#if not I'll add them in later

[blookywooky]

Hey remember that one SpongeBob meme?

Voices were done by my brother :D

images under the cut

STEM gone... :(

[revalition]

spring storm

inspired by this frame from shunran (春嵐) by john/TOOBOE

[deedee-sims]

@lucilla-sims 4t2 Sentate Coco Dress made top-only (requested by @abbsterlicious)

And let's start the new year with a cute dress! For adults and teens, they have the appropriate morphs. They come in the original 10 colors (swatch is stolen), and you can choose if you want the TF files repo'd to the AF files, or not :)

Download Sentate Coco Dress Top-Only AF - Alternate

Download Sentate Coco Dress Top-Only TF Repo'd - Alternate

Download Sentate Coco Dress Top-Only TF Standalone - Alternate

[balkanradfem]

So I was swimming the other day, and I noticed a male in a yellow shirt on the riverbank. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, hoping he wouldn't notice me, the treacherous freak. But, he didn't even look towards the river; he hanged around a tree, and collected something from it. Then he went away. I blinked, and then looked twice at the tree and realized – it was the tree I planted. It was the peach tree I planted there 4 years ago. He was collecting peaches!

Somehow in all of my stress with medical issues and laptop and everything else I have going on, I had forgotten to check my peach tree to see if the peaches are ripe. But there it was, a proof that the peaches were not only ripe, but good, because someone came to the riverbank only to collect peaches, and only from that one tree. My peaches had to be good. I had planted a peach tree and now the local community has free peaches!

Incredibly happy, I went to check on the tree after I was done swimming; it's not a grafted peach, it grew from a wild seed, so peaches are small. Some ugnrafted peaches would grow bitter fruit, and I didn't know the flavour of this one. I found the tree covered in fruit, with a bunch of peaches on the ground; I opted to collect the ones on the ground, because they looked healthy and ripe. And then I tried one. It was perfect. Incredibly sweet and not a hint of bitterness.

I am so proud of my little peach tree, back when I planted her, she was my height, she was growing in my spot in the community garden, and I had to dig it out because we're not allowed to grow trees in the community garden. So I planted it in a public space, tied it to a big stick to protect it from the city maintenance crew which commonly cut down small trees, and made sure to water it for the first few months. Year after year I would pull out all of the flowers from the tree, because the branches were so weak, they would have broken if peaches grew on them! I've seen fruit trees break and fall because of this issue. This year was the first one I decided the tree was strong enough to hold fruit, and I let it all grow. None of the branches broke, and now we all can have peaches. People living in the area don't have to go to the store to get them! They can just walk on the riverbank and peaches are right there.

The riverbank has sour cherries, plums, walnuts, willows, lindens, and now peaches! What a wonderful way to live, planting fruit trees in public so people would have all kinds of fruit in the summer for free. I managed to help out! I was harvesting all the other stuff growing there and hoped I could contribute to the tradition. Yay peaches!

[sparklingsora]

so thanks to this polyvees server i joined recently i found out that apparently theres a polyvees week happening over on twitter. this is for day 1: duo. and it's veeswap au because i'm me

[secondhand-lions]

tagged by @romaniwasteland !!

[The rules are simple: go to pinterest, search "your name + core", and post six pictures. Then tag six people]

problem: i have 3 names all of which see regular use, so! 2 for each <3

pinterest loves seeing me in green ig

@typosandtea @beentobeetle @falloutnewnobody @constehlla @agaric25 @hearteyedbunny

[luanna801]

One of the things I find very endearing about Wei Wuxian as a protagonist is he's so earnestly appreciative wherever and whenever he sees skill or excellence on display. Even when it's from someone he doesn't particularly get along with, or in a situation where you'd expect him to have other priorities.

He's in middle of rankling Lan Wangji, but he can't help blurting out "Wow!! Great calligraphy!" because he's just so sincerely impressed. He's on a Top Secret Spying Mission but he's like "Wow!! Look at those amazing paintings on the wall! Gotta take a closer look!" He's watching Jin Guangyao's whole Villain Origin Story Flashback Sequence and forming an increasingly negative opinion of him, and he's still like "Wow!! You have to admire his self-control!"

There's this sense of almost wide-eyed innocence about it, like he goes through the world with such a love of beauty and skill wherever he sees it. And yes in the case of LWJ's calligraphy he's gushing over his not-so-secret crush, but it's a consistent trait of his pretty much across the board. He'll give credit wherever it's due, dangit! He gets so excited to see People Being Good at Stuff!

[galactaknightyaoi]

☀️ IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!! 🌙

This is my gift to myself :) I drew my favorite guys ever.

For a while I've been itching to draw the wedding outfits from this post again. I made them up on the fly as I was drawing, but I actually really like how they ended up turning out. They're super cute!! (though, yet again, you can't see almost any part of Dedede's outfit... 💔)

But then I couldn't get it out of my head to make a companion piece for it, with their mirror versions. And so. I did. What they have going on is a little bit messy, though...

Marriage or divorce!! Take your pick.

[temporaerthaervaerk]

I really am a sucker for dual male lead media where they appear as complete opposites only to end up being eachothers foils and somehow also ending up being completely depended on eachother despite of (because of) their differences

[naffeclipse]

Cold Scales

Naga!Moon x Reader. Sickness.

The first sign of your fever hits you with a pulse of heat. You brushed it aside, believing the sun had been beating on you too long, and the jungle warmth was simmering your blood. Sun leads you to the cave come nightfall. The buzz of mosquitoes fills the air with a menacing hum.

Sun has always been warm to you, even when he told you that you are warmer. His melting yellow and golden jewel tone scales, his cornflower blue eyes, wide and endearing, fit alongside the heavy humidity in the afternoons. The small scarlet markings on his throat and hips are metal-red hot, too. He always kept you warm.

Moon is cool. You’re not sure if that’s due to the cold tones of his scales, gray-blue on his belly and along his arms, and deeper into midnight blue along his back and on top of his hood. He hides in the darkness after sunset. His red eyes, even darker still, only flash once it’s too late for his prey. You’ve seen how fast he strikes��before, when you were acting foolish and trying to escape their aid, and after, when you watched him and Sun hunt a meal.

You slip out of Sun’s embrace. His arms fall away, lethargic from the day you both put your energy into scavenging for berries and nuts and small mammals. A soft hiss leaves his lips. You wait a moment to ensure he doesn’t stir, though his coils unconsciously tense, searching for the little human he was holding.

Sun had mentioned you felt warmer than usual, but you convinced him you were only tired and worn out from the hot day. Still, he frowned when you laid down beside him on the cool cave floor.

The fever pulses deep within you. You feel it burn across your forehead with a ripple of sweat. Staggering out of the cave, what strength you have is quickly sapped by whatever attacks your body. You need less heat. You need to be cold and imagine gulping down icy water to soothe the dryness infecting your throat.

A small trail that’s been trampled by your feet and the width of snake tails leads you through the trees. Even in the dark, under the delirium of a fever, you find the edge of the glinting water reflecting the canopy of thick verdant leaves overhead.

You kneel, almost collapsing forward before you manage to catch yourself with both hands splashing into the pebble-bottom stream. The heavy breaths in your chest heave in and out. You sigh and tell yourself you’re being a baby—one little fever, and you’re struggling to concentrate on the water before you.

In the reflection of the stream, you catch two red eyes glowing above you, leaning out of a tree to survey your feeble attempts to quench your burning thirst. A hood of midnight and diamond yellow stars surround the visage. 

“It’s nothing, Moon,” you whisper to the water. Slowly, you cup your hand and carefully bring it to your lips. The crisp coldness douses your heated lips, filling your mouth with a jolt due to the sharp contrast of cold and fire within you. When you swallow, you shiver.

The softest rustle echoes. A few branches quiver, then, you feel his presence behind you, cool as a tree’s shadow. 

A large, blue-gray hand snakes around your forehead. Knuckles press against your temple, and you sigh in relief at his blissful, fresh touch. 

“Fever,” Moon rasps, carrying the end of the word with a soft hiss of disdain, as if saying it with a curse will make it no longer reality.

“I just need a drink.” You cup your hand in the lazy flow of water again. “I’m fine.”

“Too warm,” he says when you greedily gulp another mouthful. 

Water spills cut down the corners of your mouth. He presses closer to you. His thumb smoothly wipes away the drips falling off of your chin, then he shifts. Your mauve shirt with the sleeves cut off allows his frosty arms to offer a barrier against the next wave of heat crashing against you. He’s never felt so cold before—or have you never felt this feverish before?

“It’ll go away.” 

You try to get to your feet but Moon’s hand on your waistline stops you from rising.

“Come here,” he rasps. “Let me see you, orchid.”

You would have given him a look at the pet name, but you don’t have the strength to muster the effort. He eases you back against his chest. His palms slide and cup your shoulders, his sharp fingertips slipping slightly under the frayed edges of your shirt and resting on the end of your collarbone. Is that a shiver from the elicit touch or sickly chills beginning to take hold?

“You’re flushed,” he hisses softly. A slight slip of his tongue, forked at the end, peeks out of his mouth as he leans closer. You moan unwittingly at his cool, flat cheek pressed against your clammy face.

“It was hot today.”

“You’re sick,” he decides.

This time, you groan out of refusal rather than relief. 

“I’m not sick.” You slowly shift, managing to get to your knees to face him. The fever forces your shoulders down. You bow under the exhaustion taking hold. 

Moon hisses in an amusement yet concerned note. His long tail drapes behind him, cutting across the ground like the connections of a constellation. It’s black in this lowlight, but in the day, when he sleepily shows himself, you’ve caught the iridescent indigo and jeweled blue tones of his beautiful scales. 

“If you keep denying it, I will take drastic actions. Do you want that, orchid?” his tone lowers to a menacing threat, all dark cords and hisses, but you’ve learned to tune your senses to his hands and expression. He looks only at you, a slight frown playing along his wide mouth. His eyes are narrowed, displeased with your condition.

“No,” you shake your head, “You and Sun are so dramatic.”

“Says the stubborn flower,” he touches your cheek. You nearly collapse into his palm. The rasp of his laugh stings your pride as much as it soothes your aching chest. 

“I’m not a flower,” you mutter as you feel his arms lower slightly, coaxing your hands over his shoulders. He rises higher on his tail, lifting your feet off the ground without effort, and you slump over his shoulder, little more than a child being carried to bed. Moon hums a low, hypnotic sound (that you’re sure is part of his allure, his power).

“Of course not,” he gives with amused demean.

You work up a growl at your throat that sounds weak even to your own ears. Moon shushes you with a soft stroke of his claws against your spine. The shudder that follows through your body is both cold and hot, and you hate that he silences you so simply, and that you like how he strikes back against your harshness.

“Easy, easy,” he murmurs as if calming a tiger. You want to snarl at him again but the brief spark is quickly smothered under an internal infernal cooking your core.

No one agitates you and reassures you as much as Moon.

He glides across the ground to his tree—it’s wide and high, thick with strong boughs and leafy but not too leafy. A perfect tree for a naga. Moon tends to lounge up there when he wants to escape the shadows of the cave you usually make your bed in. You wonder how he intends to hold you through the night up in its verdant limbs, but Moon hooks a hand behind your head and lowers you softly to the cool, moist ground at the base of the trunk.

“Moon?” For a piercing moment, you’re afraid. You refuse to let go of his arm as he draws away. Where is he going?

“Hold still,” he gently hisses.

You let go. You wait for him.

Slowly, his coils gather, curving in loops close to you. He draws himself around you, his long body following. The darkness shimmers. He takes you into his arms once more and guides you to his chest where he fully embraces you. The end of his tail drapes across your waist, sealing you within a deliciously cool embrace of the naga’s scales.

“Shush,” he says when you groan, soaking in his invigorating presence. “Sleep, orchid.”

You almost tell him that you can’t, or that you won’t, but the comfortable weight of his body surrounding you, the chill of his arms against your burning skin, and the soft tuck of his chin upon your sweaty head chases away the last of your resistance. You might have pressed back—saying you don’t need his help, but it’s hard to resist the frost-gentle relief of his presence. It’s hard to be stubborn when he feels so good.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs against your hair. “You’ll feel better soon.”

The sweet caresses of his cool touch across your forehead eases your ache. Against your will, your eyelids flutter. He hums low, a lullaby you can’t name, and it soothes you gently into a dreamless sleep, comforted by a cool cradle of scales and songs.

[layzeal]

MXTX mentioning NMJ, NHS and JGY in the newest interview!

[kirby-the-gorb]

[starwrighter]

DpxDc angst prompt for April go!

The standard Danny gets de-aged and thrown into the DC universe au but with a little flare™

Danny is thrown by clockwork face first into the DC universe after a nasty encounter with the Giw he is freshly reformed and confused. Clockwork whips up a false identity for Danny and shoves the halfa through a portal to heal.

Clockwork didn't say much of anything to Danny except "Find the birds,". Danny, who is now 4yo, with mixed up traumatic memories, and in a universe he doesn't recognize doesn't know what the heck that means.

Danny ends up staying ghost and staying very invisible while watching the local crow population for a few days. He only drops his invisibility a couple of times for a brief couple of seconds before before he decides that's not a good idea. People looked unnerved when they saw him; one person even called the police on him!!!!! >:(

What 4yo Danny fails to realize is that ghosts like him or anyone from the ghost zone don't exist here so the DC universe's hoard of excess ectoplasm was very eager to warp the appearance of his ghost half.

People were right to be afraid. Danny looked awful! He was still in the hazmat suit he died in loose on his now tiny body and peeling off where the Giw had sliced into him. His cheeks were sunken, his body littered with bruises and cuts from fighting. His eyes were a milky-blue glossed over and lifeless. Overall he was a horrifying sight to see even to most Gothamites

Danny was lucky the bats didn't find him (he was looking for birds not bats dang it!) There was a brief Investigation on the sightings but since Danny showed up soon after a fear gas attack it was dismissed. It's only when he can hear the bats talking on their coms that Danny realizes that Robin's were a bird!!

Danny gets really excited. The next day he follows Tim to school still invisible at this point because Tim is still a living person and Danny thinks people are scary. Danny wants to talk to Tim but he is also nervous so he does the obvious thing and tries to write him a note.

Only...

He doesn't have a pen but, oh! He could make this work!

In other news, Tim opens his locker to find a page of his notebook has a message scrawled in the blood that matches that of a recently murdered four-year-old.

"Hi birdy,"

[lghockey]

This a PSA for everyone...

BE NICE TO WRITERS ON HERE

DONT FUCKING REPOST THEIR WORK ON OTHER SITES

They had the confidence to post original works on here and we need to respect them

If you don't like what they wrote, don't read

If you don't like them, don't follow or just block them so you don't see them

BE KIND TO FANFIC WRITERS YOU FILTHY ANIMALS (lovingly)

[realtapiocafan]

The way people talk about black NFL players always has me side eying 😭😭😭 some of the comments I’ve seen about Ja’marr today have been crazy

Ok, incoming rant. Please do not read if you're uncomfortable with discussions of racism

Wow, I was just looking in the insta comments of ja'marr signing shit for fans and omfg, i couldn't believe my eyes. 'Show a little excitement' 'look like you care a lil' 'don't look away while you're shaking someone's hand' well what if i shake in RAGE. like he stopped and signed the jersey and he took a picture, what. 'smile' GIRL THE CAMERA ISN'T EVEN POINTED AT HIM. and like you compare that shit to joe signing shit yesterday (in which joe didn't smile either) and it's all 'oh thats my qb' 'making a diff in the young generation' 'so compassionate'. The sheer difference in perception is just... 💔

The thing is: there's a lot of racism in the NFL.

Like, just as a whole, we're watching a predominately black population fight each other for our entertainment. Yes, NFL athletes get paid, but for the longest time, the main argument for NIL was that colleges were benefitting from the free 'labor' of student-athletes, who were basically putting their bodies and futures on the line (it's been proven you can get CTE from even youth football which. yikes).

The most prominent example, and the one that the media probably talks about the most, is coaches. Don't get me wrong, the NFL has gotten a hell lot better with coaches. Like a couple of years, there was just one black head coach (which is another rant bc the racial makeup of the league was even more skewed in past years), and this year there was nine. So it's... progress? The thing is: I get the Rooney rule, I do. But interviewing for a job that you know you aren't getting... I don't know. Considering someone for an interview and considering someone for a job are two entirely different things. I don't know how to fix it, it's kind of a microcosm of the whole DEI debate. On one hand, African Americans are at a historical and thereby structural disadvantage, but teams are still gonna hire who they think is best (and surely it's just a coincidence that 'who they think is best' is white). Black coaches can't just be as good as their white peers - to get hired, they have to be better.

And there's just a lot of casual racism. There's a common myth that black athletes tend to be faster. No one likes to acknowledge it, but it's basically entrenched into our society. And that myth permeates through the NFL and football in general. We see it in the different racial makeup of positions, in the 'two-way' threat of black qbs, in how replaceable rbs are seen as, in how wrs are seen as 'prima donnas' and 'divas'.

There's a reason why you never see black centers and we're only recently seeing black qbs. Those are the 'thinking' positions, the leadership positions, arguably the most important positions. And there's a reason why so many WRs and corners are black. Those are the 'athletic' positions. (There's also the fact that wide receivers and corners are positions far more prone to injury than qbs or centers or kickers but that deserves its own rant).

In large part, the racial segregation can be traced to youth/college football, where black players are predominately pushed to the athletic positions. Black players are perfectly able to play qb thank you very much -it's that their coaches and agents and whoever switch them to WR or corner, because of the perceived 'better athleticism'. That's the casual racism I'm referring to, the generalization just based on skin color.

There are so many stories about how people were trying to convince Lamar to become a RB -and that's still a common insult for Lamar ('oh he's just a glorified RB'). And that's basically reducing Lamar to just his athleticism (aka his 'natural talents'), completely ignoring the FACT that he's an elite passer. Like fuck right off with the 'he's not intelligent enough to pass' argument (which some people still say). The discourse around black quarterbacks, as a whole, is still very much centered on 'oh it's just their athleticism', always praising their 'two-way threat' and that just. Ugh.

And also running backs! The current devaluation of running backs, considering that most rbs are black... there's something disturbing about just how much of the discourse around rbs is centered around how easily they can be replaced. How they're seen as commodities and things, rather than people. This can be extended to all players, because of how profit-oriented the NFL is, but it's especially applicable to rbs and the fact that most rbs are black, cannot be ignored.

Back to WRs. The media loves to just toss the label of 'diva' on wide receivers. And like those hand-wavy comments, 'oh that's just the diva gene'... Again. Most WRs are black. And simply calling them dramatic for no reason, just based on their position ... it makes me very uncomfortable. Racism isn't about calling people slurs, it's stereotyping a whole group of people. You can say that it might not be a harmful stereotype, but is accusing black people of needlessly throwing tantrums, really harmless? Especially in this case, there's a long very painful history of accusing black people of overreacting. So when people call Ja'Marr a diva for wanting to be paid his worth, yea, I do think there's racism there. It's not overreacting to want to get what you deserve and the discussions that he should accept less than what he's worth, just because the (white) front office was too stupid -god, it makes me furious.

[alebrijediscordico]

some practice on muscles, robots n general anatomies..