Morse
LightNews LightNews
banner
exalted-morse.bsky.social
Morse
@exalted-morse.bsky.social
69 followers 120 following 120 posts
35/M/Oregon

Country elk in the big city. Bringing the queer uncle vibe to the family bbq.

Garage tinkerer, aerospace professional, book reader, amateur forester, motorcycle enthusiast, and bar philosopher. ΘΔ
Posts Replies Media Videos
Pinned
exalted-morse.bsky.social
Morse @exalted-morse.bsky.social · Aug 30
The most incredible journeys are with the most incredible people.

Six days on the Oregon BDR.
exalted-morse.bsky.social
Last re-share: I thought my (already minimal) engagement dropped off recently.

Looks like it might have been this reply to my friend about their hornet encounter. Sorry @tinyheehaw.bsky.social. 😅
November 6, 2025 at 10:30 PM
Reposted by Morse
astridoverthere.bsky.social
Wondering why no one likes your posts anymore, even among your friends? It's because @jay.bsky.team and team have decided to hide a huge amount of content from all of our feeds by default.

Here's how to turn it off.

First go to the hamburger menu in the upper left corner
Screenshot of the top of a Bsky feed, with a red circle around the hamburger menu in the top left.
November 6, 2025 at 6:23 PM
exalted-morse.bsky.social
Commenting on my boyfriend's tendency to show up online exactly as I start typing: Is it some sort of polycule psychic link? Bi-Fi?

No wait, we're each other's side piece...It's a broad-cast.
November 5, 2025 at 6:00 AM
Reposted by Morse
xxacidnekoxx.bsky.social
puppiest second date! 💕💝🐾
August 25, 2025 at 1:04 AM
exalted-morse.bsky.social
Midnight's project is some of the most important art I've seen this year. How many characters have I forgotten? How many evolved with me beyond recognition? The vivid colors hide a subtle pain that defies naïveté.

He offers a chance to go back. Not as blind nostalgia, but with a dogged optimism.
November 4, 2025 at 3:40 AM
exalted-morse.bsky.social
October 24, 2025 at 12:08 AM
exalted-morse.bsky.social
Was searching for a reaction gif of @techconnectify.bsky.social and was getting pages of generic graphics...

so I set the Color filter to Brown and that cleaned my result set right up.
Screenshot of image search results featuring multiple generic graphics favoring black and blue. Screenshot of image search results featuring multiple images of Alec.
October 24, 2025 at 12:07 AM
Reposted by Morse
shimi.bsky.social
Elder Wolf at the Table is a love letter to aging, faith, & creaturehood—to the slow holiness of growing softer without losing wildness.
It’s about what happens when we grow old but not tame; when we learn to share the table & stop guarding.
Part reflection, part #therian prayer: a guide to gentler.
Black-and-white illustration titled Elder Wolf at the Table: Growing Older & Softer & Staying Wild by Shimi & Critter. A cozy tabletop scene shows a teapot, mugs, bowls, and a plate of bone-shaped biscuits. Scattered among the cups are three pamphlets with hand-drawn covers: Quality of Life for Wolves & Working Dogs (featuring two wolves), Preparing an Elder for a Pack (showing wolves greeting each other), and Senior Wolf Care (with a wolf portrait). The image evokes warmth, care, and companionship in aging, blending domestic gentleness with wild themes. Black-and-white zine page featuring typewritten text over a wood-grain background, bordered by mock medical paperwork and labels. A small pencil drawing at the bottom shows three wolves sitting together affectionately, one nuzzling another. Text reads It begins with a kettle whistling and rain against the window. The air smells of mint tea and wet coats. I sit at the table, paws folded over paperwork that asks impossible questions: species, temperament, prognosis. Outside, a squirrel chatters at the fence. Inside, my reflection in the mug looks back - tired, yes, an elder, yes - and still wild. Aging has not made me less creature. It has made me gentler, slower to bite, quicker to rest. There is grace in that, I think - in softening without surrender, in learning to share the table instead of guarding the door. So pour a cup of tea for an old wolf. There's space beside me. We can talk about medicine, memory, and the art of staying wild while growing older, softer. Shimi & Critter Black-and-white zine page titled Elder Wolf at the Table. At the top is an illustration of a table with a steaming cup of tea, a plate of bones, and several pamphlets reading “Senior Wolf Care,” “Quality of Life for Wolves & Working Dogs,” and “Preparing an Elder for the Pack.” Below the image, the text reflects on aging, identity, and transformation—interweaving themes of wolfhood, gender, and creaturely belonging. The narrator speaks with tenderness about yearning to shed humanity, to live as their true inner wolf, and to hold that yearning as a sacred and private form of prayer. ELDER WOLF AT THE TABLE It’s raining outside again, and the kitchen smells of wet coats, peppermint tea, and the faint paper-dust of leaflets. Someone has spread them out across the table: Senior Dog Care, Quality of Life for Working Breeds, Preparing an Elder for a Pack. They’re glossy, cheerful, full of photos of happy grey-muzzled dogs. My human pack-mates know I’ve been thinking about these things. All my life I had been questioning myself: my sexuality, my gender and now my very species. I was always the one to bark back at the dog passing by as he barked at something or other, and I would howl at the moon and watch the coyotes rifling through our trashcans with unhidden longing. And then my best friend one day announced she too was joining the Therionyl programme, I knew it was only a matter of time before I would put my name down for the Human Sentience Divestment protocol. I ached, I yearned to slough off my humanity like an ill-fitting skin and finally, become one with the critter, the little wolf inside my head. My pack-mates know I come at them slantwise, halfway between myth and medicine, halfway between church and den. It isn’t morbid. To me it’s a kind of secret and closely guarded prayer. One of them picks up a leaflet and reads out loud, “Wolves live, on average, six to eight years. Captive wolves can reach sixteen.” They pause as they do the math in their head mouthing silently one human year to every seven canine years and suddenly they look at me and beam: “Well! You’re already an elder.” We all laugh. It’s a warm sound, clinking mugs and spoons. Someone says what everyone is thinking: “You’ll only be with us for a few more years if you complete this treatment.” “I’m not really afraid,” I tell them, dunking a dog-bone shaped homemade cookie into my tea. “I just think about how different the pacing is. If I have twenty more human years ahead as a woman, that’s a long wait to become what I want to be. But if I were fully wolf — eight, nine, maybe ten — that’s an elder’s life already. I’d join a pack as an elder. Nothing much changes. The apprenticeship’s already done.” Silence settles for a heartbeat, soft and not uncomfortable. Someone says softly, kindly, “You already are. You’re already the elder wolf at the table.” I reach for my mug. The rain taps the window. This, right here, feels like liturgy to me. I am the only religious one in the room, but over time my prayers have grown fur. I no longer picture heaven as a clean marble hall. I picture it as a warm, dry, muddy den. Not a throne but a breath on my neck. Not a hymn but a low throb of slow breathing packs through the soil. One asks, joking but not joking, “Will this…this Therionyl…will it get your hearing back?” and I shrug. Deaf wolves exist in the wild. I’ve been deaf for years; I would love to hear better. But that’s not the point. The leaflets don’t say, hearing restored. They say, quality of life is measured in moments of joy. Wolves don’t measure in years. They measure in seasons, in pups raised, in the smell of the den when everyone’s safe.
October 21, 2025 at 3:14 AM
Reposted by Morse
keeshwashere.bsky.social
can I borrow a couple of bucks? 🦌🦌

#furry #furryart
October 20, 2025 at 2:41 PM
Reposted by Morse
handlebars.bsky.social
BLFC will always be a cathartic experience

I have permanent love for all of you

“We didn't need a story, we didn't need a real world
We just had to keep walking
And we became the stories, we became the places
We were the lights, the deserts, the faraway worlds
We were you before you even existed”
October 17, 2025 at 8:35 PM
Reposted by Morse
punchystream.bsky.social
A particularly insidious but common pitfall of community moderation is an understandable but wrong insistence on running things via strict adherence to a set of guidelines. This never actually works in practice because you end up with a bunch of bad faith actors constantly testing boundaries.
October 5, 2025 at 2:57 PM
exalted-morse.bsky.social
Happy Locktober to those who celibate. 🔐
October 1, 2025 at 7:21 PM
exalted-morse.bsky.social
I'm ready to have so many bad opinions!

Thank you for this incredible work of art @labradorszn.bsky.social
September 18, 2025 at 10:09 PM
Reposted by Morse
lordpook.bsky.social
Eileen Townsend's review of Room Party is out now in Artillery Magazine! Eileen isn't a furry, but she is my bff, and she really, really GETS IT.

Featuring @attyboy.bsky.social @flausch.bsky.social @scribblechicken.bsky.social @zubrovich.bsky.social @julianahuxtable.bsky.social @elfboys.com & more!
FURRY ARTISTS WILL REMAKE THE WORLD - Artillery Magazine
artillerymag.com
September 14, 2025 at 2:05 AM
Reposted by Morse
jpasterjak.bsky.social
Sometimes, motorsports gets it.
SCCA Solo Nats competitor is protested on Day 1 in a ladies class for being trans. Protest committee rules aggrieved party should get fucked into the sun. Day 2 the rest of class shows support for the protested party on way to her first run. She would go on to win.
A protest form from the Sports Car Club of America national autocross championships, alleging that a trans woman is not eligible to compete in ladies classes for [reasons]. Ruling of protest committee is that the protest has no basis and protesting party is an asshole. Competitors (the not-asshole kind) in the SSC Ladies class at the SCCA Solo Nationals show support for their colleague who was protested for competing in a class she was not eligible for (spoiler alert: she totally was eligible).
September 7, 2025 at 12:04 AM
exalted-morse.bsky.social
The therian urge to ride a motorcycle through the woods at speed.
September 4, 2025 at 6:47 PM
exalted-morse.bsky.social
The most incredible journeys are with the most incredible people.

Six days on the Oregon BDR.
August 30, 2025 at 5:46 PM
exalted-morse.bsky.social
This hole in the ground inexplicably has 3 bars of service.
August 27, 2025 at 2:22 AM
Reposted by Morse
mintymori.bsky.social
connect with nature !
[ #digitalart #art ]
two deer heads are attached to a mass of wires and machinery, text reads connect with nature
December 19, 2024 at 5:23 PM
Reposted by Morse
compoundeyes.bsky.social
"Compartmentalization":

In forestry, we know that trees cannot 'heal'. Instead, they seal their wounds away under layers of themself.
A furry paintover by Caim of the cover of Witch Hat Atelier Chapter 85 by Shirahama Kamome. In both this image and the inspiration, a character holds up frames of themself displaying various somber expressions, each frame containing another character in the same pose holding another frame, seeming infinite. The expressions range from angry to resigned, with the original work being likened to the stages of grief. In the original work, the figures in each frame are all the same character: Qifrey. This rendition of the image instead uses the artist's fursonas to reflect alternate versions of the same person. In contrast to the original work, the colors of each section are also different in the furry version, with the backgrounds being deep green, blue, red, yellow/gold, and silver/white. The character in the largest frame is a deer: Ilan, the artist's most recent sona and his main sona currently. He's associated with trees, and his background is green. As the frames get smaller, the sonas featured in the smaller frames of the image are ones that the artist made longer ago in their life, with the two smallest frames being former/retired sonas. The wolf character pictured in the center frame is the artist's childhood fursona, which is also signified by the plush cow the character is holding, and calls back to the inspiration, where the smallest frame is the child version of Qifrey shown in earlier chapters.
March 30, 2025 at 12:45 AM
Reposted by Morse
shimi.bsky.social
Hey There Little One
hey there. little one. i’ve been trailing your scent through the wasteland for days. don’t run. i’m not here to hurt you. i’m here to tell you—you’re not wrong. all your life you’ve twitched at shadows, felt eyes where there were none, ached like something was missing just under your skin. they called it dreaming. they called it madness. but i’ve seen it. i’ve seen you. and you’re real. not some soft mistake. not a too-bright child who never learned to settle. you are claws. you are hunger. you are song written in wet leaves and dirt. you are what came before language. don’t you remember? when you used to listen with your whole body? when you could read the sky like scripture? when sleep came only after circling down, nose to tail, heart to moss? you used to know these things. before they taught you to be still. before they filed your teeth and stuffed your mouth with plastic. before the quiet got so loud you forgot how to feel. but i didn’t forget you. and you didn’t lose it. it’s all still inside— the instinct, the kin-sense, the aching need to run without name or reason. the snarl that isn’t anger but love with no words. you’ve tried to play nice. tried to keep your head down, your tail tucked. but i see you. i see what’s under the mask. the beast that paces. the soft creature still watching the trees for a signal. for a friend. for a way home. listen. this world isn’t safe. but it was never meant to be. we weren’t made for steel boxes and lonely kitchens. we were meant for packs. for muddy paws and rib-warmth and eyes that say i know you. i don’t promise ease. but i promise this: you are not alone. you were never alone. so rise. panting, blinking, wild with grief— but rise. and when the night presses in, don’t whisper. howl. howl into the void until something howls back. and then run to it. run to the ones who remember. run like your name depends on it. because it does. i’ve waited so long. we all have come back. come through. come home. — Shimi & Critter
July 8, 2025 at 12:24 AM
Reposted by Morse
writing.dog
It is interesting to see Bluesky commit to banning anglers, hunters, BASE jumpers, and fans of air shows even if this seems like a lot of unnecessary work for the mods.

Hm? That obviously isn’t what you mean?

What *do* you mean? Use your words, guys. And maybe a dictionary if y’all get confused.
August 16, 2025 at 3:21 PM
exalted-morse.bsky.social
"Kraft singles really are the pinnacle of human ingenuity."
- @tsarinvanya.bsky.social

Things overhead at brunch.
August 16, 2025 at 5:49 PM
exalted-morse.bsky.social
"I swear on the gods of my forefathers" sounds way more epic than "I give you my word as an atheist."
August 12, 2025 at 5:42 AM
Reposted by Morse
silveralethia.puppygirls.online
i stg every kink can be subtextually boiled down to:
-i am powerful/in control
-i am seen as desirable
-i am safe and can now be vulnerable
-i can explore taboo in a safe + controlled environment

once you realize that you realize that no kink can hurt you
December 26, 2023 at 4:32 PM