WHAT ZIT TOOYA?

23

[owls-n-elderberries]

Bank Vole (Clethrionomys glareolus) by phil winter on Flickr.

[milk5-deactivated20260704]

Each berry is very large to her….

[sailorcuba]

the purest form of serotonin is when a cat looks at u and u go like “what?” and it meows at u

[arborealgargoyle]

like, that is a very unspecific response I still have no idea what you want but I applaud how adorably you meowed all the same, well done

[arborealgargoyle]

This post led me to reminisce on the nature of cat’s meowing, and I have a funny story

I befriended a feral cat once who had spent her life in the forest without human interaction. I was worried about her because she had a paw damaged from an old injury and was emaciated but obviously nursing kittens that were hidden away somewhere. It took me weeks of putting out food and sitting across the yard every evening for her to trust me even a little and when she decided we were friends and she expected dinner every night she started coming to my door and trying to call for me in the evening, but she didn’t meow. Why would she? Cats only meow naturally as kittens when their vocal chords/ears aren’t fully developed, adult cats communicate with vocalizations that aren’t audible to humans. She probably tried making noises I couldn’t hear to call me but ended up sticking to the one I always responded to- a horrible yowling growl that she had made at me when we first encountered each other in the forest. Except once we were friends she would make this noise while purring and rubbing affectionately against a nearby tree or the porch railing (because she didn’t want to touch me yet). This understandably freaked my family members out but I was touched that she had taken the time to find a way to basically yell FUCK OFF in an affectionate way.

Fast forward to when she finally trusts me enough to bring her hidden kittens out of the forest to me, long story short I gained their trust and put them in this big pen, that I had previously used to keep chickens in, so they’d be safe and to keep her from having another litter. Except she was already secretly pregnant again! (Fix your pets, guys, they make SO many babies) and ended up having her new babies in this pen. I kept my distance, sitting on the outside once they were born until she seemed comfortable enough to let me come inside. The kittens were a bit wild, hissing viscously at me as soon as they opened their eyes, but they warmed up to me. There were four of them and soon they all wanted to be the center of attention during the twice daily play sessions. I’d be playing with one and another would meow insistently behind me and I’d immediately answer them and give them love, teaching them that humans could be friends that answer their needs- making them adoptable once they were weaned. Mama cat (Artie) would just watch me play with them, and I guess she was doing some thinking because one day when they were about a month old I was playing with them and one meowed behind me. I was confused because I hadn’t realized there was a kitten behind me and when I turned, there wasn’t. The only cat there was Artie looking at me really intensely. I turned back around to the kittens and I heard the meow again, I turned back to Artie and responded in the way I always did with the kittens “yes baby?” And she meowed again in an exact imitation of her kittens! After that she would.not.shut.up. It was like she had cracked some kind of code, meowing for attention and snacks and just to say hi. Her two older kittens, the ones she’d had in the forest, had never meowed at me either but started to once they saw how I responded to their mom. and I find it endlessly fascinating because before that it had never occurred to me that cats only meow at humans because they were taught by other cats to keep meowing past kittenhood because that’s the best way to get a human’s attention.

Imagine befriending some weird giant with the wrong number of legs that you met in the forest who seems nice enough but doesn’t seem to be able to hear you, until your friend explains that all they can understand is fuck off! And I’m a baby give me love!

[hellenhighwater]

When I was a kid, my mom was a judge and my dad was starting his solo practice, and they both worked full time. There were four of us kids between the ages of one and seven (the Just Us League) and no decent daycares nearby, so they hired a nanny.  She had three almost-adult children, and on days when she couldn’t work, one of her kids would substitute. The oldest kid was named Bob, age 18, and he had just finished army basic training when this all went down. Bob did not have the good sense god gave a rock. 

I have an older brother, Jake, who was seven; then me, Hellen, age five, then Seth, age three, and my little sister Gin would have been one. It was late August, and we were at our nanny’s house, though she was gone for the day. Bob was in charge.

Bob should probably not have been in charge.

Bob tried keeping us entertained with board games and tag and movies. Gin took a nap. Eventually he decided to get creative, and sat us down in the living room with a game and vanished into the garage. There was a smashing sound. And then some saw noises. And then some hammering. And then we saw him going around the house to the back yard through the windows, though we were too short to see what he was doing. And finally, he yelled to us to come out into the driveway. 

Jake and Seth and I trooped out. Bob had both hands behind his back. He stepped up to Jake and revealed what he had in his right hand. 

It was a wooden sword. It was clearly made from what appeared to be parts of a chair’s legs, cut down and nailed together. He presented this, and announced, “You are Sir Jake, the strongest knight!” 

He stepped up to Seth and presented what was in his left hand. It was another wooden sword, smaller than the first, also crudely made out of chair legs. He announced, “You are Sir Seth, the bravest knight!”

At this point, I was practically vibrating in place, waiting eagerly for my sword so I could use it to whale on my brothers, as god intended me to do. I was therefore understandably disappointed to be presented with the business end of a garden hose and told, “You are Miss Hellen, the Water Fairy!”

“No,” I said. “I want a sword.”

Bob was confused. “But you get water magic! Magic’s great!”

“No.” I repeated, holding the hose. It had a spray nozzle set to jet. “I want a sword.”

“Magic’s great. Magic’s better than a sword.” Bob insisted. “You’ll see. Wait here a moment.”

And then Bob ran around the side of house and vanished. 

We stood in the driveway. Jake and Seth poked each other with their swords. I spritzed them idly with the hose, trying to decide which of them would be easier to steal a sword from. 

And then we heard a quiet wooshing noise, and smelled smoke. 

We turned. As we watched, a line of fire rushed around the corner of the house, consuming a path of gasoline poured into the dry August grass. 

We paused and considered this for a few moments. I raised the hose and sprayed a jet of water at the fire. It went out. We glanced at each other. Then we took off running, following the trail of fire, spraying as we went. 

The fire led in a path around the house to the back yard. As we turned the corner, we saw Bob, clad in a bathrobe and holding a curtain rod, standing in the center of a large ring of burning grass. He cackled manically. “I am the FIRE WIZARD! Your puny swords are useless! Nothing but water magic can defeat me!”

I promptly blasted him with the hose. He spluttered. The fire did not go out. 

I turned the hose on the fire itself, spraying a section close to us so that it would extinguish. As soon as there was enough room, Jake charged forward, brandishing his chair leg sword with a battle cry. Seth, always happy to be included, followed. They ran into the circle and began beating Bob around the kneecaps with their swords. I kept spraying. 

Eventually, Bob the Fire Wizard was brought down and all the fire was extinguished. Seth and Jake continued to work on bruising Bob’s shins, and I quickly discarded the hose to lend my fists and extremely pointy elbows to the cause. Bob lay in the smoldering grass, probably regretting using such sturdy chair legs. 

Once we’d all tired ourselves out and lay panting in a heap, Bob decided it was time for the moral of the story. “You see, a sword is nothing compared to the power of a little girl with **magic**.” 

We thought about this for a few moments. Bob nodded wisely. Jake and Seth nodded back. 

“I still want a sword.” I said. 

[hellenhighwater]

there’s a lot of people in the tags and replies expressing several concerns, which I will address:

“Where was Gin?” She was sleeping in a crib on the sunporch. We did this a lot–played outside while she napped–because we could hear her if she woke up and started crying, but were less likely to wake her up. She slept through the whole thing and was totally fine.

“You can’t put out a gasoline fire with water.” At the time, my little kid brain assumed that any flammable liquid was gas, but in retrospect it could have been almost anything. It very well may have been something other than gasoline. All I know is I could extinguish it with a garden hose.

“What did your parents say?” A lot of swear words at a very high volume.

“Did you get a sword?” Yes. Lots.  Here are a couple of them, and also my pet ringneck dove, Arson. You can see how this all may have had some lasting effect on me.

[messruksi]

Is that a real bird?? :0

[hellenhighwater]

Yes, she’s real. This is Arson, her mate, Larceny, and their idiot children, Forgery and Fraud.

Arson lives her life constantly wishing she had opposable thumbs so she could light fires.

[charleewritesabook]

What a ride

[draskireis]

The absolute mania of naming your pets after felonies.

[hellenhighwater]

thrilled to report that that was also me

[beckiboos]

At least you’re consistent

[sermna]

There's a mama cat living in my garage named Felicia. When she first showed up she was almost completely feral. She knew humans dispensed food, and that was about as far as her trust and interest extended for many months.

But y'all, she fucked up. She had kittens in my garage last May. She was at my mercy.

I fed her meat and water while she recovered and nursed. I gently held her babies. She didn't like it, but as I said, she fucked up, because she was too weak from the birth to protest. The weeks passed. Her kittens were fully socialized and grew to be healthy and fluffy little things. Felicia was now comfortable with my presence, probably because I had not yet eaten her babies or anything like that, but touches were a big NO! That was okay by me though. I figured I would just have her spayed and we could remain civil neighbors.

But then she let me pet her.

A few weeks later she started purring and demanding rubs.

And today she let me hold her.

Felicia fucked up. Felicia is a house cat now

[sermna]

Felicia (bottom right) and her babies (that I have not eaten)

[sermna]

for everyone asking about the babies I DID eat: there is in fact a fourth kitten named Pancake that I had to take in before he even opened his eyes because Felicia abandoned him for some reason (it’s because he’s a tiny asshole lmao). I keep telling him I’m going to roast him for dinner because he’s such a shit head but it doesn’t seem to bother him. Here's some baby pics:

[pencildragons]

fAtHeR,,,,, reLEAse Me,,,,,,,,, i aM tHe terRiBle NigHT,,,,,,,i Am ThE thINg thAt proWLs iN tHe dArkNeSs,,,,,, mY mOThEr WAs fRoM ThE wILd AnD sO Am I,,,,,,,

[brightlotusmoon]

FIERCE VOID NAME OF PANCAKE

[young-replica]

[jaubaius]

Husky getting nervous at his first swimming lesson

[bigdogdabeast]

I like this WAY more then I should

[chapdietostie-deactivated202406]

BIG BABY <3

[404-later]

[athanasia-istolla]

“Death to Poseidon” has me fking rolling.

[everythingfox]

Baby elephant thought man was drowning and rushed to save him

[wakandamama]

HE JUSTA BABY 🥺

[urbanfantasyinspiration]

A baby the size of a truck 🥺

[thespectacularspider-girl]

I love elephants so much.

[thekanucklehead-deactivated2025]

When I was in Nepal, I went to an elephant sanctuary and saw this little guy. The little bundles of grass in his front of him were “sandwiches”, brown sugar and salt wrapped in sweet grass, and he was swaying from side to side while he ate, like a little food dance.

[divagonzo]

Reblog for someone to make you a dozen sandwiches for this weekend’s little happy food dance.

[ancestorswatching]

In many cultures, ethnic groups, and nations around the world, hair is considered a source of power and prestige. African people brought these traditions and beliefs to the Americas and passed them down through the generations.

In my mother’s family (Black Americans from rural South Carolina) the women don’t cut their hair off unless absolutely necessary (i.e damage or routine trimming). Long hair is considered a symbol of beauty and power; my mother often told me that our hair holds our strength and power. Though my mother’s family has been American born for several generations, it is fascinating to see the beliefs and traditions of our African ancestors passed down. We are emotionally and spiritually attached to our hair, cutting it only with the knowledge that we are starting completely clean and removing stagnant energy.

Couple this with the forced removal and covering of our hair from the times of slavery and onward, and you can see why so many Black women and men alike take such pride and care in their natural hair and love to adorn our heads with wigs, weaves, braids, twists, accessories, and sharp designs.

Hair is not just hair in African diaspora cultures, and this is why the appropriation and stigma surrounding our hair is so harmful.

[arofrog-archive]

[ID: nine square images explaining the importance of Black hair. All but the first image have a plain light cream background, a title and text with a picture and are credited to @vibesofablackgirl.

Image 1: a picture of a dark-skinned Black woman wearing makeup with their hair styled in an Afro. A search bar across their face reads “Reasons why Black hair is not just hair”.

Image 2: Title is “The Pencil Test”. Text reads “Between 1948 and 1994, the pencil test was a method used to assess whether a person was White or Black. A pencil was slid into the hair of someone being assessed. If the pencil fell out you were White and if it stayed in you were Black. This was a tool used to segregate Black people and stop them attending functions, schools and events. Not only did this cause racial division it also tore families apart”. A sketch of a Black woman undergoing the pencil test is shown beside the text.

Image 3: Title is “Map to Freedom”. Text reads “Cornrows have a rich history in the Black community. Slaves would braid escape routes into their hair. They were used as a way for slaves to communicate with with one another without their slave owners knowing. Some of the cornrows and the number of plaits worn would let them know how far they needed to travel or how many roads they needed to walk til they would be able to meet one another to escape the plantation”. A photo of seven people with different cornrows.

Image 4: Title is “Means of Survival”. Text reads “The Black women who came before us were innovative and showed that the thickens and texture of Black hair was so valuable and had a purpose. This was because slaves would braid rice and seeds in their cornrows before journeying the Middle Passage. Enslaved mothers would also braid seeds in their children's hair so they could eat in case they were separated due to slave auctions”. A photo of a Black woman having her hair braided with food.

Image 5: Titled “Cultural Representation”. Text reads “Before colonisation in the 15th century, Black hair could tell you everything you needed to know about a person just by looking at the style alone. Hairstyles were able to indicate things like wealth, religion, culture, tribe, marital status, social status, age and plenty more. You were even able to know a person's last name just by looking at their hairstyle. This is because each tribe had their own unique hairstyle”. A photo of a Black person with a tribal hairstyle.

Image 6: Titled “The Tignon Law”. Text reads “Late 18th century in Louisiana, Black women were banned from wearing it in public and were ordered to cover it up at all times. This was because they wanted to curb the growing influence of the free Black population and keep the social order. It was also believed Black women's hairstyles would draw the attention of white men, and this increased the jealousy of white women”. A photo of a Black woman with her hair covered.

Image 7: Titled “Stripped of Identity”. Text reads “When the slave trade started and the slaves were captured, Black women were forced to shave all their hair off. This was the beginning process of eradicating the Black identity and culture. It was also a tool to minimise Black beauty and dehumanise Black women, as slave owners knew their hair was something they valued enormously, was part of their identity and it also held so much significance”. A photo of a Black woman with a fully shaved head.

Image 8: Titled “Cultural Appropriation”. Text reads “Black hairstyles are an outward expression of self-acceptance and self-love. However, the anti-Black hair sentiment has existed in society for centuries. Black hair has been compared to wool and often described as ‘wild’, ‘nappy’ or ‘ghetto’. Yet non-Black people are praised, credited and even profit from styles and trends that Black women have been ridiculed for. Cultural appreciation is about recognising the history and where it came from, which includes learning about and giving credit to what you're borrowing, instead of saying ‘it’s just hair’”. A photo of three white women wearing thick dreadlocks.

Image 9: Titled “The Corporate World”. Text reads “In 2010, Chastity Jones accepted a job offer from Catastrophe Management Solutions. However, the offer came with one caveat – she had to cut off her locks. Jones refused, and the company rescinded its job offer. Chastity’s case is not unique. Cases filed by Black working women alleging discrimination against their natural hair in the workplace have filled courthouses for more than forty years”. A photo of a Black woman on TV in court.

End descriptions.]

[mapsontheweb]

How close do their borders come to?

[changeling-ash]

Hmmm…Seems like they touch.

hmm??

…you have to be kidding me.

…..

…Wow….

[metrickulous]

[mx-t4t0]

yep it checks out

[catalystcomet-archive-deactivat]

I FUCKING LOVE THIS VIDEO THIS BABY IS SO VIOLENT LMFAOOOO

[dankmemeuniversity]

[systemic-dreams]

there's a lady on the train knitting so aggressively and quickly that her needles clack like some sort of cartoon character and I am super intimidated

[systemic-dreams]

she smashed out a shawl in like 35 minutes and now she’s aggressively eating a sandwich. i cant

[systemic-dreams]

that sandwich is gone. packet of chips? gone. fuel for the knitting machine that she is. she’s at it again

[dxrissa]

Yo titties super saggy 😷😷

Big titties sag bruh 🤷🏻‍♀️

[fairyysquaadmother-deactivated2]

BIG TITTIES SAG BRUH

[shessiddity]

Big titties gunna sag bruh !

[liminal-soul]

BIG TITTIES SAG BRUH. 💯💯💯

[legitimatelala]

Big Titties Sag Bruh

[gluten-free-pussy]

Big titties sag bruh

[embraceyourflaws-deactivated201]

BIG TITTIES SAG bruh

[one-time-i-dreamt]

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Remember when Jeff Bezos, who is worth 181 billion USD donated 690k to stopping Australian fires? Yeah, me too.

[katification]

Ads on other websites: "I saw you googled tennis shoes. You wanna see some tennis shoes?"

Tumblr ads: "Wanna see the same frog purse ad continuously for the next week?"

[animatedtext]

[politicsoflanguage]

Native English speakers are the world’s worst communicators

In a room full of non-native speakers, ‘there isn’t any chance of understanding’. It might be their language, but the message is often lost

“A lot of native speakers are happy that English has become the world’s global language. They feel they don’t have to spend time learning another language,” says Chong.

“But… often you have a boardroom full of people from different countries communicating in English and all understanding each other and then suddenly the American or Brit walks into the room and nobody can understand them.”

The non-native speakers, it turns out, speak more purposefully and carefully, typical of someone speaking a second or third language. Anglophones, on the other hand, often talk too fast for others to follow, and use jokes, slang and references specific to their own culture, says Chong. In emails, they use baffling abbreviations such as ‘OOO’, instead of simply saying that they will be out of the office.

“The native English speaker… is the only one who might not feel the need to accommodate or adapt to the others,” she adds.

[lierdumoa]

I’ve been thinking about this post all day, and the article glosses over one important detail. All of the “native English speakers” the article mentions belong to the same niche demographic: white collar/corporate professionals

English corporate speak is it’s own fucked up dialect. 

It’s so incomprehensible and exclusionary that even a native English speaker with a master’s degree in English will have difficulty parsing it. Trust me when I say that nobody who isn’t a business major knows what the fuck “synergy” means.

And the jargon’s just half the problem. The other half is the gross overuse of hobby-specific expressions and analogies.

Go to most corporate offices and you’ll be bombarded with sports analogies that only make sense to someone who spends all their free time watching ESPN.

I tracked down this quote I read in a tumblr post years ago:

“I remember working with a law school in which white men heavily dominated the faculty. They used lots of sports metaphors (doing an end run, Monday morning quarterbacking, and so on), with legal jargon thrown in for good measure. I suggested that this was not a particularly welcoming trait in their school, that in fact it was sexist, but they paid little attention. I made my point by speaking for about five minutes in dressmaking terms: putting a dart in here, a gusset there, cutting the budget on the bias so it would be more flexible, using a peplum to hide a course that might be controversial. The women in the room laughed; the men did not find it humorous….Language is power, make no mistake about it. It is used to include and exclude and to keep people and systems in their places.”

- Frances E. Kendall, Understanding White Privilege

My point is,

This kind of poor communication probably shouldn’t be blamed on monolingualism alone. It’s most certainly made worse by an exclusionary and elitist work culture.

You’ll probably encounter far fewer communication issues talking to a cashier at a tourist trap than you will talking to a lawyer or a stockbroker.

[roach-works]

assuming it’s other people’s job to understand you, instead of your job to make yourself understood, is characteristic of people with unexamined and unchecked privilege.