#the night migrations

[apoemaday]

The Night Migrations

by Louise Glück

This is the moment when you see again the red berries of the mountain ash and in the dark sky the birds’ night migrations.

It grieves me to think the dead won’t see them -- these things we depend on, they disappear.

What will the soul do for solace then? I tell myself maybe it won’t need these pleasures anymore; maybe just not being is simply enough, hard as that is to imagine.

[abellinthecupboard]

The Night Migrations

This is the moment when you see again the red berries of the mountain ash and in the dark sky the birds' night migrations. It grieves me to think the dead won't see them— these things we depend on, they disappear. What will the soul do for solace then? I tell myself maybe it won't need these pleasures anymore; maybe just not being is simply enough, hard as that is to imagine.

— Louise Glück, Averno (2006)

[occasionallybirds]

Black and White Warbler (Mniotilta varia)

September 11. 2023

Southeastern Pennsylvania

[sanctus-ingenium]

What colour are dragons? I always imagine them having very fleshy colours and aren't particularly pleasant to look at, and what colour is dragonsblood?

this is SOOO rough and ugly i'm so sorry (ftr anon sent this like 20 mins ago)

basically dragons tend to blend in with the sky and tend to be pale with translucent skin, these are two common colour types but there are more. those are not pigmented patterns but fleshy folds and wrinkles, and the base colour (tan, blue, etc) becomes stronger and more evident when the skin is folded due to its translucency. the overall impression is unpleasant to look at. the beak is the only fully mineralised structure and it's like a squid pen if you've ever seen one, kind of crystalline and translucent. the bristles are not shown.

dragonsblood exists in two states, in its unexcited state it looks like a thick dark oil, like crude oil. it's slightly gelatinous to the touch and pretty greasy, flowing slowly. to 'flash' the dragonsblood refers to throwing a spark into it, which transforms it to its excited state. it becomes a fast-flowing liquid slightly less dense than water (so it will flow over the top of water) and is incandescent and lethally hot. it will burn pits in solid stone. it can be contained by iron, but quicksilver is the best material to interact with excited dragonsblood :)

[brooklynbridgebirds]

Juvenile Black-crowned Night-Heron Brooklyn Bridge Park, Pier 1 Long Pond

[lucydddreamssss]

THE ULTIMATE “MOVIE OF THE YEAR” POLE!!

I see a lot of people complaining about how their opinion wasn’t on here. There’s a poll limit, guys, I can’t add every movie from 2023 (I REALLY wanted to add Puss In Boots The Last Wish-)

[snugglybitch]

As a reddit refugee on Tumblr.com, I've really been enjoying the thoughtful and sincere discourse on Barbie (2023). Even posts that levy criticism seem to do so in good faith and with care for the larger message as a whole. It has felt indulgent to read paragraphs upon paragraphs on femininity, patriarchy, girlhood, aging, and the difficult beauty in finding common ground in our differences...

So, out of curiosity, I popped over to Reddit on browser to see what redditors were saying about Barbie. Short, quippy acerbic comments like "wow, you know it's bad when Ken overshadows your Barbie movie" and "Ken was the only relatable character" and other "revelations" focusing on the man-hating messaging of the film overwhelmed the discussion threads.

I forgot. I forgot how exhausting that platform was. How, despite all its left leaning dogma, it is still dominated by its target males-twelve-to-twenty-four demographic, which rewards shallow, short takes that rage bait and put the onus on the reader to make the good-faith argument, and you spiral, and spiral, and spiral.

In a way, a perfect microcosm of exactly what Barbie (2023) is criticizing. But those redditors will never see that. And it's no one's job to make them see it. I just forgot how quickly comments like those would weigh me down and sit in the back of my mind, waiting for a quiet moment to irritate me all over again.

I guess, all this to say, I love Barbie talk on this hellsite.

[thatonediviner]

To the sky.

[mumblelard]

still singing the old work songs or my life without molecules

clarice doesn't dream of labor either, just look at her dance

[sabraeal]

Desert & Reward, Chapter 17

[Read on AO3]

“Now, now, Mister, no need for roughness,” Obi laughs as Sir shoves him out the closest door, the night sky unfurling above them. “I promise, I’m quite tame. Look, I haven’t even bit any hands tonight.”

If he leaves off just how many tempting morsels fluttered right in front of him, well— it’s nothing Sir hasn’t already guessed. By the hunted expression clinging to that chiseled jaw, it seems His Highness’s loyal hound has had more than a few temptations of his own.

Air hisses through Sir’s teeth, more a relief of pressure than a warning, the harsh line of his shoulders deflating from forbidding to fatigued. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever asked. What did you do to get on Kihal’s bad side?”

Truth be told, Obi’s never quite sliced that knot himself. He’d been wallpaper when she’d come that first time, a shadow that clung to Miss’s heels, and she’s been kind enough to tender him a few perfunctory ‘hellos,’ when their paths had crossed. But they’d gone to Yuris— twice, by his count; once to chase down the source of that perfume, and another just after she’d landed her title as countess— and each time she’d gotten her hackles up.

Not by any fault of his own, of course. Sure, he’d poked around a few places that not even Miss’s smiles could grant them entry, and he’d been more than a little popular with some of the local girls who didn’t mind a man with a little mystery and more than his fair share of scars— but that’d all been winks and words that went down as easy as the swill her father’s men had in their stills. No, what really seemed to get her goat was that despite her determination to dislike him, she never quite manage it.

Which is a bit more complicated an answer than Sir’s probably expecting to hear, so instead just he shrugs. “Today, or in general?”

Sir’s mouth thins— shame that Miss Kiki isn’t here to appreciate the way that sternness sharpens the lines of his face— hands hooking on his hips. Obi settles in; whatever lecture annoying the future Lady Laxdo has inspired, it’s sure to be a doozy. "You’re bearing up all right, aren’t you?”

It’s not until his mouth clicks shut that he realizes his jaw dropped at all. “C-come again, Mister?”

Sir grunts, agitated but— miraculously— not at him. “It’s all right if you aren’t, Obi. I know this isn’t what you’re used to when it comes to parties.”

The number of titles on his guest list could fill a library large enough to keep Miss entertained, but that’s hardly new. Between rubbing elbows with the royal family and her newfound position as the North’s darling, they’ve been invited to and ducked out early from all the Clarines’ most exclusive soirées. But that’s not what Sir is driving at.

“It’s a bit bigger than the stag night.” Twice as big at least, but the last thing Obi needs is Mister bringing math into the equation. “And that thing was already huge. Gotta say, sir, your little fireside chat and tipple didn’t set me up with the right sort of expectations.”

A wayward muscle in that impressive jaw twitches. “It wasn’t supposed to.”

“Maybe I should have gone to Miss Kiki’s,” he sighs wistfully. “That might have prepared me for being a lord. You know, since between the two of you, you’re really sort of the lady of the—”

“You could just say ‘I’m fine,’ you know,” Sir manages, strangled. “No need for…”

His hand waves, helpless, somehow managing to encompassing all of Obi at once, while also implying that his personality’s part of the problem.

“I appreciate the thought, Mister.” He digs his finger into the knot that’s been bugging him since they shoved him into this monkey suit, turning his smirk into a grimace. “But this isn’t my first fancy shindig, and something tells me it won’t be the last. I’ll survive.”

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t,” he grunts, leaning a hip— well, thigh really— against the balustrade. “It’s just…it’s one thing to be at one of these parties and just be part of the…er…ambiance, I guess. And it’s a whole other thing altogether when what everyone’s looking at is you.”

His fingers clench a little tighter. “It’s not so bad.”

Sir’s gaze hardly wavers as he asks, “Is it?”

“Y-yeah.” The lie drags bile up after it, washing his mouth in its sour taste. “You know me, Mister, I live for attention.”

His arms fold, testing the limits of his coat seams. “That is what you like everyone to think.”

Haah, he should have known better than to try to pull one over on Sir. The men might have called him an honest fool when he’d still been just one of the Royal Circle’s knights— hell, Obi’d called him all that and worse during that whole fiasco after Sereg— but Mister had a way of seeing right to the quick of a man.

“I didn’t like it much either,” Mister admits. “Still don’t, really. But I’m more used to it now than I was back then. It was terrible when we got married— I thought a look might real and truly kill me if they got me at the right angle.”

“Unlike you, I didn’t run off and ruin His Majesty’s engagement party,” Obi drawls, giving his eyebrows a good waggle. “Really, Mister, how’s a man supposed to recover when a knight rides in to rescue a lady right in front of—”

“T-that’s not what I’m talking about,” Sir blusters, the tips of his ears a painful pink. “You’re just trying to change the subject.”

Obi’s mouth thins, an easy thing to twist up in a smile. “I appreciate the concern, I do, but you don’t have to worry about me, Big Guy. I know how to put on a show when I got to.”

“If you say so.” Sir claps him on the shoulder; a few years ago it might have made his teeth rattle, but after almost half a decade walking Wilant’s walls and being fortified by their hearty stews, he barely stumbles. “Just bear it for a little while longer. I’m sure Zen will find a way to get you out of this before…”

Sir’s mouth works, not to find a word but a grimace. Which is fine, really. Obi doesn’t need them, not when he’s been thinking it all this time— before she finds out.

“Right.” Even he can tells his smile doesn’t hang right on his mouth, but that’s not important, not when Mister’s the only one around to see. “Hate to have the young miss exposed to anything so…disagreeable. Not when she’s already having to put up with all this nonsense.”

“Obi.” Sir straightens, brows knitted up with concern. “That’s not what I—”

“Don’t worry, I know what you were trying to say, Mister.” Even if he was too kind to actually say it. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I might go—”

“Why, is that—?” Earl Seiran waves from the garden path below, smile as large as Miss Kiki’s isn’t. “It is! My dear son and the man of the hour! Just who I wanted to see.”

“My l— sir,” Mister manages, flustered. “I didn’t see—? I mean, I didn’t know you had left the ballroom. Just a moment, I’ll—”

“No, no, dear boy. Just give me a moment!” His walking stick taps on the marble, casual rather than crucial. “We’ll come up to you.”

“We?” Sir echoes, and that’s when Obi sees it— the messy tangle of black that had faded into the garden’s shadows.

“Oh,” he mutters, mouth already tugging into a sneer. “Just who I wanted to see.”

*

“What a lovely party,” Seiran gushes as he draws near, delight evident in every click of his heels. “Truly, the wedding of the season, for all that it isn’t supposed to have happened. Or, I suppose, should have happened earlier. Ha!”

If a duke does not lower his head to a count, it only follows that a marquis won’t either, but Obi’s far too practiced at keeping his to risk any less than a nod. A deep one, almost deferential. The man who survived raising Miss Kiki doesn’t deserve any less. “You’re too kind, milord.”

“Nonsense!” The earl waves his hand, and for a moment, the similarity staggers him. He’s only met Kiki���s dad a handful of times, but each time it’s like that— brief flashes of a movement so familiar he could draw the angles of it with his eyes closed, but that smile instead of a scowl makes them as different as night and day. “If only we had such an excuse to celebrate more often.”

“Maybe you will soon enough, my lord.” The earl might brighten every balcony onto which he walks, but his companion casts a pall over the company keeps. And by the way Lugis’s mouth twists, wry and annoyed all at once, he knows. “You’ve already gained a son. Maybe he will be kind enough to oblige you with a few grandchildren to name.”

That snake ends the sentence too early, but his flash of teeth finishes it: if he can locate his dick well enough to use it.

Sir stiffens behind him, hand hovering just above his sword’s hilt. “Hisame…”

“An excellent point!” Seiran laughs, one well-manicured hand reaching to clap Big Guy on the shoulder. He withers noticeably. “Though I suppose my good-son would wish us to speak of this where he might not hear.”

Sir’s neck flushes so red Obi could swear he sees steam. “Or not at all.”

“Oh, come now. You may be too modest to suffer us speculating, but surely you cannot protest the process.” There’s times where Obi has wondered how a man as easy-going as the earl had could had a hand in honing a girl more to a dagger than a daughter. But right now, as the Mister’s eyes roll heavenward like losing consciousness might be a mercy, and all the man does is grin— well, he can see the shape of it.

“Just think of it.” That snake looks pretty amused for a guy who framed a man for murder and nearly toppled a whole country just to play fake fiancé. “If His Highness’s courtship proceeds as promised, then perhaps his own joyful occasions will not be much behind yours, Sir Mitsuhide.”

Sir doesn’t get wistful the way he used to— or at least, Obi hasn’t caught him going around hanging himself over balconies and heaving those world weary sighs. But something in him catches on joyful occasions and—

And it’s just Sir and him who know that’s not likely to happen. Seiran’s lord and lady might get up to whatever they like behind closed doors— and if he knows Kiki, she will— but there’s not likely to be any royal issue, not any time soon. Not from Zen, at least. He’ll find some way to put off his wedding, same way he used to put off popping the question, and in a few years and some creative paperwork, they’ll get their happy ending, just the way they were meant to.

Seiran might smile as he puts a hand on Obi’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze that makes this night almost feel real, that he is the man Miss wanted to see at the altar— but one glance at Sir’s grimace is enough to remind him that he’s just here to keep Master’s seat warm. A placeholder, until something better can be arranged.

“You boys should take more care with His Highness’s stag night, however,” Seiran instructs, suddenly stern. “All these little fêtes are fine and good— and I’m sure His Majesty will see to it that his brother has one becoming of his station— but it is all quite…sanitary is it not? For such an occasion, a man wishes to be out with his comrades, celebrating his nuptials with all the happy abandon—”

“I must thank you for traveling all this way, my lord,” Obi blurts out, receiving Sir’s grateful look with all the graciousness a knight taking a rescued maiden’s kiss. For all that he’d love to lord the knowledge of her father’s sowing of wild oats or what not, he doesn’t actually want to hear the details. At least right now, when the Big Guy’s two shades of red away from spontaneous combustion. “Can’t have been easy on such short notice.”

“No niceties for me, my lord?” that snake hums, so smug his forked tongue might well flicker through his lips. “Have I not traveled far enough?”

Obi’s smile bears more teeth than good will when he says, “I wasn’t aware it was that far from His Highness’s coattails to here.”

Sir snorts, loud enough Seiran spares him a curious glance before adding, “Not at all, dear boy. I had plenty of time to settle my business before starting my trek to the palace. Though I suppose were I north enough to get those early autumn squalls, three weeks might have been a far narrower window than I would have liked.”

“T-three?” Obi blinks, fingers numb at his side. “Three weeks?”

Three weeks. He’d known about this for three days. And by the way Sir starts to fidget under his stare, he might be the only one.

“I must say, it was quite the surprise to see Forzeno step up as your guardian.” Seiran laughs, shaking his head. “I was of the impression that man didn’t leave his lab for anything more than an opportunity to fund it. How did you even manage to meet?”

“Ah, well…” His fingers dig into the meat of his shoulder, the familiar flash of pain grounding him. “It’s  not much of a story. Turns out some of his rock collection showed some promise in cracking open a little conundrum they’d all been working on, and Miss convinced” — coerced, really, but who’s counting— “him to come give them a hand.”

The snake huffs out a laugh, one of his narrow eyebrows hitching a ride to his hairline. “And he adopted you for simply standing around?”

Lata probably would have, if it meant dodging a dukedom. Good thing the geezer didn’t think of it sooner. “That’s because His Majesty thought ‘messenger’ wasn’t a good enough title for one of his brother’s buddies. Slapped me with a ‘sir’ and let me loose up in the North. By the time Lata got his hands on me, I was biting the ankles of my betters.”

Seiran’s mouth slides into a sly curve. “I can see why that might have endeared you to a man like him.”

“Don’t know if I’d say endeared so much as enraged.” Or embarrassed, more likely, but that’s not something he’s going to admit to when Hisame Lugis is standing around, grinning like his knighthood is the funniest joke he’s ever told. “I thought I was doing just fine, but apparently I was ‘the Royal Circle’s greatest shame’ and I ‘can’t serve His Highness with that sort of sloppy dress.’ So then he decided he was my knightly mentor, and…”

He lifts a shoulder. That’s that, it says, or maybe, it is what it is.

It doesn’t seem like Earl Seiran hears it, though. “If you had needed for someone to vouch for you name, my boy, you might have told me!” His mouth pinches, the same way his daughter’s does when he calls her name. “I would have been happy to call you son.”

“Oh, er…” Obi coughs, searching for the politest way to say, I don’t think that sentiment would have been unanimous, sir. “That’s a…uh…generous offer, my lord, but, er…”

“You already have an heir,” Kiki deadpans, appearing from just behind her father’s shoulder. “Don’t get greedy.”

“Kiki, my dear,” he laughs, holding out his arm— one she summarily ignores, brushing past him stand next to Sir. “I always thought you would make a wonderful older sister.”

“Hear that, my lady,” Obi hums, leaning close enough for their elbows to nudge. Naturally, of course, not because she’d caught him aiming at her side. “I could have been your little brother.”

“You’re a year older than me,” she reminds him, right before latching onto him with her iron grip. “I hope you can forgive me, Father, for stealing him away.”

“Darling,” he sighs, “must you call me that? Surely ‘Daddy’ would be—?”

“No.”

“Papa?” he tries, undaunted. Kiki only sighs.

“What, no apologies for me, Lady Kiki?” The snake slithers closer, smirking when Sir stiffens— but he doesn’t dare slink a step further. “I was talking to the marquis as well.”

“When it comes to sorry behavior, you are so far in debt that an apology from me could only dig you deeper,” she warns him, not even a hint of humor. “I thought I might save you the inches.”

Had that advice fallen from Obi lips, no doubt they would have heard that snake’s rattle. But from Kiki, it only tilts his smile to a more rueful pitch. “How…considerate of you.”

“Why, I do believe I see your brother, Sir Hisame!” Seiran remarks, just too loud to be casual. “Shall I go pay my respects? I haven’t seen him since…”

Since Sir so publicly scuttled their engagement— and, almost as a side note, revealed that the snake himself had taken part in Touka Bergatt’s attempted coup. That even as he hobnobbed with His Majesty’s guests, he was still in that bastard’s pocket.

Lugis’s mouth widens, smile all teeth. “I’m sure he bears you no ill will, my lord. He knows a thing or two about having willful heirs of his own.”

“Quite,” Seiran chuckles. “Still, you’ll come with me, won’t you? Perhaps ease over this small bump in our relationship.”

Funny. If he committed treason, Obi hardly thinks they’d all wave it over as a small bump.

“Ah…” The snake’s on his back foot now, sly eyes rounding as the earl advances on him, seizing his arm. “I appreciate the invitation, my lord, but I’ve hardly spoken to Lord Obi—”

“As my daughter says, Lord Obi is being stolen away.” Lugis winces under the strength of Seiran’s grip. “Let us leave them to it.”

“But—”

“Come.” The earl doesn’t quite take the snake out for a drag across the veranda, but it’s close. “I am so looking forward to renewing your brother’s acquaintance, after all.”

*

Obi blinks, watching as they disappear into the ballroom, arm-in-arm. Or rather hand-on-arm, by the way Lugis is trying to dig in his heels.

“Huh,” he murmurs, casting a look the long way up to Mister’s stern mug. “I didn’t know your dad was so buddy-buddy with Sir Hiss-a-lot.”

“Earl Seiran is being circumspect,” Sir replies pointedly. “He may not like Sir Hisame, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be nice.”

“Hey, I’m nice to people all day long.” Obi presses a hand to his chest, scandalized. “And I don’t like half of them!”

Kiki snorts. “Doubtful.”

“I am!” Where he came from, being nice meant no one drew blood. A low bar, but after every day he’s stuck in this madhouse having to play lord, he’s starting to see the wisdom in it. “Anyway, thanks for the rescue, Miss Kiki. I guess I’ll just—”

A hand grips his shoulder, as strong as any shackle. It’s not Sir’s. “I wasn’t kidding about you being needed.”

“Me?” He turns to her, wide-eyed. “Really?”

“Of course. It’s dinner time, and you’re the groom.” She glares back at him like he’s stupid. “Don’t tell me you didn’t write a toast.”

His jaw drops. “Ah…”

“You.” She fixes him with a meaningful stare. “Are going to owe me.”

[phlebasthebroenician]

Eating the Five Nights at Freddy's pizza cookie at midnight to seduce/hex my enemies

[nocylipcowa]

this is so incredibly funny. for the entirety of holidays i was pretty sure i have a shift today, obly to check it yesterday on my phone and a schedule i printed two weeks ago only to find out i have no shifts scheduled fot today. but also i got late once for my very first shift of march because my boss changed our work hours so i can not trust that. but also i'm working only 84 hours a month and the amounts on the schedule i printed matches. i do know however that our new temporary worker had changes. i also know that my boss and other coworker work today as scheduled and sure af i shouldn't be needed as the other temporary coworker should also be working then. what am i even doing. anyways if i want to go to job that i'm 99% i don't have today i should be leaving in 10 minutes.

[poems-of-a-lover]

just saw a tiktok clip that said that every dino boy needs a shark boy. so true. whos gonna be my dino boy.

[paldean-ranger-brandy]

Just spoke to Marina, who was handling morning patrol. The chronic wasting has spread to nearly the entire herd. She found one little deerling that tested negative, but at this point we're going to have to cull back the rest of the sawsbuck in that area.

But listen. I'm a little sleep deprived, but this is a perfect situation to explain why humans are such an important part of the eco-system. You know what would have happened if we (humans) weren't here? The disease would have spread to the other herds in the area, wiping them out as well and inflicted an awful death. It would have kept spreading, possibly making the jump to the grafaiai population as well (jury's still out on whether or not that's possible). The impact on the entire forest's eco-system would be huge, and would have taken 10, 20, 30 years for it to recover. If it's able to recover at all - it would be entirely possible that the trophic cascade and subsequent decline of the pokemon populations around that keep the forest healthy the local flora would die off and that ugly ass rock field would simply overtake the area.

But we are here. The infected pokemon got a quick, painless death. The spread of the disease was contained to one area of the forest. And while this will still have a terrible impact on the population balance between predator/prey pokemon, we have the resources to fix that. There are areas where the deerling line is overpopulated, there are sanctuaries with deerling that are ready for wild release. We can clean the infected area, and migrate deerling from an area where they may get crowded out of their food source.

This could have been a disaster that spanned years, and instead it was detected and contained within what, a week and a half? There is no other species on earth that could have healed this area as quickly as humans. There is no other species that can coordinate across such far distances to share information and reintroduce a healthy wild deerling population. We have just as much a role to play in our environments as pollinators and predators and whatever else.

Idk. Whenever I hear that kind of team plasma-esque rhetoric of human and pokemon segregation or removing one or the other from the world I just think of situations like this. I firmly believe that removing humans from an area would have just as much of a disastrous impact as removing any other species of pokemon.

[thecalvinistkat]

I made a Tier List so that strangers on the internet can yell at me

My reasons for each placement: https://youtu.be/hyjBokTaztY?si=KFImw0XHtcGFLkFt

[brooklynbridgebirds]

Great Blue Heron Pier 4 / Bird Island in Brooklyn Bridge Park