beni. || she/they. || forever stan tony stark, poe dameron, din djarin, & deadpool. || will forever be crying over tony stark & poussey washington. || 28 yrs old. || 🇲🇽 || been on this hellsite for far too fucking long. ||
i’ll just be controversial and say discord is not real social media. it’s fine communication platform but it is not Posting! saying you’re gonna move to discord is like saying you’re gonna move to facebook messenger get outta here
listen hobbit pussy could be mediocre (doubtful) but even if it was it’s still followed by a 17 course homecooked meal and the kind of weed that would make sauron scared. lithe beautiful immortal elven pussy has no power compared to the simple, hardworking hobbit. and it goes without saying that you cannot handle dwarven pussy.
Every time I see some deep cut Tolkien post on Tumblr I think back to how Stephen Colbert basically admitted to having an account and said we’d never find him. And depending on the nature and quality of the post I am looking at, I will hope that that is Mr. Colbert. Anyway this is a 12/10
This is how I feel about Joshua Trees. They and avocado trees produce fruit meant to be eaten and dispersed by giant ground sloths. Without them, the Joshua Trees’ range has shrunk by 90%.
(my own photos)
Not only they, but the entire Mojave ecosystem is still struggling to adapt since the loss of ground sloth dung. their chief fertilizer.
Many, many trees and plants in the Americas have widely-spaced, extremely long thorns that do nothing to discourage deer eating their leaves, but would’ve penetrated the fur of ground sloths and mammoths. Likewise, if you’ve observed a tree that drops baseball or softball-sized fruit which lies on the ground and rots, like Osage Oranges, which were great for playing catch at my school, chances are they were ground sloth or mammoth chow.
You can read about various orphaned plants and trees missing their megafauna in this poignant post:
First quote from the linked article. Found it poetic.
ID: screenshot of the first paragraph from the American Forests article linked by @sepdet that reads “Warning: Reading this article may cause a whiplash-inducing paradigm shift. You will no longer view wild areas the same way. Your concepts of “pristine wilderness” and “the balance of nature” will be forever compromised. You may even start to see ghosts.” End ID
You turn on the radio one morning to find another one of those Rap songs where every 4th word is a swear. Naturally the Radio bleeps it out, but you realize that it sounds familiar. You realize that the rappers are speaking in Morse code.
Your eyes widen as you swerve over onto the shoulder of the expressway, nearly hitting a Jeep Cherokee in the process. It didn’t matter to you. Frantically searching the glove compartment, the backseat, and your purse, you finally find a small notepad and a pen with a low ink cartridge. You listen closely to the radio, and begin to scribble down as much as you can. You realize it was merely a pattern.
— -. . / - .– — / - .– — / ..-. .. ..-. - -.–
Unfortunately for you, you aren’t very well versed in translating Morse code, merely recognizing it. You reach into your purse to grab your phone, but after a moment of searching, you realize you had left it at home before you left for work. “God damnit,” you mutter. You’re more than halfway to your office, and you’re already running late due to the fact that that you decided to follow some whim and jot down some cryptic message from a provocative rapper. Concluding that it would probably be best for you to mosey to work, you pull back onto the expressway and try to make it to work on time.
Upon arriving at work, you ask any coworker in sight if they know Morse code. Nobody seems to, and some don’t even know what Morse code is. You slump your shoulders in disappointment and head over to your desk, when suddenly, the quiet, mouse-like secretary clears her throat and says, “Excuse me, I know Morse code!”
You turn around with the same wide eyes as before. “You do!?” you ask vigorous excitement, which seems to startle the young woman.
“Yes,” she says, “when I was younger, I planned on joining the navy, so I taught it to myself.” You feel a bit sorry for her, that she wound up as a mere secretary instead of a naval officer, but that feeling of pity didn’t stop you from being grateful for the lucky coincidence of her knowing Morse code. You show her the pattern.
— -. . / - .– — / - .– — / ..-. .. ..-. - -.–
“That’s all there is?” she asks, furrowing her brow.
“Yeah,” you shrugged, “it just kept repeating that over and over again. What does it say?”
“One, two, two, fifty.”
Your heart sinks a little. “What is that? What does that mean, is it like a phone number or house address or something?”
The secretary shrugs. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know. It’s too short to be a phone number, but beyond deciphering it, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
You nod slowly, and though you understand, you are still not at all satisfied. You go to sit at your desk. 1 2 2 50. The sequence plays over and over in your head all day, and needless to say, your curiosity an wonderment got the best of you. It was not a very productive work day.
You head home, and the same damned song plays on the radio. You shake your head as if that would make the song stop, then decide to plug 12250 into your GPS to see if there are any autofill results. None. You become increasingly frustrated.
When you get home, your daughter is sitting at the kitchen table, working on homework. She runs up to you and gives you a big hug, and asks about your day at work. You put on a fake smile and sigh. “Interesting,” you say— no doubt sugarcoating the intense excitement, disappointment, and confusion.
“Will you help me with my homework? I have to memorize something for my history class tomorrow.”
“Of course, doll! What are you memorizing?”
She hands you a laminated sheet of paper. “Roman numerals!”
You glance over the page, your eyes quickly darting from one, to two, to fifty.
It dawns on you. You’d recognize this pattern anywhere.
feel like ppl are getting meaner and it’s weird to see
how do you mean
bro forget this post for a second - i opened this app today at 9am and the first post i saw was you reblogging some horny shit about “sliding in and stretching her real good”. 9am on a wednesday. what was that all about?
big fan of characters with abandonment + attachment issues so profound that they leave claw marks in everything they touch but would sooner gnaw off their own leg than admit they just want someone to stay for once. in a totally normal well adjusted and not at all projecting way of course.
big fan of characters who are always leaving. who constantly have a suitcase in their hand. characters who start planning their exit the moment they arrive and get nervous when the people in their lives start to Know them. in a totally normal well adjusted and not at all projecting way of course
ALT
