🔥 Popular | Latest

counterpunches: theroguefeminist: gentlyepigrams: blackness-by-your-side: my utopia The drag queen from this photo has spoken up about the photo. I won’t speak for all liberals, but I’d like to see a future where it isn’t a big deal for a woman in full modesty garb to sit next to a drag queen in NYC. It’s become a bit of a sensation, but her and I were just existing. The freedom to simply be yourself in a sea of people who aren’t like you is a freedom we all deserve. The central irony is that this isn’t some hypothetical future–it’s just present day reality. This is a picture of two ordinary people going about their normal lives despite how haters want to politicize it lmao. So the underlying message is not “future liberals want” it’s “people conservatives want to eradicate” the underlying message is not “future liberals want” it’s “people conservatives want to eradicate” : counterpunches: theroguefeminist: gentlyepigrams: blackness-by-your-side: my utopia The drag queen from this photo has spoken up about the photo. I won’t speak for all liberals, but I’d like to see a future where it isn’t a big deal for a woman in full modesty garb to sit next to a drag queen in NYC. It’s become a bit of a sensation, but her and I were just existing. The freedom to simply be yourself in a sea of people who aren’t like you is a freedom we all deserve. The central irony is that this isn’t some hypothetical future–it’s just present day reality. This is a picture of two ordinary people going about their normal lives despite how haters want to politicize it lmao. So the underlying message is not “future liberals want” it’s “people conservatives want to eradicate” the underlying message is not “future liberals want” it’s “people conservatives want to eradicate”

counterpunches: theroguefeminist: gentlyepigrams: blackness-by-your-side: my utopia The drag queen from this photo has spoken up about...

Save
feedmecookiesnow: not-the-blue: @fandomforoz art for @letsallsleepoverwork, who came up with the absolutely adorable idea of the hawkeyes braiding Bucky’s hair and painting his nails! thank you!!  I thought this was cute so I wrote a story for it. ** Practice on Me New York in August, Bucky thinks, is a special kind of hell. He’s laying on the floor of his apartment with the shades all drawn and a fan blasting directly on him. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers. His entire body is pressed to the cool hardwood of the floor. There’s a cold washcloth over his forehead. An iced water sitting next to him. And yet none of it is making a dent in the heat. It’s thick. It’s awful. It’s like breathing soup. “Definitely hell,” he says to the dark room. “One-hundred percent, Grade A, whole wheat hell.” His phone rings. Bucky cracks an eye open, then gropes around on the floor for it until he can stab at it. “What?” Clint’s voice echoes through the speaker. “Oooh, you sound angry. What’s wrong?” “I’m hot,” Bucky says. “My air conditioning is broke, and the guy can’t fix it until Friday.” “Oh god.” Clint sounds horrified. “That’s the worst thing I’ve heard today.” He pauses, and then says, “Well, second worst. My favorite taco guy was out of the spicy guacamole. I had to settle for regular.” “It must be hard being you,” Bucky says dryly, and Clint laughs. “Anyway. What do you want?” “I was going to ask if I could come over,” Clint says. “But I think now it would be better if you came to my place instead.” Keep reading : feedmecookiesnow: not-the-blue: @fandomforoz art for @letsallsleepoverwork, who came up with the absolutely adorable idea of the hawkeyes braiding Bucky’s hair and painting his nails! thank you!!  I thought this was cute so I wrote a story for it. ** Practice on Me New York in August, Bucky thinks, is a special kind of hell. He’s laying on the floor of his apartment with the shades all drawn and a fan blasting directly on him. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers. His entire body is pressed to the cool hardwood of the floor. There’s a cold washcloth over his forehead. An iced water sitting next to him. And yet none of it is making a dent in the heat. It’s thick. It’s awful. It’s like breathing soup. “Definitely hell,” he says to the dark room. “One-hundred percent, Grade A, whole wheat hell.” His phone rings. Bucky cracks an eye open, then gropes around on the floor for it until he can stab at it. “What?” Clint’s voice echoes through the speaker. “Oooh, you sound angry. What’s wrong?” “I’m hot,” Bucky says. “My air conditioning is broke, and the guy can’t fix it until Friday.” “Oh god.” Clint sounds horrified. “That’s the worst thing I’ve heard today.” He pauses, and then says, “Well, second worst. My favorite taco guy was out of the spicy guacamole. I had to settle for regular.” “It must be hard being you,” Bucky says dryly, and Clint laughs. “Anyway. What do you want?” “I was going to ask if I could come over,” Clint says. “But I think now it would be better if you came to my place instead.” Keep reading

feedmecookiesnow: not-the-blue: @fandomforoz art for @letsallsleepoverwork, who came up with the absolutely adorable idea of the hawkeyes...

Save
tzeentchs-secretary: shitposting-hobbits-to-gallifrey: aberrantkenosis: archatlas: Really Big Coin Skrekkøgle This is our Really Big Coin. It is big because it makes other things look small when photographed next to it. Actually, it is a 20:1 replica of the EUR 50-cent, you see it being milled out here. We needed to do quite a bit of sanding, lacquering and smudging to obtain the desired look and some climbing to get into required shooting position (you need to get up real high to take good pictures). The result is a short series of photographs, attempting to visually scale down real-sized objects. Images and text via what the fuck Me scrolling through the images: oooooh photos of miniature things with a coin for scale Me when I reached the text: waIT A MINUTE I have doubts about that telephone box. : tzeentchs-secretary: shitposting-hobbits-to-gallifrey: aberrantkenosis: archatlas: Really Big Coin Skrekkøgle This is our Really Big Coin. It is big because it makes other things look small when photographed next to it. Actually, it is a 20:1 replica of the EUR 50-cent, you see it being milled out here. We needed to do quite a bit of sanding, lacquering and smudging to obtain the desired look and some climbing to get into required shooting position (you need to get up real high to take good pictures). The result is a short series of photographs, attempting to visually scale down real-sized objects. Images and text via what the fuck Me scrolling through the images: oooooh photos of miniature things with a coin for scale Me when I reached the text: waIT A MINUTE I have doubts about that telephone box.
Save
cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER : cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER

cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the g...

Save
bunjywunjy: lostinhistory: bidet-of-evil: officialukulele: nogoawayok: penguinsstealingsanity: that-ships-hellabig: phanfruit: krakkenchaos: swindontownswoodilypooper: petrovasinspace: f-i-v-e-byfive: thesixtysevenchevyimpala: ilovecountryeverything: titaniumbovine: peaceroxi: steveisoncrack: HEY TUMBLR, LET’S PLAY A GAME To play this game, go to MapCrunch, select “hide location”, make sure you have all countries unselected, and click go. What this will do is drop you in a random part of the world. It’s as if you woke up on the side of a road in an unfamiliar country. The goal of the game is to find your way to an airport so you can return home.  Bonus Hard Mode: No using outside sources, and that includes using google maps to figure out your location from signs or landmarks …I had plans today but now. THE AIRPORT GAME IS BACK. FUCK THIS GAME LAST TIME I PLAYED IT DUMPED ME IN THE MOUNTAINS OF NORWAY I PLAYED FOR LIKE 8 HOURS BEFORE BREAKING DOWN CRYING OMG NO STOP THIS GAME IS MY LIFE!!! IT’S BACK WHY IS THIS BACK WHYYYYY oh shit I HAVEN’T USED THIS GIF SINCE FEBRUARY Always reblog Mapcrunch when someone tries to bring it back it dropped me in a fucking room full of pandas Ohmygod It once dropped my in my home town a few km’s from the airport XD i think this is gonna be a problem i feel threatened also why is one of the cows blurred out who is she  I’m trapped in a bathroom and i have no reflection I am on a dock by a bay the last time I played this, it dumped me in the middle of a desert and when I turned the camera around it was literally standing next to the runway of an air force base : bunjywunjy: lostinhistory: bidet-of-evil: officialukulele: nogoawayok: penguinsstealingsanity: that-ships-hellabig: phanfruit: krakkenchaos: swindontownswoodilypooper: petrovasinspace: f-i-v-e-byfive: thesixtysevenchevyimpala: ilovecountryeverything: titaniumbovine: peaceroxi: steveisoncrack: HEY TUMBLR, LET’S PLAY A GAME To play this game, go to MapCrunch, select “hide location”, make sure you have all countries unselected, and click go. What this will do is drop you in a random part of the world. It’s as if you woke up on the side of a road in an unfamiliar country. The goal of the game is to find your way to an airport so you can return home.  Bonus Hard Mode: No using outside sources, and that includes using google maps to figure out your location from signs or landmarks …I had plans today but now. THE AIRPORT GAME IS BACK. FUCK THIS GAME LAST TIME I PLAYED IT DUMPED ME IN THE MOUNTAINS OF NORWAY I PLAYED FOR LIKE 8 HOURS BEFORE BREAKING DOWN CRYING OMG NO STOP THIS GAME IS MY LIFE!!! IT’S BACK WHY IS THIS BACK WHYYYYY oh shit I HAVEN’T USED THIS GIF SINCE FEBRUARY Always reblog Mapcrunch when someone tries to bring it back it dropped me in a fucking room full of pandas Ohmygod It once dropped my in my home town a few km’s from the airport XD i think this is gonna be a problem i feel threatened also why is one of the cows blurred out who is she  I’m trapped in a bathroom and i have no reflection I am on a dock by a bay the last time I played this, it dumped me in the middle of a desert and when I turned the camera around it was literally standing next to the runway of an air force base
Save
ups-dogs:On a dark and lonely night in the hills outside of Newberg, Oregon…a forlorn, feeble, famished, freezing, four-legged figure falters slowly towards my truck, trembling gingerly on arthritic limbs in the icy winter air.His grey muzzle and sorrowful eyes tell a sad tale of many years of hunger, pain and despair. A faint and sorrowful whimper emits from his throat as he gazes beseechingly at my bountiful box of biscuits, hoping against hope that I might ease his pangs of hunger and grant him one more night of survival by sharing a small morsel of sustenance with him.My heartstrings taut with compassion, I dig deep into my biscuit box and gently place 4 biscuits into his quivering jowls, praying with all my might that I have arrived in time to prevent his imminent starvation.And then…the magic happens.Like Popeye eating his can of spinach, an incredible transformation suddenly takes place. He is cured! The pain in his limbs is gone! His eyes sparkle! In less than a second, strength and vigor have returned to his formerly weak and malnourished body! In one bound he leaps from the steps of the truck and proceeds to to zoomies all about the yard like a puppy 12 years his junior, his speed turning him into a veritable blur, before running into the house thru his dog door. Through the living room window I see him leap up onto his spot on the couch next to the woodstove, a veritable blizzard of biscuit crumbs flying all over the lap of his human as he chomps happily away at the bounty of goodness that I have bestowed upon him. With tears of joy in my eyes I proceed to drive away, feeling a solemn pride in the knowledge that my generosity has saved this once-suffering dog from what was most certainly an imminent death from starvation. And to those of you who claim that I have merely been bamboozled and bewitched out of biscuits by a canine con artist, I say this; I am a trained professional with years of experience. Do I REALLY look like a guy who could get manipulated out of treats by a mere dog?By Scott Hodges: ups-dogs:On a dark and lonely night in the hills outside of Newberg, Oregon…a forlorn, feeble, famished, freezing, four-legged figure falters slowly towards my truck, trembling gingerly on arthritic limbs in the icy winter air.His grey muzzle and sorrowful eyes tell a sad tale of many years of hunger, pain and despair. A faint and sorrowful whimper emits from his throat as he gazes beseechingly at my bountiful box of biscuits, hoping against hope that I might ease his pangs of hunger and grant him one more night of survival by sharing a small morsel of sustenance with him.My heartstrings taut with compassion, I dig deep into my biscuit box and gently place 4 biscuits into his quivering jowls, praying with all my might that I have arrived in time to prevent his imminent starvation.And then…the magic happens.Like Popeye eating his can of spinach, an incredible transformation suddenly takes place. He is cured! The pain in his limbs is gone! His eyes sparkle! In less than a second, strength and vigor have returned to his formerly weak and malnourished body! In one bound he leaps from the steps of the truck and proceeds to to zoomies all about the yard like a puppy 12 years his junior, his speed turning him into a veritable blur, before running into the house thru his dog door. Through the living room window I see him leap up onto his spot on the couch next to the woodstove, a veritable blizzard of biscuit crumbs flying all over the lap of his human as he chomps happily away at the bounty of goodness that I have bestowed upon him. With tears of joy in my eyes I proceed to drive away, feeling a solemn pride in the knowledge that my generosity has saved this once-suffering dog from what was most certainly an imminent death from starvation. And to those of you who claim that I have merely been bamboozled and bewitched out of biscuits by a canine con artist, I say this; I am a trained professional with years of experience. Do I REALLY look like a guy who could get manipulated out of treats by a mere dog?By Scott Hodges

ups-dogs:On a dark and lonely night in the hills outside of Newberg, Oregon…a forlorn, feeble, famished, freezing, four-legged figure fal...

Save
ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER I love this : ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER I love this

ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: Th...

Save
shrewreadings: weasowl: weasowl: laylainalaska: While walking the dog yesterday, we found the tracks of a pack of wolves that had passed across the edge of our property. (I live out in the highway in Alaska.) I took a picture of my hand next to a wolf track for comparison.  Now here’s a picture of my hand with one of our dog’s tracks: And he’s not an especially small dog; he’s a 55-lb retriever mix. And the dog’s tracks next to wolf tracks: Wolves are huge. dude, i’m tellin you, for realSometimes people ask if my klee kai is a wolf, like, seriously. And I’m always like oh no, ha ha he kind of looks like one, though, hunh? But inside I’m always like “uh, my dog weighs thirty pounds, wolves weigh more than me and my dog put together – if he was a wolf you wouldn’t be asking if he was a wolf, you’d be peeing your pants and demanding we leave” like, a wolf is as tall when lying down as most dogs are standing.here, see for yourself. Labs are a very dog-sized dog, wouldn’t you say? Check this out (this is a wolf in Alaska that found an unfenced dog park and slowly over the course of months learned how to hang out and have fun with the dogs) SO BIG THO - here, have some more examples I love how wolves & humans - so disparately sized - looked at each other and said, ‘Huh. That looks friend-shaped.’ : shrewreadings: weasowl: weasowl: laylainalaska: While walking the dog yesterday, we found the tracks of a pack of wolves that had passed across the edge of our property. (I live out in the highway in Alaska.) I took a picture of my hand next to a wolf track for comparison.  Now here’s a picture of my hand with one of our dog’s tracks: And he’s not an especially small dog; he’s a 55-lb retriever mix. And the dog’s tracks next to wolf tracks: Wolves are huge. dude, i’m tellin you, for realSometimes people ask if my klee kai is a wolf, like, seriously. And I’m always like oh no, ha ha he kind of looks like one, though, hunh? But inside I’m always like “uh, my dog weighs thirty pounds, wolves weigh more than me and my dog put together – if he was a wolf you wouldn’t be asking if he was a wolf, you’d be peeing your pants and demanding we leave” like, a wolf is as tall when lying down as most dogs are standing.here, see for yourself. Labs are a very dog-sized dog, wouldn’t you say? Check this out (this is a wolf in Alaska that found an unfenced dog park and slowly over the course of months learned how to hang out and have fun with the dogs) SO BIG THO - here, have some more examples I love how wolves & humans - so disparately sized - looked at each other and said, ‘Huh. That looks friend-shaped.’

shrewreadings: weasowl: weasowl: laylainalaska: While walking the dog yesterday, we found the tracks of a pack of wolves that had pas...

Save
sushinfood: justamerplwithabox: vivelafat: prokopetz: officialdeadparrot: grellholmes: elsajeni: gunslingerannie: justtkeepcalmm: dean-and-his-pie: fororchestra: musicalmelody: Fun Story: My director kept telling me and my tenor sax buddy to play softer. No matter what we did, it wasn’t soft enough for him. So getting frustrated, I told my buddy “Dont play this time. Just fake it”  Our Band Director then informed us we sounded perfect.  To my readers: “p” means quiet, “pp” means really quiet. I’ve never seen “pppp” before haha. On the contrast, “f” means loud, and “ffff” probably means so loud you go unconscious. I had ffff in a piece once and my conductor told me to play as loudly as physically possible without falling off my chair… Me and my trombone buddies had “ffff” and he sat next to me and played so hard that he fell out of his chair. The lengths we go for music. Okay yeah so I play the bass clarinet and the amount of air you have to move and the stiffness of the reed means it only has two settings and that is loud and louder, with an optional LOUDEST that includes a 50% probability of HORRIBLE CROAKING NOISE which is the bass equivalent of the ubiquitous clarinet shriek. One day, when I was in concert band in high school, we got a new piece handed out for the first time, and there was a strange little commotion back in the tuba section — whispering, and pointing at something in the music, and swatting at each other’s hands all shhh don’t call attention to it. And although they did attract the attention of basically everyone else in the band, they managed to avoid being noticed by the band director, who gave us a few minutes to look over our parts and then said, “All right, let’s run through it up to section A.” And here we are, cheerfully playing along, sounding reasonably competent — but everyone, when they have the attention to spare, is keeping an eye on the tuba players. They don’t come in for the first eight measures or so, and then when they do come in, what we see is: [stifled giggling] [reeeeeeally deep breath] [COLOSSAL FOGHORN NOISE] The entire band stops dead, in the cacophonous kind of way that a band stops when it hasn’t actually been cued to stop. The band director doesn’t even say anything, just looks straight back at the tubas and makes a helpless sort of why gesture. In unison, the tuba players defend themselves: “THERE WERE FOUR F’S.” FFFF is not really a rational dynamic marking for any instrument, but for the love of all that is holy why would you put it in a tuba part. This is the best band post  Everyone else go home Oh man, so I play trombone, and we got this piece called Florentiner Marsch by Julius Fucik, and we saw this which is 8 fortes. We were shocked until, that is 24 fortes who the fuck does that Who does that? This guy. Take a good look - that is the moustache of a man with nothing to lose. Julius IdontgivaFucik More like Julius Fuckit Pyrozod’s tags for this were too hilarious not to share : sushinfood: justamerplwithabox: vivelafat: prokopetz: officialdeadparrot: grellholmes: elsajeni: gunslingerannie: justtkeepcalmm: dean-and-his-pie: fororchestra: musicalmelody: Fun Story: My director kept telling me and my tenor sax buddy to play softer. No matter what we did, it wasn’t soft enough for him. So getting frustrated, I told my buddy “Dont play this time. Just fake it”  Our Band Director then informed us we sounded perfect.  To my readers: “p” means quiet, “pp” means really quiet. I’ve never seen “pppp” before haha. On the contrast, “f” means loud, and “ffff” probably means so loud you go unconscious. I had ffff in a piece once and my conductor told me to play as loudly as physically possible without falling off my chair… Me and my trombone buddies had “ffff” and he sat next to me and played so hard that he fell out of his chair. The lengths we go for music. Okay yeah so I play the bass clarinet and the amount of air you have to move and the stiffness of the reed means it only has two settings and that is loud and louder, with an optional LOUDEST that includes a 50% probability of HORRIBLE CROAKING NOISE which is the bass equivalent of the ubiquitous clarinet shriek. One day, when I was in concert band in high school, we got a new piece handed out for the first time, and there was a strange little commotion back in the tuba section — whispering, and pointing at something in the music, and swatting at each other’s hands all shhh don’t call attention to it. And although they did attract the attention of basically everyone else in the band, they managed to avoid being noticed by the band director, who gave us a few minutes to look over our parts and then said, “All right, let’s run through it up to section A.” And here we are, cheerfully playing along, sounding reasonably competent — but everyone, when they have the attention to spare, is keeping an eye on the tuba players. They don’t come in for the first eight measures or so, and then when they do come in, what we see is: [stifled giggling] [reeeeeeally deep breath] [COLOSSAL FOGHORN NOISE] The entire band stops dead, in the cacophonous kind of way that a band stops when it hasn’t actually been cued to stop. The band director doesn’t even say anything, just looks straight back at the tubas and makes a helpless sort of why gesture. In unison, the tuba players defend themselves: “THERE WERE FOUR F’S.” FFFF is not really a rational dynamic marking for any instrument, but for the love of all that is holy why would you put it in a tuba part. This is the best band post  Everyone else go home Oh man, so I play trombone, and we got this piece called Florentiner Marsch by Julius Fucik, and we saw this which is 8 fortes. We were shocked until, that is 24 fortes who the fuck does that Who does that? This guy. Take a good look - that is the moustache of a man with nothing to lose. Julius IdontgivaFucik More like Julius Fuckit Pyrozod’s tags for this were too hilarious not to share
Save
gaymerlvl-pharmercy: birbiebabies: chamfrons-checques-n-champignons: betheothergirl: solitarelee: 221cbakerstreet: spookyrawr: rassoey: avianawareness: aph-romania: reallymisscoffee: dansknapp: stultiloquentia: doctormemelordmd: fangirling-so-hard-rn: Crows are scaryThey use tools Can be taught to speak (like parrots) Have huge brains for birds like seriously their brain-to-body size ratio is equal to that of a chimpanzee They vocalize anger, sadness, or happiness in response to things they are scary smart at solving puzzles some crows stay with their mates until one of them dies they can remember faces SIDENOTE HERE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT.  They did an experiment where these guys wore masks and some of them fucked with crows.  Pretty soon the crows recognized the masks = douchebag.  But the nice guys with masks they left alone.  THEN, OH WE’RE NOT DONE, NO SIR crows that WEREN’T EVEN IN THE EXPERIMENT AND NEVER SAW THE MASK BEFORE knew about mask-dudes and attacked them on sight.  THEY PASSED ON THE FUCKING INFORMATION TO THEIR CROW BUDDIES. They remember places where crows were killed by farmers and change their migration patterns. Guys I’m really scared of crows now.(q)  Yeah but have you seen this  A colleague of my dad’s lives next to a lake, and looked out the window one morning to see a duck trapped in the ice. A crow swooped down. “Oh hell,” she thought, expecting carnage, because crows are opportunists. But the crow chipped at the ice with its beak until the duck was free. Idk of this counts but a few crows saved me from a magpie swooping attack once ,they’re bros who can tell when magpies are being unreasonable and need to chill I love crows so damn much. When I was fifteen, I hit a pretty serious bout of depression, to the point I was in my room for months. Well, a family of crows made a nest in a tree outside my window. There were two parents and two chicks. One chick was healthy and strong. One was weak, and had a caw like something being strained. It sounded more like a rooster crowing and so my parents jokingly named him ‘Buck’.Well… months passed and Buck’s sibling was taught to fly. His parents focused on the sibling because the sibling was strong. The father stayed behind to try and teach Buck, but I saw him try to fly, fail, and crash to the floor. His father helped him back up into the tree. Every day, I would watch Buck from my window until one day I opened it and started talking to him. He was small and gangly and he couldn’t caw right. His feathers were all over the place and I felt a kinship. So I made a deal with him. I told him that if he could do it, if he could fly, then I could find the strength to get up. Well… near the end of the season, after talking with him every day, I finally saw him get out of the nest. He went to the edge of his branch, braced himself, and jumped… and just before he hit the ground, he soared back up into the sky. I cheered harder than I ever had before. That winter, Buck left the area. I was crestfallen. I felt like I’d lost a friend. But I was so damn proud of him.  Cut to the next spring? I’m walking up the driveway one day when suddenly I hear a sound… a broken caw. I look up, and Buck is sitting in a tree above my head. He stared at me and puffed his feathers, then hopped down in front of me and cawed again. I was so damn thrilled, and I told him how proud I was of him. He ruffled his feathers and then soared off into his old tree.  That summer? I heard two broken caws. One from Buck… and one from his chick. Cut to ten years later? We have a family of crows who all have a very distinct caw and they come here and spend every spring, summer, and fall on our property. Buck still greets me every spring. that last reply made me wanna cry. that’s so beautiful. Don’t forget the Russian Crow SLEDDING DOWN A ROOF not once, but twice.  this one morning i kept hearing really loud caws, i remember it was like 5am, LIKE REALLY LOUD AND ANNOYING AND AGGRESSIVE, so loud that i could hear it through a closed window, and i eventually went outside to check it out. there was a crow on my front lawn, it had an injury on its head and couldn’t fly and there were two other crows circling right above it, and they were cawing like mad.  i tried to get close and take a better look and one of them dived super low and tried to attack me. so i went back in the house and chopped some sliced raw meat and tossed it at him from a distance. a few more times later, very soon after, they could tell i was trying to help, and did not attack me. i was “allowed” to walk up close and pick him up, he couldn’t drink water properly so i had to dip my finger in a bowl and stick it in his mouth. i did this few times a day and it went on for about a week before he disappeared, i thought he recovered and left, but he came back the next day and lands on me, and i see him around the block quite often, and he would come sit on my shoulder for a few minutes and then fly away again. i feel like i’ve adopted a son. Best birbs !! your son is Beautiful and Strong every time I see this post it has different crow stories and every time I reblog it again because all crow stories are good stories Like, I wouldn’t want to be on bad terms with a crow, but they are a really smart animal, they aren’t scary You just want to be nice to them because they will know and they will remember, and they will pay you back if you treat them a certain way. As a side note, I volunteered at a rehab (Hope for Wildlife), where they were rehabbing a crow with a broken wing–who was named Russell Crow. He kept pulling his bandage off so a sleeve was cut off some old clothing and put on him like a little sweater.  !!!! I don’t think I’ll ever not reblog this. This posts makes me cry and smile at the same time. He’s so handsome!! I would trust a crow with my life: gaymerlvl-pharmercy: birbiebabies: chamfrons-checques-n-champignons: betheothergirl: solitarelee: 221cbakerstreet: spookyrawr: rassoey: avianawareness: aph-romania: reallymisscoffee: dansknapp: stultiloquentia: doctormemelordmd: fangirling-so-hard-rn: Crows are scaryThey use tools Can be taught to speak (like parrots) Have huge brains for birds like seriously their brain-to-body size ratio is equal to that of a chimpanzee They vocalize anger, sadness, or happiness in response to things they are scary smart at solving puzzles some crows stay with their mates until one of them dies they can remember faces SIDENOTE HERE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT.  They did an experiment where these guys wore masks and some of them fucked with crows.  Pretty soon the crows recognized the masks = douchebag.  But the nice guys with masks they left alone.  THEN, OH WE’RE NOT DONE, NO SIR crows that WEREN’T EVEN IN THE EXPERIMENT AND NEVER SAW THE MASK BEFORE knew about mask-dudes and attacked them on sight.  THEY PASSED ON THE FUCKING INFORMATION TO THEIR CROW BUDDIES. They remember places where crows were killed by farmers and change their migration patterns. Guys I’m really scared of crows now.(q)  Yeah but have you seen this  A colleague of my dad’s lives next to a lake, and looked out the window one morning to see a duck trapped in the ice. A crow swooped down. “Oh hell,” she thought, expecting carnage, because crows are opportunists. But the crow chipped at the ice with its beak until the duck was free. Idk of this counts but a few crows saved me from a magpie swooping attack once ,they’re bros who can tell when magpies are being unreasonable and need to chill I love crows so damn much. When I was fifteen, I hit a pretty serious bout of depression, to the point I was in my room for months. Well, a family of crows made a nest in a tree outside my window. There were two parents and two chicks. One chick was healthy and strong. One was weak, and had a caw like something being strained. It sounded more like a rooster crowing and so my parents jokingly named him ‘Buck’.Well… months passed and Buck’s sibling was taught to fly. His parents focused on the sibling because the sibling was strong. The father stayed behind to try and teach Buck, but I saw him try to fly, fail, and crash to the floor. His father helped him back up into the tree. Every day, I would watch Buck from my window until one day I opened it and started talking to him. He was small and gangly and he couldn’t caw right. His feathers were all over the place and I felt a kinship. So I made a deal with him. I told him that if he could do it, if he could fly, then I could find the strength to get up. Well… near the end of the season, after talking with him every day, I finally saw him get out of the nest. He went to the edge of his branch, braced himself, and jumped… and just before he hit the ground, he soared back up into the sky. I cheered harder than I ever had before. That winter, Buck left the area. I was crestfallen. I felt like I’d lost a friend. But I was so damn proud of him.  Cut to the next spring? I’m walking up the driveway one day when suddenly I hear a sound… a broken caw. I look up, and Buck is sitting in a tree above my head. He stared at me and puffed his feathers, then hopped down in front of me and cawed again. I was so damn thrilled, and I told him how proud I was of him. He ruffled his feathers and then soared off into his old tree.  That summer? I heard two broken caws. One from Buck… and one from his chick. Cut to ten years later? We have a family of crows who all have a very distinct caw and they come here and spend every spring, summer, and fall on our property. Buck still greets me every spring. that last reply made me wanna cry. that’s so beautiful. Don’t forget the Russian Crow SLEDDING DOWN A ROOF not once, but twice.  this one morning i kept hearing really loud caws, i remember it was like 5am, LIKE REALLY LOUD AND ANNOYING AND AGGRESSIVE, so loud that i could hear it through a closed window, and i eventually went outside to check it out. there was a crow on my front lawn, it had an injury on its head and couldn’t fly and there were two other crows circling right above it, and they were cawing like mad.  i tried to get close and take a better look and one of them dived super low and tried to attack me. so i went back in the house and chopped some sliced raw meat and tossed it at him from a distance. a few more times later, very soon after, they could tell i was trying to help, and did not attack me. i was “allowed” to walk up close and pick him up, he couldn’t drink water properly so i had to dip my finger in a bowl and stick it in his mouth. i did this few times a day and it went on for about a week before he disappeared, i thought he recovered and left, but he came back the next day and lands on me, and i see him around the block quite often, and he would come sit on my shoulder for a few minutes and then fly away again. i feel like i’ve adopted a son. Best birbs !! your son is Beautiful and Strong every time I see this post it has different crow stories and every time I reblog it again because all crow stories are good stories Like, I wouldn’t want to be on bad terms with a crow, but they are a really smart animal, they aren’t scary You just want to be nice to them because they will know and they will remember, and they will pay you back if you treat them a certain way. As a side note, I volunteered at a rehab (Hope for Wildlife), where they were rehabbing a crow with a broken wing–who was named Russell Crow. He kept pulling his bandage off so a sleeve was cut off some old clothing and put on him like a little sweater.  !!!! I don’t think I’ll ever not reblog this. This posts makes me cry and smile at the same time. He’s so handsome!! I would trust a crow with my life
Save
42ismynumber: kksshootingstar: puto-el-que-lo–lea: midnght-sxn: sexaulity: picsthatmakeyougohmm: hmmm Damn I wanna see the next guy over what kind of wattpad shit There’s so much going on here. 1)A dude painting the other dude from across him as if he were his muse, 2)said dude has been keeping the same pose and expression for as long as it took dude A to draw him. 3) Guy next to him is drawing what looks like a portrait of Death, maybe indicating that Death itself is somewhere in the room but out of frame 4)They look like high school students yet both of them happen to be able to draw really good in MS Paint 5)even though they are using a MOUSELike, what are probabilities of all this happening at the same time in the same room? This pic might as well be cursed Also- why is the wall so fucked up? Where are they?? That’s just how public school is : 42ismynumber: kksshootingstar: puto-el-que-lo–lea: midnght-sxn: sexaulity: picsthatmakeyougohmm: hmmm Damn I wanna see the next guy over what kind of wattpad shit There’s so much going on here. 1)A dude painting the other dude from across him as if he were his muse, 2)said dude has been keeping the same pose and expression for as long as it took dude A to draw him. 3) Guy next to him is drawing what looks like a portrait of Death, maybe indicating that Death itself is somewhere in the room but out of frame 4)They look like high school students yet both of them happen to be able to draw really good in MS Paint 5)even though they are using a MOUSELike, what are probabilities of all this happening at the same time in the same room? This pic might as well be cursed Also- why is the wall so fucked up? Where are they?? That’s just how public school is
Save