#compatipulse

[whiskeyedlullaby]

hank: *glances around* coast clear. burger time.

simon: *out of nowhere* yEET! *karate chops burger, shoves healthy lunch in hank’s hands and vanishes*

hank: mother fucker.

[tumultus-blog1]

> @compatipulse​ } FROM HERE. 

That had been her fear. What use did they have for any kind of human food - let alone cat food? A frown. Well there was absolutely no choice, they were going to get something to feed the kittens.

❝No, I didn’t see a mother.❞ If she had, she would have brought her back too - she left that point out.  ❝I’ve been watching them for awhile, a couple of days on and off. They’re all alone.❞ North hoisted them up, cradling them both in one arm. The kittens snuggled each other back. She couldn’t help the smile. ❝We’re going to have to go get formula, then.❞

[resning-blog]

@compatipulse tumblrs robot assistant is trying to set us up

[thoughtmattered]

@compatipulse​

It was easy for Daniel to slip into harmful thought patterns without even noticing. Fear, guilt, pain had become second nature to him, he was well-acquainted to a voice in his head telling him how worthless he was, how he was just a piece of plastic to be thrown away, how he had always meant nothing to anyone and he always would. How he deserved all the pain for what he did to Emma and her family. The tears that ran down his face as he sat, staring at the floor with a vacant, blank expression were sign enough that he needed to be left alone – or at least that he thought he did, that being alone was best for him. It was what he was used to, and anyone prepared to show him compassion, prepared to listen was lying. That was what he told himself, and that was how he kept others away.

The headphones being placed gently on his head startled him out of his spiral and he blinked, immediately going to wipe the tears from his eyes. On autopilot and just about to tell whoever it was to fucking leave him alone – until he saw who exactly had given him the gift, panicked eyes snapping up to meet theirs. He instantly softened at the sight of Simon’s kind smile, returning it with one of his own – a rare sight, soft, warm and genuine, but this one tinged with slight sadness. Showing him such kindness had him verging dangerously on tears again, staring back at the floor as he listened to Simon’s explanation of the gift. Music playing softly in his ears already having a positive effect on him – it was nice to have a distraction now, an outlet so that he wouldn’t be alone with his thoughts. Or perhaps Simon had grown concerned having witnessed one spiral of his too many; he hadn’t wanted that, he hadn’t wanted to worry anyone, but he was grateful at least that someone cared. He knew in the back of his mind that Simon cared for him deeply and of course he reciprocated without question, but the fact was that he hadn’t expected now to be anyone’s priority, least of all someone like Simon’s – he was so wise and had such a high rank in Jericho’s inner circle, Daniel had half expected himself to be on the fringes of his worry at most. But they were the same model and that had bonded them, Simon knew of his story, of his struggles. Simon understood. And Daniel was grateful for it.

“Simon... Thank you.” he said softly, voice almost a whisper as he reached up to place a shaking hand on the headset – to just check that all this wasn’t an illusion, wasn’t wishful thinking. After all, he didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy, not after all that had happened. He’d heard of the benefits of music, but to take care of himself was alien to him and all he knew was to repress thought and feeling until he could no more. So he hadn’t done his research. “Thank you...so much. This…this’ll help, definitely.” he nodded pensively, taking the music player and gently swiping the screen with a finger to switch it on. He’d treasure it - it meant so much. 

[jericoded-blog]

It has soul. The crooning of piano keys pitter lazily against the brickwall, spilling in each nook and the cradled alcove. Its rustic, in a way, and this instrument seems to be weeping: its singing like rainfall as it gives beneath his hands. And Markus, sitting there bearing his heart, is plucking away the chords to a piece he cherishes mightily. The work’s original, however; Simon can’t look it up. "Wasn't expecting an audience," the rk200 hums then, shattering the daydream’s quaint haze. Spring’s dawn bathes the rooftop gold. "I'm taking requests."

@compatipulse​, 501 743 923.

[detroitreznikoff]

Whats his personal go to breed, if he could pick from any dog breed in the world?

connor does extensive research after going to a pet store for the first time and prefers mutts bc purebred breeding is bad for doggies and he wants them to live long and healthy lives!!!

[ivanellopevonschweetz]

@compatipulse​​ is parenting. 

“ But -- I’ve heard some’a the other deviants saying it, too. “

[002kr-blog]

"Markus, are you okay?"

he wants to LIE, to be able to say that he’s perfectly okay. that the STRESS of leading a people to freedom isn’t weighing on his shoulders, that he’s not ready to shut down at any given moment. but he can’t. for some reason, he can’t.

“ i...”  he hesitates. “ no, actually. ”