#Sundays at the Birdhouse

[buddydacote]

Before I forget a second time and lose the draft again here's today's post

[postcards-and-postcrossing]

Birdhouse

Postcard from the Netherlands Sunday Sundries

[moon-spirit-yue]

It’s been eons since anyone has talked about an actors au BUT what if Sisu like switched Raya’s script out and gave her a fake bc she was tired of the obvious Rayaari pining:

Raya, acting out the scene where they get encompassed by Druun: then let me take the first step *puts the gem in Namaari’s hand*

Namaari: *looking at Raya with tears in her eyes*

Raya, internally hyping herself up: *okay, just a quick kiss scene! It’s only supposed to last a couple seconds! You’ve kissed people on and off screen before, shouldn’t be that different even though you feel completely weak in the knees*

Namaari: *fully expecting Raya to just step back into the shadows*

Raya: *uses both hands to cup Namaari’s face and kisses her*

Namaari: *very surprised but immediately kisses back, dropping the gem to wrap her arms around Raya*

Director: damn it, this is a really good shot. Really sucks that we can’t use it. CUT!

Raya, pulling away: hey what’s wrong with my kiss?!

Namaari: *is simply happy*

Director: Raya, I love the improv and it was a great scene, but this is a Disney movie! If we pull this shit the whole movie will get canceled. Remember the birdhouse? Remember?

Raya: okay one, it’s the Owl House and two, it was in the script!

Namaari, raising an eyebrow: our characters kissing isn’t in the script

Raya: yes it is

Namaari, grinning: if you wanted to kiss me so bad, you could have just asked

Raya, glaring with bright red cheeks: not everything’s about you undercut! It was in the script!

Namaari: oh? So you don’t want to kiss me?

Raya, huffing: I never said that. Look, I’ll prove it to you! *pulls out the script from her bag and shoved it at Namaari*

Namaari: huh. Yeah. Raya’s script looks normal accept a kiss scene is added between our characters. Hey Tong, Boun, your scripts didn’t have a kiss at any point did they?

Tong: nope!

Boun: nothing for me either!

Raya: that’s so weird. Because I remember Sisu- *realizes* excuse me for just one moment. I’m gonna run an errand

Tong, after Raya left: well at least you two finally got together! I’ve been putting you two on a boat for months!

Namaari: you mean shipping us?

Tong: I like the boat thing better

Namaari: well I’ve been putting us in a boat too

*Sisu’s apartment*

Sisu: *just watching TV because she didn’t have to film at all today*

Raya, who has a key: SISU IM GONNA KICK YOUR ASS

Sisu, not even looking away from the TV: so when are you and Namaari going on a date

Raya:…………this Sunday

Sisu: and what do we say when friends help you confess to the girl you like?

Raya:……….thank you. I’m still gonna kick your ass though

Sisu: fair enough *jumps up and runs away*

[basketsys]

Having, thoughts, about q!Phil and how he's doing in the birdhouse...like

(long post, headcannon on detail are after cut divided by days, open if you want to cry)

(might update as days pass by, maybe)

Day 1, Friday: Crying, nesting, more crying, he fell asleep with the floatie and the beanie in the makeshift nest (it's hay, it's literally hay on the floor, it's so thin he's basically sleeping on the floor)

Day 2, Saturday : Actually taking in his surroundings, he's still shredding tears but he's also collecting any single thing he sees as food. Also he moved the table and chest to the side so he could have easier access to the food on the bottom floor.

Day 3, Sunday: He's finally setting free the caged birds, let's them eat the food he collected and the empty cages are in the darkest corner of the birdhouse, but of rage is staring to brew as he's freeing them. (also they may be sleeping in the same nest as him as a thank you)

Day 4, Monday: Since he doesn't see the sun anymore he's just sleeping when he feels tired, and since crying DOES makes you more tired his sleeping schedule may be fucked, sleeping at the hours he's usually awake, dreaming of a land where's he's free and he's flying everywhere he wants (hardcore dreaming hc let's go)

Day 5, Tuesday: He's starting to go ape shit, he's staring at the door, meneceanly. Sometimes the birds are catching his attention so he doesn't feel as alone, they know he's going through it and that he's keeping it in. He may or may not slept when he should've and without knowing it he's falling asleep like that, sat in front of the door, in hopes of it being opened.

Day 6, Wednesday: He actually slept in the first half of the day without knowing. He was dreaming again. The fact that he's feeling freedom in his dreams and comes back to reality in his enclosure was the last drop to spill the cup. So he started to get feral, scratching at the door, trying to make it budge, leaving marks on the metal, banging on it. Then on the walls, it was starting to get to him the fact that this has such big windows yet they were patched, that didn't kept him from trying to break them (didn't work). The birds inside were flying as high as they could to not get hit or hurt by him, watching in pity and sorrow for him. It took a while for him to stop scratching and cussing out the federation but when he did all the birds got to him and tried to confort him as he was starting to fist on his feathers and pull on them. It was brutal.

Day 7, Thursday: Food was starting to run low, all the hay he could've find was noticibly not enough for a lot of birds and a human sized bird. So he stopped eating from it and had the only real food he brought, Chayanne's noodle soup. He'll figure out what to have next time he's hungry, surely............maybe he could munch on the gapple's he brought if he gets hungry........

[nyamcot]

I would like to say that I finished this in the car outside of a swap meet parking lot and I am still in there as I am posting this

Ay! It’s Sunday! Don’t forget to keep the nightlight on inside the birdhouse in your soul!! ^___^ sparkle!!

rbs > likes

[lunarlotuscove]

Such a pretty duck! I'm actually not 100% sure what this cutie is I saw them at the smithsonians birdhouse and completely spaced on. Looking to see what this guy was! I unfortunately can't figure it out from their website either? But I absolutely love this cutie!

Sunday April 21st 2024 to 2:17p.m.

[mereberry]

I miss living with my grandparents:

The Raisin Bran, the smiling sun whose scoops I mistook for shoes, the impression of Tony the Tiger my Papa did in his cheerful, shaking voice, the heavy smear Country Crock Butter across cinnamon-sugared toast and cups upon cups of white grape juice. I miss everything. At breakfast they’d give me sips of their tea, a spoon of my own to steal their grapefruit, they’d watch the morning news that I’d undoubtedly hear again in the evening,

I miss Gardening gloves, gardening clogs soon softened by morning sunshine, lawn chairs, crape Myrtles and magnolia and gardenia, reading the funnies tummy-down on the patio while Grandma looked for coupons for a gift for Papa and watered her Harrison roses before the sun got too hot and high in the sky

While I prayed we’d have visitors at the hummingbird feeder, bright with red the same color as Grandma’s ruby ring, prayed for birds at the bird feeder, prayed for birds to splash in her birdbath, prayed for birds at her birdhouses, prayed for birds so she would hush me and whisper their Latin names that I never remembered

The only Latin i heard was in church and from her mouth and to me that meant something

She’d check the rain gauge while papa marched to the 80s exercise VHS tapes and old TV, convex bubble of a screen in front of a couch too close for watching, subtitled, and

Walking and

walking to the rhythm of a woman faded into green and red static and music,

In the garden my grandma sang ballads of women scorned in a soft voice; I wondered as a child if my grandma could’ve been a singer herself and now wonder if it was nostalgia for her too as she sung, warbling and smiling around her chipped tooth,

She spoke like music, highs and lows and accented in ways that I now have and can’t bring myself to be ashamed of, her mouth lined in a mauve lipstick I look for on drugstore shelves

Afterwards I watched her fold her robes, freshly washed after the Sunday service that she’d sung at the day before, her voice there indistinguishable in the choir, hidden with a modesty that frustrated me

I miss Prairie Home companion on the drives over to the mall in her pickup to find those gifts for Papa, syllabant s’s and jokes I didn’t get, absently being scolded for itching bugbites, for picking the craters and sidewalk-chalk dust their pebbled driveway left in my knees- a plastic cup of sweet iced tea and a molasses cookie my reward for being so patient

As though I’d rather be anywhere else

As though I couldn’t spend hours in the piles of National Geographic, dog eared around the Hubble Telescope, the bats, the migration of the monarchs, hours in my uncle’s comics with the advertisements for ten-cent gum and muscle pills, hours in the postcards kept in a hatbox, hours in their yearbooks filled with white women named carol and men who looked much older than their age, hours in their books of poetry my mother read at my age

Papa would pass me sheets of printer paper, handfuls of jellybeans, lend me rock-hard erasers and fountain pens as easily as crayons and tack every drawing to the fridge

The only things on their fridge was my birth announced in a paper and the drawings, and that meant something to me

Hours passed quietly, the booms of the giant grandfather clock always silenced by Papa’s handiwork when I stayed over despite getting over my fear of it years ago, same as the thunder that rolled over their little house, now a comfort

Raining, pouring, the old man snoring

And soon he was, fast asleep as grandma scooped my spaghettios into a saucepan, made me promise to keep their kitchen clean, condensation on faded glass sat atop doilies sat atop glass-covered tables, and I stayed clean with everything in me, helped put plates in the sink I couldn’t see over, cleaned with needlepoint towels and soap the scented brightly with jasmine

The evening newscaster, handsome and solemn, recounted the day, and I’d eventually migrate to the plush carpet so faded from sun darkened to the golden beige in the afternoon, the recliner with the same leathery skin as them where I’d watch basketball games late into the night, coved in the old tied-felt blankets I gave as Christmas gifts, sleepily hearing them open the lids of multivitamins

The slow clacking on the keyboard, printing maps for the next day,

, Their opening of candy, kept cold in the fridge, snuck to me with silent, crinkle-eye grins despite my fullness from ice cream: Peppermint Patties and twizzlers tough as jerky, chocolate chip cookies I warmed between my hands.

Clasped like prayer, selfishly hoping to never return back to my hurricane-wrecked family

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

I haven’t read this section of Feeding Habits in probably 3 years & tell me how I wrote ALLLL of this before I watched Hannibal

The confessional smells rank, like rotting paper and expired cologne, its corners seedy with overuse. Scratches mar the fabric he rests his elbows on, like someone clawed into it while reliving their sins, track marks on the floor from a rainy day. He can’t imagine anyone else but him in this small box, caged in by the lattice, mumbling incoherent sins to the priest he hasn’t even committed. Stealing a set of glass eyeballs from a garage sale. Forgetting his wedding anniversary. Missing Easter Sunday mass to go whale watching. He doesn’t sign himself at the right times or speak at the right times or thank the priest at the right times. He lies when he’s asked if he’s lied since his last confession. He mentions nothing of drinking with Anya, of not saving the sheep or the bunnies even though he knew the outcome of their lives without finishing the program. Of being a wicked child, of knowing wicked children, of not knowing the difference between wickedness and innocence, and which one he learned first. He says his name is Luka. He works at a law firm. He’s married to a Harriet, a seamstress or a stock broker or an antiques trader—he doesn’t know. He likes golfing, parcheesi, drinking martinis on yachts. He’s never overindulged, he’s loyal to his woman, he wants three kids and a house with finished floors and no neighbours. He’s a good father, a gentle father, a careful father, no wickedness, just an empty shell of goodness, like a father should be. His father is retired, and visits him on weekends—they play checkers, paint birdhouses, keep a distance but toast with spirits he can’t pronounce. Everything is good—it’s all good, all good. That’s not a sin, the priest should say but they laugh—it’s good to be good. Children are good, marriage is good, fathers are good, everything an iteration of good. By the time his confession is over and he’s well on his way out of the church mumbling I am heartily sorry, he believes his lies are true—he’s absolved into someone new, Luka married to Harriet, three kids, an empty shell, dreamily stumbling through a house with finished floors that’s actually just the sidewalk until a woman passing by with two small children has to help him sit on the curb.

She asks if he needs something to drink, if he needs someone to call, and emerges with a half-empty bottle of sparkling water and a cell phone. She asks what’s wrong with his eye, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with anything—with eyes, with children, with sins, with confessions, with baptisms, with orange juice, with madeleines, with wickedness, with practicing how long he can breathe underwater because he knows it’s possible just like walking on it.

One of the children, hair pulled into two plaits secured with pearlescent butterflies, pokes at her mother and asks if he’s crazy. Her mother shushes her at the same time her older sister shows him a cool trick she learned with a toy convertible. Its wheels whir. Lonan gasps. The girl says, “Even crazy people think I’m gifted,” and wheels the car again. People stop to watch. Church bells gong an elegy he’s sure he’s heard before. The woman’s sparkling water dribbles from his mouth and dampens his dress shirt. Sun eclipses his face and eats at his throat like a parasite, like it knows all the unclean things about him, a watcher, an eyeball, a scorching little thing that bullets through his neck like the tooth of a wolf. The woman shushes her children and asks if he’s got a health problem, a drug problem, any problem, and he could say yes to all three but instead keeps repeating I am heartily sorry, I am heartily sorry. And when she does call someone, no one he knows, he leans against the cool pavement, cranes his neck to the sky, and parts his lips so the sunlight fills his mouth.

[clockwrkcabaret]

Cerealously

WARNING! This show is for adults. We drink cocktails, have potty mouths and, at least, one of us was raised by wolves.

The Clockwork Cabaret is a production of Agony Aunt Studios. Featuring that darling DJ Duo, Lady Attercop and Emmett Davenport. Our theme music is made especially for us by Kyle O’Door.

This episode aired on Mad Wasp Radio, 11.12.23.

New episodes air on Mad Wasp Radio on Sundays @ 12pm GMT! Listen at www.madwaspradio.com or via TuneIn radio app!

Playlist:

T.S Tadin – Pretty Boring

Lord Huron – The World Ender

Daniel Land – Alison

Iron & Wine – Naked As We Came

Nick Drake – Pink Moon

Beirut – Postcards From Italy

Bon Iver – Woods

The Head And The Heart – Down In The Valley

Sufjan Stevens – Futile Devices

Ane Brun – Big In Japan

Ibeyi – Oya

AURORA – Nature Boy (Acoustic)

Röyksopp – Rong

Tricky – Ponderosa

Stromae – Santé

Janelle Monáe – I Got The Juice (feat. Pharrell Williams)

Miike Snow – Genghis Khan

Electric Guest – This Head I Hold

The Black Keys – Everlasting Light

Scissor Sisters – Laura

The Jam – Town Called Malice

The Smiths – This Charming Man

Vandal Moon – Robert Smith (I Love You Since I Was Six)

Kids Love Surf – Just Like Heaven

Cold Cave – You Really Could Have Had It All

Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark – Talking Loud And Clear

Talking Heads – Found a Job

Pixies – Is She Weird

They Might Be Giants – Birdhouse In Your Soul

  Check out this episode!

[el1za-inthebathroom]

+ ping ! +

[Eliza texts the aplsawz groupchat.]

GUYS OMG

YALL

I FOUND A SHOW MAYB?

FOR US

TO DO

AT THE BIRDHOUSE

THERES SOME FANCY EVENT

AND THEY WANTED LIVE MUSIC

ITS IN A FEW WEEKS ON SUNDAY

PLSPLSPLS TELL ME U CAN COME

@kcwongfrr @oh-look-its-hatchetfield-felix @mariaofhatchettown

[rockstarlwt28]

Tuesday Teaser

It’s not Sunday or Saturday, so I can’t use the usual ‘snippet’ alliteration. I hope this is acceptable. Thanks for the tag, @beelou, @hellolovers13 and @enchantedlandcoffee!

I’m so excited for the rest of your fics and chapters. I love them. 

Here is a small snippet from my re-write for the @loummyficfest!

Trigger Warning: Sadness and Anticipation for a positive pregnancy test!

A pricking of unshed tears obscure his vision, until a rogue tear lands on his thumb, drawing his attention to the double silver binding ring on the adjacent finger. It was a present from Harry for their sixth month anniversary; a courting milestone. Louis' relationship with former lover Luke, was lengthier, yet Harry insisted on celebrating their love. He'd fallen head over heels for him and Louis hoped it wasn't an intense fling. Five years later, the pair tied the knot. Neither have looked back since. 

His head rests against the tiles whilst his eyes absorb the trees on the other side of their weathered garden fence. A gentle breeze accompanies the bird song, a harmonious tune to celebrate the arrival of spring in four days' time. The clouds are drifting along, creating interval rays of sunshine. Louis ponders about pegging out a line full of washing before potential rainfall. He adjusts his posture, managing to tear his eyes away from the small bird that's perching beside the entryway of the birdhouse he built last summer. Louis considers whether it's a sign from the universe that his own nest is looming closer than he perceives. 

No pressure! @thebreadvansstuff  @larry-hiatus @goldenkinglouis @hereforh @larrysballetslippers @imogenleefic @babyhoneyheslt @nouies @lunarheslwt @allwaswell16 @paranormalbabydoll @justanothershadeofblue @justahappycloud

[hal-boy]

Yay it's Sunday time to talk abt media :)))

Something that can probably be inferred by my general demeanor and my particular brand of autism is that I'm a massive They Might Be Giants fan :). This is awesome for me because they have 20+ albums, but it makes picking a song to recommend really hard! I was going to pick Birdhouse in Your Soul because yeah, it's popular, but it's popular because it's good lmao.

I ended up picking Snail Shell off John Henry since it's pretty similar. Both music videos were shot in a similar way, they're both their respective album's big singles, and most importantly is their odd speakers: Birdhouse in Your Soul is from the perspective of a nightlight, while Snail Shell is from the perspective of a snail. It's weird, but fun. I also really like the backing instrumentation in this one.

[cleradinel]

thinking about miwi playing in the byers backyard. they find a little injured bird by the trees. mike is a bit scared of it but will insists they take it in and nurse it back to health. they can't leave it like this ! they beg joyce to keep it and it doesn't take much to convince her because they are just so excited. she had installed some birdhouses around the yard a few years ago so she has some bird food ready and can even identify the specie, she's so cool. will and mike are very giddy over having their own bird companion and listen carefully to joyce's instructions on how to care for it properly. mike was already supposed to sleep over for the weekend so they watch over it for the night until sunday afternoon when they can bring it to a vet. the bird had been very cute and cuddly once it had calmed down from its initial panic. maybe mike gets a little upset when they actually have to hand it over to the pet doctor. will promises him they can get their very own bird together when they're older!

[dreams-of-cerulean]

Meteor Shower Festival this Sunday. Sorta. There’s a pretty bad backlash from the public over it because of last year due to the whole demon invasion, though the public obviously doesn’t know it as that. Doesn’t stop a whole bunch of people from dying though.

The festivities ended up becoming smaller in scale because of various student groups boycotting it, though it seems more performative than anything else. But who knows? Maybe I’m just a bad judge of character.

Regardless, Sato and company will be at the school. It’ll be an open event, so people can buy a ticket and join the festivities. Luckily, no singing or anything like that. Just people watching the skies above for the meteor shower. 

Also the garden is complete, even if it’s a bit crooked and shabby looking. Though Lils might be hyper-precise at everything, the Canvases...are not so much. Apparently, they decided to mimic Lils and try to put together stuff collectively. 

There’s now a lopsided shed with no door. A fence that just zig zags and ends colliding into a tree. A birdhouse roughly shaped like a giant bird. And a very very big pit that can probably bury a couple dozen me’s - that one’s probably a mistake though - Lils has been spending the afternoon filing that hole back up.

[ajibooks]

Playlist for my OFMD fic "If You're Lucky" (teen romance, 80s-90s AU):

Some of these are about Ed/Stede as a pairing in general, but mostly, they're about feelings specific to this fic. They are all songs that my version of Stede knows all the words to (yes, I am projecting). There were not a lot of gay love songs back then, but I did include a couple of those!

Seal: Kiss from a Rose

Janet Jackson: When I Think of You

Madonna: Lucky Star

Pet Shop Boys: Heart

They Might Be Giants: Birdhouse in Your Soul

The Sundays: A Certain Someone

Sananda Maitreya: Wishing Well

Erasure: You Surround Me

Soul II Soul: Back to Life

Pixies: Velouria

[yourlocalabomination]

Hi! So a process video of this artwork kinda got popular on tiktok and a commenter pointed out a few of the references. So here’s a concise list of all of them for you! (Also a close up picture of the newspaper and missing poster without the dark overlay in the undercut below. You can now appreciate how long I spent rendering bees/honey).

Missing poster:

The clothing mentioned on the missing poster was what Ted was wearing in Time Bastard (dark grey pants from TGWDLM).

The baby blue studebaker Ted owns was mentioned in Abstinence Camp.

Detective Shapiro was in NPMD. Missing person cases are usually suspected to be homicide after a week, hence why to call her.

The phone number on the poster, 200-419-2104, is a reference to the years Ted time travels to in Time Bastard. He starts in 2019, goes to 2104, and gets stuck in 2004.

He has long hair in the missing photo because it’s in a bun during Time Bastard. Long hair Spankoffski supremacy.

I know that Joey is like 6” but I imagine Ted being slightly taller then Peter, hence why I gave him a few more inches.

Not a reference but I made his birthday Valentine’s Day because I think that’s funny.

Newspaper:

The missing article mentions he was last physically seen at the Hatchetfield Natural History Museum, which is where Paul 23 and Android Emma’s wedding was held (Forever & Always)

Watcher World Ad. The text itself is actually combination of the official promo synopsis and the text of “Blinkys watch party” shown on the back of the playbill in the Workin’ Boys short film.

CCRP is hiring for a technical support position….you know the position Ted worked….mans only been ‘missing’ a week and they already replacing him. You know full well Sylvia already nailed his office door shut at this point.

Mamma Mia Ad as a reference to TGWDLM.

The Birdhouse being burnt down is a reference to when Android Emma burnt it down in Forever & Always to cover up her massacre. This whole piece is suppose to be the day after that occurred, yk the day he gets murdered….

Sam Sweedly, Officer Bailey, Mayor Solomon Lauter and Dan Reynolds are all mentioned in the article about The Birdhouse burning down.

Honey Queen Auditions for the honey queen festival. The text itself is actually straight from the EP, from the beginning where Dan talks about it on Morning Cup O’ News. Yes, they straight up post Clivesdale slander in their newspaper. Fuck Clivesdale.

The photo of the bees is actually just a painted screencap from the honey queen song in the nightmare time ep.

Also I had to work out all the hypothetical dates and times for this-

Paul and Emma’s wedding happens in the summer of 2019, and it would have had to been on a Sunday (idk why they did that) for Ted to wake up the next day (not realising he’s in the future) to go to his Monday meeting.

He was last seen physically on the 21st of July 2019, leaving the Hatchetfield Natural History Museum at 11.10pm (when Paul called him a cab). Then his last sighting was on CCRP security cameras at 11.24pm entering the building.

Paul got back from his honeymoon a week after his wedding, so would have been back to work on Monday the 29th. Then the events of Forever & Always happen and Android Emma burns down The Birdhouse to cover up her massacre. The newspaper is reporting on this the morning after, on the 30th of July.

Uh that’s about it folks! I put in wayyyyy to much effort into writing a fake newspaper that idk if some people even realise can be read. Thanks for loving the art guys!

This is Hatchetfield, People go missing everyday!