simplifying models for kids in science today
Reblog for My Cat After (Wet) (Sad)
sheepfilms
I'd rather be in outer space đž

â
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RMH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Discoholic đȘ©
dirt enthusiast
AnasAbdin

shark vs the universe

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ

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DEAR READER

Andulka
will byers stan first human second
styofa doing anything
Jules of Nature
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
d e v o n
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@kambyu
simplifying models for kids in science today
Reblog for My Cat After (Wet) (Sad)
happy pride
okay so spock (the alien in blue) essentially goes into heat. like literal heat like an animal. Anyway, spockâs in bloodlust in this episode and must go back to vulcan to have sex with his finace (or someone. but its supposed to be his fiance) or heâll literally die. this is called pon farr and some backstory spock is half human and thought he wouldnt go through pon farr so he abandoned his HOT fiance to fuck around in space except oops pon farr happens so. he and kirk (in yellow getting his tits cut open, heâs also spocks captain and best friend) and their other friend mccoy go to vulcan so he can have sex with his fiance or get married or whatever so he doesnât die. but then spockâs fiance (tâpring) is like no i dont want to marry spock i want to have him fight someone to death (which she can do) and spock at this point is fully in the âblood lustâ and is basically not in his right mind and doesnt get whatâs happening. and tâpring picks kirk to be her âchampionâ in the fight (her logic is that if spock dies in the fight she doesnt have to marry him and if kirk dies, spock will be so upset with her he wonât marry her anymore anyway). anyway kirk doesnt know that its a fight to the death and so heâs like of course iâll do this fight if itâll help spock and then he gets told itâs a fight to the death and he goes WHAT and right afterwards spock slices his titties open like in the gif. also eventually spock and kirk roll around in the sand and kirk fakes his death and THIS somehow knocks spock out of his blood lust and he goes back to the ship super sad bc heâs killed his âbest friendâ only to discover kirkâs alive and we see one of his biggest smiles of the series (a big deal bc spock is vulcan and they dont show emotion). anyway this aired as the season opener in 1967. know your history and all that happy pride
star trek heritage post (June 1st, 2022)
imo the pov character should be lying to themselves and concealing shit from themselves constantly
â â
exactly, bestie. Exactly
grandma ate my fucking pizza
make neccessary corrections
My favorite banned terms on this site are "suicide prevention" and "safe sex"
Fuck nasty and kill yourself inmediately after
Salmon male grindset
Today at work a little crow fledgling was just having the worst damn day. The little goober kept trying to shove its way into the door and screaming at its reflection while I was helping a lady look at a bed.
I pointed it out to her and together we regarded the infant screaming.
After she left my coworker came up and informed me there was a bird on her car. I went out to look and lo, the fledgling had scrambled up onto her windshield and was pecking forlornly at its reflection.
It stayed perched there in the hot sun, trying to move higher up the car with no success but too scared to fly down. She was agitated that it was on her car since she didnât know if it would leave on its own.
âItâs a baby,â I told her, âItâs still learning how to fly.â
âThatâs a baby?! Itâs so big!â
âYeah, itâs just a little guy.â
I went out to investigate. The parents began screaming and swooping. I placated them with crackers which they accepted without relenting their screaming. My coworker said she could now see that the creature on her car was indeed a baby with the sleek black parents swooshing angrily around in the air.
We regarded the baby together. After a while I started noticing it was showing signs of fatigue and distress. Mouth gaping but not begging for food, wings drooping. I went back out to check on it.
I was debating moving the baby; the day kept getting hotter and it didnât have the energy or skill to relocate itself. My coworker also wanted the bird to stop pooping on her car. So eventually I announced, âIâm gonna move the bird.â
âYour gonna grab it? Arenât you scared?â
I looked at her in bafflement. I grew up around every imaginable kind of fowl. The only bird Iâd be scared of would be some of the big flightless ones. Even geese/swans are manageable if you just grab their necks before they really get flapping. The parents were not gonna go for my eyes like magpies and in general crows tend to recognize when youâre trying to help. âItâs just a little baby guy. Itâs fine.â
I approached the baby amidst its parents shrieking crow obscenities down upon me. I scooped it gently like the burger.
I cannot begin to convey how soft that baby crow felt. It was the downiest most pleasant tactile thing that Iâve maybe ever held and the experience was only slightly marred by the goober trying ineffectually to bite me. It was stymied by the fact that it ainât my first rodeo.
I brought it ten feet away to a nice shady tree. I held the baby gently so it could get its feet under it on the branch. It seemed a bit confused at this point but eventually gripped the branch and I stepped back and threw peanuts in self defense while the angry parents swooped showily around at me.
It stayed there pretty much the rest of the day. Its parents both checked in to make sure I hadnât murdered it then flew back to where we could see a nest. So best theory is that this dingus was the first to start fledging and couldnât actually return to the nest after launching.
I told my wife afterward and they went, âYou. You touched the bird?!â My coworkers husband was also flabbergasted that Iâd been brave enough to grab it. My coworker said she was just gonna shove it off her car with a broom.
As if they didnât know who they married. As if I am not someone who would confidently help a stray cat or wrangle a chicken.
I informed them that barring gloves I had thoroughly washed my hands twice and it was worth it to get the silly infant off a slippery car and into the shade.
You havenât seen that meme?
At this point in our relationship my betrothed is well versed in my compulsive need to help animals. It wasnât part of their upbringing but it was a huge part of mine. So now whether itâs lost dogs or injured birds they know that for me itâs not a matter of convenience, itâs just the only possible option.
My most notable rescue took place during one of the least opportune times. We were watching a friends boxer puppy, Bella. The dog was dumber than a box of rocks and I took deep offense that at six months old she still didnât know her own name. My betrothed and I were working with her on that as well as leash manners, so we walked her frequently.
On our way home from a walk I looked across the street and saw a cat. My betrothed didnât need to ask, it was simply a given that faced with a cat Iâd go say hello, so they waited with Bella as I crossed the road.
As I approached the cat several things caught my attention. The first was that he wasnât wearing a collar. The second was that his coat was greasy and disheveled- this was not a cat that was thriving if he didnât have energy to groom. The third thing was that he was way too skinny, with bones jutting out from his shabby coat.
The fourth thing I noticed was that this cat was a purebred Bengal.
Now, I understand that itâs suspect to identify cats as bengals. Many people see tabbies and call them bengals. But as a teenager I became obsessed with these cats and went on a hyper obsessive deep dive. I spent hours reading about them, looking at pictures, and dreaming about Bengal cats.
The cat in front of me had unmistakable rosettes, the narrow frame, piercing eyes, and from a very rough estimation probably cost thousands of dollars. There was no world in which he should be wandering my neighborhood with no collar and his ribs jutting out.
Which all led me to one conclusion. He was lost.
The second I realized that it was over. It wasnât a matter of thinking the situation through it was a simple conclusion: he was lost so I would help him by any means necessary.
This sweet cat showed he was friendly and trotted right over to greet me. I pet him and tentatively went for a lift. He did not care for that. Suddenly we were tussling, and it was instantly clear to me that he was going to stay lost if I couldnât restrain him, so we pitted all our wiles against each other and at one point I had him agonizingly by just a toe but I refused to let go and finally I had him in my arms, one hand scruffing him and the other supporting his weight.
Thatâs when I noticed a couple things. There was blood dripping down my elbow. Across the street Bella was going crazy barking and pulling toward me and the cat. And my betrothed was giving me an agonized look.
Without a word they started power walking Bella back to our house. I followed at a slower pace, keeping my grip on this poor lost cat.
It was a warm summer afternoon and several neighbors were out chatting. They saw the circus parade of my betrothed dragging a yelping puppy and me following holding a screaming cat.
Oh yeah. So I forgot to mention. Bengals are not normal cats. Theyâre bred back with a wild cat and their vocalizations are on a completely different level. The cat in my arms wasnât meowing or yowling. Instead he was making one long continuous eldritch wailing, oscillating in rage and distress.
My neighbors saw this, me, stonefaced carrying a cat who was casting evil spells with his voice, blood dripping down my arm, while a puppy frantically fought my betrothed to reach us, and they laughed.
I donât think Iâve ever been more offended that no one offered any assistance, but it was fine. I knew I could count on my betrothed. I slowed my steps slightly again when I saw my betrothed round our corner. I knew they would kennel the puppy and bring a cat crate for me.
Sure enough, I rounded the corner and they had our door open, crate at the ready. I popped the Bengal into the carrier and we shut him into the bathroom.
Then I looked at my shaking, bloody hand. Heâs scraped his back claws up me and it wasnât deep but I was bleeding heavily. Then I looked at my betrothed and started to cry.
They held me while I had a panic attack and helped me thoroughly peroxide my cuts.
âThat was so brave, werenât you scared to grab him?â they asked me.
Truly, no. I think to be brave or scared you need to actually conceptualize what youâre doing and I hadnât. I saw a cat that needed help, and then there wasnât options, I just acted. The rule is that when you see a lost animal you help it and I always follow the rules.
They asked what my plan was and I didnât have one. Where would we put him, in a home with three other cats and a puppy? I donât know. I just grabbed him.
We ended up calling a friend whoâs special interest is dog rescue. She brought her chip reader and a huge dog crate we could keep him in overnight with a disposable little box, food, and water.
Heâd been summoning demons behind the bathroom door the whole time, making sounds previously confined to various netherworlds but she bravely uncaged him to read if he had a chip. No, to my surprise. It also turned out he was a love machine despite the ghastly sounds.
We loved on him and gave him small portions of food every fifteen minutes so he didnât eat himself sick.
The next day we brought him to the local pet rescue, after I called ahead to warn them I was bringing in a Bengal. The lady had a very blasé attitude about this claim, clearly used to people claiming every lost tabby was a rare cat breed.
When she pulled him out of the crate she exclaimed, âOh my god, it is a Bengal!â
âThatâs what I promised. One whole ass Bengal.â
We said our goodbyes to the sweet man, and the posted him on the website as a found pet. He was picked up by his family two days later. Iâll never know how he escaped but Iâm certain his family was so grateful to have him returned.
we just found out doing this typically hurts the human body
Ggoouuuuuh what the fuuuuckkkkk
gf got me new posca markers for christmas, so i drew her brotherâs cat. her nameâs engine bc they found her in a car engine.
engine update:
btw it's so fucking stupid you can be anxious physically in your body even after you've decided mentally you don't care. I'm supposed to be in charge here
sorry to be a broken record every month but christ menstruation is a stupid concept. oooooh excuse me for not getting pregnant, why the fuck is there goo falling out of me about it? grow the fuck up and reabsorb that shit for nutrients.
>hear frantic clicking and the sounds of exertion
>must be a rhythm game player
>genuinely impressed at the apm
>look outside
>crabs are pinching a man to death
if you vote me for president i vow to make everything the ocean again. no more land only ocean. this will solve all of our problems and replace them with new, far more interesting problems