#don't know what to tell ya

[mroddmod]

they are like puppies. 2 me

[quitecontraryy]

Incarcerations' what I'm facing When I'm with you You're watching my every move Trying to pick up on some clues We play 20 questions Every time I walk in or out the door What do you bother for?

[roseofhybrids]

[krysmcscience]

Saw this post and couldn't resist because,

1.) @tesscourtes' human!Bill is a lil cutie-patootie menace that I very badly wanted to draw, and,

2.) I have a - M I G H T Y - N E E D - for any version of human!Bill to find any way he possibly can to annoy Ford a whole lot :D

Also, 3.) I like to headcanon that Bill's knowledge in The Sciences is mostly limited to 'Ways I Can Make A Really Cool Doomsday Portal', and everything else he knows is just a slapdash mix of the stuff he remembers from whatever schooling he went through on Euclydia, a whole awful lot of lucky guesses (which he WILL gaslight you about if you tell him he's wrong), and - naturally - conning all the rest of the answers he needs out of any more educated saps who are unfortunate enough to be around him at the time (answers which he will then proceed to take credit for), so as far as I'm concerned, this "outfit" is perfect for him.

Ignore the shitty backgrounds, I am sick to death of doing backgrounds, I just want to draw goofy shenanigans, okay???

[cherryxrobots]

Today's Underrated Robot/AI is:

Colossus from The Forbin Project (1970)

Fun Fact: The movie this old guy came from is actually based off a book trilogy by author D.F. Jones: Colossus, The Fall of Colossus, and Colossus and the Crab.

[vilnmelling]

You know you've watched NPMD one too many times when you're watching a YouTube video and someone says "skeleton" instead of "skele'uhn" and you're like "wow, that sounds weird"

[eightspringdays]

one of my favorite hc about near is that he just drops fun facts literally out of nowhere and keeps doing whatever he was doing after

near, building a card tower

mello, meters away doing reports

near, unprompted: did you know bees communicate by dancing

mello: what?

near, keeps building the tower in complete silence

mello: what?!

and after a while mello just knows

near, assembling a hot wheels highway: it's almost impossible for opossums to get rabies

mello: good for them

but sometimes is just

near, under a ten storey lego building: praying mantis can change colors to adapt to their environment

mello: wait. like chameleons?

near, already on the eleventh floor, completely silent

mello, side-eyeing rester who just sighs and googles it

[thoughtfulchaos773]

The Bear & Dirty Lovers

This is a dirty meta with a compilation on inappropriate double entendres. I figured I'd write it and put it out there due to looking up the meaning of the Save it for Later song, originally by the English Beat that plays numerous times for a season, possibly rings some importance as much as Strange Currencies did last year. What I find particularly interesting about this song is the double entendre - the song has meaning about a man's journey to finding his place in the world and a cheeky nod to the word "fellatio."

An expert from the lyrics:

Two dozen other dirty lovers Must be a sucker for it Cry, cry, but I don't need my mother Just hold my hand while I come. .. to a decision on it... Sooner or later Your legs give way, you hit the ground

And now, here is a little 50-second combination of all the dirty talk in season 3.

The season rings of sexual frustration with jokes and vulgar dismissals that most of the characters spew in the show. I'd say Richie and carmy- both lonely, sexually frustrated men find double meaning in "you get fucked" with Sydney serving them with "you both can get fucked" (this doesn't mean Sydney wants to fuck them - instead an observation of the unconscious on what Richie and Carmy want).

I'm still fascinated by Richie using Freudian concepts when talking to Carmy. There's also some projection there. The writers must have been inspired by Freud this season (as most filmmakers are). In his psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud discusses humor in his book "Jokes and Their Relation to the Unconscious."

He argues that jokes provide immense pleasure by allowing us to express many of our deepest sexual, aggressive, and cynical thoughts and feelings, which would otherwise remain repressed.- link

Not all Jokes this season served as double entendres- Ted was known to be sex-driven (and possibly representing Carmy's primal mind- s expressed by @outmakingmoonshinethinking.

There's a teenage style of humor this season that you might miss. Sydney is tasting Carmy's sauce, followed by eggplant drawings, as called out by @brokenwinebox .

Also, Carmy tells Sydney she should come.

But like all double meanings- we can relate to the song for the story this season on purpose. It serves as a journey for Carmy as he reflects on whether his career and dedication were worthwhile. It is also a theme song for Sydney as she decides to save her conversation with Carmy for later. It's a reminder that this season is about saving issues for later rather than addressing them now and that they'll be back on the table in season 4.

I'd also like to consider Carmy's perspective since we were in his head for most of the show. He's sexually unsatisfied, hearing and highlighting double entendres in the characters' dialogue because of his sexual frustration is instead used for work.

Although the writers vehemently deny any sort of sex or romance in the show, there are subtle but sometimes overt sex jokes in season 3.

Hopefully, there will be even more jokes and possibly a love scene in season 4.

tagging: @currymanganese, @moodyeucalyptus, @whenmemorydies, @mitocamdria

[jolliestlolli]

It has come to my attention that I might have... a type

[nopanamaman]

Hey, ferry! What are your plans for 100k subscribers?

Absolutely nothing❗❗❗👍💥💥

[pushing500]

Drill the Waster Wild Woman finally collapsed from her psychite dependence- fortunately, Mechi was prepared and had some yayo on hand for her. Once she had taken it, she got up and wandered off the map. Good luck out there, Drill!

We also have a giraffe named Elmo now, so that's nice.

Another wanderer joins, and this time Mechi has an interesting idea... All in the pursuit of knowledge, you understand.

Whaaaat?? Who could have seen this coming??? Crazy how things like this happen by accident. How about that.

Anyway, Sanma, Elmo, and Sanma's new creepy-ass stomach are all safely at Arwell now. Hopefully they settle in quickly.

Also, some traders sold us a beagle that we named Brandy. She's a very good girl, and now Mechi gets double nuzzles from his dog and cat. He's living his best life.

First | Next | Previous

[andy-clutterbuck]

Happy Valentine's Day

[thelovers-thedreamers-and-me]

[nattikay]

reading the comments section on a video about the Sully siblings and it's wild how many people were insisting "why'd you leave out Spider he's adopted too" y'all no he isn't, Jake literally explicitly spells out for you in words at the very beginning of the movie that Spider "isn't part of the family", he's just the kids' best friend who's always hanging around, they literally could not make it more clear than that why are people so confused were you paying attention at all

[rillils]

rils, absolutely nothing hurts more than bucky saying "its fine, im used to it, ive had worse.." whenever he gets beaten up a lot

It’s the simple, matter-of-fact way he says it, that makes it all the more heartbreaking.

If he were crying, if he were slamming his balled-up fists into the wall, screaming, rioting at the unfairness of it all, Steve thinks it might be just that bit easier. Then, at least he could wipe Bucky’s tears away, dull the sharp knife-edge of Bucky’s grief with his own hands, hold him in his arms until all the parts of him came back together.

But Bucky keeps his grief under the surface, silent; private, except for those glimpses his body lets slip sometimes, in the traitorous set of his tense shoulders, or the blanching of his knuckles digging tight into his thighs, or the painful clenching of his jaw.

He brushes off the bruises, the cuts, the dark blood crusting his suit, shrugging his shoulder as Steve coaxes him into the chair he pulled up for him from the kitchen table.

“I’m fine,” he says, his jaw blossoming purple and blue in Steve’s cupped hand. Says ‘I’m fine’ and means it, just the same as Steve meant it when he used to say ‘I can take it’ after each beating in a piss-rank alley, back in the day. He recognizes it; the intimate need to believe it, to make it true, speak it true, even on the days when it started to taste like a lie.

“I’m used to it,” Bucky assures him, speaking softly in the homely kitchen glow, hand squeezing Steve’s knee with gentle purpose – as though that wasn’t the worst part. As thought it wasn’t the cruelest piece of truth.

He’s used to it.

He’s grown used to it.

There are so many things humans can grow into. Grow better. Grow kinder. Grow older. But Bucky’s grown into the pain, was raised into it, shaped into it, until pain became a natural presence lingering under his skin, twining its ancient roots around his ribs.

“You shouldn’t be used to it,” Steve murmurs, dabbing iodine over the tender-looking cut cresting Bucky’s cheekbone.

He shouldn’t have to be used to it.

Habit can turn even the most terrible things into day-to-day routine, given enough time.

Habit will see the hurt and whisper, It’s okay, it’s just another Tuesday. It doesn’t matter. But it does. It matters so much, so much it’s all Steve can see right now. That’s what he tries to tell Bucky, with the swipe of his thumb over Bucky’s good cheekbone, seeking the places where touch won’t hurt, where the caress will stir only warmth, no lurking aches: It matters. That’s the salve he spreads on Bucky’s bruised cheek, before slipping the band-aid into place, smoothing it over with the pad of his thumb, tender like a naked heart: It matters.

So what if the black and blue will have faded tomorrow, leaving behind nothing but the olive skin Steve has worshipped longer and more fervently than any gods or holy ghosts? So what if the wounds will heal fast, and the flesh knit itself back together till there’s not a pale scar left behind? That doesn’t mean Bucky’s not hurting now. That doesn’t mean the heart won’t remember, even when all the evidence is gone.

Bucky must read his thoughts on his face, easy as leafing through a book.

“It’s nothing, I swear,” he insists, rubbing soothing circles on the meat of Steve’s kevlar-clad thigh, a small, lopsided grin slanted on his lips. “I’ve had much worse than this.”

He seems to regret the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. Steve sees it, how the grin seals back up and Bucky’s eyes widen for a moment, as if he startled himself. The way his Adam’s apple bobs and his lips part and close and part again, hesitating. “Sweetheart.”

“I know,” Steve says. “It’s okay.”

Worse, in their two-people world, is barely a euphemism for the atrocities Bucky has borne, the likes of which Steve couldn’t have dreamed of even when he used to come home with more black eyes and fractured ribs than his stubborn body could afford to handle. Worse is a sore spot they only ever touch carefully, treading hand in hand on crumbling ground, and doing so takes its toll. There’s a time and a place for Worse, and tonight, Steve estimates, they both lack the spoons for it.

“Tell me something else you’re used to.” He wets his lips. “Something nice.”

Bucky’s eyes soften. In the dim, buttery light, his irises glitter like gems, startlingly pretty, and the corners crinkle just so, roped into a genuine smile. “Something nice, huh?”

His palms curl around Steve’s forearms, pulling him into Bucky’s space; and Steve goes, standing up from his chair only to step into Bucky’s inviting embrace, climbing into his lap, hoarded close in Bucky’s capable arms.

It’s precious, how Bucky has to tip his head back to look him in the eye like this. The way he looks up – looks up at Steve like he’s gazing at the stars, eyes full of wonder, of something soft like Oh, like How. How does something this beautiful exist. How does it bring light here, where the world is at its darkest.

Bucky’s flesh hand comes up to touch him, warm, brushing knuckle-first against his skin to stroke the soft underside of Steve’s chin, his fingers overlapping with Steve’s jawline, raspy with the day’s stubble.

“I could list you a whole bunch of nice somethings,” Bucky rumbles, gaze raking all over Steve’s face to drink him in, here, up close where he won’t miss a single detail. As though he could collect every freckle, every mole and laugh line and tuck them away for safekeeping, treasures that they are.

Steve exhales softly, feeling warmed through. Wanted. Desired. Craved, with that delicate, bone-deep hunger with which one craves a caress from their lover.

“Just give me the first one off the top of your head,” he prompts, whisper-soft, and tastes the word when Bucky breathes: “One”, against the curve of his lips, before capturing them in a kiss.

He lets Steve take the lead, and Steve moves them as he sees fit: slow and gentle, the bruises on Bucky’s face demanding that he take care, softly now, easy does it, as he tilts his head to the side and slips tender into the welcoming heat of Bucky’s mouth, dancing their tongues together.

His fingers sink in Bucky’s hair, cradling the nape of his neck as they part, lingering, close enough to breathe each other’s air.

“'Tell you a secret, though,” Bucky husks, breathing in with his eyes closed, his nose rubbing at Steve’s flushed cheek. He’s so warm, so warm all around him. Holding onto Steve with a need so deep, Steve is sure it’ll bruise him too, heart and soul. “I ain’t ever getting used to this, honey.”

Steve feels himself shiver, heat dripping down his spine. I love you, he feels, starting breathless in his lungs, tingling all the way into his fingertips, straining against the seams of his skin, too big to be held within. I love you, love you, love you–

In a cone of yellow light in their kitchen, he holds Bucky tight, and he doesn’t let go.

[rosieparker1856]

I was dead asleep and woke up like a fucking zombie with the thought of “I wonder if when people go to Danny’s Grave to offer their condolences or whatever people do, if Danny can only hear it when he is a ghost.” I’m imagining it like an answering machine, you don’t actually know the message unless you play it back. This idea has probably been said before, but it’s 4 a.m and I’ve written 6 college papers in the last 24 hours. I wasted good sleep for this random bunny.

This premise lies solely on the fact of Danny actually having a grave stone, for people to go to.

That being said, a lot of people don’t go to Cemeteries every time they think of someone who passed away. Personally, with my Great Grandmother, when I want to remember her I bring out her old cookbooks and make her favourite recipes. And I talk to her the entire time I’m cooking. Especially during Harvest Fest.

So, in that mindset, can Danny hear everything people say when they’re remembering him? Cause that could get really annoying really fast for a boy who’s still half alive.

Like he’s partnered up with Wes on a Chemistry project and all that’s going through his head when he’s fighting a ghost when they’re supposed to meet up is “Danny Fenton, Danny Phantom, why isn’t he here already? I didn’t see a ghost on the news” or something like that. Don’t judge the dialogue literally have had 2 hours of sleep the last 3 days cause of work and classes.

Someone please, if this is a thing and there are fics about it drop them in the comments. Is that pick me? To ask you to comment? Anyways, i should try and get back to bed.

This is not proofread and I didn’t even put on my glasses for it, so if it’s clunky/there are misspelled words, no there aren’t.