about the cat who stole a neighbor’s underwear.

The last time a man had stood in her living room, carrying a paper sack with his belongings and a vaguely disapproving expression on his face, Belle had been busy making it clear that their engagement was over and she never wanted to see his cheating face again.

Now it was her own face she didn’t know where to hide. “I’m so, so sorry,” she said for what seemed the thousandth time in the last hour.

“It’s… um. It’s nothing, really.”

“Just the most embarrassing moment of my life,” Belle whispered mostly to herself. Other cats would bring back home dead mice and roaches. But no, Princess had decided to stalk their neighbor, slip into his house, dig into his unmentionables, and drag back at least two dozen pieces. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice sooner,” she told him, wringing her hands.

At least he wasn’t yelling, as she had expected as soon as she understood that she had just printed a couple hundred pictures of Mr. Gold’s underwear and slipped them under the doors of every apartment in her building and into the mailboxes of every building within two blocks of distance.

He had even contained himself to an exasperated glance when Princess had dashed away from her bedroom and come curl herself around his leg. Belle didn’t think she’d heard her cat purr as loudly since the day she’d adopted her and brought her home from the animal shelter.

Belle stifled a gasp when Gold lifted his cane, but had to bite her own tongue guiltily when the tip just stroked against the furry flank. Princess responded in kind to the sign of affection, nudging her head against his calf.

“Know the smell of me, don’t you, you thieving flea-bag?” Gold muttered, his tone belying the words.

Belle started to breathe more freely, thankful that he had missed her grossly mistaken assumption that he’d harm Princess.

Then he glanced at her, eyebrow raised, and Belle knew he hadn’t missed anything.

“Sorry,” she said again. with even more feeling than before.

It was one thing to apologize on behalf of a pet, and another to do it because she had let the local gossip get to her.

Either Gold was kinder to animals than to people, or everybody was wrong about the man.

Considering he was not railing at her for either having missed the growing collection of purloined briefs and socks, and the fact that now he was looking surprised at her simple apology, Belle had the nagging feeling that it was the latter.

She hadn’t allowed her attraction for her neighbor take root in her, beyond a stolen glance or ten when they crossed ways on the sidewalk. She’d had her share of self-important men who cared for nothing as much as for themselves; her careful questioning of acquaintances and new friends could be summarized in the fact that Mr. Gold had no sense of humor, respect for anyone at a disadvantage, or weakness.

But he had chuckled once or twice as they coordinated a time for him to pick up his belongings, and he had been nothing but courteous. Most importantly, Belle knew the look of someone who was restraining themselves from picking up a small animal and putting it on their lap to rub its belly.

Belle trusted a man with a weakness for a kleptomaniac cat a lot more than she did a bunch of people who, on their own admission, hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with Mr. Gold in years.

“Would dinner tomorrow be okay?” she asked him, hearing her brain screech in alarm but not giving herself the option to retreat.

The look on his face was worth her blushes. “Excuse— Excuse me?”

Belle forced herself to relax her shoulders, give what would have to look like a careless shrug. “I did mention I meant to make it up for you. Remember? over the phone.”

His eyes widened. “I thought you meant…” He waved his free hand, at a loss. Finally he gave her a disconcerted frown. “Dinner?”

Her original idea had been to bake him a cake, or a batch of cookies if he preferred that. But dinner would keep him in one place for at least an hour.

A man who scowled at human beings, but didn’t protest as his expensive black pants got covered with white and orange fur. Surely this was someone worth knowing?

“Yes. Tomorrow. At seven?”

Gold stared at her, open-mouthed for a full second before he snapped it closed. “Any chance this miscreant will be in the menu?”

If Gold thought to scare her, he should have tried to shoo said miscreant away. Belle rolled her eyes at the attempt. “Only if she has to drag you over in time.”

“A thief and kidnapper, eh?” He glanced down, hair running forward to shield his face. “But worry not,” he added, though his voice was slower, as if testing her reaction after each word before he said the next, “I will be here on time.”

Belle smiled, already planning the menu for the next night. “Great.”

Gold nodded at her, gave a last gentle tap against Princess’ rump, and turned down the hallway.

Belle stayed at the door, watching him until the elevator doors opened and he made his way inside.

Their eyes met before the doors slid closed, and Belle felt her smile widen at the timidly hopeful look in his eyes.

“If this goes well,” Belle told Princess, kneeling on the carpet and rubbing between the small, triangle ears, “You’re getting the expensive tuna from now on.”

Satisfied with the outcome of her thirty-two trips into the territory of her future part-owner, Princess curled her tail upwards and marched back into the room.

It had been a grueling month, but the humans finally were doing their half of the job.

Out of all the people in my life,
I had to get stuck on you.

I wake up every morning
thinking about what you eat for breakfast
(toast? a bagel?
or do you prefer something fresh and sweet,
like fruit? or maybe eggs?
I don’t ask),
how you hold your fork,
and how your wrist turns
when you open the door.

At school, I study your face
like I should have studied my vocabulary words,
But I was too busy memorizing the bump on your nose,
the exact tones of your cat bell sounds
(there are lots of keys,
but I know yours by the tones
and twinkles in your gait),
and how you twirl your pencil between
your middle and index finger.

At night, I close my eyes
and see the color of your faded roots,
and how your pants fit,
and how many times I have to sigh
for you to look at me.

I’m not in love with you.
I’m not.
I don’t get to fall in love.
I just get stuck.
I got stuck on you like I get stuck
on the number 10,
or the the last word of a sentence that
just keeps refreshing in my brain’s hard drive,
or the image of a man grabbing me
that invades my head
when you’re not running through it.

I’m still stuck on you,
and that frustrates me,
because the version of you that I see when I close my eyes
(the one that cares, loves, and thinks about me),
is not the same as the one I see with them open

—  you frustrate and ignore me, but I’m still stuck on you