#wild krafts

[arditb06]

Template by: @/xxcherrybxmbbagelxx (picsart)

[moonmunster]

[zpxz]

No but like, has time gone wrong? Is what I’d think

[diet-cokette]

you can just eat Mac n cheese out of the damn pot

And you can buy Kraft brand because you don't give a shit anymore about them supporting planned parenthood

And you can get the kind you like because nobody's gonna be bitching and moaning

[ndostairlyrium]

weird fun facts about your oc(s)

rules: share some fun facts about your oc(s). they don't have to be relevant to their story, perhaps even better if they aren't. the weird ones are the best!

Tagged by @herearedragons <3 thanks dear ;u; this was a rather lovely distraction <3

Ankh

Only two people within the Inquisition know her real age. It's not that she's ashamed of it, she just likes to mess around. Anyway Leliana is having more fun than her with it :'

Gets very distracted by patterns (florals especially), she just can't figure them out

"Tell me a bird!" and she knows their call. All of them. Her ability is exceptional, especially during very important diplomatic meetings

Kerry

Thinks Carver's tattoo looks like a *insert any other animal* rather than a mabari. He's very vocal about it

Calls for meetings every last Friday of the month to distribute the loot among his companions, the rest gets sold. Anything magical would get analyzed by Anders and Merrill, so they know what they do before they get sold

Don't tell anyone, but he prefers orlesian cheese over fereldan. The stinky and moldy ones especially (à la roquefort)

Ela

Can dance. You'll never ever catch her doing that

She may have punched king Bhelen in the face once, maybe twice. The "maybe" is because Alistair has tackled her before she could do more damage << luckily Bhelen knows she's a resource, or else she would be banned from Orzammar forever

Can't remember names and faces. She has called Carver "Carmen" for weeks before the name stuck <<

I'm tagging (no pressure, no obligation): @underneathestars @greypetrel @inquisitorgaywarden @melisusthewee & @idolsgf 💛

[thesabrinatheteenagewitchblog]

Sabrina finds herself in the wild west in Sabrina The Teenage Witch Season 4 Episode 19 (94 overall) "The Wild, Wild Witch" (March 31st, 2000)!

[bigbuxbolds]

well. I'm gonna go make some of the kraft mac n cheese my mom sent me so I can at least start the 3rd on a good note

[headspace-hotel]

There, in the sunlit forest on a high ridgeline, was a tree I had never seen before.

I spend a lot of time looking at trees. I know my beech, sourwood, tulip poplar, sassafras and shagbark hickory. Appalachian forests have such a diverse tree community that for those who grew up in or around the ancient mountains, forests in other places feel curiously simple and flat.

Oaks: red, white, black, bur, scarlet, post, overcup, pin, chestnut, willow, chinkapin, and likely a few others I forgot. Shellbark, shagbark and pignut hickories. Sweetgum, serviceberry, hackberry, sycamore, holly, black walnut, white walnut, persimmon, Eastern redcedar, sugar maple, red maple, silver maple, striped maple, boxelder maple, black locust, stewartia, silverbell, Kentucky yellowwood, blackgum, black cherry, cucumber magnolia, umbrella magnolia, big-leaf magnolia, white pine, scrub pine, Eastern hemlock, redbud, flowering dogwood, yellow buckeye, white ash, witch hazel, pawpaw, linden, hornbeam, and I could continue, but y'all would never get free!

And yet, this tree is different.

We gather around the tree as though surrounding the feet of a prophet. Among the couple dozen of us, only a few are much younger than forty. Even one of the younger men, who smiles approvingly and compliments my sharp eye when I identify herbs along the trail, has gray streaking his beard. One older gentleman scales the steep ridge slowly, relying on a cane for support.

The older folks talk to us young folks with enthusiasm. They brighten when we can call plants and trees by name and list their virtues and importance. "You're right! That's Smilax." "Good eye!" "Do you know what this is?—Yes, Eupatorium, that's a pollinator's paradise." "Are you planning to study botany?"

The tree we have come to see is not like the tall and pillar-like oaks that surround us. It is still young, barely the diameter of a fence post. Its bark is gray and forms broad stripes like rivulets of water down smooth rock. Its smooth leaves are long, with thin pointed teeth along their edges. Some of the group carefully examine the bark down to the ground, but the tree is healthy and flourishing, for now.

This tree is among the last of its kind.

The wood of the American Chestnut was once used to craft both cradles and coffins, and thus it was known as the "cradle-to-grave tree." The tree that would hold you in entering this world and in leaving it would also sustain your body throughout your life: each tree produced a hundred pounds of edible nuts every winter, feeding humans and all the other creatures of the mountains. In the Appalachian Mountains, massive chestnut trees formed a third of the overstory of the forest, sometimes growing larger than six feet in diameter.

They are a keystone species, and this is my first time seeing one alive in the wild.

It's a sad story. But I have to tell you so you will understand.

At the turn of the 20th century, the chestnut trees of Appalachia were fundamental to life in this ecosystem, but something sinister had taken hold, accidentally imported from Asia. Cryphonectria parasitica is a pathogenic fungus that infects chestnut trees. It co-evolved with the Chinese chestnut, and therefore the Chinese chestnut is not bothered much by the fungus.

The American chestnut, unlike its Chinese sister, had no resistance whatsoever.

They showed us slides with photos of trees infected with the chestnut blight earlier. It looks like sickly orange insulation foam oozing through the bark of the trees. It looks like that orange powder that comes in boxes of Kraft mac and cheese. It looks wrong. It means death.

The chestnut plague was one of the worst ecological disasters ever to occur in this place—which is saying something. And almost no one is alive who remembers it. By the end of the 1940's, by the time my grandparents were born, approximately three to four billion American chestnut trees were dead.

The Queen of the Forest was functionally extinct. With her, at least seven moth species dependent on her as a host plant were lost forever, and no one knows how much else. She is a keystone species, and when the keystone that holds a structure in place is removed, everything falls.

Appalachia is still falling.

Now, in some places, mostly-dead trees tried to put up new sprouts. It was only a matter of time for those lingering sprouts of life.

But life, however weak, means hope.

I learned that once in a rare while, one of the surviving sprouts got lucky enough to successfully flower and produce a chestnut. And from that seed, a new tree could be grown. People searched for the still-living sprouts and gathered what few chestnuts could be produced, and began growing and breeding the trees.

Some people tried hybridizing American and Chinese chestnuts and then crossing the hybrids to produce purer American strains that might have some resistance to the disease. They did this for decades.

And yet, it wasn't enough. The hybrid trees were stronger, but not strong enough.

Extinction is inevitable. It's natural. There have been at least five mass extinctions in Earth's history, and the sixth is coming fast. Many people accepted that the American chestnut was gone forever. There had been an intensive breeding program, summoning all the natural forces of evolution to produce a tree that could survive the plague, and it wasn't enough.

This has happened to more species than can possibly be counted or mourned. And every species is forced to accept this reality.

Except one.

We are a difficult motherfucker of a species, aren't we? If every letter of the genome's book of life spelled doom for the Queen of the Forest, then we would write a new ending ourselves. Research teams worked to extract a gene from wheat and implant it in the American chestnut, in hopes of creating an American chestnut tree that could survive.

This project led to the Darling 58, the world's first genetically modified organism to be created for the purpose of release into the wild.

The Darling 58 chestnut is not immune, the presenters warned us. It does become infected with the blight. And some trees die. But some live.

And life means hope.

In isolated areas, some surviving American Chestnut trees have been discovered, most of them still very young. The researchers hope it is possible that some of these trees may have been spared not because of pure luck, but because they carry something in their genes that slows the blight in doing its deadly work, and that possibly this small bit of innate resistance can be shaped and combined with other efforts to create a tree that can live to grow old.

This long, desperate, multi-decade quest is what has brought us here. The tree before me is one such tree: a rare survivor. In this clearing, a number of other baby chestnut trees have been planted by human hands. They are hybrids of the Darling 58 and the best of the best Chinese/American hybrids. The little trees are as prepared for the blight as we can possibly make them at this time. It is still very possible that I will watch them die. Almost certainly, I will watch this tree die, the one that shades us with her young, stately limbs.

Some of the people standing around me are in their 70's or 80's, and yet, they have no memory of a world where the Queen of the Forest was at her full majesty. The oldest remember the haunting shapes of the colossal dead trees looming as if in silent judgment.

I am shaken by this realization. They will not live to see the baby trees grow old. The people who began the effort to save the American chestnut devoted decades of their lives to these little trees, knowing all the while they likely never would see them grow tall. Knowing they would not see the work finished. Knowing they wouldn't be able to be there to finish it. Knowing they wouldn't be certain if it could be finished.

When the work began, the technology to complete it did not exist. In the first decades after the great old trees were dead, genetic engineering was a fantasy.

But those that came before me had to imagine that there was some hope of a future. Hope set the foundation. Now that little spark of hope is a fragile flame, and the torch is being passed to the next generation.

When a keystone is removed, everything suffers. What happens when a keystone is put back into place? The caretakers of the American chestnut hope that when the Queen is restored, all of Appalachia will become more resilient and able to adapt to climate change.

Not only that, but this experiment in changing the course of evolution is teaching us lessons and skills that may be able to help us save other species.

It's just one tree—but it's never just one tree. It's a bear successfully raising cubs, chestnut bread being served at a Cherokee festival, carbon being removed from the atmosphere and returned to the Earth, a wealth of nectar being produced for pollinators, scientific insights into how to save a species from a deadly pathogen, a baby cradle being shaped in the skilled hands of an Appalachian crafter. It's everything.

Despair is individual; hope is an ecosystem. Despair is a wall that shuts out everything; hope is seeing through a crack in that wall and catching a glimpse of a single tree, and devoting your life to chiseling through the wall towards that tree, even if you know you will never reach it yourself.

An old man points to a shaft of light through the darkness we are both in, toward a crack in the wall. "Do you see it too?" he says. I look, and on the other side I see a young forest full of sunlight, with limber, pole-size chestnut trees growing toward the canopy among the old oaks and hickories. The chestnut trees are in bloom with fuzzy spikes of creamy white, and bumblebees heavy with pollen move among them. I tell the man what I see, and he smiles.

"When I was your age, that crack was so narrow, all I could see was a single little sapling on the forest floor," he says. "I've been chipping away at it all my life. Maybe your generation will be the one to finally reach the other side."

Hope is a great work that takes a lifetime. It is the hardest thing we are asked to do, and the most essential.

I am trying to show you a glimpse of the other side. Do you see it too?

[xoluvx]

𝖒𝖞 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉'𝖘 𝖆 𝖛𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊; 𝖇.𝖊𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖍 ②

𝔰𝔪𝔲𝔱 𝖔𝖓𝖊 • 𝖙𝖜𝖔

When you saw her, it was like all the pieces of your life fit together. You wanted her. There was a force that pulled you closer. She came into the flower shop and you didn't need the little bell on top of the door to let you know she'd arrived. Your heart felt it.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" you asked and the person turned to look at you. To the untrained eye, she'd just glanced at you. But you saw the way her eyes shifted, checking you out. She scanned you before turning to the flowers.

"Yes," she cleared her throat touching the tulips before making eye contact. You felt yourself melting into her as your weight shifted leaning closer. "Can you?" she broke the contact motioning towards the tulips. Nodding your head, you picked a bunch walking to the register.

"Anything else?" you cleared your throat. She shook her head taking the flowers wrapped in kraft paper.

When she walked out of the shop, you stood there dumbfounded. You didn't get her name. You didn't know anything about her. Except that she made your heart soar and there was something so piercing about her eyes that captivated you.

She was back the next week and you walked behind her like a lost puppy searching for validation. She hardly paid attention to you. The week after that, you suggested flowers, told her about coupons, god you were pathetic. She didn’t make a single move. Then she just slipped out of the shop and that was the last of that.

It was weeks before she returned and when she finally did it was like you weren't there. But you swore she was tracking you, hiding behind the baby's breath and the daisies. Your heart did that weird thumping thing again, but you stayed behind the counter finishing online orders.

The sight of a single tulip on the counter brought you back to earth. Her fingers, like porcelain, rested on the stem.

"Just this," she declared and your eyes met hers in a trance. She held your gaze as you grabbed the tulip. Her fingers brushed yours in the interaction and you shivered at the touch.

When she paid for the flower she turned on her heel set for the door. You held the tulip in your hand. "You forgot your flower," you called, your voice betraying you. It didn't sound like it belonged to you. It was shaky and out of breath.

"A gift," she turned looking at you as you held the tulip close to your face now. The petals cool against your lips just like her fingertips.

That's how it began. It was obvious she was hesitant at first, but you eventually started seeing each other more often; at cafes, parks, bookstores.

All the time the gnawing gravitational pull was there. You wanted to spend every minute of every day with her. When you weren't with her, you were thinking of her. Fantasizing, thinking about the subtle touches and glances. It wasn't enough.

So the next time you saw her, you just asked "can you kiss me?" Her eyes widened in a way you couldn't explain. She took your hand in hers, the coolness of her skin mixed with the warmth of your clammy one. You don't know why you were so nervous. You felt like a school girl who'd never been kissed before. She caressed your face and you melted into her touch closing your eyes sinking into her silky touch.

Then you felt her lips. They were there for a millisecond, gone before you could open your eyes or memorize her taste. She cleared her throat and held your hand tighter, inflicting a subtle pain. You winced a little trying to pull away, but she held your grip. Her eyes wild.

"Are you okay?" you asked with a shaky voice. She nodded letting go of your hand standing surprisingly quick from your couch. She placed her hands on her hips, turning her back to you.

"Did I do something wrong?" you asked standing and walking towards her. She took a step away from you and you stood there confused and useless.

"I don't want to hurt you," she finally answered turning to you. Her eyes now soft, lips turned downward in a slight frown.

"I want this," you replied coming face to face with her. You tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and it was her turn to wince. Her brows furrowed, eyes closed as her cheek rested in your palm.

Squeezing her arm with your other hand, you kissed her. This kiss didn't end prematurely. Your lips lingered on hers until she opened her mouth setting a rhythmic dance where your lips were connecting and reconnecting. Your tongues shyly clashed then rotated, and finally pressed together while your bodies moved towards your couch.

She landed on you and you wrapped your legs around her waist, arms draped around her neck as the friction between your bodies rose. Her lips trailed down your jaw and you squeezed your eyes shut as she found your sweet spot; the small area behind your ear. She fixated on that space kissing, licking, and suddenly you felt a small prick that jolted your body.

"Ow," you moaned softly and she pulled away suddenly pressing her thumb on the area.

"I'm sorry," she apologized and your eyes searched her face. So what? She liked biting, you didn't mind. "It's okay," you assured pushing her hair out of her face, letting your fingers tangle in the strands.

"There's something you should know." She unwrapped your legs from her waist forcing you to sit, she sat next to you. You watched her carefully. She didn't say anything for a long time. She didn't have to say anything. She opened her mouth and something you hadn't seen before startled you.

Her tongue ran along her pearly teeth dipping when she traced the fangs, almost as if by habit. In her mouth rest the culprit of the prick to your neck.

Should you have probably started running? Maybe. But that pull anchored you to the couch and lured you to touch her thigh pulling yourself closer. So close you could almost touch the secret she'd just revealed.

"I'm okay, if you are." Your voice was sweet and your hand was now on her jaw forcing her to make eye contact. You melted into her eyes almost in a trance. You were probably making a terrible mistake, but you wanted her. Fuck, you needed her. She responded with a kiss that turned into multiple kisses. That turned into your bodies tangled in your bed.

Your naked body straddled hers as she held your hips. Swaying, you rubbed on her body trying to reach your high. You held on to your headboard feeling your insides tighten. You were so fucking close you could feel it in every molecule of your body.

"Billie," you moaned looking down at her, hands still clinging to the headboard. She looked at you stunned by your beauty as your face scrunched in pleasure. She wrapped her fingers around your neck as you used her body for your own selfish reasons. The grip was comfortable and erotic. She watched your lips part; the sweetest moans spilling from them. She could feel the blood coursing through your veins. The thumping in your neck pulsing in her palm.

Her eyes lingered to your breasts, how they bounced each time you swayed your hips. Back and forth, back and forth, steadily and purposefully. When you opened your eyes, her lips were parted, fangs peeking through the gap. Instinctively, you brought one hand down to her cheek, your thumb ghosting over the corner of her mouth. Billie opened her mouth wider and you let your thumb slide in. She pressed her tongue on the bed of your thumb feeling a warm rush. She moaned and you felt the vibrations in your pussy. It took every fiber of her body not to bite your thumb and feel the warm blood ooze from your finger. Because that totally wouldn’t have ruined the moment.

You were so fucking close and she knew it too. She sucked your thumb slowly grazing your skin with her teeth before taking your wrist. She kissed up and down your arm until you announced your orgasm. She smiled into the palm of your hand. Your body convulsed, before falling flat on her. She kissed your shoulder, your cheek, your lips.

"I should go," she whispered finally breaking the silence. Your breathing had calmed, but your eyes were now filled with confusion. Had this meant nothing to her?

Because you’d just surrendered a piece of yourself to her. And another part of you was already falling deep and you knew there’d be no easy way out.

𝖔𝖓𝖊 • 𝖙𝖜𝖔

[crazylittlejester]

Hyrule: Haha what kind of idiot cooks kraft mac and cheese wrong, like imagine how stupid you’d have to be

Wild: Tell me you didn’t…

Hyrule: *bites into partially uncooked noodles covered in barely mixed in cheese powder* I definitely know how to cook kraft mac and cheese btw

[cantsayidont]

There are some things in DC's voluminous back catalog that they ought to properly reprint because they're good — gems of past eras. However, there are also some things they ought to properly reprint because they're delightfully stupid, like the Superman/Batman team-ups from WORLD'S FINEST COMICS. DC has actually reprinted all the stories from the '50s, through about 1961, but a lot of the '60s material has only been reprinted in the B&W SHOWCASE PRESENTS books, which is a shame.

The WORLD'S FINEST team-ups went through several distinct phases. Superman, Batman, and Robin had shared the covers of WORLD'S FINEST COMICS since 1941, but it wasn't until 1954 that shrinking page counts obliged them to actually share the lead feature. The '50s stories are pretty good of their time, with some lovely Dick Sprang art, and the presence of Superman meant the drift into science fiction was less jarring than in the contemporary Batman books. In 1964, editorial control of WORLD'S FINEST passed to Mort Weisinger and it became a Weisinger-era Superman book that happened to have Batman and Robin in it. Starting in 1967, though, things started to get stranger and stranger as Weisinger's stable of sci-fi veterans like Edmond Hamilton and Otto Binder gave way to Bob Kanigher, Cary Bates, and Bob Haney, who turned out some exceedingly weird material. Stories like the two-parter about Superman having died and willed his super-organs to various people (#189–190) aren't quite as ghoulish as the covers suggest, but their inexplicable weirdness is emblematic of the period.

For a little while in the early '70s, DC evicted Batman from the series, making WORLD'S FINEST a general-issue Superman team-up book. (DC reprinted those issues in trade paperback in 2020.) This apparently wasn't a big commercial success, but rather than immediately returning to the expected Superman/Batman format, WORLD'S FINEST began to feature the Super-Sons, the teenage sons of Superman and Batman in a hazily defined parallel reality — written by Bob Haney, whose stories consistently evoke the sensation of mild concussion. The "real" Superman and Batman also returned, although they had to alternate with their hypothetical future sons, appearing roughly every other issue through 1976. From 1976 to 1982, WORLD'S FINEST once again became an oversize anthology book, with a Superman/Batman main feature backed by a variety of other characters like Green Arrow and Hawkman. The stories in that period are not quite as ludicrous as the late '60s (although if you see Bob Haney's name in the credits, you know you're in for a wild ride), but even the soberer installments are consistently very silly, full of nonsense like Kryptonian lycanthropy and the return of some especially ridiculous older villains like the Gorilla Boss of Gotham City and Doctor Double-X.

It wasn't until issue #285 that Superman and Batman again had the book all to themselves. The late period dials back the zaniness and has mostly uninspired plots, but writers Doug Moench and David Anthony Kraft compensate with some eyebrow-raising and apparently deliberate "Superbat" ship-bait; my personal favorite is Kraft's "No Rest for Heroes!" (a short story in the back of WORLD'S FINEST #302), where Superman and Batman go to a dive bar in the middle of nowhere to talk about their relationship and Batman ends up throwing a knife at someone.

Very little of this stuff is actually good by any normal standard — although the 1964–1967 period is no more or less weird than any other Weisinger Silver Age Superman stories — and the artwork is only occasionally better than passable. However, it's so stupid and so ridiculous that it's consistently fun, in a way DC doesn't really do anymore, at least not on purpose. Assembling all the Superman/Batman stories (leaving the Super-Sons to their own TPB), omitting the various backup strips, and giving it decent color reproduction would make for a nice package, and the presence of Superman and Batman would make it more commercially viable than some of DC's more artistically worthy back catalog material. Low-hanging fruit, if you ask me.

[parkerswhatever]

Okay this is kinda dumb but:

The comments are turned off on Pinterest but this is a dumb fucking post. I haven’t watched wild kratts in years so idk who this Paisley person is but the first 3 made me mad. Especially Zach.

Zach doesn’t use his inventions to “further human progress” his inventions are all to make money off of or to do things he’s too lazy to do himself. The problem with him is that he uses live animals in them. And we see especially with Aviva is that you can use animal traits to make really cool and useful tech WITHOUT using a live animal for it. Not only in the creature power suits but also her other inventions.

And then Donita, idk but the way they say this makes it sound like she’s just an artist seeking inspiration. No she’s using tech to freeze live animals or mind control them into doing what she wants. In the gliding gecko episode it’s clear that the Kraft brothers are trying to get the geckos back soon enough so the geckos don’t die. In the orb weaver spider episode Donita is mind controlling spiders to get golden silk and we see how awful that is and in that episode Aviva makes a synthetic replica of the silk!! So stealing it from the spiders isn’t needed!!!!

And Gourmand. It doesn’t matter how fucking delicious or healthy his food is he’s still going after specifically endangered animals for no reason other than it’ll taste good. That’s like saying hunting elephants for ivory is okay because it’s a natural and strong material. Poaching is poaching no matter what the motive is.

Again idk who paisley is she’s vaguely familiar maybe I need to catch up on my wild kratts lore but yeah this is a dumb post the original post was also dumb I love wild kratts 👍

[babydollmarauders]

FLIRT — LUKE HUGHES

luke hughes x fem!reader

FAITHLYNN’S 500 CELLY!

🌷: "Are you flirting with me right now?" "Have been for the last 6 years, thanks for finally noticing." with Luke

warnings: underage drinking

sophomore house is packed, and for a moment i think Luke forgot i was arriving today. that is, until i see the handmade banner hung up in the entry hall. it’s a long sheet of kraft paper with ‘WELCOME Y/N!!’ written in what appears to be crayon, and the sight of it causes me to grin. the duffle bag strap slung over my shoulder begins to dig in, and it’s a reminder that i need to find my friend. i don’t have to look far though, because before i can even get two steps farther, a voice calls out from a spot on top of a table.

“THERE SHE IS! THE WOMAN OF THE HOUR, MY BEST FRIEND SINCE WE WERE THIRTEEN, Y/N Y/L/N!” my face turns red as Luke points over and all the focus lands on me. it’s quiet for a few moments before the room erupts in cheers, drunken college students taking any opportunity to be loud and scream. Luke jumps down from the table, pushing through the sea of people to reach me, pulling me in for a hug, his arms tight around me and my head pressed to his chest. “hey, pretty girl. how was your flight?”

“it was alright. ya know for a second here, i thought you forgot i was visiting.” Luke and i met when he first moved to Michigan, being next door neighbors and all. we went through all of high school together, inseparable and naively co-dependent. of course, feelings grew on my side. he went from my best friend to the first guy i’ve ever loved. but then we graduated. Luke went to UMich while i went to Rutgers University in New Jersey and we had to split up. we never stopped being best friends though.

“are you kidding?! i was counting down the days!” he tells me as we pull apart. “how low do you think of me? gosh, y/n!”

i can tell by his volume and the flush of his cheeks that he’s inebriated. his usual quiet demeanor replaced by loud shouts and wild hand gesturing, and it makes me giggle.

“how has New Jersey been?” he asks.

“it’s been good. although Jack has been slightly over bearing lately. constantly checking in on me. you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” i already know he does, his brother let it slip last month that Luke has asked him to watch out for me until he moves there.

“hmm can’t say i do.” Luke replies and i bark out a laugh, nudging his shoulder.

“you liar! you know Jack can’t keep a secret to save his life! he told me you’ve been asking him to check on me.” i tease him.

“you got me.” he sighs. “gotta make sure my girl is being taken care of until i make it out there.”

“your girl?” i ask before teasing- “Luke Warren Hughes, are you flirting with me right now?”

“have been for the last 6 years, thanks for finally noticing.” his playful smile has turned into a confident smirk, and his tone is the slightest bit more serious.

“wait, what?” i’m so confused. is he serious?

“how has it taken you this long to catch on?” he chuckles. “y/n, i’ve liked you since we met.”

“you have?” i question.

“uh yeah.” his words hold a ‘duh’ tone. “do you think at thirteen i wasn’t only thinking about how gorgeous you are and how bad i wanted to kiss you?”

i blush at his words and look up at him with doe eyes.

“so do it now.” i tell him. he wastes no time in bending down, his hand rises to grip at the nape of my neck and he pulls my face up to his, our lips grazing just slightly before he crashes his on mine. his hand that isn’t holding my neck settles on my waist, pulling my lower body flush against his. i have to rise on my tiptoes in order for our lips to touch, so after a few moments i have to pull away in order to avoid getting cramps in my toes. Luke chases after my lips with his own on instinct, and i almost let him catch them until i hear a shout from across the room.

“GO HUGHESY! HE FINALLY GREW THE BALLS TO MAKE A MOVE!” Luke and i simultaneously turn our heads to look over at his teammates and find Ethan with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“fucking cock block.” Luke sighs, shaking his head at his friend and his timing.

“Luke, we’re in a house full of people. it wasn’t gonna go much farther.”

-

-

[stealingyourbones]

Grilled cheese and tomato soup limited edition review

This

This is good.

There were some issues like the smell being minorly nauseous inducing and the soup not fully mixing with the water that is meant to be added.

Past all of that… it truly tastes like a grilled cheese dipped in tomato soup. A Kraft single between two slices of toast and tomato soup. It’s a bit wild because there is no texture of said grilled cheese but it tastes near perfectly like one.

I’m genuinely in awe. The funky food chemistry folks did a damn good job.

9/10

[quirk-nova]

Also, I wanna make a lil surprise for my bff @rachriocasual

Can you also do a moodboard for Martin Kratt and Chris Kratt from Wild Kratts? I bet she’ll love them!

Martin and Chris Kraft (Wild Kratts) aesthetic board for @p3k-n-party

[martincrushcameback]

Hey I’ve recently seen your wild Kraft Apocalypse AU, and I am IN LOVE WITH IT!

I was wanting to know if you, or any of the characters for the AU, actually knew what caused this apocalypse in the first place??

It's all Zach's fault! 8D

He managed to trap Chris and Martin and take their creature power suits away from them, you see. His goal was to use the suits to deliberately malfunction them while an animal was wearing it, in the hopes of creating an obedient beast for him to use in his scheming.

Problem was, it malfunctioned terribly. The suits are meant to make humans have animal powers and are coded to human DNA and the human genome. Putting them onto a bear and a leopard made the animals not only get spliced with EVERY animal power and DNA that's ever been coded in the suits, but ALSO gave them human hyper-intelligence. Think of it as a combined intelligence of both the brothers.

You are left with two huge and hyper-intelligent hive-mind monsters gone rogue that are smart enough to realize they can do what they want and corrupted by Zach's tampering with the mechanics enough that they "inherit" his drive to do whatever they want, own whatever they want, and use whatever they want by whatever means possible. This is then compounded by their animal instinct to hunt. Oopsies! You're left with creatures that learn VERY quickly how to expand their mutation abilities and infect other animals into their hive collective. Think Zombie Apocalypse, but it only infects non-humans, leaving the humans left to try and fend off the beasts that want them DEAD. And these beasts are massive, powerful and intelligent enough to coordinate their efforts.

You can see why things hit the fan REALLY quickly and you can also see why Zach is SO desperate to undo what was essentially HIS fault. Martin and the others of his future died because he caused the apocalypse. He'd do ANYTHING to make it right. Convincing his younger self will be a fucking pain in the ass but it's worth it if it means he can prevent everything he caused.