#Smart Start

[mushroom-through-the-stargate]

Mythbusters have 3 categories of myths

the general public doesnt know how physics works

the general public doesnt know how lying works

oh crap this ones real

[cozylittleartblog]

"content creator" is a corporate word.

we are artists.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

HOT, SINGLE, UNSTUDIED SPONGES. 3000 NAUTICAL MILES AWAY. Come sail the distance and read Tiger Tiger!

[gingermintpepper]

I think, perhaps one of the funniest things to come from EPIC popularising the Odyssey is that now a ton of people think Poseidon wanted to kill Odysseus.

In the Odyssey, Poseidon has no intention of killing Odysseus. In fact, part of the whole reason Zeus lets Poseidon do whatever he wants even though he thinks Odysseus is rad and should get to kiss his wife is explicitly because Poseidon had no intentions of killing Odysseus. Poseidon wanted to pay back the suffering/inconvenience blinding Polyphemus would have caused. It's a really abstract thing tbh. How do you pay back someone permanently disabling your son? Poseidon's solution was just to amputate Odysseus from his other half; i.e. Penelope. The end game was never murder, it was always an endurance race.

(Od. Book 1: Zeus reassuring Athena that he is not, in fact, a part of Odysseus Hater-Nation. Trans. Robert Fagles)

Also, for those wondering if there's any sort of in text reason for why Poseidon wasn't around in God Games - at the time in the Odyssey when Athena petitions Zeus to let Odysseus leave Calypso's island, Poseidon was -checks notes- on vacation in Ethiopia. Yep. He left to Ethiopia for a festival and thusly was very much absent for Athena's whole "please let Ody go? Please? 🥺" request.

(Od. Book 1: While Odysseus was suffering, Poseidon went to party in the east)

I am begging y'all to read the Odyssey. It's a comedy for everyone except Odysseus and Penelope who are, in fact, suffering 24/7 365.

[sharkylad]

Thinking about the fact that Mabel and Dipper didn't know they had two great uncles.

Yeah they are 12 and at 12 I had a shotty understanding of my family tree- But really? Nobody brought up their great uncle? Stanley? Especially since they'll be staying with his twin brother, Stanford?

Shermie never went to Stan's fake funeral, which to me means the twos relationship was strained on some level. If Shermie is older that means his view of Stan was poisoned in some way, that even as kids they weren't close. If the Shermie is younger then he never even got to meet Stan and all he knew about him was how he failed his family. Hell, people probably barely mentioned Stanley TO Shermie.

The fact that Stan had become a black stain upon the Pines family name makes me so vividly upset. Stanley faked his death and the family just- seemingly decided to strike him from the record. To pretend he didn't existed to spare themselves the sadness and shame.

Stanford and Shermie Pines. The only children worth mentioning of Filbrick and Caryn Pines.

It was never Stanford that was lost to the world. It was Stanley, ever since he had to leave New Jersy- it was always him that had to be struck from the record. Change his name, change his state, change his affiliations, destroy the remains of ghost that was Stanley Pines. Kill him so the family doesn't bring him up, doesn't ask questions, stops asking "Stanford" about his twin.

I just keep thinking about the fact that since the day he made one single mistake all the way up until Ford walks out of that machine- Stanley Pines was killed and did not exist. And Stan himself had no one to blame, he had to play the part in his own demise- He is the only one who ever knew Stanley was alive and has been for decades.

He lives in the multitudes of every personality he's ever taken, all in the hope that he himself can stop being Stanley Pines.

[artashipatrick]

does anyone think bottom patrick zwieg is a good thing? i love tashi duncan. i think she’s a really interesting artist

[dayurno]

sometimes i’m sooooo blown away by the fact that kevin is so smart……. like yes he is the fox with the highest grades despite being also the fox with the tightest training schedule and yes he canonically gets called an obsessive genius and yes the extra content explicitly says he is both very smart and very willing to teach people. but really i am thinking about kevin playing reporters like fiddles, jean calling kevin too good of a liar to ever let anything slip, kevin going up to andrew post-game and wordlessly helping cover up the fact andrew is off his medicine by pretending andrew’s racquet had broken (and then proceeding to discreetly crush it in his hand when the foxes gather around andrew), kevin living a lifetime of walking on the edge of riko’s knife, kevin hiding french, hiding thea, kevin spotting potential from a mile away, kevin who even riko thought was brilliant and sharp-tongued. yeah……..!

[crypticthumbs]

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

completely random but I’ve discovered you only have ONE Oscar doodle on your blog and idk if there even are more out there but man. forever longing for some more pinchofpeppers Oscar content in my life. like I think it would fix me.

I don’t think you understand the speed in which I drew this. More in the future, but here’s a sneaky peaky

[woolysstuff]

I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM

Evil!Sun my beloved (Edit// This Evil!Sun is from TSAMS and is not an AU of mine guys)

Bonus doodle

[drbtinglecannon]

Everyone enjoy this pic of our new cat, Chester. The thousand-yard stare and extremely mushed face really make it an instant classic

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Turtle Takedown Teamwork.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[that1notetaker]

Uhhhh hi Zolu nation. Your in depth analysis and layered complexity based on love, care, friendship and devotion caught me unaware.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Don’t Call Him Jealous

—

Time written-6:10 p.m.

Jason Todd/fem!reader smut (I’m on mobile so image is huge, but c’mon it’s Jason. Take him in)

—

“Look at that, babe,” His hot, erotic rumble roared your heart into an irritating, intense drum in your chest, heating up the tips of your ears.

“It’s crying for me, begging me to have a taste.”

Hungry eyes kept an intense focus on the mirror in front of you both, the hardwood floor pooling with your arousal. He held both your legs junction over his propped up knees, keeping you spread open for his viewing pleasure alone.

Your bare chest heaved with sweat, perky nipples heavily flushed from countless pinches in between his thumbs. Repeated begs for him to slow down to give you an ounce of a break fell on deaf ears, a forearm secured between the valley of your tits, grasping you close as he fucked you with his fingers.

Overstimulation became your toxic lover, sparking you up in pain with the promise of pleasure, quickly following eachother in an endless loop.

Bucking away didn’t help, he’d only hook his fingers against your G-spot harder, forcing your ass back against his hard, girthy cock, swollen and throbbing for pussy behind the prison of his red gym shorts.

You were in a dress, at one point. A dress you kept in its protective plastic hanger for weeks. Now, it laid abandoned, torn and neglected scraps on the ground since the second Jason saw you in it.

What was his main concern about it? “Nothing.”

The fabric was a rich, deep silky blue, caressing your body perfectly in every way. His biggest issue was a certain cocky bastard, who’s signature color just so happens to lay in pieces on the ground.

Yes, he’d get calls and texts from the rest once they realize he failed to attend yet another Gala. Yes, they’d most likely realize that it wasn’t you who had planned to miss it in the first place.

The last thing he wanted was said certain cocky Grayson to make even so much as a thought of a snarky comment on such. Knowing him, he would.

It was all Jason; the man who didn’t bother to think of the tux he was supposed to have picked up from the dry cleaners before coming home from the gym.

All he had on hand was you, working up to your fourth climax in front of your bedroom mirror. A beautiful, erotic mess of smeared lipstick and cloudy mascara tears, moaning endlessly on his fingers before working you open on his cock.

Never catch him thinking he wasn’t a giver. It was his second favorite sport.

“Pretty, pretty,” Jason murmurs against your neck, kissing along your flushed skin. “Pretty, pretty girl. Y’know what I want, huh? Give it to me.”

“C-C-Can’t,” you exhale, both your hands clutching his working forearm, needlessly crying out broken words and drawn out cries as the fire in your tense tummy threatened to burst.

“J-Jay, J-J-Jay, I-I can’t! S’too much!!”

“Come on, babygirl. Don’t be like that, give me what I want. Come on, baby. Come on, come on.”

He urges via lustfully hasty words in your right ear, bucking his fingers deeper and faster into your stretched walls, the palm of his calloused hand directly abusing your swollen, rosy little clit.

Your nails dig deeper into his forearm, deep enough to add onto his collection of angry scars as liquid heat surges through your veins. A collection of trembling cries erupted from your quivering, rouge smeared lips as his palm grew soaked.

He grunts out a pleased groan in tandem with yours, nearly drowned out by your whimpering as if he was the one that came, forcing every nerve in your body to shiver.

“There we go,” Jason cooes, working his fingers until he picks up on those irritated, little overstimulated whines he recognized by memory, telling him to slow down without use of words.

Only, your body didn’t give him what he wanted. Almost, but not yet.

He listened for now, retreating his fingers, lingering about to pry your soaked lips apart, biting back a deep growl at your soaked, gaping pink hole.

Never more than now did he want to stuff you full, but he was working for something a little more… eye catching.

He enjoyed what he saw right now; maroon lipstick smeared off the edges of your lips, transferred onto his the second he kissed you against your mirror. Pink scratches and dabbled love bites that would morph into rich, wine bruises littering your neck and shoulders.

Red, pure red from your blooming cheeks, aroused skin, sore breasts, and abused pussy.

A dirty, surface drenching show only your body could provide, ignited by his favorite hue of color, by any means necessary. So. why stop at four?

Without a word, Jason dips a finger back inside your cavern, feeling your body nearly wince from the intrusion, a low little whine escaping your deflated lungs.

“Jasooon,” you croak, your rising hips instantly jolted back against his lap by a strong grip on your hip, followed by the click of his tongue. “Please—“

“Not done yet, Princess,” he murmurs, kissing along your neck as his other finger joins in, expertly finding your sweet spot and curling his fingers, determined to go for five.

Blue wasn’t a good color on you anyway.

[byjovewhataspend]

Kacchan Bias

the left wouldnt be REMOTELY interesting to me if it werent for the right

[icaruspendragon]

my husband and i started dating almost six years ago and our anniversary is coming up so i was looking through texts from when we first started seeing each other and jfk i'm just now realizing he was flirting with me and i simply did not realize that’s what was happening.

he'd say something like "aren’t you just the sweetest thing" and i'd respond with some shit like "that's nice of you to say. i have a deeply ingrained borderline pathological need to be liked and also to make other people happy so it's good to know i'm succeeding in that."