taylor price
Not today Justin
pixel skylines
Keni
Monterey Bay Aquarium
d e v o n
Xuebing Du
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
dirt enthusiast
Show & Tell
titsay
roma★
Cosmic Funnies
YOU ARE THE REASON
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
we're not kids anymore.
shark vs the universe
🪼
tumblr dot com
styofa doing anything
seen from Ukraine
seen from South Africa
seen from Brazil
seen from Vietnam
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Iceland
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Singapore
seen from Brazil
seen from Hungary
seen from Malaysia
seen from Portugal
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Portugal
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from Greece
@blacksheep28
My Xianxia Character
For use in cultivation settings!
Name: Ye Bao (Wild Treasure)
Age: adult, cultivated to golden core/immortality
Cultivation: Beast tamer
Ability: can tell what is true and what is not
Enjoys causing chaos, very playful, lives in a hidden area
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Phoenix Song Extra: Trip with a Bro
Shen Xue had agreed to this. He knew he had agreed to this. He was curious about what it would be like, and confident that Liu Qingge would be able to help if things went wrong. He was still slightly nervous as he fanned himself and watched Shang Qinghua prepare the pipes.
“You’re going to risk having a bad trip if you’re anxious coming into it.” Shang Qinghua looked up from his preparations. “I’ll be here, Liu Qingge will be our sober buddy just outside if you need him.” He held up the twin pipes. “These things won’t bite.”
"I thought they helped someone relax?" Shen Xue asked accepting the pipe.
Poison Lullaby 58
Yue Qingyuan woke in the middle of the night, awareness suddenly fully slamming into him. He blinked up at the ceiling in confusion. As far as he was aware there was nothing to disturb him. He turned and checked on his husband. The heavenly demon rested peacefully, not stirring once as Yue Qingyuan moved. Yue Qingyuan smiled fondly at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He looked around. There was a desk with paper. He carefully slipped out of Tianlang's arms and grabbed a brush jotting down a note. He folded it into a crane and sent it flying to find Shang Qinghua.
Shang Qinghua was awake as usual, working late into the night. He startled when a crane suddenly landed on his desk. Cautiously, he took the note and unfolded it. Ah. The former sect leader had awoken. He stood from his desk immediately and made his way to the heavenly demon’s quarters. It would be better to have this conversation in person. He lightly knocked on the door once he arrived.
Tianlang Jun didn’t break him during their quick fling, he would save that for another night and more privacy. He was, however, utterly shameless while being claimed. Any efforts Yue Qingyuan made to give them privacy were utterly ruined by how loud the heavenly demon chose to be.
Yue Qingyuan was bright red when they finished. His attempts to swallow Tianlang Jun's sounds with his kisses were completely outmatched. There was no way anyone didn't know what they had done. He was sure some particularly bold demons had even moved closer to listen in
"We should...go," Yue Qingyuan mumbled.
Tianlang Jun slumped against his husband with his robes shamelessly draped to show off his entire chest and most of his legs. “As gege says,” he agreed with a lazy purr. “Don’t worry, it’s still early in the morning, few demons are out right now.”
Yue Qingyuan tried to push down his shame. He was among demons, they didn't care as much. The smug strut Tianlang was doing only enhanced that impression. He still hurried in gathering up the medicine from Mu Qingfang and writing a letter thanking their hosts before they were out and heading to where Zhuzhi Lang was waiting with Fu.
Tianlang Jun thankfully fixed himself by the time they rejoined their family. He scooped Fu into his arms and nodded back at his husband. “I believe you have something for Zhuzhi.”
Yue Qingyuan nodded and pulled out the notebook. "Here."
Zhuzhi Lang accepted the notebook and opened it curiously. His eyes widened and he turned to look at his uncle. "Junshang," he pleaded. It couldn't be time yet!
“Not yet,” he promised. “But something to think about in the future. You and Fu need to survive after we’re gone.”
Zhuzhi Lang nodded. "As my junshang commands."
"We're still here for now," Yue Qingyuan said. "We still have plenty to do."
“If you’d like I can order Mobei to protect you and Fu after I die. He won’t be as slippery to deal with as his queen," Tianlang Jun said calmly.
Zhuzhi Lang shook his head. "This general will keep us safe."
“Let me at least create the option for you Zhuzhi,” he huffed.
"As you say Junshang."
"Enough of that," Yue Qingyuan said. "Where do you want to travel?"
“We could return to the human realm,” he offered. “Surely it’s been enough time since Cang Qiong disappeared.”
Yue Qingyuan nodded. "We can find more plays to watch." And they could take it easy on their travels. The only responsibility was to his family, and Fu was strong.
“That would be wonderful.” He pat Fu’s head. “Educate them early.” Fu happily bit their father's hand.
Yue Qingyuan looked at his child fondly. "Yes. We'll get them the best education possible."
“I’m sure my husband can teach them well considering his esteemed background,” he lightly teased.
"I can only hope a classic human education will suit them."
“We’ll supplement, of course. They will learn both human and demon ways.”
Yue Qingyuan smiled at Fu. "We'll ensure they have a good future." Zhuzhi Lang looked at the child he cared for fondly. He was glad his uncle had given Fu to him to care for.
Tianlang Jun turned back to his nephew. “Zhuzhi if you will. It’s time for us to leave this place.”
Zhuzhi Lang nodded and shifted into his giant snake form. They piled onto him and he slithered away heading for the closest rift. Yue Qingyuan wrapped around Tianlang Jun with a smile on his face. "I'm glad to be here with you."
Dude. DUDE. HUMPTY DUMPTY JUST FELL. YOU NEED TO SEE THIS ALL THE KINGS MEN ARE THERE TRYING TO GET HIM BACK TOGETHER. THIS IS SO FUCKED DUDE. IM SO SCARED. HE'S DEAD
🖐️ stand aside. only the court necromancer can save him now. we must pray his body isn’t too broken…
WTF are the horses doing
i don't fucking know i tried my best but i think we made it worse with our big hooves
WHY WERE YOU INVOLVED AT ALL ??
i don't knowwww *kicks in frustration and hits humpty dumpty again* fuckkkkkkk
STOP
@secret-fourth-blog being the most beloved emperor in Chinese history will do that to a guy
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Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.
Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.
“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”
The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.
“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”
“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”
The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”
Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”
“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”
Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.
“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”
“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?”
The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.
A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer.
“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”
“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”
“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”
The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.
And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.
Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.
“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”
“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”
“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.
“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”
“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”
And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.
Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.
“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.
“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”
Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.
“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”
“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.
“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”
Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.
“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.
“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.
“What?” the god asked.
Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”
Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.
The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.
He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.
So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.
“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.
The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.
“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.
“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”
“No,” Arepo smiled.
“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”
“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.
“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.
“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”
The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”
“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”
I reblogged this once with the first story. Now the story has grown and I’m crying. This is gorgeous, guys. This is what dreams are made of.
This is amazing!
alright I've got to do some quick math to explain attitudes towards AI to my boss.
we're looking to create an AI policy, and when we were talking about this, my boss (older millennial) was genuinely shocked to hear that younger people do not (seem) to view AI positively (a la the recent commencement speakers being booed)
please rb for larger sample size!
Question 1/3
What is your age, and do you feel AI is a net positive or net negative in our lives today?
under 18, AI is a net positive
under 18, AI is a net negative
18-29, AI is a net positive
18-29, AI is a net negative
30-45, AI is a net positive
30-45, AI is a net negative
46-60, AI is a net positive
46-60, AI is a net negative
over 60, AI is a net postive
over 60, AI is a net negative
Question 2/3
How often do you visit or interact with museums/archives (whether in person or online)?
Frequently (multiple times per month)
Often (multiple times per year)
Occasionally (a couple times per year)
Rarely (once every couple of years)
Never :(
Question 3/3
If you saw a museum was using AI in exhibits, marketing, research, etc., would you be more or less inclined to visit that museum?
under 18, more inclined
under 18, less inclined
18-29, more inclined
18-29, less inclined
30-45, more inclined
30-45, less inclined
46-60, more inclined
46-60, less inclined
over 60, more inclined
over 60, less inclined
Thank you for helping with this data collection. Please rb for as big a sample as possible!
🫶
Poison Lullaby 58
Yue Qingyuan woke in the middle of the night, awareness suddenly fully slamming into him. He blinked up at the ceiling in confusion. As far as he was aware there was nothing to disturb him. He turned and checked on his husband. The heavenly demon rested peacefully, not stirring once as Yue Qingyuan moved. Yue Qingyuan smiled fondly at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He looked around. There was a desk with paper. He carefully slipped out of Tianlang's arms and grabbed a brush jotting down a note. He folded it into a crane and sent it flying to find Shang Qinghua.
Shang Qinghua was awake as usual, working late into the night. He startled when a crane suddenly landed on his desk. Cautiously, he took the note and unfolded it. Ah. The former sect leader had awoken. He stood from his desk immediately and made his way to the heavenly demon’s quarters. It would be better to have this conversation in person. He lightly knocked on the door once he arrived.
What kind of tattoo are you thinking?
So the one I’ve wanted for awhile is a phase lemon from slime rancher. The second one I’ve been considering is a thresher shark wrapped around my bicep like an arm band
Thresher shark
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Magical Girl Mascots!
nihongo 不思議な魔砲少女マスコットキャラを作ろう！ イングリッシュ Make mysterious magical girl mascot characters! About: ♥︎ ~ plasticizer ~ ♥︎ ５００アイテム目指す！ Aim for 50
Poison Lullaby 57
Tianlang Jun’s husband faded again. In the northern palace he worried the man would forget to warm himself in favor of doting on him. He ordered a cloak be brought from the other humans’ quarters to ensure he didn’t freeze. With Yue Qingyuan’s safety assured he felt at a loss for what to do. He could read or peer in on court but the goings on of the kingdom interested him little. There’s a reason he traveled to the human realm in the first place. It’s dreadfully boring here.
Zhuzhi Lang and Fu weren't there either, waiting patiently for the pair beyond the palace. Yue Qi silently started on braiding TianLang Jun's hair.
Ning Yingying frowned as she leaned over Sha Hualing's shoulder. "Ling'er? Have you noticed there's a lot of the harem visiting the doctor recently? I don't think I've missed any big fights, have I?"
"Only the one between Imperial Husband and the Mobei-Jun." Sha Hualing smirked watching the children play. With their mothers in the infirmary it was up to the other wives to take care of then. For once the harem drama was set aside for the health of Luo Binghe and the children.
Sha Hualing was also feeling the effects of Luo Binghe’s illness. Being a demon she was more adaptive to the resentful energy, but that also meant she was less useful for cleansing it. They had to rely on humans with a pure spirit base. The triplets, the holy maiden, that woman found in a pearl necklace, all of them had been drained to near death.
Sha Hualing immediately pinched Ning Yingying's cheek and scolded, "The Emperor should be the one to help her. That would make it his child too, then it would be protected like the others."
As much as she hated it, if it wasn't Luo Binghe's offspring it wouldn't recive the shelter of the inner harem. The only wife who had ever dared take a lover and got pregnant was still locked away in the dungeon. Luo Binghe had probably forgotten her, but the harem couldn't.
Inner relationships between the wives seemed to be fine though. At least so far.
Han HuaXue nodded in agreement. "You could help her get the sprout started, but it will require Imperial Husband to make it his."
Ning Yingying pouted at Sha Hualing. "Lingling, I only wished to help," she said softly. But Sha Hualing was right. The child would need Luo Binghe's help in creation to ensure the child would be properly cared for and loved. Something that would take time with Luo Binghe currently unwell. Did he even remember Ajiu was in his harem? She was a member of the lower harem after all.
"We can help her once she's back up to strength. It should only be a few days of rest." Sha Hualiing reassured her. Han HuaXue added, "We can set up for her to help Royal Husband. That should give her the energy needed to get the offspring going."
Ning Yingying nodded and smiled brightly. "I am sure A-Luo will be happy to have a new child." Luo Binghe was always invested at the start of a pregnancy and when a child was first born. Ning Yingying thought he might be looking for something in the children. He always faded back away again.
"Hm, yes he is especially affectionate for a male. I assumed it was a human response." Sha Hualing mumbled before listening to Han HuaXue's full explination of the process.
By the time she finished a little bell jingled and Xiaoling pounced from the bushes. She latched onto Ning Yingying's leg, a small dead animal hanging from her mouth.
Ning Yingying looked down at Xiaoling and beamed. "A good hunt!" She praised. She reached down and patted the child's head. "You're so swift!"
Xiaoling giggled and offered up the small animal to Ning Yingying, "Ning Mama!" The aninal was a bird with bright feathers, nothing magical, but pretty like a little gemstone. "Gift!" Xiaoling called.
Sha Hualing huffed, "Nothing for A-niang? Typical." But there was no annoyance. "It also isn't a flower, but it is very pretty. Good job."
Ning Yingying smiled and accepted the bird. "Thank you Xiaoling." She examined the kill and looked up with a hopeless smile to Sha Hualing. She loved receiving gifts from the children, but dead little things were not to her taste even if she would praise them.
As Xiaoling preened under the praise as they walked deeper in the the garden. "What kind of flower is Ajiu?"
"A fox button," Ning Yingying said. "A flower of friendship."
"Oh, hm, well this should be close enough." She snatched up some fox glove growing in a flowerbed and strolled off to find their troublseome flower maiden.
Ning Yingying giggled and trotted after Sha Hualing. Her fellow wife was so adorable!
Aji was right where they had left her, still tired out and resting to recover from her attempts to care from what was not a child.
Sha Hualing strolled into the room with a handful of flowers and shoved them at the woman. "Take these. Keep them alive, and once your energy is back and His Majesty has recovered we'll help you have your own child."
Aji blinked. "You...you would help me have a child? After I put everyone at risk?"
Ning Yingying smiled warmly. "It's not a crime to wish for a child, Aji-mei. We'll help you have your child. Keep the flowers alive, and you'll get your wish."
Aji cradled the flowers tenderly and bowed her head in thanks.
here's a quiz i made so you can learn what type of fanfic character flaw you would be <3333
I've never been so betrayed in my entire cursed life. What.
Look I have simply decided that this quiz dubbed me Bruce Wayne.
See: "the fanfic community probably found a trait about you that was slightly less than agreeable and elevated it tenfold"
Me and him are just in the same character-bashing boat.
:(
I'm a whole entire person by myself why they gotta do me like this
in gay people visibility month???
I am so funny
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i dont consider myself a 'fashion guru' by any means but one thing i will say is guys you dont need to know the specific brand an item you like is - you need to know what the item is called. very rarely does a brand matter, but knowing that pair of pants is called 'cargo' vs 'boot cut' or the names of dress styles is going to help you find clothes you like WAAAYYYY faster than brand shopping
this also goes for aesthetic or -core titles. 'y2k tank top' is going to get you resellers and fast fashion brands advertising to people looking to meet a current trend. 'thin strap crop tank top' is going to get you a diverse group of results and not upcharge you to hell and back
additionally, shop second hand when you can, second hand and thrift sites typically organize clothes by the cut and color. theyll be more affordable than a depop seller curating you a style to sell you
useful terminology for different kinds of clothing shapes :)
here are more terms! these are all from enérie. it is a really good blog that has lots of fashion terminology and it's a good mix of menswear and womenswear! they also have a book as well compiling all their diagrams. you could also look into getting a visual fashion dictionary for terms as well!
saw someone mix up "abysmal" and "abyssal" today, so as a reminder:
her skills are abysmal = she is unskilled
her skills are abyssal = her abilities draw upon the forbidden power of the dark void
