#metabol

[anshobecure]

Today, we’ll delve into the transformative power of weight loss surgery (WLS), also known as bariatric surgery or Obesity Surgery, for those struggling with both weight loss and type 2 diabetes.

[me-beef]

@strangeravatar made a great point

i was gonna focus on the spike-hotboxing-celestia aspect but i got distracted somewhere along the way and i think i forgot what joke i was trying to make

but dont you think its interesting how many guards of the exact same color/body type she's managed to accrue?? i do

ooohh you want to go look at our stickers so bad

[dreamweave01]

I feel like the resolution on this image is bad, my apologies...

So I found this old drawing I did forever ago in my files and thought it was hilarious, so I decided to share :)

[heytherecentaurs]

You know how Flamingos are pink because of the shrimp they eat. That's also why Fig's skin is pink. It's not her fiendish heritage. It's her sheer shrimp intake. Yeah, she's a fiend. A fiend for shrimp.

[wolfythewitch]

It's not like super prominent or anything but I like giving Odysseus a little belly for a bit after he comes home to Ithaca,,, a little softening around the edges,,,

[nelkcats]

The Fenton "Boor"

The Fentons have always been famous for their legal sale of weapons, usually based on ectoplasm and used to hunt ghosts. That's where they got most of their funds, whether it was to finance new inventions, their laboratory, or their children's education.

The problem began when they found out that Phantom was their son. Because of that revelation they accepted that they couldn't continue on the "weapon creator" path, how could they continue to create and sell weapons that help hunt down their baby? Even if they didn't trust all the ghosts Danny changed their perspective of the Infinite Realms and they were more or less at peace.

That is why they debated for hours on what to do to make money again, until they noticed something curious: Most of the people in Amity couldn't get drunk. It was a silly thing to focus on, but thanks to a quick investigation they noticed that after the portal opened no one had made it.

That's the reason they created a new brand of beer "Boor", which affected both ghosts and humans contaminated with ectoplasm. Their business quickly became a success and the beer was exported elsewhere (with many care and prevention labels).

When Jason Todd noticed "Boor" on the shelf at the bar he frequented, he snorted. The beer had a small ghost on the bottle, which caught his attention, he ordered it out of curiosity and when the waiter told him that the brand claimed "the product was capable of making even the dead drunk" Jason almost laughed.

Big was his surprise the next day when he woke up on one of Gotham's rooftops with a severe hangover. He had at least 8 missed calls from Nightwing and a bottle with a cartoon ghost in his hand.

[newvegascowboy]

Is there any canonical evidence that says fucking a ghoul would give you radiation poisoning

[andr0nap]

two guys sleeping on a cot, zero ft apart bc its cold as fuck and one of them is the resident heater~ 🎶

[randomness-is-my-order]

since i’m on my third mdzs brainrot of the year, let me just say: it’s enlightening how this story, spread over multiple volumes, goes over the simple but undeniably true reality that even while doing almost everything “right” you can still be horribly “wrong” in the eyes of society. how wei wuxian would bend over backwards to follow his morals (which have been narratively shown to be somewhat the standard) but still be condemned at large because he didn’t go about it the way that was perfectly compliant with what his social superiors and other authority figures expected of him. how “good” deeds in the mdzs world (and ours) will only be accepted and praised, coming from someone of lower social standing, if they are packaged in an unobstrusive manner–and sometimes, not even then. and it’s funny how some people miss that, how they wonder what would have happened if wei wuxian had been just a bit more tempered, a bit more subservient, a bit more polite. how the expectation of delivering his kindnesses in the most unhindering manner possible is somehow an acceptable train of thought–how the burden to do better is not unequivocally placed on people like JGS, Jiang Cheng, Nie Mingjue, the Lans, etc.

some people think that wei wuxian using demonic cultivation in the eyes of the cultivation world is his downfall. nevermind the fact that he literally isn’t practicing mo dao–this whole issue is NOT about what he’s doing, but about who he is. mxtx has made that clear at multiple points in the novels but the most glaring example is, ofcourse, how the nie sect is allowed to mess with resentful energy all they like and since they are a powerful enough sect, they face no social or political backlash for it–not in the way that wei wuxian does. even then, during the war, those people had no qualms against weaponising wei wuxian’s powers for their benefit. if it truly was about the dubious morality of using mo dao for them then wei wuxian should have been condemned from the get-go. but it’s not. it’s about the son of a servant wielding enough power to change the tides of a war and then surviving to tell the tale and continue to live with the kind of power that shouldn’t be held by someone of his station. it’s about people quaking in their boots because wei wuxian has shown himself as someone who won’t conform, who won’t become a dancing monkey for their tunes.

yes, wei wuxian is not some perfect angel saint but then, why the fuck should he be??? this expectation from some readers and the members of his world alike, that wei wuxian should have been the one to give it his all and more to avoid conflict is blasphemous. in the end, wei wuxian chose his path, stuck to his ideals, and went down throwing a big fuck you at the larger cultivation world’s back, while the rest failed to break the cycle of power abuse. the fact that it took them more than a year to see him to death is just a testament to how well wei wuxian handled things than some grace given by the cultivation world. the whole “wei wuxian’s first death was inevitable” is, for me, not about wei wuxian slowly spiralling and things getting out of hand. his death was inevitable because corrupt people with power will always choose to exploit and silence, will always choose to exert their will, will always choose to hurt those lower in the chain. and that is exactly what happened with the ambush and everything that led upto it.

[biscuit-munchies]

I'm on my stupid shit again people ;; Had an idea of a Harpy Jimmy Z cause bro NEEDS a creature power suit. How he got like that is Chris and Martin (mainly Martin) wanted Jimmy to get used to the creature power suits seeing he's the only one that doesn't really have one. Jimmy isn't all too keen on getting his own suit right away, so they use Martin's as a test. Chris shows him the basics of proper use of the CPS and which disks to use and what exactly to touch to activate (using chris' animal bits collection or whatever he calls it). They probably start off with 'easy' animals (like songbirds or small mammals) and Jimmy starts getting used to it, maybe even a bit more confident.

So these idiots boys keep cycling through different animals probably faster than the CPS is used to until BANG! The suit malfunctions! (as suits do) and Jimmy comes out as a mashup of different kinds of birds! (mainly a Harpy Eagle (hah), a heron, a vulture, and a hummingbird). Martin is amazed, Chris is like "huh?", and Jimmy is like "?????? WHAT THE FUCK????" and so hijinx ensues, or whatever

[purpleminte]

It’s getting colder, so she’s getting warmer. Funny how that works. 🦇🌨️

[canisalbus]

doctor: congradulations machete! the de-scrunkling surgery was a success!

machete: where's vasco?

doctor: who do you think took your scrunklyness?

machete: nOOOOOOO

.

[videogamelover99]

So many skk fanfics have Chuuya be the one that openly shows affection while Dazai is emotionally constipated and while Dazai IS emotionally constipated have you seen them?? Dazai is out there giving Chuuya touching farewell speeches and Chuuya gets so embarrassed he shoots Dazai in the face. They're both so bad at showing care in ways that aren't actions but like Chuuya is EXTRA bad. The most physical affection he's given anyone is like, the fistbump he gave Dazai's shoulder that one time. You're telling me Chuuya is the one openly discussing feelings in this relationship?? Dazai will probably get two words in and Chuuya's already running for the hills. I can't imagine him even hugging people unless someone else initiates.

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

given the firestorm of controversy and accusations of war/hate crimes leveled against me, I've documented my process for the Bone Broth Hot Chocolate, just for you, my beloved followers and mutuals

first you're gonna combine your 1/2 cup beef broth and 1/4 cup milk into a saucepan and heat it on low

then you're gonna combine your 1.5 tbsp cocoa powder, your 1 scoop collagen, and honey to taste in your mug of choice, with a splash of boiling water from the kettle

then you're gonna pour the saucepan contents into your mug and froth

et voila! now go forth and be nourished

[naffeclipse]

What if Eclipse from AP was a naga? And this took place in the deep jungle of the amazon, where photographer y/n is trying to take pictures of the wildlife?

I'm vibrating at the speed of sound over this ask while also nudging my naga au

Naga Eclipse from AP would have the tail of a Green Anaconda, with an olive green scaly color dotted with black, framed by burning-like flares of orange along the length of his slithery body. He's also decorated with orange-yellow striping on either side of his long, slipper form. His upper half is scaley with a lithe deadliness to his musculature and decorated by frills surrounding his head with brighter orange-yellow colors, almost hypnotic in their gradient hues. One eye is deep emerald green, and one is midnight blue.

Lucky you—you're out on a once-in-a-lifetime expedition to explore a jungle closed off to the public, funded by Fazco, and occupied by two researchers who will be your bunkmates for the next few weeks. You're itching to take photos of the large river, including swamps, marshes and streams, and whatever wildlife is out there.

The few locals you did meet before you left to hike the rest of the way to what would be your new, isolated home warned you of a dangerous snake—a large, mythical beast. You take note of the local folklore. You understand the truth is hidden in there somewhere, and you are well aware of the dangers and diseases you could be met with in such a harsh environment, but you're determined.

It doesn't take long for you to feel eyes watching you when you first venture out by yourself. You take beautiful pictures of freshwater fish, big and beautiful, unlike any you have ever seen. Of course, you have hundreds of snapshots of the local flora, the trees, the floating meadows, the thick vines that drape each branch and hang thickly about the ground. You almost forget that you eerily don't feel alone.

But you swear something moves in the water—the ripples stop as soon as you look. The stillness is suddenly stiff, lifeless. Even the birds have stopped chirping.

You lower your camera and carefully put it away. A trickle of fear slips into your heart. You turn away from the river's edge only to be met by a low hiss and a creature, unlike anything you witnessed in your travels, spooling itself neatly out of the water, blocking your path to the base. An incredible creature with long arms and a great, serpentine tail that seems to stretch for yards and yards. You can hardly breathe in his presence—he's otherworldly with his frills and scales and fangs.

His eyes contain a mesmerizing shine as if staring into a fire as it burns or watching the ocean as it laps up against the beach, drawing your attention, demanding you don't look away. You couldn't anyway. Half-frozen, you struggle to keep from collapsing. He beckons with a sharp talon. He hisses softly for you to come closer, mouse. He wants to see you. You try to beg no without revealing how terribly you tremble. He doesn't let you go. He insists. His eyes flash with an allure. You almost step close when he murmurs that you need to be good.

But then your sense of survival kicks adrenaline into your heart, and you turn to run—

He strikes faster than your eyes can follow. Two loops of his green and orange tail surrounded you in an instant. You're dragged to the ground, your arms pinned under his mass, and the back of your head cradled by his large palm as powerful muscles squeeze you in the slightest—a gentle rebuke for thinking you could get away. You're hyper-aware of the terrifying bulk of muscles as you lie trapped in his coils. One strong twist and your eyes could pop out of your skull, and every bone protecting your heart and lungs would crumble to shards. You gasp. An urge to kick your legs and struggle erupts in your panic; a sinking feeling tells you it would only make things worse.

He coos over you, hissing and humming in an ancient song of the jungle you have no name for. When you whimper, he shushes you and strokes your cheek. He tells you how lovely you'll be. When you talk back to him, somehow finding your tongue amid your horror, you find out his name. Eclipse. He moves you more upright, resting you on his tail so you're not petrified by how vulnerable you feel lying down, but he never loosens his scaly bindings. He hovers over you. You gaze into his stunning frills of yellow-orange and wonder how a being like him came to exist. He studies you as you study him. He grins at how you shiver when he traces your collarbone with a sharp fingertip.

You remind yourself that you can still breathe. He hasn't crushed you—yet—but you don't like how wide his smile is. Sometimes, his jaw stretches a little too long as if dislocating from his skull, ready to devour you. His eyes gleam with a ravenousness as scales twist around you, holding you close enough to smell the slick green water he had been in and deep musk.

He tells you that he'll see you again very soon—away from other humans, lest you bring him a fine gift for a meal. You can only flex your fingers, silently pleading in your heart that he won't unhook his jaw and eat you alive.

Then, he unravels himself from your limbs. But before he lets you go entirely, he leans in close, his serpentine tongue flickering close to your neck and by your hair, tasting the air around you as you muster all your strength to not scream. He inhales deeply, pleased, before he murmurs, "Sweet mouse. You are mine. Say it."

You don't understand, but you echo his command, and when he taps your chin once in what might have been a loving gesture, you force your jelly legs to solidify before you run and run, all the way back to base. You slam the door to your room behind you. You touch your ribs, your arms, still caught in the heavy sensation of his loops as if he were upon you right now.

The stories are true—there is a giant snake in this jungle, and he wants you. You're afraid to discover if Eclipse's intrigue with you is only an exotic way to satisfy his hunger.

[housecow]

i love that youre only 21. i bet your metabolism hasnt even started slowing down yet. keep eating like this and you're gonna be over 400 pounds before age 30

that’s the goal… bmi of 50 before 22 is another one and i’m already so close to that 🥺