I keep having to remind myself that it’s the lionesses that do the hunting and killing and get their faces soaked in blood I mean is there a more badass animal
the king of the jungle
in the second it’s like ‘maybe if I look away she’ll stop yelling at me’
I TOLD YO BITCH ASS TO PICK UP THE CUBS
Pop culture ideas about lion social behaviour are actually pretty warped due to projecting human gender roles onto them.
Among African lions, for exampe, the male typically stays home and watches the cubs while the females are out hunting. At the conclusion of a successful hunt, it’s likewise the male who’s responsible for portioning out meat to the cubs (females rarely share their kills with cubs unless the male intervenes). Apart from these situations, males spend most of their time patrolling the borders of the pride’s territory to fend off competing predators, and have little influence in the pride’s day-to-day social organisation.
While in most popular depictions, the male lion “keeps” the pride to serve as his personal harem, it would be more accurate to state that the pride “keeps” the male as a combination bouncer and breeding stud.
Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme. I have tried. I can find out no rhyme to ‘lady’ but 'baby' - an innocent rhyme; for ‘scorn,’ ‘horn’ - a hard rhyme; for 'school', 'fool' - a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings! No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms.
Much Ado about Nothing - William Shakespeare
Favourite Doctor - Tenth Doctor
"I’m old enough to know that a longer life isn’t always a better one. In the end, you just get tired; tired of the struggle, tired of losing everyone that matters to you, tired of watching everything you love turn to dust. If you live long enough, Lazarus, the only certainty left is that you’ll end up alone." (The Lazarus Experiment)
In my memory, the Silph Co. lobby exists in the nebulous space between birth and the Incident. I couldn’t have been older than 5 years old because Mother still hadn’t torn her straw hat to pieces yet. We sat by the fountain and Father quizzed me on the Pokemon League.
"What type of Pokemon does Sabrina use, Remy?" he’d say.
"Ummm….Psychic!" I’d cry after some deliberation.
"Look at that Cynthia!" Father would shout, whisking me up in his big, strong arms. "Our boy’s gonna be a real Pokemon Master!" And we’d laugh.
But there’s no laughter in my reflection today, only the sunken eyes of a pokejunkie, brain melted from one too many Carbos-fueled nights. Carbos increases speed, you know. I wonder what I’m running from?
I dunk my head in the fountain. I hold it there. 10 seconds. 20 seconds.
"Who’s the last member of the Elite Four, Remy?"
"I know this one! It’s Agatha!"
"Oh! I’m sorry, kiddo. Looks like no ice cream for you!"
Unable to breathe, I emerge and let out a massive bellow. It was Lance! Stupid, Remy. You’re fucking stupid, and you always will be.
"Welcome to this house of healing," says the priest, his face disfigured from years of self-flagellation. I had come to the shaking pillar of Johto in order to cleanse the demons that had been eating my dreams. Little did I know I’d walked into another.
"In order to receive the spiritual healing, you must kneel before the pillar and give yourself completely unto its power while my brethren in the order chant the sacred words." I nod. I am ready to escape my physical form and transcend the earthly realm.
"Good. Let us begin."
I do as instructed. Though there are only three priests in the room, their voices seem like those of three thousand. With increasing insistence they chant their holy incantation:
“What kind of Pokemon are you? How do you do the things you do?”
I feel the wind begin to lift me from my feet. The pillar shakes with increasing fervor. By all rights it should fall over, but I understand it will not. The angel Ho-oh appears before me in blinding radiance, looks at me and says kindly, “So? What kind of Pokemon are you, Remy? How do you do the things you do?”
What seems like years later, I come to, surrounded by the priests of the house. Wordlessly, they smile and show me the door. I want to ask them if I’m healed, but I know as well as they do that they can not answer that.