there arenât enough posts going around about the swedish cryptid known as the skvader which is a rabbit with pheasant wings and also a very good boy.
like this one dude just made a fake taxidermy and spread it around as a hoax for a good ass while and it lead to this really cool fantasy creature and i am genuinely dissapointed that it never gets used in anything
THE BOY
Rabbirds, by the amazing @tkingfisher/Ursula Vernon (source).
The lack of skvaders is particularly frustrating when you realize it forms the third point of a wonderful cryptid trifecta.
You got the jackalopes, which are rabbits with antlers.
And you got the wolpertingers, which are rabbits with antlers and wings.
And then⌠what? Do you escalate? Thatâs unbalanced, those two rabbit cryptids donât have the same number of extra things, the wolpertinger is clearly the jackalope But More.
BUT with the skvader on the other side, balance is restored. Antler rabbit, winged rabbit, winged antler rabbit. Itâs a classic Venn diagram of imaginary lapine beasts, and itâs only complete if you acknowledge the fucking skvader.
Good thing Ursulaâs got our back, at least.
This is a really excellent point and I applaud your advancements in Cryptid Theory.
âhow do you tell the difference between a whippet and an italian greyhoundâ simple. look at it head on. if it looks like a dog itâs a whippet. if itâs making a face like youâve just threatened it with a firearm, itâs an iggy
A group of far-future linguists and archeologists suddenly *poof* into existence in front of me. One is holding a tablet. âWhat is the difference between âred sauceâ and 'tomato sauce?ââ they ask me. âThe distinction is not clear in extant texts from this time and place.â
âUh, theyâre the same thing,â I tell them. âWho are you?â
âYes!â the being with the tablet exclaims.
One of the other researchers groans. âNo! My thesisâŚmonths of writing wastedâŚâ One of the others comforts them.
âNow, what is this object for?â The first researcher holds up a discolored, dinged-up plastic object. Itâs clearly been buried in the ground for quite some time, but the two holes and the scuffed plastic window are distinctive.
âThatâs a cassette tape. You record music with it.â
âInteresting, interesting.â The being enters something on the tablet.
âHow are you speaking English?â
âSophisticated translation technology,â one of the researchers confides. âWe are students of your society. From the future.â
âWhat does this pictogram represent?â The researcher with the tablet turns it around so that the screen faces me.
Itâs the eggplant emoji.
âSex,â I say. âWhy do you need to ask me this if you can time travel or whatever? Canât you just go wherever you want to go and look around and see how these things are being used?â
The beings shift guiltily and look at each other. âTechnically, travel to times and places prior the advent of time travel is strictly prohibited. Paradoxes, you know.â
âOh.â
âWe must get back before our advisor returns to the lab. Just donât tell anyone you saw us, alright? The space-time continuity depends on it. Can you do that?â
âUh, sure, I guess?â
One of them pats me on the head. âAnd donât go to Mars.â
âOkay. Wait, why? Is it dangerous?â
âNo. Just not worth it.â
The group disappears in a shimmering light.
The cassette clatters to the sidewalk behind them.
Out of befuddlement, mainly, I pick it up. Itâs clearly old, discolored and scuffed, but it still has tape in it.
I carry the tape around in my pocket for a while. The curiosity builds. I want to know whatâs on that tape. I donât have a cassette player anymore, so I go to Goodwill and pick up the first one I can find, praying that it still works. I plug it in. It turns on.
I slide the tape inside. Itâs dirty, but it still seems to be in decent shape. I snap the player closed and hit play. The wheels begin to turn. I hold my breath.
A familiar tune starts up. A wobbly voice comes out of the machine.
