#i'm not a bird ( ic. )

[starshipoftheseus]

04.11.24 (SEA vs SJS): a very tired JOEY DACCORD accepts his three stars of the year & fan-favorite awards at the end of the last home game of the season

[deermouth]

The blades like irises turning very fast to see you completely—steel-blue then red where the cut occurs—the cut of you—they don’t want to know you they want to own you—no—not own—we all mean to live to the end—am I human we don’t know that—just because I have this way of transmitting—call it voice—a threat—communal actually—the pelagic midwater nets like walls closing round us—starting in the far distance where they just look to us liked distance—distance coming closer—hear it—eliminating background—is all foreground—you in it—the only ground—not even punishment—trawling-nets bycatch poison ghostfishing—the coil of the listening along the very bottom—the nets weighed down with ballast—raking the bottom looking for nothing—indiscriminate—there is nothing in particular you want—you just want—you just want to close the third dimension—to get something which is all—becomes all—once you are indiscriminate—discards can reach 90% of the catch—am I—the habitat crushed and flattened—net of your listening and my speaking we can no longer tell them apart—the atmosphere between us turbid—no place to hide—no place to rest—you need to rest—there is nature it is the rest—what is not hunting is illustration—not regulated are you?—probing down to my greatest depths—2000 meters and more—despite complete darkness that surrounds me—despite my being in my place under strong pressure—along with all my hundreds of species—detritus—in extreme conditions—deepwater fish grow very slowly—very—so have long life expectancy—late reproductive age—are particularly thus vulnerable—it comes along the floor over the underwater mountains—scraping the steep slopes—what is bycatch—hitting the wrong target—the wrong size—not eaten—for which there is no market—banned—endangered—such as birds—sometimes just too much—no more space on the boat—millions of tons thrown back dead or wounded—the scars on the seabed—the mouth the size of a football field—and if there is no one there there is still ghostfishing—nets abandoned in the sea they continue through the centuries to catch—mammals fish shellfish—we die of exhaustion or suffocation—the synthetic materials last forever  Ask us anything. How deep is the sea. You couldn't go down there. Pressure would crush you. Light disappears at 6000 feet. Ask another question: Can you hear me? No. Who are you. I am.  Did you ever kill a fish. I was once but now I am  human. I have imagination. I want to love. I have self-interest. Things are not me. Do you have another question. I am haunted but by what?  Human supremacy? The work of humiliation. The pungency of the pesticide.  What else? The hammer that comes down on the head. Knocks the eyes out. I was very lucky. The end of the world had already occurred. How long ago was that. I don’t know. It is not a function of knowledge. It is in a special sense that the world ends. You have to keep living. You have to make it not become  waiting. Nothing is disturbingly visible. Only the outside continues but it continues. So you have to find the way to make the inside  continue. Your entity is fragile. You are an object you own. At least  you were given it to own. You have to figure out what ownership  is. You thought you knew. You were wrong. It was wrong. There was  wrongness in the mix. It turns out you are a first impression. Years go by. Imagine that. And there is still a speaker. There will always be a speaker. In the  hypoxic zones is almost no more oxygen→then there is→no more→oxygen→for real→picture that says the speaker→who are you→where are you→going down into the dead zones→water not water→the deeper you go he says the→scarier it gets→because there’s→nothing there→there are no→fish→no organisms→alive→no→no life→so it’s just us→dead zones→bigger than the Sahara he says→the largest lifeless spaces this side of the moon→he says→she says→who is this speaking to me→I am the upwelling→I am the disappearing→hold on→just a minute please→hold on→there is a call for you

—Jorie Graham

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Eddie, Will, and El opening a tattoo shop together.

Eddie's all shit-post tattoos in American Traditional, muted colors

Will's style is large murals, vibrant colors, with fantasy themes

El is exclusively shaded, fine-line minimalism

[angemagica]

birdwatching themed banner I made for Ice flight’s push this week! 🐦❄

[midnight-and-sapphire-variables]

Hey Xev! do you like getting hugs from Zero most of the time?

ჯ-

Of course~!!

We have our own ways of being clingy, thus having ourselves want cuddles and hugs from different times.

Whenever we want any, we always accept..~

[kedreeva]

Terrible quality from my webcam, but dang! Blue male to the left, purple hen to the top right, blue hen to the bottom right. LOOK at the color difference! Always nice to see the purple shining well, too.

[emiliyathecossack]

Don't mind me working on making "Feed the Birds" one of Ramin Karimloo's top five songs on Spotify as I play it on loop since four o'clock this morning to soothe my sick baby since it's her favorite song and the only one she'll fall asleep to. Just doing the Lord's work over here.

[dodomedic]

@blustankgirl

A fat plump morning dove walks in and flutters to the desk with paper on it. "hoooo! OKAY I'm here for your check up johnny. anything to tell me?" Dodo then pecks at her finger because he was inspecting them for possible crumbs.

[edgarallen-foe]

there's a bird calling out my window, and i'm not sure what kind. it's not a mourning dove; it's too high-pitched, but it does have a similar length in call. it's going heeeeeeehooo. heeeeehoo.

[kakusu-shipping]

I need everyone to see I finally, FINALLY made a decent looking cake, and then proceeded to throw it on the damn floor before anyone got to taste it.

[mollymarymarie]

Bird Set Free

Chapter One - Clipped Wings

Just as Remus started to rise to his toes to see if he could tell what was going on, Sirius Black stepped through the hoard, with his ever-present, gold-medal-podium smile. Stunned, Remus could do nothing but stare back at him, swallowing nervously as Sirius met his gaze. When Sirius’ silver eyes narrowed slightly in Remus’ direction, it almost seemed like he was searching for something, waiting for something.

Finally, with that curious expression still in place, in his softened voice that carried his definable Russian accent, he smiled, despite the heavy side-eye he was giving to the crowd that was becoming more unruly with Sirius’ continued disregard, and said, “Ignore them. Ready for that photo?”

Read Chapter One on Ao3 

[antisatiric]

@fortune-feather / oracle starter call.

"Nice bird," Twain says, because there's really no better way to start a conversation with someone he doesn't want to be talking to.

He's never really been one to give much credence to fortunes. Even with his own fate taken into consideration, the thought of hearing about what's in store for him in advance has always been an unappealing prospect. Like saying it had put it into his mind, but confirming it would make it real---unfixable. Most prophecies are self-fulfilled, anyway, and he's never wanted to be one of those chumps who heads down the path leading to his own destruction trying to avoid it.

But then he'd found reasons to carry on, and talk of a wandering fortune teller being nearby the large town Twain had stopped in had reached his ears. Curiosity killed the cat, they say. Not Twain's, though; she's entertaining herself by sniffing out large bugs in the grass like she usually does on the road.

"So, you wouldn't, uh---wouldn't happen to be the fortune teller I've been hearin' so much about in town. Would you?" Twain already knows he has the right guy, but he's stalling for time.

[conquiistador]

Does mingo have good hygiene

Everything about him is not only good - it is perfect.

[hxzelwallflower]

"I have some extra eggs from my chicken coop, if you'd like some! I'm practically giving them away at this point."

@dragonskxn asked: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

❝ Well I can't say no to that . 'Specially if it's free ! ❞ ❝ What kind of chickens do you have ?? ❞

[grimstalkr]

bird hunters - flood hunting team

When picked to go hunting Tharja truly hadn't expected Ephidel and Julius to be the ones picked alongside her. She knew little of either of them but she did know that the one time she'd met Julius he'd been rather hostile. Which made her even warier as they were picked to collect food for the others. Her boots were soaked and the ends of her skirt dragged as they traversed what little ground they could to where there were birds to hunt. The eerie silence was made worse by their strange surroundings. She figured speaking so early on in their hunt would just scare their prey away.

Once settled Tharja crouched to bide her time, letting the birds slowly get used to their collective presence. By the time the birds were settled Tharja was more than ready to strike. With a sudden burst of magic, Tharja managed to strike a bird down, watching as it dropped from the magical overload. She was quick to hurry over, snatching it up and looking toward her teammates. Tharja held it up, motioning toward the gull-sized bird she'd managed to down.

She hoped her teammates were doing alright. The water was frustrating to her beyond belief. If she slipped even a little bit she'd drown. She certainly hoped neither of them fell in. Could Ephidel swim? Could Julius?

@disgracedvessel @artificidel