#you are all loosing

[incorrect-splatoon]

Normie: "MaRiNa Is NoT gAyS, nOt EvEn Bi"

Me awaken:

She has an undercut

She wear boxer from the splatoon in universe Calvin Klein (not the cheap or feminine kind)

She has a moto

She used to be a mecanic

She is obsessed with a tiny pink women.

[sonykatzen]

pretty boy

[eydilily]

would you bite the hand that feeds you?

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

The Bronx Zoo has just released Flaco's necropsy results.

He was not thriving, as the people championing the ideal of "freedom" claimed.

He was poisoned.

He was sick.

He was suffering.

"Freedom" would have eventually killed him. A building just happened to do it first.

"Postmortem testing has been completed for Flaco, the Eurasian eagle owl that was found down in the courtyard of a Manhattan building a little over a year after his enclosure at the Central Park Zoo was vandalized on February 2, 2023. Onlookers reported that Flaco had flown into a building on the Upper West Side of Manhattan on February 23, 2024, and acute trauma was found at necropsy. Bronx Zoo veterinary pathologists determined that in addition to the traumatic injuries, Flaco had two significant underlying conditions. He had a severe pigeon herpesvirus from eating feral pigeons that had become part of his diet, and exposure to four different anticoagulant rodenticides that are commonly used for rat control in New York City. These factors would have been debilitating and ultimately fatal, even without a traumatic injury, and may have predisposed him to flying into or falling from the building. The identified herpesvirus can be carried by healthy pigeons but may cause fatal disease in birds of prey including owls infected by eating pigeons. This virus has been previously found in New York City pigeons and owls. In Flaco’s case, the viral infection caused severe tissue damage and inflammation in many organs, including the spleen, liver, gastrointestinal tract, bone marrow, and brain.   No other contributing factors were identified through the extensive testing that was performed. Flaco’s severe illness and death are ultimately attributed to a combination of factors—infectious disease, toxin exposures, and traumatic injuries—that underscore the hazards faced by wild birds, especially in an urban setting."

The naturalistic fallacy kills animals in horrible ways. The romanticism of what humans want to think of as a "free, wild, pure life" cannot be allowed supplant the reality of injury, sickness, and death. Releasing captive animals (or keeping them from being recaptured) because it's "better" for them to suffer untethered than live a healthy, safe, captive life is inhumane and horrific.

Flaco's life didn't have to end in pain, sickness, and suffering.

Flaco's death didn't have to be tragic.

But once the idea of "freedom" entered the chat, Flaco's fate was unavoidable.

[lucabyte]

monologue

[your-therian-parent-says]

Remember to take breaks.

Your paws are tired, little beast. Rest your legs.

Your claws have put in their work for today. Let them be idle if they must.

Your wings have carried you far, flying friend. They need to recharge.

Your teeth have brought you through tough times. Rest your jaws, as their job is never over.

Your eyes have shown you the world and beyond. Show them solace if just for a few minutes.

If not you, who will care for your body? And what of your soul? Your entire being needs its time. Don't deny it.

[lilybug-02]

Angry Bugs!

Bug Fact: The origin of the word "bug" is still unknown. Linguists suggest it came from the Middle English term bugge ("something frightening"). Likely connected to Scottish bogill ("goblin"), Low German budde ("louse, grub"), and Welsh bwg ("ghost").

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Volume 2 Masterpost

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[beastlyidiocy]

my sweet old man who is genuinely too kind for the world he lives in :(

[ministarfruit]

day 12: karma ♡

(femslashfeb prompt list)

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[6blackfilin9]

it's not him locked up with you, it's you locked up with him

... for an hour or two, til' he escapes, i guess

[jingle-jangle-spurs]

Robert House watching The Courier rip all the copper wiring out the walls of the Lucky 38

[courtmartialme]

redraws of the poster of The Lobster for my 03 AU where roy ends up crossing the gate to our world with the brothers, gets involved with a different riza, gets painfully aware of what he could have had if his head wasn't too far up his own ass, and gets punched in the face at some point

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[cupcakeinat0r]

“Miguel, I’m so hungry.”

This was unprompted, making him raise an eyebrow. He’d been reading something on his monitor in your shared living room, the holographic screen floating before his face. He stops to look at you.

“Yeah? For what, mamita.”

As a boyfriend who always made sure you got what you wanted or needed, it was a genuine question. It’s the least he could’ve done for all you’ve done for him. You were his rock.

“You know…”

Miguel doesn’t know if it’s his insane drive or if he was too tired to process anything right now, but he could’ve sworn there was slight suggestiveness in your tone; insinuating at something that involved less so food and more so the bedroom.

Miguel begins to get excited, his eyes lifting just slightly, as does the curl of his lips. Everything about him perks at the slight mention of what he thinks you’re asking for.

“Oh yeah? … Right now?” You smile at his reaction, thinking how cute… he’s like a dog who’s just heard their owner say ‘park’. You assume he’s thinking of the same thing when you ask again.

“I need it so badly… craving it, even.” You’re no longer talking to him from the hallway, but now standing in front of him, fingers intertwining with his. “Please?”

Usually when y’all get down to business, you weren’t so forward like this, but for him, he’s loving this interaction. The way you were talking and looking at him alone made him hard. Suddenly, he was wide awake. He’s stunned to say the least, but with one swift motion, he’s up and ready to head toward the bedroom.

“Fuck, Alright then, let’s go.” His words urgent and short.

You seem to follow him at first, but make a sharp turn to the front door, beginning to put your shoes on. Miguel hears the shuffling, and turns to you, confused.

“Beba, what’re you doing? Bed’s this way, vamos.”

You look at him with the same puzzlement. Why did he sound so breathless for?

“Umm… what are you doing?” You huff out your nose, “I was talking about pho.”

You felt so bad, because you can see every part of Miguel faintly drop in defeat.

Oh no… he thought you wanted that.

“Oh, baby… I’m SO sorry,” you giggle, guilty laughing at the misunderstanding, “I can kinda see where you thought I was going with that, totally my bad…” you go to wrap your arms around his neck, your chuckling continuing.

There’s disappointment and embarrassment in his expression, but he smiles as well.

“Okay, well… can we still… after pho?”

“Do what?” Your chest rumbles against his, playing with him still.

“You know…” he mirrors your ominous response from earlier, but this time, supplying you with something you can’t possibly mistake for anything else. He tries to remember that one term you used a while back.

“… pound town.” He lowered his voice and himself down to you, like as if it’s an illegal drug or a secret, and you just laugh.

Miguel was the smartest man you’d ever known, but he still has his moments. God, you love your boyfriend.

[theroundbartable]

Arthur: I'm tired

Merlin, who hasn't slept in 72 hours and has his fifteenth coffee intus: maybe you should go to bed