The Cake-Card-Dragon Theory Of Asexuality

[ID:

Person appears holding a bundle of furs.

“Hi! My name’s Siqiñiq, I am Iñuipaq from Alaska, Iñuit, and I want to show you my furs!”

They shift the furs in their arms, holding up a white with blue undertone fur.

“This is blue fox, I’m going to use this on my girl’s parka’s (atigi)”

They hold up a white and brown colored fur.

“This is lamb, which in the city many of us use as liners.”

They next switch to a caramel colored outfit.

“This is sikshrik, squirrel. This is what you would use as a liner traditionally. It’s much softer, so pretty.”

The next fur is a white-grey color.

“This is silver fox, my favorite.”

The Tiktoker holds up the finale fur.

“And my wolf!”

They wrap the wolf fur around their head.

“Okay, yesterday Biden signed support in one of the largest fossil fuel projects in North America right next to my village where my mom lives right now-“

White text that says “Willow Master Project” shows up. They put the fur down and bend closer to the camera.

“-a dynamite mine less then 10 miles away would be installed over 300 miles of pipeline. This completely goes against the Paris climate agreement.

You can take action now.

Visit the link in my profile, it’ll go to a YouTube video of testimony’s of real people in these communities. Then go to silainuat.org

Thank you!”

The video stops

END]

Posts like this are the only reason I’m still on this site

I swear I saw a tumblr post on here that said ‘horses have over 4,000 bones’ and i don’t know where it came from because its totally wrong, they have 205, but what kind of fucked up horse has this person seen out there because I’m absolutely terrified of it 

Dogor is the 18,000 year old pup that was found within the Siberian Permafrost, yet is not quite a dog nor a wolf, but a puzzling connection to both. 

Dogor has been miraculously preserved within the permafrost, with its fur, teeth and even whiskers incredibly intact. Radiocarbon dating has placed the animal at 18,000 years old and researchers have suggested that the animal passed away at just 2 months old. The name Dogor means “Friend” in Yakut, a language spoken within Eastern Siberia. 

Generally, genetic analysis can quite easily discern whether a discovered canine is a wolf or dog, but in this instance, the genetics suggest that it could be an ancestral link to both. Interestingly, Dogor lived at a time in canine evolutionary history when dogs and wolves began to branch off from each other.The general scientific consensus is that dogs and wolves split from a common ancestor, however, the process of how “dogs became dogs” is certainly contested, and Dogor could be a crucial piece in that puzzle.

If Dogor is determined to be a dog, it will be the oldest ever discovered. The next oldest, the Bonn-Oberkassel puppy, was discovered in Germany and was clearly determined to be a dog of around 14,000 years old, buried with a man and a woman. 

The progression of climate change is melting the permafrost more rapidly, and discoveries like these are becoming more and more commonplace.

Images via Sergey Fedorov/The Siberian Times

Let’s talk about the fabulous aromantics out there

Fuck you. This is the coward's way out. This train will not bring you back in time.

It will not take her arm, or his eye. It will not gift your cheeks their stubble. It will heave its way through English fields and English woods and English towns and English rain, and our mother will sit in that compartment with you.

Have you considered that? Mother, who looks at you as a chicken beholds the fox beneath the fence, as a farmer beholds the wolf by the gate, mother, who has long since washed all colour from her face.

Mother, who is grey and damp as the rain.

Hours in a locked tomb. Hours with her. What will she say? How will she sit? What things will she drag from your mouth?

Will she pin you, with those tired eyes, with those faded hands, to the fabric of your seat, to take from you the answers we have been keeping from her for years?

And how could you ever tell her? How could you dare?

Mother, your little boy has died. Mother, your little girl has seen battle. Mother, your children have commanded armies. They've sat thrones and mourned children. They've lost their people.

Twice.

Mother, you are tired. You are weary. You would not understand.

By the lion, you'd despair.

Mother, a witch has spelled your son when his ears still stuck out and he missed your husband with all the violence of a schoolboy. She took him, pointed nails and pearl-teeth, god, she carved flesh and bone and sinew until that paper-thin skin held nothing at all.

Mother, the son you sent to the countryside with the world digging into his shoulders has died. In tiny pieces, at first, and then all at once, as a trickle turns first into a stream and then into a raging river.

Until finally, it spreads into the sea.

Your child lies buried in every decree, every law, and- Christ, who are we kidding, the Narnian soil. The golden boy you wanted so desperately to protect lies in pieces next to the witch, rotting into the earth.

We cannot return him to you.

Will you tell her, I wonder, about the razor blades underneath your floorboards? Will you bare your neck and show her all the mess you've made of the soft skin there when the nights were long and the tremors were terrible?

What of the knives under our little ones' pillows?

Fuck you.

When I was born, I had you. When I was little, I had you. Those terrible, wonderful years - I had you. How am I meant to go on without you? Brother, I don't know how.

Already my lungs are refusing their work. Already my stomach turns. My teeth are aching, my bones have chilled. My cheeks are stained - big red streaks of salt.

Of blood.

I have carved a way for myself through the chalk and the limestone and the mud. With my hands and my teeth, on the last bit of hope I could still heave up in between the cigarettes and the whiskey, I dug my way to sunlight. For days, for months, for years.

With my bare fucking hands, brother.

And you? You've never put the sword down. You've never looked at the dirt. You can't, you say. You're not made for it. Your mouth is the wrong shape and your eyes want nothing to do with the ground.

Instead, you've spent your time picking out the perfect mortician, the right funeral shroud. The coffin. Instead, you've drawn maps and routes into a home that has long been plundered.

Brother, where has your hunger gone?

🍊 The Orange by Wendy Cope

🌅 Illustrated by Peeta Mellark

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since the old version of this post was flagged for 'adult content'...

reblog this post if your account is a trans safe space or owned by a trans person!

along with that, reblog if your account is a trans non-binary spectrum safe space or owned by someone on the trans enby spectrum!

Advice for your local Fantasy Knight

gif by the amazing @and-speak

⚔️ Never snub your Gambeson. Gambeson is padded fabric armor that’s usually worn underneath chainmail and plate, so it provides an extra layer of protection. It’s essentially like hitting a pillow. Plus it separates your skin from the chainmail which is uncomfortable and tends to snag. Many people like to snub the Gambeson but those people are idiots. Wear your padded fabrics.

🛡️ When riding, always have your toes pointing up. Otherwise you’ll fall off way easier.

🐎 When your Horse is going uphill, lean forward. And when it’s going downhill, lean back.

⚔️ Since quivers are incredibly impractical on horseback, traditional archers instead carried their excess arrows between their fingers. This also allowed for quicker draw time between shooting.

🛡️ When doing archery, always lift the arrow a little higher than you’d think. Since your eye is not perfectly at-level with your arrow, you need to lift it up to shoot so it will hit your target better. Your eye is playing tricks on you, so aim high.

🐎 Shortbows are ideal for hunting and horseback archery, while Longbows are better for stationary defense on castle walls. If you’re defending a fort, use a Longbow. If you’re a Ranger, go for the Shortbow.

⚔️ Always have some Yarrow on you. It’s a natural antiseptic and was known throughout history for its healing properties. Great in a pinch. Just make sure not to mistake it with Poison Hemlock because the two unfortunately look quite similar. Poison Hemlock has reddish or purple splotches on its stem and is much bigger than Yarrow (8 to 10 feet tall) so that should give it away.

🛡️ There’s two types of Chainmail - Buttermail and Riveted. Never buy Buttermail. It gets that name because cutting through it is that easy. Instead go for the Riveted Chainmail, which has its rings bolted together. It’s way sturdier and harder to cut or pierce.

🐎 Never snub your Helmet. Ever. I’m sorry to tell you this, but an orc won’t care how good your hair looks. It will just grab it and snap your neck.

⚔️ Don’t snub your shield either and make sure you know how to properly use it. Don’t be like Boromir, kids. We all know what happened there.

🛡️ Always have Faulds on to protect your hips. Hanging off the faulds are your tassets to protect your upper thighs.

🐎 For the love of Eru, wear appropriate foot gear. If I have to watch another blockbuster lady knight run into battle in wedged heels I’ll throw a hammer through the TV screen.

⚔️ Strength Training and healthy eating. Armor and Weaponry is heavy, y’all.

🛡️ Always listen to a witch’s advice. There’s a thousand folktales with this exact premise and people who don’t listen never turn out well.