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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
Mike Driver
cherry valley forever

Love Begins
Sweet Seals For You, Always
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

blake kathryn
NASA
will byers stan first human second
occasionally subtle
taylor price
almost home
YOU ARE THE REASON

çĽćĽ / Permanent Vacation
Sade Olutola
ojovivo

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@bbsmaug
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laurie đ
a sluge đ
girls night girls night
distressing things to say to your friends

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Bilbo barely passed Old Took's record lifespan after having a supernaturally-life-extending ring for 60 years. which begs a question. what the hell did Old Took do
I have a theory that somewhere back up the line gandalf fucked a took. This sounds like complete crack but hear me out. The tooks are rumored to have âfairy bloodâ which in LOTR terms means either elves or maia. There is an ancestor whoâs unusually tall and many of them are noted to live unusually long lives unless they meet with illness or injury, same as the numenorians did. They donât hve extra pointy ears and elves donât have a special interest in the line. But who DOES have a special interest in looking after tooks (and bilbo who is a took on his motherâs side/his adopted son frodo)? Gandalf. That dude is ALWAYS fussing over some silly little guy. He regularly brought the old took birthday presents.
Back in the day some bold hobbitess decided to climb that old man and ever since then gandalf has been looking after his line of tiny crazy bastards and no one will convince me otherwise.
I am a fan of Big Ears guys
(fan art for @pocketss)
American Woodcock demonstrates "distal rhynchokinesis," the ability to flex the end of its bill. This allows it to grab earthworms it encounters when probing in soil. Other shorebirds, including Dunlins & Sanderlings, can bend their bills in this way. đ
@todaysbird this is so cool! I didn't know they could do that.
im happy for them and yet seeing them flex their beaks makes my brain go âNo, No, NO. That should Not happenâ
leave your laundry on the floor for them
happy old gnoll

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fun fact about me: When I was 6 years old I sent so much hate mail to the president (the second Bush) that the mail carrier had to tell my mom I needed to stop before we got FBIâd
I was COMPLETELY unaware of the US political scene or why the adults in my life hated Bush, but I knew I hated him because he let people shoot wolves from helicopters and thatâs mean and shitty
I also had a poor grasp on how stamps worked, so given that I wasnât allowed to continually throw money away by putting stamps on my presidential hate mail, a lot of the times I just drew squares with little pictures inside on the corner.
Love, love, love reading more proof that everyone should encourage the children in their lives to write to elected officials--it teaches them about citizenship and can also be very funny.
When I taught second grade, one of the options for students who had finished their work was to write a letter to the president. I would send all of the letters in a big envelope at the end of every month.
Watching my students get more and more frustrated with him (and concerned about his wellbeing) was not the result I'd hoped for when I came up with the idea, but it was kind of hilarious.
See, Obama had a standard packet with information and activities about his dog he'd send in response to letters from very young citizens...and of course his office sent one back to our class every single time we sent mail.
So eventually all of the letters looked something like this:
Dear President Obama, I am writing about the environment. I am sad that the Great Barrier Reef is hurt. Also the Amazon Rainforest. Can you help? PLEASE DON'T WRITE BACK TO TELL ME ABOUT YOUR DOG AGAIN. WE ALREADY KNOW ALL ABOUT BO. WE COMPLETED THE MAZE AND COLORED HIM IN. It is good that you love your pet a lot. But try to remember the environment. It is also important.
I redownload this app for one day once every maybe two months and unfortunately Iâm rewarded every time
good news: the FDA finally agrees that phenylephrine is useless bullshit.
This week's unanimous vote on phenylephrine's ineffectiveness was decades in the making.
I'm going to try to avoid to turn this into a Big Rant, but the tl;dr for why this is good news:
Phenylephrine came to the forefront in 2005, after the Bush administration decided they needed to combat meth by limiting pseudoephedrine. This action did fucking nothing to combat meth, as meth production just shifted to other methods that didn't need pseudoephedrine. But it means that the over-the-counter versions of decongestants like sudafed changed their formulation to use phenylephrine instead of pseudoephedrine, with pseudoephedrine and medicines using it being required to be placed behind the counter, with strict limits on how much you can get per-month, with pharmacies having to record your purchases and inform the DEA of them.
The reason this is a terrible terrible idea is simply that pseudoephedrine works, and phenylephrine doesn't. pseudoephedrine is a good decongestant that works, with relatively minimal side-effects, especially when paired with other allergy meds. This is why it was in the pre-2005 formulations of allegra/claritin: those antihistamines have a natural sedative effect, so pseudoephedrine's stimulant effects helped counter that, so you could breathe without also falling asleep.
But phenylephrine was approved with questionable test results, and it turns out that at standard therapeutic doses IT SIMPLY DOES NOT WORK. It doesn't decongest or counter the sedative effect of antihistamines. So it's useless.
BUT WAIT, IT'S WORSE: phenylephrine DOES have an effect: it raises blood pressure. Which is not the intended use! People with allergies are usually not also suffering from low blood pressure, so having your drug randomly raise your blood pressure is probably a bad idea. And this US already has a heart disease epidemic, so the switch from pseudoephedrine to phenylephrine in order to combat meth probably ended up killing (or at least injuring) a bunch of people through hypertension. All while the meth problem just got worse because METH PRODUCTION WAS NEVER DEPENDANT ON PSEUDOEPHEDRINE AND SIMPLY SWITCHED TO OTHER PRODUCTION METHODS.
as someone with really bad chronic allergies, this is one of my personal pet peeves.
Wait the US banned pseudoephedrine?
not completely, It's just restricted. It has to be behind-the-counter, and whenever you buy it they have limits on how much you can buy, plus they record the purchase so the DEA can tell if you're buying a bunch from different stores. There's monthly limits on how much you can get, which are approximately how much you'd need to take it 24/7 for the full month.
if anyone needs me iâll be ripping the LED headlights out of every vehicle in the country
mmm soob

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imagine if the oceans were replaced by forests and if you went into the forest the trees would get taller the deeper you went and thereâd be thousands of undiscovered species and you could effectively walk across the ocean but the deeper you went, the darker it would be and the animals would get progressively scarier and more dangerous and instead of whales thereâd be giant deer and just wow
you have a beautiful imagination
I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.
They were expecting military resistance. They werenât counting on bears.
Imagine coming to a hostile alien world and being attacked by a horde of creatures that can weigh up to 3 tons, run at 30Â km/h (19Â mph), and bite with a force of 8,100 newtons (1,800Â lbf).
By the time you realise that they can traverse water, itâs too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.
You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.
The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.
âHippopotamus.â
This is giving me the biggest, creepiest grin I might have ever grinnedÂ
Imagine being the next crew to go down to earth and thinking âitâs fine, we got this. We have the weapons and equipment necessary to deal with bears and *shudders* hippopotamuses. Weâll be fine.â
And at first you are, youâve learned how to dodge. Youâve learned where their territories are. You know how to defend yourself.
But then one night you are sleeping in your shelter. Youâre in a tree covered temperate part of earth. It seems benign. There are been no sightings of the dreaded âhipposâ around. Not even any bears. But there is a slight rustle of the undergrowth. You try and ignore it telling yourself it is just the wind.
Then you hear the rustle again. closer this time.
You peer out into the darkness but see nothing amongst the trees.
The rustle again and now you realise you can smell something. Itâs musky and slightly foul. Itâs the smell of an omen, a warning. But what of? Where is this smell coming from.
You sit up, but itâs too late. The foul smelling creature is on you. You are hit with 17kg of coarse fur and vicious bites. Long dark claws tear in to you and you are pinned down white the striped creature tries to bite your throat.
It takes some doing but you manage to wrestle free. Blood drips from your wounds and already they itch with the sign of infection. The creature has a bloodied snout, rust rad, mingling with the black and white hairs. It lets out a terrifying growl from the back of its throat and looks to attack again. Itâs between you and your knife, so your only choice is to back away.
Eventually the creature gives up and snuffles off in to the undergrowth, down a hole near your shelter you hadnât noticed before.
When you make it back to your base you once again consult the captive human.
âBadger.â they say, with a solemn nod.
One word: Moose
âOur vehicles are far superior to the local human models, in range, speed, armament, and any other metric you care to name! Nothing could possibly-â
BAMrumblerumblethumpcrash!!!
âThatâs called a moose.â
Wolverines.
Also.. dolphins.
The invasion is going slowly. The humans have caught on and are actively destroying information on the planetâs flora and fauna before Intelligence can capture and process it. All that they have are survivorsâ accounts. Bears. Hippos. Badgers. Moose. It is becoming obvious this mudball planet is a full-on Death World to the unprepared, and you are so very unprepared.
You lost Jaxurn to a plant. Not even a mobile or carnivorous plant, just one that caused a vicious allergic reaction on contact that killed him in less than a rai'kor. Commander Vura'ko died to an insect bite, a tiny local pest that sucked a tiny bit of her blood and apparently replaced it with a bit of its last meal, which was full of disease. Backwash. She died to bug backwash. And yet you honestly envy them after that⌠thing you encounteredâŚ
When you got back to base the quarantine officer refused to let you inside. They had to roll a containment tank outside to put you in, because you all knew there would be no chance of eliminating the smell if it got into the shipâs air ducts. Smell. You wonder if your nasal slit will ever recover from this stench.
And the smell would. Not. Leave. After incinerating your gear the Q.O. had you use every cleansing agent they could think of, including a few janitorial ones, and still everyone fled the stench if they were downwind of your tank. Desperate to protect everyoneâs nasal slits from the smell the quarantine officer interrogated the humans. From them, a glimmer of hope: there was a cure. Somehow the juice of a certain fruit on this mudball was the only thing that could break up the chemicals in the little horrorâs spray. Immediately the Q.O. sent a team to recover buckets of the stuff and made you bathe in it. That was hours ago and it didnât seem to be working, though. All it was doing was turning your blue skin an interesting shade of purple.
Sighing in frustration you wave the med-assist on duty over, who only approaches after checking the wind direction. Annoyed, you flip on the tank`s vox speaker.
âThe humans did say it was âgrapeâ juice that removed âskunkâ stench, right?â
Every night.Â
It came for someone almost every night.Â
Any soldier alone was a viable target for this native monster that moved unseen by any but the security viewers, usually only spotted in hindsight. They were taken as silently as this earth-monster moved. Sometimes theyâd find the remains in the morning taken up a tree and hung there, mostly eaten, as if it were a grisly reminder that the monster was still there, waiting unseen, to strike again.Â
What little they saw of the monster on the vidfeed showed true horror. Yellow eyes that shone with all the light it could gather. It had fangs as long as his grasping digits. Claws half that size formed curved hooks that allowed it to climb up their fortifications with impunity. And in the underbrush, its spots made it almost impossible to see clearly in the undergrowth, if it could be seen at all.
Even the native sentients, the humans, had a healthy respect and fear for it.Â
The earth natives called the monster a leopard. Â
It was a constant fear that muddied the senses, and let the monster hunt even more effectively as the soldiers were always on edge. Sleep deprived with fear, it made them even better targets for the monster.Â
But rumor was that there was worse on this planet. Rumors of a monster like a leopard but larger, and bigger in every imaginable sense. Stripped instead of spotted, which leaped from the underbrush with a sound.
A sound that burst eardrums, paralyzed entire units, and let the monster kill with impunity. While the Leopard wrestled soldiers down and ripped their throats out. This other monster, the Tiger, killed with its pounce alone.
âWeâve been through this,â Group Leader 455 snapped. âThe dissection of an Earth life form will help the scientists make weapons to combat the rest of this planetâs hellbeasts. And these are domesticated. Harmless.â
The troops were not-quite-looking at her in the way troops do when they donât want to be seen to contradict a ranking officer, but canât quite muster a correct Expression of Enthusiastic Assent. âThe name of this species,â she pointed out, âis synonymous with dullness and slowness in the language of the Earth barbarians.â Well, one language out of several thousandâthese creatures needed Imperial guidance more than any other world on recordâbut there was no point in confusing the rank and file.
More not-quite-looking. 455 bubbled a sigh and consulted her scanner. âThat one,â she decided. âAlone in the separate pasture. Scans suggest that itâs a male, which means itâs probably weaker. Possibly itâs kept isolated so that the females donât eat it before mating season. And yes, I know some of you are here on punishment detail, but youâre still soldiers of the Imperium. This squad is perfectly capable of handling a lone, helpless, pathetic male cow.â
Iâm enjoying this immensely. Wait until the aliens try Australia for sizeâŚ
It was a strange creature Tar'van glimpsed at on the vast island known to the humans as âAustraliaâ.
âI would warn you not to fuck with us, mate.â Their forced guide, a prisioner, had warned with a chilling grin upon capture. âIf you think a moose is bad, wait until you tango with a red back.â To this day Tar'van fears the creature known as the red back, and what horrors it would bring.
The prisioner turned out to be of little help,the stubboness of his people causing them to refuse the danger that the captured human warned of. Tar'van recalls a moment when one of his squad members approached a creature know as a dingo, insistent they had seen these creatures before and they were tame. They barely escaped with 5 of the original 7 members of his squad.
Another moment Tar'van recalls was the brutal mauling they witnessed by the hands of a creature called an âEmuâ
âDonât feel too bad,â the prisioner mocked. âWe lost a war to the Emuâs as well.â
Now with only 4 members of their squad left, including themself, Tar'van had learned to listen to the prisoner, to be wary of the simplest of creatures. This human was of the sub-species of âZookeeperâ after all.
The âZookeeperâ looks off to the distance, where the creature is.
âItâs a kangaroo, leave it be and youâll be fine.â Tar'van nods, a human signal of acknowledgement if they are correct. The human smiles a bit.
âThat creature cannot possibly harm us.â Tar'vanâs squadleader protests. âIt is so docile. I will aproach it and bring back itâs head to show this human is a fearmongering liar.â
The human reels back, a look of disgust crosses their face and anger passes through their eyes.
âFucking do it mate, I dare ya.â The human hisses. The squad leader puffs up their hoinn gland, a sign of pride to their species, and aproached the so called âKangarooâ.
âThis will be unpleasant.â A squadmate mutters as they watch their leader raise their fist and bring it down on the creature. The âKangarooâ looks a little stunned by the impact, before it raises itself upon its strong tail and uses its powerful heind legs to launch their squadleader backwards through the air.
Their squadleader lands upon the ground, unmoving with black blooded oozeing from them. It appears Tar'van is the squads leader now.
âI donât know what they expected.â the human says, smugness filling their tone. âKangaroos are fucking shreaded. 8-pack and all.â
Tar'van steps forward to the human, whom inches back in a sign of fear as Tar'van pulls their blade from its holster, and in their first act as leader, frees the human of the bonds around their hands.
âPlease,â Tar'van bags. âGet us back safely.â
@kryallaorchid, you guys really lost a war to emus? Why was it necessary?
oh, mate, you never mess with the emus.
(Jesus christ. Dont get us started on kangaroos)
They had faced Emuâs. They had lost one in the battle but had experienced them. But this was no emu.
Looking to their guide, they all stare in horror as his face changes from calculating to fear. Pure, heart consuming horror as he stares at the large bird. âCassowaryâŚâ They mimic him in fear. Squawking the horrific name as another joins the first in the mad run towards them.
The only ones to survive was the native guide and Tar'van. The guide was carrying the soldier over his shoulder as they made their way back to the settlement. Tar'van was a wreck. Periodically alternating between rocking in complete silence and whispering broken words in horror. When they consulted the native all he said was âIts springâŚ. Magpie seasonâŚâ
âListen up, troops. This armour upgrade has been tested both in the laboratories of the best Imperial military scientists and in the field. We are impervious to the stings of any insect on this hellhole of a planet, striped or not! We can brave the perils of its wildlife, and conquer it at long last! Revenge for our fallen companions! Glory to the Emperor!â
âExcuse me,â the native Terran guide speaks up in a tired tone, and the squadâs cheers die on their lips. âThis is Japan. You havenât seen whatââ
âSilence, worm! No sting can penetrate this plating!â
The guide tries to warn them once again, merely earning a blow that throws them to their knees. The troops set out, morale high, certain in their ability to brave the wildlife now and thirsting for vengeance against the non-sentient native species. One soldier thumps his fist against a tree. A hollow sound follows.
In an instant, the soldier is the centre of a storm of the striped insects. At first, no one pays it any mind. Their little stings cannot penetrate the new plating, after all.
But then the soldier falls to his knees, and the squad stares in horror as the insects enclose him in layer upon layer of their own bodies, all moving. The squadâs medic yells a warning at everyone to stay back, watching the readouts of the unfortunate soldierâs armour on their diagnostic screen with undisguised horror. The insects arenât even stinging. They simply keep moving, one atop the other, and the soldierâs body temperature is slowly rising until he drops to the ground, quite literally cooked alive. The insect swarm takes off, unharmed save for the ones that were crushed when the trooper fell.
Finally asked about what happened, the human sighs. âJapanese honeybees. They do this to wasps, too.â
âHow?â You ask. âHow has your species dominated this planet?âÂ
The human bares its teeth. A smile, they call it. Something humans do when they are happy. Yet you canât help but think of all the creatures with the their large fangs and sharp teeth. (What kind of species uses a threat signal as a sign of happiness?)
âPersistence and ingenuity.â The human answers, still smiling.Â
It doesnât matter that this one is your prisoner. Humans, you decide, are as terrifying as their planet. Â