#squawk crow queue

[flakatita]

Bom dia

[cloudwuzheree]

TTC CONTENT SPOTTED ON MY FYP

Sorry, I felt too lazy to shade or render 😅

[obeymycok]

Poking Their Armpit

Not a day goes by in my house without someone being poked in their armpit while they stretch. I assume it’s relatively similar for most households especially for those who have siblings. This is how the obey me bros would react to you poking them when they’re having a nice stretch lol.

Lucifer

So you wish to die?

He thought he could trust you :(

You two were sitting in his room together, him finishing up some paperwork, you sitting in a chair next to him on your DDD.

I just know he has horrible posture when he works.

*Queue big stretch from the peacock* 

*Poke*

Wings shoot out at maximum speed and just barely miss your face as he whips his entire body towards you with a very angry and an even more surprised face.

The demon was too stunned to speak

“...Did...did you j-...no...there’s no way......you-..”

He quickly recovers and that annoyed look is back.

“Please, MC. I’m very busy right now.”

You better believe the next time you stretch and every time he catches you after that (if he isn’t in front of someone important) he will poke you and you never even see it coming most of the time.

Congrats, you’ve started a war you will not win.

Mammon

Oh poor Mams.

You both just had a successful night at the casino and Mammon was busy counting it all for the 36th time.

“Man you should’ve seen their faces MC!” “I did Mammon, I was right next to you.” “Yeah but like from MY point of view y’know!?”

Getting a little bored with the same rant and the apps on your device, you decided to have a little fun with him.

Now, Mammon is very dramatic with his movements when he’s excited and it sparks an idea.

Slowly sliding over, you wait for the perfect time to strike.

“That’s gotta be the biggest jackpot I’ve won in centuries! It was literally like tHI-AGHHH!?!!?”

Literal SQUAWK (did a crow just fly into the window?)

The wad of cash in his hand is now scattered across his room and he is on the floor in .02 seconds picking it all up.

“WHA-WHAT THE HELL MC??!!?! YOU MADE ME LOSE COUNT AND NOW IT”S ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND IT”S GETTING WRINKLED AN-”

But he just can’t resist that adorable laugh of yours. 🥺

He gets all pouty for awhile but forgives you immediately if you help him pick it up.

ABSOLUTELY does it to you every possible chance he gets and it’s a game now between the two of you

Leviathan

Why did you think this was a good idea, he can’t handle touch when he’s expecting it. (Levi kinnie moment 🤪)

You were watching him beat the final boss in a new game he’d recently bought.

You were excited to spend time with him and see him so happy but you wanted some attention yourself

But of course, you never interrupt Levi when he's gaming (and that's why he loves you🥺🧡)

Patiently waiting until he's done while hyping up your Lord of Shadows, you hatch a devious plan :)

He finally beats the final boss and jumps up to cheer, while simultaneously stretching his back out.

You strike like Henry 1.0 *poke*

Leviathan.exe has stopped working.

When I tell you this man LEAPS into the air.

Headphones on the floor, still miraculously plugged in, and your demon in his ceiling, horn first, tail wrapped around his torso.

“WAAAH!!! MC YOU”RE SUCH A NORMIE!!! But of course you would do that to such a yucky and gross otaku I mean who would eve...”

After much convincing that you don’t hate him, he finally comes down but he’s still a little salty. 

Just play a game with him and he’ll be good.

He might try and poke you back like once but if he succeeds he’ll feel bad and apologize for touching you.

Satan

So you have chosen death.

Seriously though make sure he isn't in a bad mood or about to lose his shit.

So let's say y'all were in his room reading silently.

You both had different books so there was no way reading aloud would be helpful, which is why you got kinda lonely.

Your book was at a slow point and it seemed like you just couldn't retain anything you were reading.

Usually Satan would notice and offer to read to you, but his book was just starting to reach it's climax.

Staring at his expressions as his eyes scan the words on the page, you realize you want those eyes on you.

Of course, like Leviathan and gaming, don't interrupt Satan when he's reading something interesting.

Eventually when the drama dies down he looks up and notices your stare, inviting you over to talk about what just happened in the story.

As you got up to sit by him, he stretched both his arms above his head and the mighty Avatar of Wrath looked like a kitty 🥺

Of course you couldn't pass up the opportunity to poke his armpit though after being so patient.

*poke*

Never have you seen someone flinch so hard and so fast

He just kinda stares at you for a few seconds before he bursts out laughing.

You’ve started an unwinnable war, but unlike Lucifer, he will do it at literally every possible chance no matter who is around or what you’re doing

Asmodeus

Just pray to God you didn’t mess his up his eyeliner.

You were sitting on Asmo’s bed while he sat at his vanity and did his makeup.

He let you pick how he should do it and insisted you stayed until he was done so you could see it as soon as possible and be the first one. 🥺

Problem is, Asmo spends on average a couple hours to put his makeup on and there’s only so many games on your DDD.

He’d had his arms up for awhile doing his left eye, which put the idea in your head.

You got up and watched closer, Asmo also loving the attention.

Unbeknownst to Asmo, you were waiting until he moved the eyeliner pen far enough away from his eye (you’re not stupid)

He pulled the pen away to turn and look at you, and you made your move. *poke*

The cutest high pitch scream🥺

“Oh MC! You’re so devious and sneaky! You’re lucky you didn’t ruin my makeup darling!”

Playfully upset and demands smooches as an apology, as well as compliments on the look.

He’ll get you back once in awhile; he thinks it’s cute and flirty.

Beelzebub

You guys were watching a movie in the common room and snacking on some stuff from the human world.

Getting a little full yourself, you glanced at Beel whose speed still hadn’t faltered in the slightest.

It really is an amazing sight to witness.

His arms were constantly being held parallel as they served as shovels for all his chips and candy.

And that’s when the idea struck you.

*poke*

He did a little jump and choked a little.

Luckily there was still plenty of water nearby.

He just kinda stared at you like a confused puppy and you started to feel bad :(

“If you wanted some gummy worms, you could’ve just asked MC. I’m always willing to share food with you.” 🥺😭

Happy Beel noises when you accept a few, despite getting full.

He now pokes you anywhere convenient when he’s hungry. 

Belphegor

Angry cow

You were napping in the attic with him since Beel was using the room for a workout and the other brothers were being loud with their usual shenanigans.

As usual, you woke up much earlier than him and you’d already done all your dailies, as well as scrolled through your feed for awhile.

In your eyes, it was time for him to A W A K E N

“But how?”

How to wake up the Avatar of Sloth without him being violently enraged, now that was a toughie.

After overthinking it for awhile, you noticed how his arms were stretched up over his head.

“That’ll do” was the last thing that went through your head before *poke*

His arms flew down, but his eyes remained closed.

You thought it was just a bodily reaction until the scowl crept onto his face.

“MC...fucking why?” he growled as his eyes slowly opened to a squint.

He may look upset but if you tell him you just wanted to cuddle/want some cutesy attention, he’ll melt in a second.

He’ll still be a brat and tease you, but he isn’t the youngest for nothing.

He’ll get his revenge immediately and do it when he wants your attention from then on.

The only way to stop the torment is to cuddle him like the pillow princess he is <3 🥺

[spiltscribbles]

ADFFASFDSFG DO THE SWITCHED LUGGAGE WITH WOLFSTAR

Notes: LEGITLY I DO NOT KNOW!!!! STOP GIVING ME THAT LOOK DAMN IT RJ!!!! Big BIG love goes to @kattlupin and @justtoarguewithyou for the Beta help<3 Please don’t hate me RJ!

.-

~Hour 0   

Remus focuses on the chill that’s beginning to frost the window of the quaint, Edinburgh coffee shop that’s tucked into a dark corner of the large block of the tube station, appreciating the glittering blankets of snow coating the ground and the melodic holiday tunes playing from above. The scent of cinnamon wafts through the air and his phone’s pressed between his ear and shoulder while one hand toys with the tassel hanging off the reindeer trinket lining the counter, and the other’s clasping onto his luggage.

“I can’t wait to show you! My mum’s bought Harry the cutest little Saint Nick babygrow, and Mrs. Potter’s sent me her recipe for the samosas James especially likes. And—”  

Remus laughs through his nose, pressing the phone closer before accepting the hot chocolate handed over to him by the barista who winks his way before going back to start up the next round of drinks.

“Lils, I’ve bought the ticket, and I’m about to board. No need to continue on trying to convince me. I’ll be in London for Christmas.”  

“Oh, Remus, I can’t wait!” Lily crows delightedly, and Remus can just pick up on the sound of a bowl clacking to the ground, inwardly praying that she doesn’t burn down her entire cottage before Remus’s even gotten the chance to see it. “I’ve missed you, it’s positively ridiculous how long we haven’t been able to visit! Criminal, really!”  

Remus drags his bottom lip between his teeth, flushing slightly at the dig considering that the absence from his closest friend from childhood  was almost entirely his doing. “Well you know, with Fabian’s research and all, we were constantly out of the country, over to the States one week, and then Asia the next.”  

This time, it’s effortless catching on the sound of harsh stirring accompanied by Lily’s unimpressed cluck at the sound of Remus’s ex’s name. “Well good riddance. He was never good enough for you Remus, a total self righteous prat.”  

“Is that right?” Remus smiles wryly, taking a sip of his coco before wrapping his scarf around his neck once more to brace for the cold. “I thought he was mighty fancy-able considering the degree and being fit and all.”  

“Dry as Petunia’s skin in the winter,” Lily sniffs airily, and Remus studiously does not mention the mountain of moisturizers that Lily stored away in an unused closet in the old flat they shared during six form when she thought Remus wasn’t looking. “Now I get to have my fun and set you up with a proper bloke, especially since you’ll be moving back to London after the semester officially closes. Ooo! We can start a double date night! There’s this cooking class they’re holding down the street for couples but I didn’t wanna join because James would only get all obnoxiously cocky when he ultimately does remarkably and I end up burning water.”

Remus laughs, remembering the occasion she’s referring to, which had led them to pressing together their measly savings to buy an electric kettle like good and proper adults, rescuing their pots from getting burnt to a crisp thanks to Lily’s forgetfulness. “Least if you come along with whichever bloke, I’ll know I definitely won’t be the worst one there.”  

Remus twists up his mouth, displeased. “Unwarranted slander.”  

“Your french toast chipped my pug’s tooth before he spat it out.”  

“Maybe Snuffles just has a bad gag reflex.”  

“His gag reflex is perfectly adequate,” she sniffs.  

“Well I’ve never spat out my own food.”

“Hmm, I bet you get all the boys in the yard whenever you talk about how skillfully you’ve trained your gagging.”  

“Stuff it, Evans.”  

“Potter now actually, Ta so much.”  

“Gone off and married yourself a posh Londoner and now you’re sounding like you’re meant to be on an episode of Downton Abbey, is that right?”  

“Innit brilliant?”  

“Bloody exhausting is more what I was thinking, love.”  

Lily’s answering laugh is light and tinkling and it’s the happiest Remus’s ever heard her all year, and it’s like a punch to the gut when he all at once realizes just how drastically he’s missed her.

“Don’t pout Re, I’ll still be able to tolerate your lowly,  Welsh vowels.”  

“Sod off.”  

“Mean.”

“You started it.”  

“Oof.”  

“Did you break the eggs the wrong way again?” Remus asks, single brow cocked as he finally retreats into the actual underground and ambles to the queue waiting to scan their tickets.   

“You can’t break eggs the wrong way Remus Lupin!” Remus stays silent. “Don’t give me that look!”  

“What look?” Remus asks owlishly.  

“Don’t think I can’t picture it right now, with the slanted mouth and your left eyebrow raised with pure condescension.”  

“I don’t like this picture of my character that you’re painting, Evans.”  

“I don’t like your insinuations of my egg cracking skills, Lupin.”  

“But I’m right, aren’t I? You did break it?”  

“Well yes, that’s the general idea of cracking an egg.”  

Remus scoffs. “The wrong way I mean.”  

The silence coming from Lily is positively fuming and Remus thinks that if they were in some sorta old-timey Disney cartoon she’d be steaming smoke from her ears right about now. “’S just a singular shell, it’ll melt right in the pan once I pop it into the oven.”  

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you’re trying to poison us. And right when I became single and ready to pull again.”  

“Oh speaking of pulling,” Lily squawks, and Remus absolutely despises that tone of voice—flashes of young, drunken escapades bubbling to the forefront of his mind, twinging when he thinks of the flower he’s got tattooed onto his arse to match the crescent moon on Lily’s own.

“No. Absolutely not.”  

“Oi, you haven’t even let me explain myself, you berk! I just wanna help.”  

“You’re an evil, evil Femme Fatale, and you shouldn’t even have this much power over me considering how rudding gay I am.” He screams that last part perhaps a bit too loudly, garnering amused glances from most of his fellow patrons, and a couple curious ones. Including a pair of disarmingly lovely gray eyes. And holy christ above does he hate Lily right now.  

“But Remus,” she says in a distinct sulk through the line. “It’s just that James’s brother also recently just got out a relationship with this bird from work, and it wasn’t nearly as long as you and Fabian, but I thought you two would just be so cute together. He totally fits that crush you had on Stubby Boardman all through A levels, and I just thought it’d help you so much with getting over that ginger-haired bastard.“  

“You are the only ginger-haired bastard in my life,” he tells her glumly, wincing when the ticket holder smirks at him as she scans him through, mouthing a ‘Good Luck’ with a smirk. 

Damn Remus’s very existence.  

Keep Reading

[sussex-nature-lover]

Saturday 20th March 2021

Anniversary Week

As we started to hear about the global pandemic and to worry about how it was going to affect our daily lives, I had the idea to write a blog. Write about what you know I always hear and so my theme was what’s right on my doorstep. The very first entry I wrote, pre-Tumblr was on 20th March 2020 on Google sheets, but I soon decided I need to move to a different platform and so my first Tumblr Blog came about on 27th March 2020, which was a Friday.

Where has the time gone? We’ve missed all the birthdays, big anniversary, Mother’s Day (twice) and Father’s Day, Christmas with family and so on, so the big benefit of a nature blog is that rather than marking time by your own life events, the seasons are going to roll around come what may and that Spring is the period of hope and regeneration. We’re into Spring proper now as today’s the Vernal Equinox.

photo credit: Ms NW tE

Ms NW tE is definitely catching the gardening and nature bug and spent yesterday painting some pots. I’ve got my eye on that one in the middle, you can tell it’s my style as per these hiding behind Pedro.

My Mother’s Day Muscari are all flowering now

Finally, this morning I got up to some colour on my green sticks. Hoorah! Crow got up to a patient queue awaiting his breakfast café - all the girls (female Pheasants) were lined up in the shrubbery, anticipating a feast. They may have been having a long wait because I was awake at ten past four today, when Robin was singing. There wasn’t even the slightest sign of light either and I nodded off again.

photo credit: Ms NW tE

I also got this Parakeet picture sent from SE London, what a fantastic pose it is too.

The rose-ringed parakeet is sexually dimorphic. The adult male sports a red and black neck ring, and the hen and immature birds of both sexes either show no neck rings, or display shadow-like pale to dark grey neck rings. Both sexes have a distinctive green colour in the wild, and captive bred ringnecks have multiple colour mutations including blue, violet and yellow. Rose-ringed parakeets measure on average 40 cm (16 in) in length, including the tail feathers, a large portion of their total length. Their average single-wing length is about 15 to 17.5 cm (5.9 to 6.9 in). In the wild, this is a noisy species with an unmistakable squawking call.

Wikipedia

When you talk about noisy gardens and nuisance calls though, I think the Parakeet might be preferable to the Rooks’ and I can tell you they’re revving up big time now.

Rook (Dunnock behind)

GARDEN NOTES:

Yesterday I watched three Rabbits chasing each other around the bottom of the garden.  Last night I heard an Owl for the first time in a while and a few times today the Sparrow Hawk flew in and landed low in the shrubbery. One time the door was open and we both roared at the same time and off it went, but it’s been back since.

AROUND THE WORLD:

Volcano erupts in Iceland after tens of thousands of earthquakes and in Japan

An earthquake struck northern Japan generating a tsunami of one metre on Saturday.

The quake hit the coast of Miyagi Prefecture at 6.26pm (0926 GMT) and had a magnitude of 7.2 at a depth of 60km, the Japan Meteorological Agency said.

Tremors started just before 6:10 p.m and could be felt in Tokyo, about 400 km south of the epicentre.

The United States Geological Survey said the quake was centred 27 kilometres east of Ishinomaki at a depth of 60 kilometres, which is off the coast of the Miyagi prefecture - an area that was heavily damaged during the huge earthquake and tsunami of 2011.

The Standard

WHAT DID I LEARN TODAY?

I can’t quite believe this TV series with the gardener Monty Don, passed me by. It’s two years old and has 10 episodes visiting famous gardens all around the world - perfect for lockdown viewing.

Link at the BBC here.

Episode 9, which I haven’t seen yet, features Sissinghurst (National Trust) near to us.

Winter view from the top of the Tower at Sissinghurst. The famous White Garden is located between the two buildings, with the Orchard on our right

Spring at Sissinghurst

and if you can’t get the BBC i-player then episodes are on Daily Motion.

[fallenfurther]

Eagle!Scott

 When @soniabigcheese mentioned Eagle!Scott I wondered what kind of situations it would be useful in, and this is the one that popped into my head. Sorry it’s taken a long time to get round to writing it I’ve had so many other posts wanting to be written first. Enjoy!

****

The local fair was big, nowhere near state fair big, but people came from all around to visit it. Scott and his brothers had no end of choice in food. Sure, they'd had their fair share of sweet treats, but even Gordon and Alan had eaten plenty of the novelty savoury foods that were on offer. Then there were the fairground rides. They'd been on so many he was surprised someone hadn't been sick! John didn't go on all the rides, but Scott knew he was enjoying himself, despite the crowd.

Alan and Gordon ran head again and Scott sighed. Dad had left him in charge, though there was a security detail following them, because they were Tracy's after all, but the responsibility of not losing his siblings weighed down on Scott's shoulders. Thankfully, Virgil and John were dependable and together they had managed keep the youngest two in sight.

So far, they'd done a few rollercoasters and Virgil had managed to win a stuffed dolphin on a game, which he'd gifted to Gordon, but ended up carrying himself. They had wandered through some of the craft and small business stalls, which had bored the youngest, but Virgil had enjoyed chatting to some of the artists about their work. Scott had taken business cards of some local companies that he thought matched Tracy Industries ethos and might want to be involved with or support. The next ride on the list was the waltzers, which John was adamant on missing out on.

"Consider it space training!" Scott joked, knowing too well that John would be sick if he sat with Alan or Gordon. "You can sit with me and we spin as little or much as you want.”

A clear sharp 'No' from John and that was the end of it. Scott had tried. Instead he handed John his rucksack and Virgil handed him the dolphin and they joined the queue. When they clambered onto the ride, Scott made sure to wave a John. Virgil and Gorgon shared a cart while Scott had Alan with him. Gordon and Alan had a spinning contest and cheered and cheered as they made the carts go faster and faster in circles. Even with the minimal experience he'd had in a stunt plane, Scott's stomach churned, and he struggled to walk in a straight line afterwards. Alan and Gordon argued about who had spun faster until Scott threw up, forcing Gordon to admit defeat to Alan as Virgil seemed unscathed by the ride. Virgil rubbed his back as he crouched in a corner, handing a bottle of water to him so he could swill out his mouth. Scott gingerly stood up.

"I think that second corndog was a bad idea." Scott said as he turned to spy the other three, hanging around a picnic table. Scott and Virgil headed over as John sat down, dolphin still held awkwardly in his arms.

"I need to head the bathroom, then we can head down the next row of crafts stalls." Virgil announced and a small groan came from Alan. Scott plonked himself down opposite John, head in his hands as he waited for his stomach to settle. He sat there, taking deep breaths, as they waited for Virgil to return. His stomach slowly started to calm down.

"Who's got eyes on the Terrible Two?" Virgil asked on his return and looking between John and Scott. Scott looked up at Virgil. Scott gawked as he realised that he hadn't had his eyes in the youngest Tracys for the entire time he'd been sitting down. A frantic look around confirmed that they had lost sight of them. They started calling out, staying close to each other and in the area around the picnic tables. After a scout of the nearby area, the boys regrouped at the last place they'd seen their siblings and sat around the bench. Fear and dread filled Scott, but he tried to stay calm, his still unsettled stomach churning slightly. He slipped his phone from his pocket and called the security detail supervisor.

"Hey, you guys have eyes in Alan and Gordon, right?" Scott tried to keep the worry out of his voice.

"Negative." The steady even tone of the supervisor did nothing to make Scott feel calm. How could they have let them slip!? They were kids. It was there job to keep them safe!

"Stay with your other brothers and stay where you are. I have eyes on you three and I have men looking for the youngest two."

Anger and frustration filled Scott. He was disappointed in himself for losing his brothers but was even more annoyed that the people paid to protect them had too. He continued to scan the crowd just in case. They sat nervously, and after ten minutes of waiting Scott called the supervisor for an update. They were still lost. After another ten minutes and another negative from the controller, Scott was getting angsty. He looked at his brothers, both of which were starting to look worried. It was getting to the point that Dad might have to be called. They waited another ten minutes and still no sighting of Gordon and Alan. Damn it! Scott thought.

"There's one more thing we should try before we call Dad, but we need to ditch our eyes."

Virgil and John looked at each other, their shocked expressions a mirror of the other.

"You can't be serious, Scott!" John exclaimed, "You can't do that here, there's too many people."

"I know the risks, but with a bird's eye view and I might be able to find them. I can easily scout the whole fair from the sky, and once I've spotted them, I'll lead you two to them, then we just need to find a safe place for me to transform."

His brothers looked at each other and sighed. They really didn't want to get dad involved, but the security detail wasn't anywhere near finding Alan and Gordon. They all felt the fear that they may have been kidnapped.

"Fine. I'll come with you and grab your clothes. Once you've found them land on that telephone pole and we'll follow you." Virgil sighed and stood. Scott headed to the men's, though instead of going in them he snuck behind the structure. They moved far enough down to be well hidden from the public. Scott pulled off his shirt and slipped out his shoes and jeans. He shivered slightly and hesitated before he pulled down his boxers, baring all to his brother. He sighed, focused and felt his body morph. His arms became great wings and it always felt strange when he sprouted his tail feathers. Virgil bent down, held out his arm and allowed Scott to step up. There wasn't enough room for him to take off from the ground.

"Carefully with those claws, Scott. I'm fed up of having to explain away the scratches. I might have to take John into class to prove we have a cat!"

Scott squawked at his brother. He really couldn't help squeezing hard, it always took a moment to get used to being a bird. Virgil stepped up the back steps of one of the food trailers which was parked by the toilets. They were still hidden from crowd and Virgil raised his arm up toward the roof. Scott hopped off and onto the roof with a wobble.

"You really aren't that graceful, are you?" A voice came from below. Scott was tempted to give Virgil a bit of 'luck', but his brother knew better and was now standing out of reach.

Scott looked up at the sky and spread his large brown wings. The wind ruffled his feathers and the urge to fly filled him. A few steps and wing beats and he was in the air. He took a moment to enjoy the sensation as he reached the right height. Once there he looked over the fair, he could already see people pointing and he had a feeling he'd be in the local papers, but it had to be done. He made a mental map of the fair and started a systematic search. He used the wind when he could, so he could glide over the fair. He followed the paths below, using his excellent bird vision to search the crowds for his brothers. It didn't take long until he spotted them, queuing for a rollercoaster that they had already been on, candyfloss and waffles in their hands. Relief and annoyance filled Scott as he curved back towards John and Virgil and perched on the indicated telephone pole. His brothers spotted him and stood up. Scott flew as slowly as he could, circling back around occasionally, until he landed on the ticket hut for the rollercoaster Alan and Gordon were about to get on. Virgil gave him the okay, and John headed to the ride's exit to wait for them.

Scott looked around. He was very aware that people were looking at him. He stood out. Changing back was going to harder than he anticipated. Virgil seemed to notice his hesitation and waited. Scott looked around again. They were close to an exit, and if he could, he would have sighed. It would be safest to transform away from the fair. With that he took off and flew to perch on a telephone pole just outside the fair. When Virgil had wondered within metres of the pole he flew off and headed to the back of the grass field, where a corn field started. Virgil knew better than follow his brother 'as the crow flies' so headed down the path towards the field. Scott had flown low over the field so no-one would see him drop down. He transformed on the floor and made his way towards the corner Virgil would approach from, carefully crouching to stay hidden.

"Scott? You in there?" Virgil called.

"I'm here!" Scott called back and waited, moving the corn near him so Virgil had something to look for. Virgil came up to him with a smirk on his face. Yes, this was rather undignified, but his brothers had been found and that was all that mattered to Scott. Scott quickly dressed and headed back to the fair with Virgil. They met up with John and a rather sheepish looking Alan and Gordon, at the exit of the rollercoaster. Scott gave the security a call, who confirmed that they now had eyes on all of them, though he wasn't happy about Scott giving him the slip. Scott pointed out it wouldn't have happened if they'd done their job right.

"Right you two." Scott gave his youngest brothers a glare. "Dad will hear about this. You know that we had to stay together, and you deliberately ran off."

Gordon opened his mouth to say something, but Scott gave him a look and he kept quiet.

"I should take us all home, but I don't want to go as much as you do. So, we'll stay, but only if you stay in sight. Any funny business and we go. Got it?"

A nod from Alan and Gordon and Scott was satisfied enough. They knew he meant it from previous excursions.

"Right, I believe there are some dodgems over that way. Something we can all do together." Scott said, pointing in the correct direction. With smiles all round they headed that way. Virgil stole Gordon's candyfloss bag and nabbed some before throwing it to Scott. Scott grabbed some out of it before holding high above his head, out of Gordon's reach.

"Hey! Give it back! Get your own!" Gordon jumped up trying to reach the bag but falling short.

Scott chuckled. "I think you've had enough sugar already. You need to save room for dinner, I believe Grandma's cooking."

The grimace on Gordon's face was priceless. Alan's wasn't much happier, and Scott definitely wasn't going to tell them that he was in charge of dinner that night. Quick and simple was on the books, if anyone was still hungry.

"After I've smashed you in the dodgems, we had better eat as much as we can." Alan said to his partner in crime.

"Hey, I'm going to be the one bumping into you!" Gordon stated, giving Alan a gentle push.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Scott chuckled, "After the stunt you two pulled, you'd both better be looking out. I've got my eyes set on both of you!"

[drowsy-quill]

Okay I know its Sunday but like I was in a bad mental health day yesterday and forgot to queue it up on Friday so here is your belated Saturday Snippet! This is the full second part because I had no idea where to cut it off so here’s the full thing! It’s called ‘The Crow Prince’

Total Words Written: 6,626

Words Remaining: 5,374

The Crow Prince

As days bled into weeks, and weeks bled into months and months turned to years, Gwenivere poured herself  into her studies. She read through nearly every text in the Scroll room, and devoured any information she could find about the gods of old. She was now at the cusp of girlhood and womanhood, teetering on the edge of maturity. She knew that the temple she had visited years before was most likely that of the Wild Mother, one of the oldest gods of her world, the patron of mothers and motherhood, of animals, of nature and life itself.The thought of having a deity like that watching over her, caring about her, gave Gwenivere a sense of joyful contentment. Gwenivere also waited in anticipation for that next fate-tug to pull at her core and lead her to the next temple. 

Her mother never noticed she had stopped going to school, her violent outbursts replaced by vacant indifference, of cold unfeeling and unseeing stares. Gwenivere did her best to not come home when her mother was awake. The Bookkeeper, Tanin, as they had finally told Gwenivere, became more of a parent than either of her’s ever were, tending to her with a fondness Gwenivere had never known. Gwenivere oft found herself eating her evening meals with Tanin and their husband, Alwyn, who loved talking about his research and the translation of ancient texts. He called Gwenivere his prodigy as he taught her the legends of peoples long lost, the legends of the gods. 

It was at one of these lessons, sprawled out in the ancient texts, books strewn about, that Gwenivere felt the tug once more. It was so strong, so insistent that she nearly doubled over in pain. At her silent cry the Alwyn came to her side, telling her that they could end the lessons early if she needed. She nodded furiously, nearly forgetting the bag of texts Alwyn had given her to take home. And so she rushed through the cobblestone streets to her home, flying up the stairs into her bedroom and pulled out her hidden bag of supplies, wrapping the ashen cloak from the Wild Mother securely around her. 

She was pulled northward, outside of the bounds of the city and towards the sharp and cold mountain peaks that rose in the distance. It was to be a three days journey, and she felt a new presence with her, twineing with the matronly presence of the Wild Mother. This one felt, familiar- more so than anything else. It felt like home, not of her own home, nor that of that of Tanin and Alwyn. It was the feeling of a home she once knew, one she had before any other. And one she would have long after everything had past.

This new presence wrapped around her like a warm cloak, safe and secure. She knew she should feel cautious in the wilds between the mountains and her copper city of Machina. The valley was a swampland, with the bones of ancient cypress trees standing stark against the rich earthy browns and greens. She, although unable to physically speak one, sent a quick prayer to the Wild Mother for safe passage, and another to whichever deity she was being drawn towards.  She could feel the warm embrace of the Wild Mother as she finished her prayers, and could feel her steps lightening and the ground becoming near solid under her feet. She smiled and nodded her thanks and continued on.

It wasn’t until the sun had dipped far below the mountain peaks on the first day, and Gwenivere could no longer deny the weariness in her bones. She bedded down right where the mountain began to overtake the swamp, taking care to set camp inside of a cave-like alcove in the stone. That night Gwenivere was blessed with a dreamless slumber, waking to the distant caw of crows in the warm light of dawn. 

She ate rather quickly, feeling the warmth of the Wild Mother’s blessing wrap around her once more, along with the gentle presence of the unknown deity like a hand holding hers. She broke camp, making sure to wrap her hands and slippers with spare strips of cloth she kept in her pack and began to climb. She was by all means not a natural athlete, all skinny angles and willowy limbs, but the Wild Mother and the quiet soothing hand lent her strength and a cool breeze as she continued. 

There was a path, she realized, but it seemed long since buried from years of rockslides and no one to tend to it. She made note as she rested on one of the larger stones for a midday meal to attempt to clear at least a little of the debris from it, enough for a narrow path for herself to traverse.

And she began to climb once more, this time clambering over the boulder and stone-laden path instead of attempting to scale the side once more.  She found the temple before sunset, two cyprus trees filled with fluttering and cawing crows and ravens flanked the columned opening. With a smile, she realized to whom this temple was dedicated to… The Crow Prince, she mouthed, and immediately that gentle warm presence had a name, and it was stronger. It was… familiar. It had a name, one that she spoke in her raspy, broken voice without a second thought- Illdan. She had read of the gods’ true names, how few knew them, how it was a sign of absolute trust. She did not know why she knew it, but she did. 

Gwenivere was a quiet child, even before the attack on her home left her near totally silent, so the casual slip of that single name startled her. But she felt a warm, rumbling voice in the back of her head whispering that ‘It is alright, your voice may be heard in these walls.” It wrapped around her, that presence of Illdan, of the Crow Prince, making her voice stronger and easing the fear and torment in her mind- putting her more at peace than the Wild Mother had in her temple so many years ago.

She made quick work of lighting the hearth, and soon she was scrubbing away at the centuries of muck and what one really should expect from the murder of crows that made their home there. Unlike the first time, the temple did not restore itself under the warm glow of the lit hearth. She sighed, knowing that she would have to work for several more days, and was thankful that she over packed with food for the journey. 

She managed to clear out one of the alcoves and got to work with scrubbing the central dais where the hearth sat. By the warm light of the hearth, she made her camp, feeling secure enough to fall into a deep, deep sleep. She was, however, rudely awoken in the dim dawn light by a crow cawing right in her ear. She stuck her tongue out at the crow and ate a small breakfast of dried fruit and a hearty loaf of bread, making sure to break off some for the crow. She laughed her squawking laugh as it hopped right into her lap and scarfed the piece down, and looked up at her with almost expectant eyes.

Gwenivere took one last chunk for herself and broke the rest up for her new friend, carefully picking him up from her lap and setting him on the ground. As she stood, she found a shimmering red hair ribbon fluttering to the ground. She smiled and bent to pick it up, braiding it through her long mousy hair. As she continued her cleaning, the crow decided that he would perch on her shoulder throughout her day. 

As she worked, she found herself humming- what the melody was she did not know, but it seemed to bring more life into the temple. She also found herself talking to the crow, reveling in the catharsis of being able to speak and laugh without any barrier from her inner self. 

She was there for only a few days, but those were days that she would cherish for the rest of her rich life. They were full of long-forgotten lullabies sung by her father, laughter mixing with the cawing of crows, the utter peace and protection of The Crow Prince's temple. It was like for the first time, Gwenivere had truly found herself. Not that partial self she was with Tanin and Alwen, and most certainly not that shell of a girl she is around her mother. She was Gwenivere, the girl with the voice of a crow and embers at her fingertips, the girl whose feet retread and forged ancient paths, the girl who was blessed by Fate herself. And it was good- but it could not last forever. As the temple shined in the dawning light, Gwenivere sighed to herself and packed up the little nest of sorts she had formed within the comfort of its walls. 

The crow that had been her steadfast companion had one last gift to bestow upon her- it was a head wreath composed of lavender and sage, and it invoked the same serenity and contentment as the temple itself invoked within her, along with a single feather plucked from its wing-with witch she most happily tucked behind her ear, securing it with the head wreath. She smiled and placed a kiss upon the crown of the crow's head and wrapped her cloak around herself before taking one last look, one last utterance of gratitude before turning and leaving down the same path from which she came from. Although, instead of the perilous boulder and debris laden path, it was clear and lined with lavender and sage. He was compassionate enough to do this himself, she supposed with a barely contained smile.  

The journey back home was much smoother than the journey to, it felt almost as if she was flying. She was grateful for that, at least. It gave her more room in her mind to prepare herself for whatever her mother's reaction would be. Gwenivere did not know what would hurt more, the lightning hot rage of her childhood, or the current apathy of her mother. She just hoped Tanin and Alwen were not going to be cross with her, but the joint comfort of The Wild Mother and Illdan wrapped around her, soothing her worries.

When she returned back to the city, she stopped first at the library, where Tanin greeted her with a tight hug and a kiss to the crown of her head. Alwen ruffled her hair and playfully scolded her for skipping out on a week of lessons. When they asked if she would be returning to their home for dinner she nodded with a bright smile before walking to the edge of the city where her own home sat. Her happy mood deflated, and she rubbed the crow either for comfort before stowing it in her bag, along with the head wreath. 

She took a steeling breath before turning the knob, the door creaking its welcome as she stepped inside. Her mother was sitting on her rocking chair, barely even moving. She did not acknowledge her daughter's return in any way, her hands manipulating the knitting needles of bone that her father had gifted to her without thought. Her eternally long blanket stretching across the room. Gwenivere tiptoed to her yarn basket, making sure that her mother was not running low on skeins. 

She walked to the upper floor, where her own chambers were. She lit the small fireplace to warm up her bath water and unpacked her bag. She held the head wreath close to her heart and inhaled its calming scent. She stripped off her dusty and honestly filthy travel clothes and slipped into her warm bath. She took care in methodically scrubbing her skin clean, along with cleansing her hair before re-braiding it behind her back. She stepped out and dried herself, tossing the bathwater out her window and into the garden below. 

She dressed quickly, and before she left she paused for a moment and braided the crow feather into her hair before making her way to Tanin's house. It was a cozy abode, overstuffed with scrolls and manuscripts and tomes, and it always smelled like paper and ink. Dinner was lovely, and Gwenivere found herself smiling even more so than she ever did in their presence before her journey to the temple. Her fingers running soothingly over the feather. 

After, Alwen took her to his study and gifted her a tome, telling her to read as much as she could that night so they could discuss it in the morning. It was a children's book of sorts, written in both the common language and in a language that Gwenivere did not recognize, but it sang to her very core. The story itself was not that interesting, it was a story of how the world was created- a tale she was already quite familiar with, but as she quietly attempted to sound out the second language by candlelight it felt correct in a way she had not realized. 

When she left for her lessons the next morning, tome in hand, along with the other books she had been loaned she made sure the leftover food she had brought back from Tanin's home had been eaten. And she nodded contently as she notitced the cloth with crumbs strewn over it and her mother still slumbering in her chair.

As she walked the familiar cobblestone streets to the Library, she noticed a small crow hopping along the rooftops parallel with her. She smiled at it and held her hand open for it to perch there as she walked. It obliged her and clumsily flew down to her. She scratched the top of the fledglings head and continued on- oblivious to the stares and shocked whispers of the occasional passersby. 

Machina, at its core, was a superstitious city, still rooted in old maid's tales. One of which was that of the crows, one who was marked as having the crow's favor would bring death and bad luck to anyone they came in contact with. And it was even more worrying that poor dead Vince's silent and odd daughter was the one chosen.

Gwenivere did not know this, nor did she really care. She had decided that the fletching's name would be Deirdre and had become fast friends with the bird. She left it at the entrance to the Library with the promise of returning with some food after her lessons. 

 She gave Tanin a hug as she passed their desk and made her way to the ancient texts room to meet Alwen, who was already elbows deep in tomes. She smiled at him and gladly handed over the books. They started the lesson quickly, going over the structure of that ancient language, one, Alwen said, is spoken by the gods themselves. It was a language so old that it did not have a name. He was pleased that she seemed to have a natural talent for it, unlike the other languages he had tried to teach her. He was also doubly pleased that it seemed that the inhibited speech she had in the common language did not seem to transfer over to the Language of Ancients. 

Gwenivere reveled in the taste of this new language, it felt as if she was made to speak in this tongue.  The day flew by faster than anything else, Tanin had to pry both their husband and Gwenivere from the room to eat their midday meal, but Gwenivere's body thanked them for that. She left with a stack of tomes that nearly did not fit in her arms, and, with the aide of this new language, she asked Tanin for an extra bit of bread for her new crow friend. Deirdre accompanied her home, scarfing down the bread as she perched at the top of the book stack. 

And that was the routine for the next few weeks, and as the whispers became more and more apparent, not even Gwenivere could deny their existence. Even those who had never spoken to them beforehand spoke about their concerns to Alwen and Tanin, although the couple was quick to tell them off. Gwenivere had already made up her mind a month and a quarter after her return from the Crow Prince's temple. She was to leave Machina soon, she had already packed everything up and just needed to say her goodbyes. 

It was at dinner when she told Tanin and Alwen, they understood her, and her reasons, and wished her a tearful farewell. Tanin slipped her a small pouch of gold to aide her. She left the next morning following a pull towards the east, leaving a token of the Ancient Scholar outside of the door to the Library.

Deirdre, now nearly full grown, perched on her shoulder as Gwenivere made her way towards the rising sun, and a new chapter of her journey. 

Thanks for reading and I’ll see you next week! Happy trails xo Nikki

[sunken-standard]

more ficlets! good heavens thank you! Can I ask for #47 then? And thank you again..I live for these ok

Would it kill you to help people?

(This one is in the same universe as chapters 21 and 31 of Ficlet Cemetery.)

*

“An anniversary party.”

“Yes.”

“Why do they keep inviting you tothese things?”

“I really don’t know.”

*

“Oh, isn’t this where Sybil's—”

“Millie.”

“—reception was?”

“How can you not remember that? It was two months ago.”

“I was pre-gaming in the limo onthe way from the church.”

*

“Oh my God, that’s Sachertorte. Authentic Sachertorte,” Molly said, watching as thecatering staff laid out the desserts on the table.

“Oh, chocolate cake, how novel,”Sherlock said dryly into his wineglass, earning him an eyeroll fromboth Molly and his brother.

“Mm, yes, Aunt Wilhelmina andUncle Eustace honeymooned in Vienna.  All the desserts are fromvarious shops around the city.  Pity only one made it through customson the way into the country,” Mycroft said, a hint of achallenge and a threat underlying his words.

“Only one.  That would be, ah,what, twelve slices, then?”

“Yes, they are rather generous,aren’t they?”

“Good thing our table gets toqueue second,” Molly smiled, letting Mycroft know she wasn’tgoing to be intimidated by him when the stakes were rare foreignpastry.

“In the interest of fairness,they’ll be going in reverse order this time.”

Bollocks, Molly thought.  "Ohlook, that piece there at the end, I think the server just coughed onit!  Why I never!“ she said indignantly, making sure her voicecarried.

A low murmur rippled through thetables; Mycroft levelled her with appraising look that might haveheld just a shade of respect.  He did a thing with his eyebrows thatmade her think the gauntlet had just been thrown down.

She gripped Sherlock’s thigh under thetable and squeezed, hoping that he got the message that he damn wellbetter run interference so she made it to the table before Mycroft. He coughed and sputtered into his glass, dribbling on himself.

"Brother dear, how much have youhad?”

Sherlock squinted.  "Four?“

"Seems a bit simplistic for one ofyour schemes,” Mycroft remarked.

“Don’t disparage the classics,Mycroft,” Sherlock said, raising his glass before upending itand finishing it off.

*

“You were supposed to block him soI could get in the queue first,” Molly hissed after pullingSherlock down to her level.

Sherlock turned his face toward hers. “In case you haven’t noticed, I might be a little drunk,”he said in stage whisper, then smiled so wide his crow’s feet tookover his entire face.

“Focus!  When the queue movesforward, I need you to distract him so I can get that last slice.”

He narrowed his eyes and nodded, gameface on.  "Right,“ he said seriously.  He straightened andwobbled a bit, but managed to not spill his sixth glass of wine.

Lightweight.

The queue shuffled forward; whenMycroft got within striking distance of the Sachertorte, Sherlocksaid very loudly "Oh look, over there, by the hedge, it’s athing!”

Mycroft predictably turned to look (notat where Sherlock was pointing, but Sherlock himself); Molly took theopportunity to dart her arm past him and got her fingers on theplate.  She tried to pull it towards herself to get a solid grasp butshe wasn’t quick enough.

“You know what they say, MsHooper, ‘a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips,’” Mycroftsaid as he gripped the rim of the plate.

Never one to roll over, Molly pressedher fingertips down harder, pinning the plate to the table.  "It’salright, I’ll just do an extra hour of cardio this week, right asrain.  Have you, ah, been working out more?  You’re looking rathertrim these days, wouldn’t want to hijack that, would you?“

Mycroft tugged the plate.  "Whythank you, I have been.  Floating Yoga, completely life-changing.”

“Oh!  Is that the last piece ofSachertorte?  You two don’t mind, do you?  It’s been simply ages!” The plate was yanked from both their grasps by none other thancousin Kath.  "Mm, delish,“ she said after drawing herfinger through the whipped cream on the side and sucking it into hermouth.

That bitch, Molly thought,watching her swan away.  She glanced back to Mycroft; the look on hisface was one that promised a lifetime of regret.  Molly smirkedbefore she was unceremoniously yanked away from the table.

"Wh—”

“Plan B, this is taking too long.”

*

“So this is Plan B, locking us inthe toilet until the end of the night,” Molly said, givingherself a once-over in the mirror while fishing her lipstick out ofher bag.  Might as well refresh it a bit.

“Pfft, no, don’t be so boring. We’re going to shag very vocally in the toilet, which there will be aqueue for any moment.”

“Oh, that makes se—what?”She paused, mid-application, almost dropping the lipstick insurprise.

“Right, so giggle, that’s howthese things start out.”

“You wha—oh!” she yelped ashe pinched her side.

“Now giggle,” he said, hisvoice dropping to a low (but still loud enough to be heardindistinctly past the door) murmur.

“Ah-haha-hahaha,” Mollytried.

“Honestly?” Sherlock said,backing her against the door hard enough to rattle in the frame.  Itwas a loose door.  "I know you’re ticklish.“

"You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” he loomed overher, forearm thunking against the wood of the door.

“You’re ticklish too,” shesaid, fingertips coming to rest lightly against his stomach.  "Ibelieve we have a Mexican stand-off.“

"You need at least three for aMexican stand-off.  This is just a stand-off,” Sherlockcorrected seriously.

Molly did laugh then.

Sherlock joined her, his voice goingstraight through her like a hot knife through butter.  "Going toneed you to mess up my hair,“ he purred, shifting his weightagainst the door to make it rattle again.

"This is mad,” Molly said,burying her fingers in his hair.  "Even for you, this isabsolutely… mad.“

"Mm,” he hummed.

“You, ah, want a little lipstickon your collar?”

“This is a new shirt.  Jaw or neckworks, though,” he said, tilting his head.  "You could moana bit.“

Molly moaned.

"That was surprisingly convincing. Much better than the laugh,” Sherlock said leaning down a bitso she could make a kiss-mark on the corner of his jaw.

“I’ve had practice,” she saidflatly.

Sherlock rattled the door again.  "Thisisn’t working, doesn’t sound right.  Hold on,“ he said.

It was all the warning she got beforehe hauled her up by the thighs and pinned her against the door.

"Are you serious?” shesquawked.

“Authenticity.  Now your dress isgoing to get wrinkled in the right way, too.  Details are important. Now lipstick me.”

In for a penny, she thought,rubbing her lips over Sherlock’s neck while he started moving them ina slow rhythm against the door.  She moaned again, then decided shemight as well have a bit of fun, too and started giving directions.

“How, ah—oh yes, yes!—how bigof a finish are we going for here?” she asked after a bit.

“Whatever you deem appropriate,”Sherlock huffed.  He was doing most of the work, so it stoodto reason he’d be getting winded.

“Probably don’t want to be tooover the top,” she said, clutching his shoulders tighter withone arm and smacking her palm flat against the door before she did apretty convincing job of faking an orgasm, if she did say so herself.

Sherlock stopped moving and just sortof leaned there against her.

“You can, ah, put me down any timenow,” she said quietly.

“Just, ah—” he cleared histhroat “—give me a minute.”

“Wh—  Are you—?”

“Involuntary reaction precipitatedby the—ahem—motion,” he said.

“Oh,” she said.  Then, “Icould, ah, help you with that.  I mean, you wanted authenticity…”

Sherlock pulled back and looked at her, eyes narrowed.

*

She made a point not to make eyecontact with anyone in the queue for the toilet as she exited, Sherlock right behind her.  His shirt was buttoned up wrong andone of the tails was still untucked from his trousers, his tiehanging out of her handbag.  She wondered if he’d done the shirtthing on purpose, then remembered she’d been the one to button it.

“Hurry up,” he said, brushingpast her.  "I have another idea.“

She wobbled along after him as fast asshe could.

*

"Would it kill you to helppeople?” she asked to Mycroft as they watched Sherlockfloundering his way out of the pond.

“Define people.”

“Your brother,” she saidflatly.

“Yes, I believe it will one day,”he said airily, leaning on his umbrella.  "What was he doingthis time?“

"Trying to catch a koi to put inthe punch bowl, I think.”

“Mm.  Good thing the candiru isn’tnative to the British Isles, though I’m sure he’ll be finding leechesin all manner of places later.”

Molly sucked in a breath through herteeth, thinking of Stand By Me.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.  "Quite,“he said.

*

"Oh hey, your wedding present isstill in the grass,” Molly said as Sherlock dragged her acrossthe grass to the waiting cab, security hot on their heels.

“I told you it was my own specialblend.  They’ll have to re-sod the whole lawn.”

“Hn.  Shame, though, that 'k’really does look like an 'h.’”

“Mm, yes, pity,” Sherlocksaid, hiding a smile.

[graytuft]

Ready for some humour? Here are six photographs. The game, or challenge, is to take sixty seconds and think up a story based on these six image. Only sixty seconds after doing that there is a short story that will make you laugh and even think, if you are so predisposed.

All of this begins in a small harbour town called Tobermory.  This is not the one in Scotland but it does have rock, water, sunken ship wrecks and lots of tourism. It is in the Bruce Peninsula, Ontario, Canada. This small harbour town is transforms every summer from a lazy fishing village into a hub of people diving some of the clearest waters one can find after which many will find a restaurant where they can sip locally brewed beer, and savour the delicate flavours of fresh caught fish. Tobermory also happens to be smack dab in the middle of a designated UNESCO World Biosphere Reserve.

You are in the middle of all of this and find yourself  walking near docked fishing boats when you notice a dive shop. There is a hum of activity in the air but you are lost in your own thoughts and don’t quite register the people on a busy rooftop balcony restaurant.  Your mind saunters through whispers and snippets of thoughts when you hear a strong voice grinding out annoyance as it commands “Get out of here!” That grinding command breaks your reverie and you snap your eyes up in order to identify the source of your disturbance.

Above the street side shops you catch the movement of a seagull and you hear it squawk a response to that grinding command. The seagull is also disturbed and moves a safe distance away from the large hairy arm swatting the seagull away. Your whispers and snippets of thoughts now understand the background sounds because you have registered there is a rooftop restaurant serving fish and chips and possibly beer.

Your head is cranked up because your eyes linger only to watch the seagull navigate the dangers at that diner. It is going in again. It is at this point you have a different background noise that seems to follow the same dives and turns of the gull’s wings. That noise is your unregistered thoughts and even though you linger a few short seconds your mind starts to yaw and pitch with thoughts that have been waiting for their opportunity to jump the queue of all your other thoughts, including the never ending To Do List.

In that whirlwind of pitching and yawing thoughts you wonder how you may have affected the seagull’s natural environment. It is such a normal question yet it speaks of you being a bit more of a fair trade, organically grown, granola eating environmentalist than you really planned. You have a bit of a chuckle as you envision yummy homemade granola because your next thought is this of caution where it says ” if you eat granola you will become an activist out to save the world!” As you smile from the silliness of these thoughts you notice the whirlwind in your mind has settled.

It is now that the mind strikes up a conversation that will change your life forever. Yikes! Be wary of any settled mind for that is when an awkward truth will show up. You knew busy minds and busy bodies keep truth at bay and you rested for a moment. “Drat, here comes the truth!” This truth is out of left wing and even that metaphor is funny in this context. You laugh again and hear yourself asking “What is my natural environment?” That question has you laugh out loud and fortunately there are so many people around that it is just another noise in the hustle and bustle.

You decide to leave town and go back to the cottage you rented located on a harbour near Tobermory. That night as the sun sets you sit by the water and a number of seagulls come in for their evening meal. They don’t notice you, they fish in the water and fill their bellies as the sun settles into a burning red painting the sky a rainbow of pastel colours punctuated by reds and blues. The seagull was different here, it was in its natural environment.

After a profound sleep, lulled by waves rustling the rocky shore, you get up and decide to go for a walk (insert canine companion if you are so predisposed). While walking along the back road you see jack rabbits hopping across your path and sight deer munching their morning meal. You want to head back to the water again, if only to cool your feet, and find the small boat launch you heard was nearby. When you arrive at the launch you notice crows are calling out your presence to other birds and wildlife, but you happen to have been quiet enough that you catch the spread wings of a blue heron. You gasp at that silent magnificence. Your eyes seek to savour a longer view but the blue heron is once again camouflaged and safe from prying eyes so you return to watching where you step. As your feet enter the cool water the carp and frogs leave. Now just to clarify the carp and frogs they don’t leave the water, just the area where you are standing.

Standing in that water and watching the wildlife adjust to your presence you find your thoughts to be just like the seagull on that rooftop patio. Yesterday’s thought comes back for more thinking.  You are wondering “What is my natural environment?” It is now when your eyes rest on something so simple and serene. It is reeds in the water, subtle ripples from the activity below surface, and a blue hue associated with photo shopped images. Your mind makes a click of a shutter snapping because you wish to remember this image. As you imprint the image your impish sense of humour reminds you that there is a smart phone in your pocket, if you really want to take the picture. The stars align, metaphorically speaking because it is the middle of the day. The photo is taken when irony floats into your picture.

As the irony floats in the crows start calling again and the fish and frogs start to move faster. Your thought “What is my natural environment?” moves away, just like the fish and frogs. Something bigger is coming into the picture. Your camera is there to document the arrival of this great beast! The beast calls out “Challenge! Challenge!” It is occupied by a nuclear family replete with two adults (one male, one female), two children (one male, one unidentified), and two ivory coloured tea cup sized dogs with no chance of determining whether or not they were male or female as those parts were too small from where you stand not to mention it would have been socially awkward.

The boat is launched and you are left in the rippled water knowing you were just challenged. That seagull thought comes back to ask  “What is my natural environment?” One thing is for sure, there is a sense of humour in that UNESCO World Biosphere Reserve as the blue heron spreads those silent and magnificent wings to leave for other waters. Back home at the cottage the sun sets and the seagulls fish and as you look out from the kitchen window you spot the blue heron at the water’s edge.

Once you find the word “Challenge” in the photos I shall sign off for shift.  Set me free and maybe I will go have some fish and chips for supper.

Challenge Ready for some humour? Here are six photographs. The game, or challenge, is to take sixty seconds and think up a story based on these six image.