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gaping: why-animals-do-the-thing: actualaster: kidzbopdeathgrips: sydario: springcottage: thedragonwoodconservancy on ig laser gun gator boys oh my god i didn’t realize this video had audio Okay as adorable as this looks, I’m pretty sure that’s a distress sound?  A “mommy help me I’m scared come save me!” sound? @why-animals-do-the-thing This video is from Dragonwood Wildlife Conservancy, and they are yearling (last year’s babies) Cuban crocodiles. Good news for you, this isn’t actually a distress call! According to @kaijutegu​ (and her giant bookshelf full of reptile resources), the laser sounds are an affiliative social call that young Cuban crocodiles use to communicate with their parents. They normally stop making the noise at around two years old, which is approximately when they start dispersing from the family group. See, Cuban crocodiles are a super social species - and one of the few where the fathers stick around and provide paternal care for the babies! In the wild, babies would regularly interact with both parents, including when they provide food. This call is basically the type of vocalization that the babies use to communicated with their parents. These crocodiles are being hand-raised as part of a private-sector breeding and reintroduction program (because the parents are so protective of their offspring that if you left them the babies to raise, you’d never be able to safely get close to them), and so they’re responding to the guy in the video the same way because he’s constant known safe individual and also the provider of food. He’s not a threat - his presence is a good thing, and he’s worth interacting with because it normally means food. You can also tell from their behavior and body language that they’re not stressed: some of the crocodiles are actively climbing on him and interaction of their own volition, but the ones that aren’t don’t show any indicators of hyper-vigilance. If that were a distress call, every crocodile that heard it would be alert and on edge looking for the threat. Distress calls tend to only happen once or twice, because in the wild continuing to make noise makes a baby more vulnerable: so these crocodiles wouldn’t be continually vocalizing if they felt threatened. There’s no snapping or gaping or freezing, all of which would be behavioral indicators of distress or discomfort. (Here’s a video of a baby nile crocodile being harassed by photographers which will give you a visual reference for both freezing and gaping.) So, hey, this is certifiably cute - and good for conservation! Babus
gaping: why-animals-do-the-thing:

actualaster:

kidzbopdeathgrips:

sydario:


springcottage:
thedragonwoodconservancy on ig

laser gun gator boys


oh my god i didn’t realize this video had audio

Okay as adorable as this looks, I’m pretty sure that’s a distress sound?  A “mommy help me I’m scared come save me!” sound?
@why-animals-do-the-thing

This video is from Dragonwood Wildlife Conservancy, and they are yearling (last year’s babies) Cuban crocodiles. Good news for you, this isn’t actually a distress call! According to @kaijutegu​ (and her giant bookshelf full of reptile resources), the laser sounds are an affiliative social call that young Cuban crocodiles use to communicate with their parents. They normally stop making the noise at around two years old, which is approximately when they start dispersing from the family group. 
See, Cuban crocodiles are a super social species - and one of the few where the fathers stick around and provide paternal care for the babies! In the wild, babies would regularly interact with both parents, including when they provide food. This call is basically the type of vocalization that the babies use to communicated with their parents. 
These crocodiles are being hand-raised as part of a private-sector breeding and reintroduction program (because the parents are so protective of their offspring that if you left them the babies to raise, you’d never be able to safely get close to them), and so they’re responding to the guy in the video the same way because he’s constant known safe individual and also the provider of food. He’s not a threat - his presence is a good thing, and he’s worth interacting with because it normally means food. You can also tell from their behavior and body language that they’re not stressed: some of the crocodiles are actively climbing on him and interaction of their own volition, but the ones that aren’t don’t show any indicators of hyper-vigilance. If that were a distress call, every crocodile that heard it would be alert and on edge looking for the threat. Distress calls tend to only happen once or twice, because in the wild continuing to make noise makes a baby more vulnerable: so these crocodiles wouldn’t be continually vocalizing if they felt threatened. There’s no snapping or gaping or freezing, all of which would be behavioral indicators of distress or discomfort. (Here’s a video of a baby nile crocodile being harassed by photographers which will give you a visual reference for both freezing and gaping.)
So, hey, this is certifiably cute - and good for conservation! 



Babus

why-animals-do-the-thing: actualaster: kidzbopdeathgrips: sydario: springcottage: thedragonwoodconservancy on ig laser gun gator bo...

gaping: MACHINEDOGGERISM machinedoggerism: One last kiss. I love you like a broken pot. One last kiss. I love you like a pack of dogs. One last kiss. I need you like I need a gaping head wound.
gaping: MACHINEDOGGERISM
machinedoggerism:


One last kiss. I love you like a broken pot. One last kiss. I love you like a pack of dogs. One last kiss. I need you like I need a gaping head wound.

machinedoggerism: One last kiss. I love you like a broken pot. One last kiss. I love you like a pack of dogs. One last kiss. I need you...

gaping: gotham city by meg INT. WAREHOUSE NIGHT The discordant SCREECH of a wooden chair's being dragged across a concrete floor echoes through the spacious yet deserted warehouse. The tinted lights are dim, some flickering without any discernible pattern. A heavy pair of boots stomp rhythmically as an man makes his way across the room, the chair firmly in his grip. The man, a nameless HENCHMAN type, is who someone with manners would refer to as "burly" or "built." He stops underneath the brightest light in the room, setting the chair down and revealing its occupant. He is wearing a golden "RR" symbol decorating his chest. Despite the sack covering his features, one can still make out his raven hair poking out of the burlap fabric. a uniform of sorts, with black and red details plus HENCHMAN (gruff) Seems like the Batman... is losing his touch RED ROBIN's head twitches underneath the sack. RED ROBIN (muffled) Do I look like Batman to you? The henchman circles the teen like a tiger stalking its prey, if that tiger had one too many antelope dinners. He forces out a deep and planned LAUGH HENCHMAN No, no, no. Much too small, you are Red Robin shifts in his seat. Inaudible muffling can be heard from underneath the sack. HENCHMAN (CONT'D) Shhh, little bird. You must save your breath! Air will get spare quite soon. Henchman LAUGHS again, but this time his voice horribly cracks. He COUGHS quickly, but the damage was done. Red Robin shifts in his seat once more in the following uncomfortable silence. HENCHMAN (CONT'D) So tell me- 2. Henchman tries to restore the tense atmosphere by slipping an obnoxiously sized syringe full of mysterious liquid out of a package hidden in his coat pocket. HENCHMAN (CONT'D) Where is the bat? My employer just wants to... chat. Red Robin drops his head to the side, effectively communicating a "bitch, please" without the spoken word. Henchman menacingly shakes his head as he stalks toward the teen HENCHMAN (CONT'D) I had a feeling you were the dumb robin A voice suddenly cuts through the heavy air. RED HOOD (from above) Damn right! The man drops the syringe in surprise, eliciting CRASH Red Robin perks up at the dialogue, using the hand that was supposedly tied to the splintering wooden chair to lift the sack from his head. a horrid RED ROBIN (yelling) I resent that! More bickering voices start to emerge from the darkened catwalk above the factory floor. The henchman stands stunned SPOILER Hey, don't say that! sensitive. He's ROBIN Weakest Robin, maybe. Getting himself kidnapped by this oaf? Disgraceful RED ROBIN (yelling) We literally planned this! It was your idea! Red Robin starts untying the ropes around his ankles. 3. ROBIN Maybe there's a reason you're always playing kidnapped! RED ROBIN (yelling) Because you guys are jerks? NIGHTWING Hey, I volunteered to be kidnapped this time! BATGIRL Oh, honey. We all know how that would play out. A communal GROAN emits from the batkids as they reminisce on the last time Dick volunteered to play kidnapped. RED HOOD I take it back, Wing's the dumb Robin NIGHTWING OKAY, first of all, not my fault- the fire was The batkids devolve into unintelligible BICKERING. To an outside observer, it would seem as Red Robin is yelling into darkness filled with disembodied voices. Henchman SPUTTERS, unable to form coherent words. HENCHMAN H-hey! You- You can't- ALL BATKIDS (yelling) Shut up! The henchman shuts his gaping mouth with the CLICK of his teeth HENCHΜΑΝ (talking to himself) I 'm not getting out of this, am 1? A pair of white eyes cut through the darkness behind him ΒΑΤΜAΝ No outoftheframework: outoftheframework: so a little fun tidbit about me is that i write screenplays. i challenged myself to write one in fifteen minutes, unedited, and then post it. this is what happened. enjoy? so so so thankful and in awe to the response to this post. I love screenwriting and it would be my pleasure to provide you guys with more high quality work in the future, y’all make me so happy.thank you :)
gaping: gotham city
 by
 meg

 INT. WAREHOUSE
 NIGHT
 The discordant SCREECH of a wooden chair's being dragged
 across a concrete floor echoes through the spacious yet
 deserted warehouse. The tinted lights are dim, some
 flickering without any discernible pattern. A heavy pair of
 boots stomp rhythmically as an man makes his way across the
 room, the chair firmly in his grip. The man, a nameless
 HENCHMAN type, is who someone with manners would refer to
 as "burly" or "built."
 He stops underneath the brightest light in the room,
 setting the chair down and revealing its occupant. He is
 wearing
 a golden "RR" symbol decorating his chest. Despite the sack
 covering his features, one can still make out his raven
 hair poking out of the burlap fabric.
 a uniform of sorts, with black and red details plus
 HENCHMAN
 (gruff)
 Seems like the Batman... is losing
 his touch
 RED ROBIN's head twitches underneath the sack.
 RED ROBIN
 (muffled)
 Do I look like Batman to you?
 The henchman circles the teen like a
 tiger stalking its
 prey, if that tiger had one too many antelope dinners. He
 forces out a deep and planned LAUGH
 HENCHMAN
 No, no, no. Much too small, you
 are
 Red Robin shifts in his seat. Inaudible muffling can be
 heard from underneath the sack.
 HENCHMAN (CONT'D)
 Shhh, little bird. You must save
 your breath! Air will get spare
 quite soon.
 Henchman LAUGHS again, but this time his voice horribly
 cracks. He COUGHS quickly, but the damage was done. Red
 Robin shifts in his seat once more in the following
 uncomfortable silence.
 HENCHMAN (CONT'D)
 So tell me-

 2.
 Henchman tries to restore the tense atmosphere by slipping
 an obnoxiously sized syringe full of mysterious liquid out
 of a package hidden in his coat pocket.
 HENCHMAN (CONT'D)
 Where is the bat? My employer just
 wants to... chat.
 Red Robin drops his head to the side, effectively
 communicating
 a "bitch, please" without the spoken word.
 Henchman menacingly shakes his head as he stalks toward the
 teen
 HENCHMAN (CONT'D)
 I had a feeling you were the dumb
 robin
 A voice suddenly cuts through the heavy air.
 RED HOOD
 (from above)
 Damn right!
 The man drops the syringe in surprise, eliciting
 CRASH Red Robin perks up at the dialogue, using the hand
 that was supposedly tied to the splintering wooden chair to
 lift the sack from his head.
 a horrid
 RED ROBIN
 (yelling)
 I resent that!
 More bickering voices start to emerge from the darkened
 catwalk above the factory floor. The henchman stands
 stunned
 SPOILER
 Hey, don't say that!
 sensitive.
 He's
 ROBIN
 Weakest Robin, maybe. Getting
 himself kidnapped by this oaf?
 Disgraceful
 RED ROBIN
 (yelling)
 We literally planned this! It was
 your idea!
 Red Robin starts untying the ropes around his ankles.

 3.
 ROBIN
 Maybe there's a reason you're
 always playing kidnapped!
 RED ROBIN
 (yelling)
 Because you guys are
 jerks?
 NIGHTWING
 Hey, I volunteered to be kidnapped
 this time!
 BATGIRL
 Oh, honey. We all know how that
 would play out.
 A communal GROAN emits from the batkids as they reminisce
 on the last time Dick volunteered to play kidnapped.
 RED HOOD
 I take it back, Wing's the dumb
 Robin
 NIGHTWING
 OKAY, first of all,
 not my fault-
 the fire was
 The batkids devolve into unintelligible BICKERING. To an
 outside observer, it would seem as Red Robin is yelling
 into darkness filled with disembodied voices.
 Henchman SPUTTERS, unable to form coherent words.
 HENCHMAN
 H-hey! You- You can't-
 ALL BATKIDS
 (yelling)
 Shut up!
 The henchman shuts his gaping mouth with the CLICK of his
 teeth
 HENCHΜΑΝ
 (talking to himself)
 I 'm not getting out of this, am 1?
 A pair of white eyes cut through the darkness behind him
 ΒΑΤΜAΝ
 No
outoftheframework:

outoftheframework:
so a little fun tidbit about me is that i write screenplays. i challenged myself to write one in fifteen minutes, unedited, and then post it. this is what happened.

enjoy?

so so so thankful and in awe to the response to this post. I love screenwriting and it would be my pleasure to provide you guys with more high quality work in the future, y’all make me so happy.thank you :)

outoftheframework: outoftheframework: so a little fun tidbit about me is that i write screenplays. i challenged myself to write one in f...

gaping: DISORDERLY Oct. 1 - A group of students playing hide and seek in the Harris Fine Arts Center at 11 p.m. caused a faculty member to call the University Police. The police arrived but were not able to find any of the students. deadmomjokes: owl-librarian: #you just made it a higher stakes game of hide and seek Having gone to this University, and having personally played hide and seek in the Harris Fine Arts Center, I guarantee you that NOBODY finds hiders unless they, too, are familiar with the bowels of the HFAC. Once you get down to the practice-room levels, time stops completely and you could walk up the back stair and end up in 1967. The halls change at least 8 times an hour, there’s no way you’re getting back out the same way you came in. When the lights start going off at 10 the whole bottom 3 floors descend into some subsection of the fey realm. I once hid up on the balcony stage access fire-escape thing of a lower-level theater, and 3 faculty walked by under me and not a one of them noticed the hulking, wheezing asthmatic lurking above them, half dangling off a rickety metal ladder that probably wasn’t supposed to be climbed. A fellow hider friend came and found me, and we sat up there for 30 minutes listening to some distant clicking sound before we realized nobody was actually going to find us. We had no cell service, and no internet to reach anyone. We got lost trying to get back out, and once we resurfaced, everyone else was gone, the building was empty, and we just went home to eat ice cream. Nobody knew where we had disappeared to, and nobody bothered to check if we were there before leaving. For all I know, they just assumed we had been lost to the gaping maw of the HFAC basement and when they saw us at church on Sunday it was probably like they’d seen a ghost. None of us ever mentioned it again. Basically what I’m saying is Campus Police had no hope of finding them in the first place and probably lost an officer or two if they actually conducted a real search, because nobody except Senior art majors or veteran custodians actually knows how to navigate that building and make it out in the same dimension they entered from. Not at 11pm anyway.
gaping: DISORDERLY
 Oct. 1 - A group of students
 playing hide and seek in the
 Harris Fine Arts Center at 11
 p.m. caused a faculty member
 to call the University Police.
 The police arrived but were
 not able to find any of the
 students.
deadmomjokes:
owl-librarian:
#you just made it a higher stakes game of hide and seek
Having gone to this University, and having personally played hide and seek in the Harris Fine Arts Center, I guarantee you that NOBODY finds hiders unless they, too, are familiar with the bowels of the HFAC. Once you get down to the practice-room levels, time stops completely and you could walk up the back stair and end up in 1967. The halls change at least 8 times an hour, there’s no way you’re getting back out the same way you came in. When the lights start going off at 10 the whole bottom 3 floors descend into some subsection of the fey realm. I once hid up on the balcony stage access fire-escape thing of a lower-level theater, and 3 faculty walked by under me and not a one of them noticed the hulking, wheezing asthmatic lurking above them, half dangling off a rickety metal ladder that probably wasn’t supposed to be climbed. A fellow hider friend came and found me, and we sat up there for 30 minutes listening to some distant clicking sound before we realized nobody was actually going to find us. We had no cell service, and no internet to reach anyone. We got lost trying to get back out, and once we resurfaced, everyone else was gone, the building was empty, and we just went home to eat ice cream. Nobody knew where we had disappeared to, and nobody bothered to check if we were there before leaving. For all I know, they just assumed we had been lost to the gaping maw of the HFAC basement and when they saw us at church on Sunday it was probably like they’d seen a ghost. None of us ever mentioned it again.
Basically what I’m saying is Campus Police had no hope of finding them in the first place and probably lost an officer or two if they actually conducted a real search, because nobody except Senior art majors or veteran custodians actually knows how to navigate that building and make it out in the same dimension they entered from. Not at 11pm anyway.

deadmomjokes: owl-librarian: #you just made it a higher stakes game of hide and seek Having gone to this University, and having personall...

gaping: DISORDERLY Oct. 1 - A group of students playing hide and seek in the Harris Fine Arts Center at 11 p.m. caused a faculty member to call the University Police. The police arrived but were not able to find any of the students. deadmomjokes: owl-librarian: #you just made it a higher stakes game of hide and seek Having gone to this University, and having personally played hide and seek in the Harris Fine Arts Center, I guarantee you that NOBODY finds hiders unless they, too, are familiar with the bowels of the HFAC. Once you get down to the practice-room levels, time stops completely and you could walk up the back stair and end up in 1967. The halls change at least 8 times an hour, there’s no way you’re getting back out the same way you came in. When the lights start going off at 10 the whole bottom 3 floors descend into some subsection of the fey realm. I once hid up on the balcony stage access fire-escape thing of a lower-level theater, and 3 faculty walked by under me and not a one of them noticed the hulking, wheezing asthmatic lurking above them, half dangling off a rickety metal ladder that probably wasn’t supposed to be climbed. A fellow hider friend came and found me, and we sat up there for 30 minutes listening to some distant clicking sound before we realized nobody was actually going to find us. We had no cell service, and no internet to reach anyone. We got lost trying to get back out, and once we resurfaced, everyone else was gone, the building was empty, and we just went home to eat ice cream. Nobody knew where we had disappeared to, and nobody bothered to check if we were there before leaving. For all I know, they just assumed we had been lost to the gaping maw of the HFAC basement and when they saw us at church on Sunday it was probably like they’d seen a ghost. None of us ever mentioned it again. Basically what I’m saying is Campus Police had no hope of finding them in the first place and probably lost an officer or two if they actually conducted a real search, because nobody except Senior art majors or veteran custodians actually knows how to navigate that building and make it out in the same dimension they entered from. Not at 11pm anyway.
gaping: DISORDERLY
 Oct. 1 - A group of students
 playing hide and seek in the
 Harris Fine Arts Center at 11
 p.m. caused a faculty member
 to call the University Police.
 The police arrived but were
 not able to find any of the
 students.
deadmomjokes:

owl-librarian:
#you just made it a higher stakes game of hide and seek
Having gone to this University, and having personally played hide and seek in the Harris Fine Arts Center, I guarantee you that NOBODY finds hiders unless they, too, are familiar with the bowels of the HFAC. Once you get down to the practice-room levels, time stops completely and you could walk up the back stair and end up in 1967. The halls change at least 8 times an hour, there’s no way you’re getting back out the same way you came in. When the lights start going off at 10 the whole bottom 3 floors descend into some subsection of the fey realm. I once hid up on the balcony stage access fire-escape thing of a lower-level theater, and 3 faculty walked by under me and not a one of them noticed the hulking, wheezing asthmatic lurking above them, half dangling off a rickety metal ladder that probably wasn’t supposed to be climbed. A fellow hider friend came and found me, and we sat up there for 30 minutes listening to some distant clicking sound before we realized nobody was actually going to find us. We had no cell service, and no internet to reach anyone. We got lost trying to get back out, and once we resurfaced, everyone else was gone, the building was empty, and we just went home to eat ice cream. Nobody knew where we had disappeared to, and nobody bothered to check if we were there before leaving. For all I know, they just assumed we had been lost to the gaping maw of the HFAC basement and when they saw us at church on Sunday it was probably like they’d seen a ghost. None of us ever mentioned it again.
Basically what I’m saying is Campus Police had no hope of finding them in the first place and probably lost an officer or two if they actually conducted a real search, because nobody except Senior art majors or veteran custodians actually knows how to navigate that building and make it out in the same dimension they entered from. Not at 11pm anyway.

deadmomjokes: owl-librarian: #you just made it a higher stakes game of hide and seek Having gone to this University, and having personal...

gaping: DISORDERLY Oct. 1-A group of students playing hide and seek in the Harris Fine Arts Center at 11 p.m. caused a faculty member to call the University Police. The police arrived but were not able to find any of the students. owl-librarian #you just made it a higher stakes game of hide and seek deadmomjokes Having gone to this University, and having personally played hide and seek in the Harris Fine Arts Center, I guarantee you that NOBODY finds hiders unless they, too, are familiar with the bowels of the HFAC. Once you get down to the practice-room levels, time stops completely and you could walk up the back stair and end up in 1967. The halls change at least 8 times an hour, there's no way you're getting back out the same way you came in. When the lights start going off at 10 the whole bottom 3 floors descend into some subsection of the fey realm. I once hid up on the balcony stage access fire-escape thing of a lower-level theater, and 3 faculty walked by under me and not a one of them noticed the hulking wheezing asthmatic lurking above them, half dangling off a rickety metal ladder that probably wasn't supposed to be climbed. A fellow hider friend came and found me, and we sat up there for 30 minutes listening to some distant clicking sound before we realized nobody was actually going to find us. We had no cell service, and no internet to reach anyone. We got lost trying to get back out, and once we resurfaced, everyone else was gone the building was empty, and we just went home to eat ice cream. Nobody knew where we had disappeared to, and nobody bothered to check if we were there before leaving. For all I know, they just assumed we had been lost to the gaping maw of the HFAC basement and when they saw us at church on Sunday it was probably like they'd seen a ghost. None of us ever mentioned it again. Basically what I'm saying is Campus Police had no hope of finding them in the first place and probably lost an officer or two if they actually conducted a real search, because nobody except Senior art majors or veteran custodians actually knows how to navigate that building and make it out in the same dimension they entered from. Not at 11pm anyway. wearemage I mean thats some fine scenario material, isn't it? Refer to article Eldritch Locations and You for more information
gaping: DISORDERLY
 Oct. 1-A group of students
 playing hide and seek in the
 Harris Fine Arts Center at 11
 p.m. caused a faculty member
 to call the University Police.
 The police arrived but were
 not able to find any of the
 students.
 owl-librarian
 #you just made it a higher stakes game of hide and seek
 deadmomjokes
 Having gone to this University, and having personally played hide and seek
 in the Harris Fine Arts Center, I guarantee you that NOBODY finds hiders
 unless they, too, are familiar with the bowels of the HFAC. Once you get
 down to the practice-room levels, time stops completely and you could
 walk up the back stair and end up in 1967. The halls change at least 8
 times an hour, there's no way you're getting back out the same way you
 came in. When the lights start going off at 10 the whole bottom 3 floors
 descend into some subsection of the fey realm. I once hid up on the
 balcony stage access fire-escape thing of a lower-level theater, and 3
 faculty walked by under me and not a one of them noticed the hulking
 wheezing asthmatic lurking above them, half dangling off a rickety metal
 ladder that probably wasn't supposed to be climbed. A fellow hider friend
 came and found me, and we sat up there for 30 minutes listening to some
 distant clicking sound before we realized nobody was actually going to find
 us. We had no cell service, and no internet to reach anyone. We got lost
 trying to get back out, and once we resurfaced, everyone else was gone
 the building was empty, and we just went home to eat ice cream. Nobody
 knew where we had disappeared to, and nobody bothered to check if we
 were there before leaving. For all I know, they just assumed we had been
 lost to the gaping maw of the HFAC basement and when they saw us at
 church on Sunday it was probably like they'd seen a ghost. None of us
 ever mentioned it again.
 Basically what I'm saying is Campus Police had no hope of finding them in
 the first place and probably lost an officer or two if they actually conducted
 a real search, because nobody except Senior art majors or veteran
 custodians actually knows how to navigate that building and make it out in
 the same dimension they entered from. Not at 11pm anyway.
 wearemage
 I mean thats some fine scenario material, isn't it?
Refer to article Eldritch Locations and You for more information

Refer to article Eldritch Locations and You for more information

gaping: Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot has appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. "That's one UGLY cat!!" All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose d until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find on him, he would stand there, getting soake One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time l got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly's sad life was almost at an end Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling I must be hurting him terribly I thought. Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for. Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be Ugly you should probably go to TheMetaPicture.com srsfunny:Everyone Was Warned Not To Touch Him
gaping: Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew
 who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat.
 Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating
 garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of
 these things combined with a life spent outside had
 their effect on Ugly
 To start with, he had only one eye, and where the
 other should have been was a gaping hole. He was
 also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot
 has appeared to have been badly broken at one
 time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making
 him look like he was always turning the corner. His
 tail has long since been lost, leaving only the
 smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and
 twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby
 striped-type, except for the sores covering his head,
 neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs.
 Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same
 reaction. "That's one UGLY cat!!"
 All the children were warned not to touch him, the
 adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted
 him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut
 his paws in the door when he would not leave
 Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the
 hose d
 until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at
 him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in
 forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would
 come running meowing frantically and bump his
 head against their hands, begging for their love. If
 you ever picked him up he would immediately begin
 suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could
 find
 on him, he would stand there, getting soake
 One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors
 huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was
 badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his
 screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time l
 got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly's
 sad life was almost at an end
 Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back
 twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the
 white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked
 him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him
 wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling
 I must be hurting him terribly I thought.
 Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on
 my ear Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and
 obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled
 him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my
 hand with his head, then he turned his one golden
 eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound
 of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly
 battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little
 affection, perhaps some compassion
 At that moment I thought Ugly was the most
 beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never
 once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to
 get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just
 looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve
 his pain
 Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I
 sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking
 about how one scarred, deformed little stray could
 so alter my opinion about what it means to have
 true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly
 Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion
 than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show
 specials ever could, and for that I will always be
 thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I
 was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to
 move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give
 my total to those I cared for.
 Many people want to be richer, more successful,
 well liked, beautiful, but for me, I will always try to
 be Ugly
 you should probably go to TheMetaPicture.com
srsfunny:Everyone Was Warned Not To Touch Him

srsfunny:Everyone Was Warned Not To Touch Him

gaping: i bless the rains down in Cast. @Chinchillazilla i'm gonna design sex robots with such advanced Al that they still reject incels 2018-05-02, 1:22 AM 4,764 RETWEETS 28.1K LIKES kaylapocalypse: marina-pepsi: kaylapocalypse: sexhaver: superllama42: Make up your fucking mind. Are incels dangerous lunatics who need to be quelled at all costs, or harmless societal bottom rungs you can intentionally aggravate and fuck over out of sheer spite with impunity? imagine thinking you’re at the “bottom rung of society” just because you refuse to improve your personality enough to get your dick wet.  Dude could literally hire a hooker if he wanted there’s no excuse just stop being gross @ incels As someone who used to be a “hooker”, I promise that incels treat sex workers just as awful as you’d imagine they’d treat any women they’d date!!! because the mindset that one requires to consider themselves an “incel” usually is accompanied by personality traits that women generally dont like! Like violent misogyny, dehumanization, selfishness in sex, and insecurity that manifests as a desire for domination–which is rarely supplemented with aftercare!   Also, they largely fucking loathe sex workers, because they view us as ultimate sluts who should be punished for taking advantage of lonely men who deserve not to pay us. Sex workers are not a cure for incels, we are a bandaid on a gaping wound, my friend!
gaping: i bless the rains down in Cast.
 @Chinchillazilla
 i'm gonna design sex robots
 with such advanced Al that
 they still reject incels
 2018-05-02, 1:22 AM
 4,764 RETWEETS 28.1K LIKES
kaylapocalypse:
marina-pepsi:

kaylapocalypse:


sexhaver:

superllama42:


Make up your fucking mind.
Are incels dangerous lunatics who need to be quelled at all costs, or harmless societal bottom rungs you can intentionally aggravate and fuck over out of sheer spite with impunity?



imagine thinking you’re at the “bottom rung of society” just because you refuse to improve your personality enough to get your dick wet. 


Dude could literally hire a hooker if he wanted there’s no excuse just stop being gross @ incels

As someone who used to be a “hooker”, I promise that incels treat sex workers just as awful as you’d imagine they’d treat any women they’d date!!! because the mindset that one requires to consider themselves an “incel” usually is accompanied by personality traits that women generally dont like! Like violent misogyny, dehumanization, selfishness in sex, and insecurity that manifests as a desire for domination–which is rarely supplemented with aftercare!  
Also, they largely fucking loathe sex workers, because they view us as ultimate sluts who should be punished for taking advantage of lonely men who deserve not to pay us.
Sex workers are not a cure for incels, we are a bandaid on a gaping wound, my friend!

kaylapocalypse: marina-pepsi: kaylapocalypse: sexhaver: superllama42: Make up your fucking mind. Are incels dangerous lunatics who...