in case someone doesn’t know Deadly is one of the best muppets here is all the proof you need
almost home
occasionally subtle
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Monterey Bay Aquarium
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

ellievsbear
YOU ARE THE REASON

Product Placement
Peter Solarz

if i look back, i am lost
NASA

#extradirty
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

Janaina Medeiros
DEAR READER
Keni

pixel skylines
trying on a metaphor
i don't do bad sauce passes
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@notlifting
in case someone doesn’t know Deadly is one of the best muppets here is all the proof you need

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what was this movie even
A cinematic masterpiece.
I CANNOT stress enough that in the Spy Kids films, Danny Trejo is literally playing his titular character from the Machete movies, who happens to be the kids’ uncle, because the movies have the same director
what this reply misses is that Machete originated *in* Spy Kids. the Machete movies are Spy Kids spinoffs
I think it’s important to make clear that Robert Rodriguez, the director, says that Spy Kids and Machete are alternate universe versions of each other , while Danny Trejo, the actor, says that what happens in Machete is just what he does when he’s not hanging out with the kids
Y'ALL THIS IS THE NEW WHITE HOUSE MONKEYPOX COORDINATOR HOLY SHIT
Biden really said "I think we need a raging queer leather daddy doctor to run the country's monkeypox response" and he was RIGHT

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i feel like i’m going insane. what fucking alternate dimension are these people living in. who thinks this way about landlords
"Alfred," said Bruce Wayne, who impulsively adopted a grieving orphan eighteen hours ago and was currently six books deep in a mountain of literature breaking down modern parenting techniques and rudimentary child psychology (he likes to be prepared).
"Yes, Master Bruce?"
"Am I, perhaps..." Bruce squinted at a book entitled Cognitive and Socio-emotional Caregiving and Development: Fifth Edition, rubbing his forehead as though to soothe a headache while doing nothing about the stress lines forming there, "...unwell?"
#now onto the more important thing: hummus#edit: i think what really gets me#is the implication that this woman is the only person that the hummus story would ever have worked on#that no one else would have believed the hummus story for even a moment#but this boy just happened to have a mother who did not know until that very moment that her favorite food was hummus#the one person on earth who took a single bite of hummus and thought#this explains all those orgasmic sounds#i need no further explanation#all i care about now is hummus (@unpretty)
I mean, if ANYTHING on this planet is gonna even come close to gay sex in terms of importance, it’s hummus.
The Robot Apocalypse came. Cities are empty, you stayed since you’re almost out of insulin and will die soon anyway. The robots find you and while processing you one of them sees your insulin pump and asks if you want to apply for dual citizenship, since the pump technically makes you a cyborg.
Suddenly all the people with prosthetics, wheelchairs, implants, and the like are getting the accommodations and help they need without having to be poor or locked away in a care center. This is an apocalypse I can get behind!
The other survivors left us behind.
They said it was nothing personal—the bus could only fit so many people, after all, and escape would be hard enough without “dead weight” dragging them down.
We understood. The world was ending, not changing.
“Shouldn’t we be looking for shelter or something?” Samantha asked as we sat around a garbage-can fire. (Tao was experienced in making them, from what we gathered, and the flames had grown in no time. We tried to ask him how he knew what to do. He responded, but none of us knew sign language.)
Hank snorted. “What’s the point? Not like we’ll make it long, anyway.” He rubbed the spot beneath his shirt where we knew his insulin pump to be. “Least, I won’t. You folks are welcome to try.”
No one spoke for quite a while. No one got up, either.
Maria garbled something that I couldn’t make out. Antonio, one of the only able-bodied to stay behind, smiled and patted the armrest of her wheelchair. “It is kind of like camping,” he said. “All we need is some marshmallows.”
“I’ve never been camping,” Dwayne said quietly.
Samantha grinned. “Hey, me neither!” She held her prosthetic at arms-length so she could reach past me to give him a high-five. He chuckled and slapped his palm against hers.
“Well,” Monique said, hobbling back to our makeshift camp. She was using what appeared to be a broom as a crutch. “I’m officially on my last leg.” She waggled her eyebrows, and we groaned.
“Anyway, I didn’t find any water,” she continued. “There’s some Mountain Dew cases over at the gas station, but I’ll need help carrying them back. Doesn’t help that this one got stuck under some debris.” She gestured down at her stump, which cut off just below the knee. The plastic of her other leg was scuffed and dented.
“Ya know,” Hank said, “if it was real, ya probably would’ve had ta chew it off or something. Guess you’re lucky, huh?”
Monique laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Real lucky.”
Tao startled us with his sudden chuckling. He bent over, wheezing and slapping his knee. He signed something, and began laughing even harder.
We looked to each other, unsure. Then we joined in. Hesitantly, at first, but soon we were clutching our sides and wiping away tears. And for a moment, we could forget.
All of us heard the familiar whirring of robots as they approached.
Through our laughter, none of us cared.
————
They scanned Hank first. We braced ourselves for the blaster fire that would inevitably follow.
But none came.
“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, beam stopping on Hank’s abdomen. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Hank glanced at us, then back at the robots who had spotlights and guns trained on each member of the group. Then he shrugged.
“Sure. Why not?”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-237. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took place on either side of Hank, urging him towards their transport.
The treatment was a stark contrast to what we’d witnessed from the robots before—gunning down terrified people in the streets, setting charges throughout populated areas. We exchanged confused looks.
Dwayne was next. The scanner stopped on his head, focusing on the lump housing his shunt.
“IMPLANT DETECTED. PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“…yes?”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-238. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.”
As they took Dwayne away, realization hit us all at once.
“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, in reference to the devices curled around Tao’s ears. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Tao signed something. Unlike us, the robot understood.
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-239…”
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“Hell yeah,” Monique said with a grin.
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
“Yes,” Samantha said, and I thought I noticed tears in her eyes.
————
“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”
Maria’s limbs flailed spastically, and a strange shrieking sound built in the back of her throat. The bot cocked its head to the side.
“RESPONSE UNCLEAR. PLEASE STAND BY WHILE ALTERNATE COMMUNICATION IS PROVIDED.”
Another robot stepped forward, its torso transforming into a holographic keyboard of sorts. Maria’s clenched fist shot forward, trembling as she attempted to steady it. With labored, deliberate movements, she typed, the letters spoken aloud in an automated tone.
“Y-E-S.”
“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took their place on either side of her wheelchair, each of them gripping a handlebar. They began to wheel her away.
The bot turned to Antonio, who was standing ramrod-straight. It scanned him.
“NO IMPLANTS DETECTED,” it said. Its blaster hummed to life. Those of us that remained flinched, turning away instinctively, unwilling to watch his execution.
A series of shrieks rang through the night, and the bot paused.
Maria thrashed about, letting out more distressed noises. One of her escorts stepped forward, allowing her to utilize its keyboard.
“A-C-C-O-M-O-D-A-T-I-O-N,” she said. “H-E. I-S. E-X-T-E-N-S-I-O-N.”
The bot seemed to consider for a moment.
Then its gun folded away.
“ACCOMODATION PROTOCAL INITIATED,” it told Antonio. “YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242B. PLEASE ACCOMPANY YOUR PRIMARY UNIT.”
Antonio stumbled forward, then fell to his knees before the wheelchair. He wrapped his sister in a shuddering hug.
Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Maria’s face, and I could swear I saw her smile.
————
My pacemaker was enough to earn me a spot among the bots’ ranks. I was surprised by just how many humans lived in the facility (though in hindsight, perhaps I shouldn’t have been)—I was even more surprised by our treatment. Not having use of recharging stations, we were provided with bunks and dorms. The cafeteria, while somewhat lacking in options, offered all of the nutrition a carbon-based lifeform could ask for.
And then there were the upgrades.
“Real lucky, huh?” Monique said, taking the seat beside me in the cafeteria. Her robotic legs moved smoothly, fluidly. (“You can’t even notice,” she’d said upon first receiving them, before remembering that there were no longer any stares or judgement to hide from.)
“Damn lucky,” Hank agreed. (If we hadn’t been processed when we were, he would’ve been dead within a week. Here, insulin was never in short supply; as it turned out, it wasn’t nearly as expensive to make as we’d been led to believe.)
Samantha twirled a fork between her fingers, smiling at the satisfying click-click-click of metal on metal. “Hey, Dwayne, how’d your checkup go?”
“Great!” he said, beaming. “This new shunt works even better than my last one. Not a single problem since they put it in.”
Congratulations, Tao signed. He was no longer emaciated, as he’d been when we first met—regular meals and a roof over his head really had done wonders for his health. His smile, of course, was infectious as ever.
Antonio approached, carrying his and Maria’s trays. He wore the uniform of a maintenance tech, though it was more of a formality than anything else—being responsible for the upkeep of Maria’s machinery was one of the only ways he could fulfill his Accommodation Protocol, nowadays.
Did you remember the pudding? Maria asked, her automated voice clear and pleasant. (We couldn’t begin to understand the exact mechanics behind the chip in her head, and how it allowed her to speak—albeit through a machine. Nor could we understand the technology that enabled her to operate her wheelchair independently, as well. But we did know we were grateful for it.)
Antonio rolled his eyes. “A ‘thanks’ would be nice.”
Thank you. Now gimme.
————
I did wonder, occasionally, how the other survivors were faring. If they had found a place to hide from their robotic overlords. If they felt hopeless and abandoned and alone. Their lives had changed drastically overnight—their world had ended.
But ours? Ours is just beginning. And the ones that left us behind just…don’t have a place in it.
It’s nothing personal.
I’m sure they understand.
Omg that last line gave me chills

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Oh Stede
It might be easier than you think.
a couple months ago someone sent me an ask asking if I’d ever heard of Boquila trifoliolata and I was like ‘no way. this can’t be real’ and i looked it up and it was and I forgot about it until just now when my supervisor and I got sidetracked and I looked it up again to prove to her that it’s real and found out that not only does this plant vaguely mimic the leaves of whatever plant it’s vining on, it does it when it climbs on fake plants too so any theories about how it does it that include gene transfer or chemicals or touching it in any way are just out the window and those were like, the only theories the original researchers had about how it might be doing it. so anyway I am screaming and crying and whatnot
Well it's gotta be shaded by the leaves of the plant it's climbing on so... so somehow... uh... no that's stupid, how on earth would you pick leaf shape out of random shadowy noise. Uh. Um SHIT THEY ALSO THINK IT'S "PLANT VISION" THOUGH: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/15592324.2021.1977530
Leaf Mimicry in the Climbing Plant Boquila trifoliolata
Pictures of the twining vine B. trifoliolata co-occurring with woody species in the temperate rainforest of southern Chile, where leaf mimicry in terms of size, color, and/or shape is evident. White arrows point to the vine (V) and to the host tree (T).
Hey… Do you want to do something weird? 👀

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I’ll never understand why Disney is so focused on live-action remakes when they literally own the rights to the Muppets. I would take a Muppet remake of a Disney Animation classic over a live-action remake all day every day.
You can’t tell me Muppets Fantasia wouldn’t be the greatest crossover event of our lifetimes. Muppets Black Cauldron would SLAP.
Muppet Beauty and the Beast where the Beast is played by the only human actor and he turns into a Muppet at the end.
A secret rendezvous in the castle halls! 8)
Okay i have to talk about this because it drives me fucjing INSANE every time i see it.
First off the tenderness??? Of the kings expression????? Coupled with the knights expression, eyes closed, lips parted, but with the king’s thumb on his chin thats plausible deniability right there baby. In the shadow of a doorway, too, off course theyd be that close if the knight were pulling the curtains aside for his king, nothing to see here. The hand on the kings wrist– is he trying to pull the king closer? Push him away? Hold him right there in that transient moment, that liminal space, the only place they are allowed this tender intimacy??????