#I LOVE LOVE LOVE THAT YOU RECOGNISED THE CROCS YOURE SO REAL FOR THAT

[creatureesque]

made my non mcyt mutuals draw mcyts with me ehehe here's the first one

GO FOLLOW @halfdeadies RIGHT NOW!!!!!!! THEYRE THE BESTTT MWAAHH

I also made a full body sketch when i was working on the first sketch for this but it wouldnt rlly fit in the template so im putting it here separately:

+ the template!

[into-september]

Watching MLB: “Lies”

THIS IS ALL SPOILERS CHILDREN

- MR BANANA

- This confirms that a) Ladybug and Cat Noir do their fair share of just hanging around Paris to be your friendly neighborhood superheroes, and b) Cat Noir is in fact one of the, uh. "Village originals", as we'd call him where I live. You know. That ONE GUY. The weirdo with no dayjob and no family, who everyone knows yet nobody KNOWS. Like Mr. Ramier. Paris has three of them apparently and here they are on a bench together. 

- This entire sequence of poor, poor Cat Noir patrolling alone is the vibe that makes me love this show

- Kagami is a liar, huh. The last time she pulled this subterfuge, her mum got akumatised over it.

- Let's appreciate the contrast between Marinette mooning over the amazing life of Adrien Agreste as shown on TV, and Kagami complaining that the modelling poses he defaults to are not "the real him". 

- The clown is the "real him"; Kagami disagrees, the "real him" is when she manhandles him. Also, she repeats her earlier claim that he is "perfect", though clearly by different measures than Marinette uses. Suffice it to say that neither of the girls are ready to truly face him on even ground.

- Adrien WHY are you so surprised

- Anyway: They're adorable oh my god

- Either the timeline is whacked, or Ladybug legit didn't hear his voicemail until days later? (it's the timeline; she got the kwamis out of the box just before the date with Luka that was bombed by Mr. Pidgeon, which clearly is days later in Adrien's life. So either they're living parallell universes, or the writers messed up)

- Can I just say that I hope there'll be more band practice for Adrien in the future becaues maybe then Ivan will talk some more to him

- Adrien WHY ARE YOU SO SURPRISED you were about to kiss this girl like three times in this episode already, this can't be the first time you're holding hands

- Ooohooo, the lucky charm, the physical reminder of one girl and the verbal and thematic symbol of another one. Invisible cat is pulling it out of his pocket here, huh. 

- OKAY BUT IS PRINCE ALI IN THIS EPISODE. 

- I mean, if Rose is going to get her miraculous soon-ish, then there's a good chance he'll be in town for a while.

- I'm probably being a bad shipper by low-key hoping that Marinette's lucky charm is passed on to Kagami

- And THIS incredibly observant conversation is why adrigami is lit. Like it is a legitimately good ship, it’s got tension. It makes demands on its participants. Kagami has to lie and she doesn’t like it, but she does it for him. This ship has depths to be explored and you’re all sleeping on it.  

- I don't know why I expected Gabriel to have left his lair to attend a social obligation but here I am, surprised to see him molting in the basement

- This is the second time the lucky charm is the object akumatised. This happened with the repeat villains (Reflecta, Puppeteer), but not with DIFFERENT PEOPLE. 

- Heeeey is that the new transformation music?

- Heeeey Jagged, this what you were doing before strolling over to bond with your recently found son. Also, Penny running around with the croc on a leash. I love this universe. 

- I'm ridiculously happy to see XY

- The show clearly recognises the necessity of white lies; Kagami clearly does not. 

- Question: Marinette recognises the Adrien's lucky charm. Does she know that this is Kagami? Does she think it's Adrien? It would be really funny if she thought it was Adrien, but since she's got eyes, what does she think of him having passed it on to his girlfriend? Will the show even acknowledge this?

- I love Kagami's rage-fencing and I love D'Argentcourt stepping in to stop it

- And so Adrien really did lose Kagami completely because unlike Luka, Kagami has some smidge of self-respect. But at least it was relatively peaceful. 

- And once again, the Ladynoir lives strong. Just sayin'.

[toothpastecanyon]

Mizar the Mediocre, Chapter 1

Alcor gets a summons from a strange Mizar. Maybe there's still something to recognise, here.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

Mizars. Alcor had known so many of them through the ages, and he’d seen that they tended to follow a theme. They were somebody bubbly. Somebody spontaneous. Somebody who stood out from the crowd. He’d seen Mizars who were doctors, lawyers, adventurers, cultists, demon hunters, people who led radically different lives from Mabel… but there was always something to recognise.

And he liked that.

______________________________________________________________

You’d think a place nicknamed ‘Sin City’ would get a lot of visits from Alcor, but he’d been to Las Vegas relatively few times. Maybe he just wasn’t the demon that came to mind when one was down on their luck in the casinos… regardless, he was mildly interested to find a summons drawing him there, and he was  very  surprised when he realised what soul was summoning him.

A Mizar? Huh. Well, he’d better go see what she wanted.

The first thing that caught his eye was the view. They were high up in some sort of hotel room, and the tall windows opened wide to cloudless skies above and the sprawling city below. The carpet was zebra print - it made his eyes vibrate a little - and the two perfectly laid double beds looked like they’d never been touched by a living being, much less slept in. A school bag slumped at the foot of the further one.

Alcor frowned. There were a couple of candles encircling him, but no chalk… and no summoner, it seemed. It didn’t take long to find out where they went; there was a gasp from behind the bed, and he quickly floated over.

“Hello?” Alcor saw his summoner huddled against the bedframe, clutching a metal tray to his chest. “Mizar?”

Mizar was… certainly different this time round. He looked like he was in his forties, balding, dressed in a leopard print dressing gown and pink camo crocs. He squeaked when he saw Alcor floating over him, and cowered under his tray.

“Why aren’t you in your circle?” He pressed himself up against a bedside table. “The website said you were going to stay there!”

Alcor blinked. “Uh… you didn’t draw a binding circle, dude. You didn’t even draw a summoning circle.”

“Don’t blame me! I tried, but it just wasn’t working on the carpet, so I thought I’d wing it, and-”

“You thought you’d wing it? Wing a demon summoning?!” Alcor watched him curl up tighter. He pinched his nose. “Okay, well, I’m here now, and lucky for you, I’m not going to hurt you. What do you want?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Mizar peeked up at him from behind his tray. “You’re not gonna hurt me?”

“No, you got very lucky. You should never summon a demon without a containment plan; other ones wouldn’t hesitate to-”

“Oh, that’s great news!” He popped up and tossed away the tray with a giant grin. “Ashley’s gonna love me for this!”

“Ashley?”

“My daughter! She loves demons - watches that Magical Mizar show of yours all the time. She’s not gonna believe that I got the real Alcor the Dreamlender to show up!”

“She- wait, Dreamlender? It’s Dreambender!”

“Oh, it is?” He tied up his dressing gown. “Huh, guess I misread it. Well, anyway, wait there for a second, will ya?” Then he turned towards the bathroom at the other end of the room and called, “Oh, Ashley! Sweetie? You there?”

There was no reply. The man shot Alcor a nervous smile.

“She, uh, said she wanted some alone time to chat with her friends - but that was a whole fifteen minutes ago, I’m sure she’ll come out any second now! Ashley, darling?”

In the awkward silence that followed, Alcor just stared. This… was Mizar? This was where his sister’s soul had ended up? In this weird older guy whose aura tasted of cheap motel food and desperation?

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. This guy was probably cool, somewhere. He cracked a smile.

“So, uh… what’s your name?”

“Hmm? Oh, I suppose I didn’t introduce myself yet!” The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Martin! But you can call me Mart. Mart the Fart. That’s what my ex-wife calls me, it’s, uh… it’s all in good fun!”

“Okay…” Alcor took his hand, and then frowned when Mart put an arm around him. “Are you trying to steal my wallet?”

“Whaaaat? Noooo… I just, uh, I wanted a hug!”

He rolled his eyes at that, but before he got a chance to reply, a scream rang out from the front of the room. Mart jumped up.

“Ashley?”

“Dad, run!” A terrified teenager had flattened herself against the front door; she stabbed a finger at Alcor. “That’s - demon! Oh my stars!”

“What? Oh, Ashley, sweetie, it’s okay! I summoned him!”

“You…  what?”

“He’s with me, it’s fine!” Mart tried to jump over a bed, but tripped on his robe and fell down the other side. “Ow, uh, yeah! Surprise!”

“Wh- Surprise?!” 

“Cause you like Magical Mizar, right? He’s the Alcor actor!”

Alcor winced at the waves of horror-turning-to-fury coming off of Ashley. He raised a hand. “Uh, just for the record, I’m not planning to hurt anyone. Also I didn’t actually act in Magical-”

“What the fuck, Dad?! You put everyone’s lives in danger just so you could reference some stupid show?”

Mart’s smile froze on his face. “Uh… do you like it?”

Alcor cringed. Bad question. Bad, bad question.

“No!” She snapped. “Absolutely not! I haven’t even watched Magical Mizar since I was, like, six! It’s like you don’t even fucking know me!”

“Sweetie, I-”

“Just leave me alone!”

With that, she slammed the door in his face. Mart stood there for a second, then shot Alcor a nervous smile.

“Uh… teenagers. Wow.” He jabbed his thumb at the door. “You know, she must’ve learned those four letter words at her mother’s place. Which is fine! I just, I didn’t teach her those.” He tried for a chuckle. “Surprising.”

Alcor pursed his lips. “Yep,” he said, in the ensuing silence. “Very surprising.”

______________________________________________________________

They ended up watching TV for a little while. Mart sat on the bed and started flicking through channels, and Alcor - seeing no obvious summons in need of his attention - awkwardly floated in the corner of the room.

“Ugh, golf. Bor-ring. Let’s find something exciting, right, Alcor?”

He tried to keep his eyes on the screen, but they kept straying down to the man in the leopard print dressing gown… the Mizar in the leopard print dressing gown.

“Oh, My Strange Curse is on!” Mart pointed to the TV. “You heard of this show, buddy? I saw an episode once where a guy got cursed so that nobody would believe a word he was saying. I thought it was kinda fake, but hey, it’s a fun bit of reality TV!”

“I see.” Alcor stared at the screen, where a guy was talking about how everything he ate randomly turned into Christmas ornaments. “So what do they do in the show? Do they hire cursebreakers to come in and help them?”

“No? They sorta… just talk about how weird their curse is for thirty minutes then say they should do some exercise and eat better. It’s… it’s kinda mean, actually.” He changed the channel. “Let’s watch something else. Ooh, Babyfights!”

Alcor rolled his eyes, but he looked up at the sound of a door creaking open. Ashley was peeking out of the bathroom; her eyebrows raised a little when she caught sight of him floating in the corner of the room, but she didn’t scream again. After a moment, she closed the door behind her, and came walking over to sit on the other bed.

Mart didn’t seem to notice, so he cleared his throat.

“Hi.” He tried for a wave. “Ashley, right?”

“Wh-? Oh, Ashley! Hi, sweetie!”

“Hi, Dad.” Ashley’s eyes flitted over to Alcor. “So, uh, is he just a thing, now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is the big, all-powerful demon floating on the ceiling just hanging out with us now, or what?”

“Oh, Alcor?” Mart looked up at him, and shrugged. “I mean, I’m okay with it! The more the merrier, right?”

Ashley didn’t say anything to that. He gave an awkward smile. “I can leave you guys alone if you want.”

She kept staring at him for a second, her eyes dull, her lips turned down, her aura grey and guarded. Finally, she turned away, and looked to the TV.

“Whatever.”

And they sat there, for a little while. Nothing much happened. Mart looked over at Ashley and smiled, but she was looking down at her phone all of a sudden. He went back to flipping through channels.

Alcor twiddled his thumbs. He looked outside, at the great big city just outside this little room. Las Vegas looked strange in the middle of the day; the neon lights were dulled, the concrete bleached by the desert sun. There was barely any green, barely any relief from the greyish-white that stretched all the way to the mountains far in the distance. Without the cover of darkness, the City of Lights just looked… sad. Bland. Out of place.

Boring.

He looked over at Mart and Ashley. “Hey,” he started, and tried for a smile. “So, uh, what do you guys do here, usually?”

“Huh?” Mart looked up and grinned. “Oh, in Vegas? What can’t you do? It’s my favourite place on earth!”

“Dad likes the casinos.”

“Not just the casinos, sweetie.” He cracked a grin. “Though those are pretty good. There’s tons to do here!”

Alcor cocked his head. “Like what?”

“Well, there’s, there’s a restaurant downstairs. Serves really nice food.” Mart pointed at the phone. “You can even get it delivered up here!”

“Dad, I think he was asking about stuff you can do  outside  the casino.”

“Oh? Oh, yeah, you can do stuff outside too! There’s… um…” he scratched his head. “Oh, there’s like a cool water show every night! I took Ashley there once, it was really pretty, I loved it.”

“It was alright.”

“Yeah!” He grinned at her. “We should do that again sometime!”

“Ehh.”

“No? Oh, that’s okay too.”

Alcor looked over at Ashley. “What do you want to do?”

“Me?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t care. I’ll probably just, I dunno, be here. Why?”

“I was just curious.”

She gave him an odd look at that, but before she could say anything else, Mart suddenly let out a loud laugh.

“Oh, my stars, look at this!”

“What?”

“They’ve got a mini golf tournament on TV!”

Alcor cocked his head. “You like mini golf?”

“Oh, yeah! I used to work at a mini golf course - they even let me sleep in the windmill!” He pointed. “Like one of those! Except it was smaller. And not that clean. And you had to know where to lie, so the nails wouldn’t... the pros always have more of a budget, y’know.”

“I see.” He smiled, despite himself. “So I bet you’re pretty good at it?”

“Am I good? Well, I don’t wanna brag, but I’d say I’m pretty c’est la vie at it.” Mart shot him a grin. “Why’d you ask? You think you can beat me, Mr Dreamputter?”

“He probably can, Dad.” Ashley didn’t look up from her phone. “Don’t start betting stuff.”

“Wha- oh, hah! You know me too well, sweetie. Don’t worry, I  totally  wouldn’t do anything crazy, like… bet a demon fifty bucks I can beat him in a round of mini golf.” He winked at Alcor. “Unless he wants to make things interesting.”

Just the sight of that sleazy grin made Alcor’s demon instincts go into overdrive. He grit his teeth. “I was thinking it’d be… more of a friendly game.” He managed, resisting the urge to take the easiest deal he’d seen in ages. “What do you two think?”

“Aww. Well, I’m still up for it!” Mart sat up and looked at his daughter. “Ashley, sweetie, you got your phone out. Think you could google where the nearest course is?”

“Mhm.”

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, just… move stuff around if you need to.” Mart pulled his seat forward to let Alcor in. “Sorry, backseat’s a bit of a mess. I wasn’t expecting a friend!”

A ‘bit of a mess’ was an understatement, Alcor thought as he shoved a mountain of scratch cards into the middle seat. All the legroom was taken up by crumpled hawaiian shirts and neon-coloured jeans; they gave off a faded but still-distinct stench of alcohol. He was almost afraid to move them aside.

“Alright, sweetie, seatbelts! You good back there, Alcor!”

“Yeah?” Alcor pulled a sleeping bag out of the way. “Why do-”

“Camping! I don’t sleep in my car.”

He blinked. “Uh-”

“Just, heh, wanted to make that clear. I don’t sleep in my car.” He reached over and patted Ashley’s shoulder. “Your old Dad’s doing great for himself, don’t you worry about a thing, uh… mini golf! Yeah! Let’s addios!”

Mart peeled off and took a hard right out of the parking lot, burying Alcor in scratch cards.

“Hey, Ashley! Put on my good tunes, will you?”

“No.”

“Hah, uh, alright! I’ll do it myself.”

A stream of loud pop music filtered into the back seat. Alcor perked up at the voice.

“Is this…?”

“Marcia Sinderson’s greatest hits, volume twenty-one?” Mart turned up the volume. “I found it in a bargain bin a few months back - I don’t even think she was alive when they made half these tracks but I love it!”

The music did contain a lot more  ‘whoaaa’ s than lyrics, but Alcor chuckled when Mart rolled down the window and started singing along. Ashley sank into her chair, groaning.

This was… interesting, he thought. Strange in many, many ways, but somehow… familiar. And he liked that.

He’d missed hanging out with his Mizar.

[crazyrandomfucker]

Adrien Augreste: Shapeshift

Nobody had expected it. It was something so fast that noone really noticed it until it was too late. But somehow, there were no humans at sight, just animals wherever a human had been standing just minutes before. Additionally, there were trees and other plants instead of buildings and cars.

Three hours ago, Adrien had been attending with his friends to the Lion King's remake prémiere, wanting to have a good time. Everybody had loved the original film and had hopes for this CGI animation remake, but came out of the cinema two hours later quite disappointed because of the so many errors and differences had the film with the original version.

They decided to chew off their disappointment with some fast food and went straight to the nearest Mad Canold's to buy it. Then, they had to wait a long time in an incredibly long queue before they could even order the food and had to wait once again until everyone had their respective food. So fast for a so called fast food.

Thus, they sat down and begun to eat, discussing about the worst psrts of the film or that real life animals can actually do some facial expressions to express how are they feeling. Until then, everything was still normal and everyone was having fun. They found André and bought some of his famous ice creams, but when they were about to eat their ice creams, it happened.

Trees began to grow everywhere, slowly replacing any trace of man made objects until they were surrounded by a jungle. At the same time, everyone transformed into random animals, being confused as they didn't notice the change but saw themselves surrounded by other animals.

In Adrien's case, he simply jumped when he saw himself surrounded by a panther, a wolf, a dog, a fox, a coyote, a crocodile and a giant turtle. Simultaniously, those animals also showed signs of fear and some of them also jumped or in the turtle case, hide in his shell. After the initial shock, the animals seemed wary of the others, but didn't move a single paw until they saw there also was a baboon were André was standing a moment before.

"My precious ice cream stand! Where it is? Where am I? Why are there so many animals?" screamed the baboon as if he was André.

"A-Are you André?" asked the dog cautiously.

"A dog talking! What kind of akuma has attacked now?" exclaimed the baboon.

"A dog? But I'm Mar-" said the dog before she looked at her paws. "I'm a dog! Why am I a dog! I won't be able to design like this!"

"Okay, you're Mari without doubt" said the fox, getting some nods from the other animals. "So that means that everybody has been turned into animals. Wait, what kind of animal am I?"

"A fox" said the coyote. "But I have no idea of who you are".

" I'm Alya Mr. Coyote" said the foxy Alya. "Just to be sure, everybody say your names".

"Marinette" said the dog.

"Marin" said the wolf.

"André" said the baboon.

"Alen" said the coyote.

"Adrienne" said the panther.

"Nino" said the turtle.

"Nina" said the crocodile.

"Adrien" said the model.

"Okay so, Adrien is a big black cat, like some sort of wild cat, and Adrienne is a panther. Then Nina is a crocodile and Nino a giant turtle. Marin is a wolf and Mari a labrator. And then I'm a fox and my brother is a coyote? Cool, I've always wanted to shapeshift" said Alya.

"Isn't anyone else creeped out by this?" asked Nino the turtle.

"Not really Donatello" said the croc Nina.

"Guys, this is really not the moment, we should try to get somewhere safe where we can hide. And we should do it now, specially because Nino will surely take his time, no offense dude" said Marin.

"I hate being a turtle" huffed Nino and began to walk, moving faster than expected but still pretty slow.

"Good. Nina, you go behind him to bite anyone that tries to hurt him. Then Adrien, Mari and Alya, since you guys are the least dangerous animals, so you'll be pretty safe in case someone attack us. Adrienne and Alen, you two are pretty fast predators, so you'll stay behind to help. André, you'll climb the trees and use your baboon senses to detect danger from above. And I'll go behind to make sure noone is left behind, okay?" said Marin.

"Dude, your wolf side is showing" teased Alen. " But I'm glad to be part of your pack".

"Let's go guys, you've heard Marin. It'll be dangerous if we stay here more time" purred Adrienne.

They got into formation and slwoly avanced, following Nino's pace while looking around to find a refuge or any inmediate danger. They eventually found a pretty safe spot, a large cave without anyone inside. Everybody entered and Marinette sniffed the air, trying to find any hints of some other animals, but detected nothing. Once inside the cave, they realised that there could be people in danger right now and decided to found other people.

"Okay so, I think that we should send like three groups, one would scan the zone that surrounds this. Another should explore over the trees and a last group should explore a most vast territory" said labrator Mari.

"But there should also be someone capable of defending the cave" pointed the wolvy Marin.

"I know. I think Nina and André could defense the cave, Nina biting and André throwing rocks. Then, forthe scouts, Alya and Alen should stay in the nearest vicinity, Adrien and Adrienne are the only ones who can move fast over the trees and wolves and dogs are known for being long-distance runners, so Marin and I should scout the furthest area. Any complaints?" explained Mari-dog.

Everybody agreed and the designed scouts went outside to search for other people. Adrienne and Adrien hoped that noone would notice their disappearence and climbed to the top of a tree, making sure that nobody could see them. Once they were completely sure, they called upon their transformation, hoping that it would work. Luckily for them, their kwamis, that were hidden in their fur, transformed them, but instead of becoming humans again they turned into different animals.

Adrien turned into a lynx, but had his usual black leather mask on,as if someone could even recognise him. His ring was an his paw, it probably had been there the whole time. Adrienne turned into a jaguar with her mask also on its usual place. Their baton thought, was on their leg, where they could easily grab it with their mouth. Both looked perplexed, but this time they knew that the animal in front of them was the other twin. They quickly asked for their new appearence and sprung into action, searching for the akuma.

They first stopped by the cave, identifying themsleves before they were hit by a rock or bitten by Nina. Alya and Alen came with some puppies on their mouth, saying that those were apparently their quadruplet sisters, and were surprised and encouraged by the feline heroes presence. Then, a red andblack wolf and a dalmata with red fur instead of white appeared, identifying themselves as the bug heroes.

"M'Lady, M'Lord, did you had a fight? You two have a rather bloody appearence" said Kitty.

"I suppose your Kitty Noire" said Lordbug. " Don't worry, our kwamis did this when they transformed us".

"But how it comes you two are still feline? We've been turned into colorful dogs!" complained Ladydog.

"Well, everybody wants to be a cat, 'cause the cat's the only one, who knows where he's at. Everybody wants t-" sang Chat, but Ladybug softly hit him with her tail.

"Chat, now it'snot the moment for Aristocats. Please focus, we have to find an akuma that we don't even know how they look like. And I don't know if you've noticed, but using our weapons with our mouths isn't exactly easy. Swinging with the yoyo is almost a nightmare" scolded him Ladybug.

"And let's not talk about your Cataclysm, you'll have to stand up and run with two legs unless you want to cataclysm the whole world" said Lordbug.

"Great thing we have kwimens now. Oops, I forgot you two didn't" said Kitty teasingly.

"Hey, our kwamis said that you only got them because you two use your miraculous too much. I bet you two don't even have a kwagatama" protested Lordbug.

"A what?" asked Chat.

"It's something made of kwami saliva and the hair of their holders. It's a really important gift that shows the kwami apreciation towards their holder and has some misterious powers. Also, the kwamis get really offended if you don't apreciate it" explained Lordwolf.

 "Wow, sounds a bit nasty to be honest, but I get it. They can't precisely go and buy you something" said Kitty Noire.

"It's cute thought, I turned mine into a collar and I always wear it. It could easily be mistaken by a yang collar" said Ladybug.

"Shouldn't you go for the akuma?" asked Alya. "Don't get me wrong, I love learning things about you, but it's kinda weird to be a fox".

" Sorry, we totally got distracted. Let's go!" said Lynx Noir and ran away quite fast.

The cats leaped and climbed to the nearest tree branch, jumping from branch to branch while the bugs followed them closely running at ground level. They kept running, searching for any clues of the akuma, without having any luck. When they began to think that they didn't have any opportunity, they saw a familiar place that had a somewhat cartoonish style, as if it had been a real life copy of Timon and Pumba's house. Then, a song began to sound and everybody turned around to see a real life version of the simpatic friends of Simba, Timon and Pumba.

"Akuma mattata, what a wonderful phrase. Akuma mattata, thanks to Hawk Moth everything's great" sang Pumba.

"Just like this jungle, better than on some remaaaake" sang Timon.

"I think they are upset over the remake" whispered Chat.

"Great deduction Sherlock" said sarcastically Jaguar Noire.

"Stop it you two, we must focus on searching the akumatized object, or objects. We don't know if one is the akuma or the both of them are" scolded Ladywoof keeping her voice down.

"I think they don't have any pockets or something like that. Where is Pumba hiding the akuma? Please don't tell me it's anywhere near that dangerous smelly butt of his" said Chat.

"Okay but, aren't they rather harmless? Like, Pumba's tusks and farts are his only weapons and Timon is plainly defenseless. Shouldn't they have something to threaten us?" observed Lordbug.

"It's almost like they aren't the akumas... But that, wouldn't really make any sense, they were singing about Hawk Moth" pointed Kitty Noire.

"What if... What if they are part of the akuma's power? Like that time with Kung Food that he controled people who had eaten his soup. Or like Befana, that turned people into his angelic allies" said Ladybug.

"It could be. Purrhaps we still have to find the real akuma" agreed the lynxy Chat.

"We should separate then" said Lordhowl. "Chat, come with me to search for another possible akuma. Kitty, keep my sis safe, I don't think her actual self could handle a lion attack or something similar"

"Will do, I'd never let my bestie be harmed without doing anything" said Kitty.

Chat and Lordbug parted, leaving the girls behind to watch each and every action of the comic insect eaters duo. They were alert, ready to jump to action at the first sign of danger or akuma,but something lurked on the branches over them, moving silently and stalking the heroines until the heroes were nowhere to be seen. Then, fast as lightning, the creature jumped and landed on them, pushing the girls to the ground with her weight.

"As a fellow girl, I'm sorry for this, but I'll have to take your miraculous" said the creature.

"Who are you in the first place? Normally, you akuma villains present yourselves,do your stupid evil speech of how bad, unfair or sad is something and then demand for the miraculous" said Kitty, trying to turn around without success.

"I'm the Lion Queen and, sweetheart, I'm not your everyday akuma. I can control any animal with a roar and, unfortunatelly for you, you two are animals" said Lion Queen.

"Girl, how are you even going to grab our miraculous? You don't have hands" said Kitty.

"Hey Timon! Come over-AAAAAAGH!!" roared the lioness when Ladybug managed to turn around and bite her on the paw, backing and letting the girls free, who were already up and searching for the akumatized object.

"It has to be that crown on her! There's literally anything else on her that could hold an akuma" exclaimed Kitty.

"Okay, we need to snatch that crown and use your cataclysm. You go right and I'll go left!" said Ladybug jumping to avoid Lion Queen claws.

"Oh no you don't!" said the akuma and jumped on Ladybug, pinning her to the ground again. "Pumba! Take care of our kitty cat!"

Pumba began to run to tackle Kitty at full force, but the jaguar heroine pulled out her baton and extend it, avoiding the attack and sending it directly to the lioness, who groaned in disbelief. Then, using the distrsction of her captor, Ladybug kicked her and managed to send her to Pumba.

"I'm done with all these blonde cats pinning me down" mumbled Ladybug.

"Oh, but you wouldn't mind if it was a certain blond model, would you?" said Kitty teasingly.

"I-I don't know what are you talking about!" denied Ladybug, who would probably be blushing if she wans't already red.

"You don't?~ I'm sure I overheard your brother telling so to a certain blonde beatiful model when I was trying to visit her" teased Kitty.

"He WHAT?!" said Ladybug while dodging Lion Queen, who had already recovered her senses.

"Come on, let's get rid of this kitten so I can see you blushing" winked Kitty.

"Is that so? You sure you just don't want t o find your new boyfriend and go smooch smooch with him?" counterteased Ladybug.

"N-No! I don't want t-to do that in public!" said Kitty. "Anyway, isn't it time for your lucky charm? We still have to take her down".

"That's right! Lucky Charm!" chanted Ladybug and a ball of fire appeared, burning a tree and making Timon and Pumba flee in fear. "Well, that was rather immediate. Kitty, tackle that tree!".

" As you order M'Lady!" said the jaguar and charged into the tree, making it fall into some dry bushes and spreading the fire.

"Wow, you've trapped yourselves with me. Very clever" laughed Lion Queen.

"Oh did we? I think you don't really get it...You are the one trapped here!" said Kitty, jumping to a tree.

Ladybug put her yoyo in her mouth and throw it to Lion Queen, who easily dodged it without realizing that Ladybugnwas aming at the tree behind her, hooking her yoyo to the tree. Furious, the lioness roared the girls to stop their attack, but Ladybug simply charged to her left, pulling the yoyo so the cable would hit Lion Queen. The akuma foolishly jumped and Kitty jumped on her, pinning her to the ground and taking off the crown. Quickly, Ladybug tied the villianess with her yoyo and Kitty used Cataclysm in the object. The dark butterfly tried to escape, but a yoyo caught the butterfly, revealing Chat and Lordbug.

"It's time to de-evilize!" barked Lordbug somehow and purified the akuma. "Bye bye little butterfly".

" It was about time you appeared guys" complained Kitty.

"Hey, it's not like we didn't try to call you and came back because you didn't answer" replied Chat.

"Miraculous Ladybug!" chanted Ladybug, returning everything to normal. "Great, now I don't have to hold the yoyo with my mouth".

" We're leaving now then, we have some friends that must be really worried" said Kitty bowing.

"Actually, so we do. They are likely to be freaking out already" said Lordbug.

"I know you two just want to go back with your lovers, no need to hide it" teased Chat.

Kitty punched Chat on the stomach and carried him on her shoulder. "Well, see you later!" said the girl and hurried to ran away.

"He deserved that, I've been putting up with a lot of teasing while we were chasing a non-existent akuma" said Lordbug.

Ladybug punched him on the shoulder. "Why did you tell Adrienne I like Adrien as Lordbug? Kitty overheard it! Now she knows who is the boy I like and it could compromise our secret identities".

_________________

Adrienne met with the gang under the Eiffel Tower, accompanied by Adrien, who was holding his tummy. Mari and Marin had already arrived and look at the blondes with a weird face.

"Sorry we're late, we got stuck on a balcony when things went back to normal. Oh, and my idiotic brother here was mid air and his stomach had a fateful meeting with a balcony" said Adrienne.

"Dude, are you okay?" asked Nino.

"Yeah, just feeling like throwing out the meal" said Adrien.

"Are you fine Adrienne? Did you also hit somewhere?" said Marin approaching her andlooking for any bruises or cuts.

"Calm down Marin, your wolf side is showing" teased Alen.

"Oh, but he may get me to purr if he keeps being so considerate" said Adrienne with a wink.

"You two are disgusting. Absolutely repulsive. I feel like throwing out" said  Adrien. "I take it back, you two can't go out".

"Oh shush brother" said Adrienne and everybody burst in laughs.

[multi-fandom-inserts]

Babygirl

Reader x No-one... YET!

Author Note; Hello my loves, I’ve missed you, here’s something I’ve been working on. Let me know who you want the reader paired with as this will be a series ;) 

Warnings: Violence ! 

Belle Reve is a maximum security prison for those deemed a threat to everyone, it housed some of the most dangerous people in the world, including yourself. Your cell was lace in the middle of a huge, vacant room that had a long strip of reinforced balcony running along it's perimeter, the room itself had a large steal door locked from the outside with no windows, no view to the outside world. Your cell was a large bared room with walls 12 x 14 meters with high ceilings containing a shit thin mattress bed with scratchy blankets and cardboard thin pillows, a toilet and sink and a stack of books that guards allowed you to keep in your cell.

Attached to your cell on the right hand side was an identical cell housing one of the most psychotic and dangerous woman in the world – Harley Quinn – the prison warden had housed you together in the hope it would cause a bitch fight, little did they know that you were the Joker's little sister.

Harley and you had hung out plenty of times before, every time J was out doing business neither Harley or you were allowed to help in, you two hung out, didn't matter if it was in J's club or at your apartment and got along like a house on fire, both as crazy and fearless as each other but the days had turned into weeks, then months and both of you were getting incredible restless.

You scratched the days you've been in Belle Reve on the floor of your cell: 145 days in total. You sat on the edge of your cell smoking a cigarette next to Harley as she pricked a needle that had been dipped in ink into your ankle. You had a lot of tattoos, full sleeves on your arms, one vine slipping up your neck and plenty totted on your legs with your trade mark “BABYGIRL” tattoo across your knuckles and a tiger on your abdomen but unlike Harley you have non on your face, an order from your older brother, he had said plenty of times that your face was too beautiful to taint with ink. It was no secret you were beautiful, with shoulder-length blue hair and piercing Y/C/E eyes and porcelain skin.

“All done!” Harley sung as she put the needle down, she was surprisingly good at tattoos and you'd love to see what she did with a real tattoo gun, looking down at your ankle to see it's a black rose with “Harley” written through the vines and leafs.

Smirking, you tell her you love it. She giggles like a child before sitting against the cell wall bravely knowing it's electrified to keep you two apart but they only turn it on when we pose a threat to the guards – which is often.

The days were slow and boring, Harley was more like a child than you'd realised and was getting restless and you were getting more agitated keeping her entertained, in the outside world you had plenty of work to do that kept you from getting bored, admittedly, it was killing people but it was a job nonetheless. Harley rattled on the cell wall and chanted at the guard that walked along the balcony during our checks – they usually happen every hour – holding an automatic weapon aimed at us at all times.

On the 170th day though, something weird happened, the guards entered the room in a large number of fifteen, all with guns and riot gear on with thick helmets and goggles. A smirk settled on your lips at the sight of them, trouble was emerging and trouble you liked. You nipped a new cigarette between your lips and lit up, Harley had ripped her bed sheet up and was handing from the roof of her cell like a bat – pun intended considering it was Batman who put her and myself in here – the guards ordered her down and for my to get up from the floor.

We both refused the orders, they unlocked the cell and entered cautiously, guns aimed at you. The first guard that entered was one of the main guards, you recognised the sinister green eyes from all the times they tortured you for information on your brother, his large hand grabbed your shoulder sending you into defensive mode.

You slam your elbow done into the crook of his elbow, knocking his hand off your shoulder, the guard steps forward to throw his weight into a punch, you duck and dive your first into his stomach, just below his diaphragm into his chest. You slip past him, using his bent knee as a step up, wrap your leg around his neck to move yourself onto his shoulders, the guard yelled and panicked, but the fight had been boring and less than a challenge for you. Holding the guards head still, you turn it flawlessly, angling his chin upwards during the turn, snapping his neck like a twig.

Harley giggled as the guards body dropped to the floor causing the rest of the guards to fall back a little. Suddenly, a force knocked your chest sending you flying backwards into the bars of the cell, then a excruciating pain snatched your body making you tense and your jaw clench so hard you thought your teeth were going to break. Harley's scream snatched the room taking your attention from the pain in the centre of your chest and then suddenly it let up.

Looking over at Harley, she's laid out  semi-conscious on the dirty cell floor, a gunshot echoed through the room snatching your attention from Harley to look at a tall man stood at the front of your cell holding a black handgun with smoke erupting from the top. He was tall, slightly tanned, very handsome with a goatee and short brown hair. He was dressed in a Special Forces uniform with a bulletproof vest and a automatic weapon in his right hand holster.

“Hey there, Cap-tin.” you smirking, drawing out the word “captain” to make fun, he was clearly in charge of the guards but he wasn't in charge of you or Harley.

“The name is Flag, Rick Flag,” he said sternly, “Not captain, it's Colonel.”

You let out a long and patronising 'oooh'. He smirked before stepping into your cell, grabbing you by the throat and dragging you from the cell and throwing you into a wheelchair. The guards acting quickly, strapping your legs and wrists into restrains and putting a strap around your throat to stop any unnecessary moving. You managed to get a glimpse of Harley before being wheeled out. They had strapped her to an upright board with far more straps and restrains.

The guards lined you both up before the large metal doors as they slowly began to open, you felt a sharp prick on the left side of your neck and then you heard Harley squeak. Your vision became blurred and then everything went black.

You came too just as the light hit your face, your vision cleared quickly and before you knew it, you were outside for the first time in 170 days. The warm weather was a blessing, the sun hit your face and the wind blew in your hair but this wasn't a time for celebration, why were you outside?

Before you had a chance to ask, the guards entered a paddock area filled with army dressed men, some had taken their jackets off but they all had weapons and were paused in a circle trying to contain something. The guard pushed  you and Harley to the edge of the circle before undoing your restraints. Harley immediately jumped up and screamed, “Hello boys!” raising her arms above her head revealing her stomach.

You had thanked yourself silently for taking off your prison jacket, you would have baked in this heat otherwise, so instead you stood silently in a white, very short tank top and prison trousers that were an unflattering colour of orange, but as you examine the circle, you see two other men wearing similar inmates clothing. One was covered head to toes in strange tattoos, even his face was tattooed like a skull, his tanned skin and accent as he mumbled to himself suggested he was Mexican. The other man was dark skinned, bald with a thick black beard, you recognised him instantly from your killing days – his name is Floyd Lawton aka Deadshot, one of the best contract killers around.  

“Hey baby-doll,” he smirks spotting you across the circle, he makes his way over to you, despite the grumble from the guards and sweeps you up in his arms for a hug, it's been almost a year and a half since you last saw him but I guess you know why now.

“What's going on?” you ask as he lets you go, but Floyd just shrugs. “How's Zoe?”

Floyd looked at his feet, knowing you didn't mean to hit a nerve with your question because you cared for the young girl, he would sometimes drop her round when he was called on a last minute mission and you never said no, he was thankful for that and always appreciated it. You'd formed a friendship and with you both being assassins, you knew one day, one of you would be sent to kill the other; it's just how it works out.

“Who's the man of tattoos?” you whisper.

Floyd shrugged, “Some guy who killed his family in a fire, apparently he can control it, pretty neat huh?”

“Klling the family or controlling fire?” you questioned earning a chuckle from Floyd, just then two more people appeared, one strapped to a board like Harley, covered in scales and slime – Killer Croc – they let him go but not before strapping a thick black collar around his neck. The second was a dirty looking man, built with huge muscles, a messy beard and an annoying accident, when they removed him from the bag he flung himself at another guard knocking the poor guy out cold.

Impressed, you studied him gently as his eyes gobbled the image of you and Harley up. Pig, you thought as you moved back over to Harley who hugged you tightly as you leaned against one of the large containers. Eventually the last prick arrived, he was huge with large armour, as soon as he got out of the car, his fist slammed straight into a female guards face.

Without hesitation, you sprint and jump at the six-foot-five man, kicking him swiftly in the face before manoeuvring your body round his head and neck, to pull your body weight round, his body flipped over and fell to the ground whilst you landed on your feet and offered a hand to the female guard, she took it and you helped her up before you felt the cold barrel of a handgun press against your temple.

“Move away, Y/N.” Rick's voice echoed throughout the silent circle, putting your hands in his view, you moved away from the guard back to Harley who was cheering and jumping up and down like a cheerleader. “Okay, now you're all probably wondering what’s going on. Truth is, the government has decided that we need to fight evil with evil, and you guys are going somewhere very bad, to do something that's gonna get you killed. But until that happens, you're my problem.”

“Lucky you.” you mumble as he pulls out a tablet and holds it in front of us,

“And this is the voice of reason.” he says sternly, a image popped up on the screen but it was gone too quickly for you to see what it is. Then a woman popped up on the screen, she was stern looking with a headset on and dark, cold brown eyes, for a moment she was silent, gobbling up out image in prison clothing before speaking in a very authoritative voice;

“For those of you who do not know me, my name is Amanda Waller, there's an active terrorist event in Midway City.  I want you to enter the city and rescue HVT1 and get them to safety. Complete the mission you get time off your prison sentences, fail the mission and you die.” she threatens, “If anything happens to Coronal Flagg,  I will kill every single one of you. Remember I’m watching.”

“Looks like you got yourself a fan.” you tease with a smirk, the rest of the inmates giggled.

“Lady! Shut up!” Rick yells angrily making Harley jump beside me, he composes himself quickly, “You disobey me, you die. You try to escape, you die. You otherwise irritate of vex me and guess what? You die. Those collars my men are now putting round your neck is to ensure you death if you do any of what I just listed. It's collar is as powerful as a hand-grenade and can only be opened by my fingerprint.”

His men then drop a large trunk at each of our feet, our names are written on the top in marker, kicking yours open it reveals all your clothing and weapons you were arrested with. Smiling to yourself, you start to rummage through my items, taking off your clothes without much care of the men around you, you slip on a pair of flexible black jeans, a white crop top and a leather jacket – that J had given to you on your  birthday – the only shoes you had were little black boots, there wasn't much of a heel but it didn't bother you, you had fought in much worse.

Your weapons hadn't been touched or damaged, clipping your holster round your waist and to your upper thighs, you slipped in your Glock handguns into the holsters, inside your leather jacket, you put your favourite four inch knife into the protected pocket.

“Won't fit anymore?” you heard Harley ask Floyd.

Looking up, you see Floyd has out on his famous Deadshot outfit, a red catsuit that clung to every muscle he's got. You listen to their conversation as you wrap your hands in bandages like a boxer would before a fight, it helps with the impact of punches, hand-to-hand combat was your favourite, guns are to quick.

It was getting to five minutes before wheels up, everyone was finishing off with getting ready, Harley was putting on make up and insisted on putting some black lipstick on you so it would look nice with your hair. You wander over to the guy will all the tattoos, he was looking down at his palms in bewilderment.

“You okay?” you ask, he jumps a little before shoving his hands into his pocket, you smirk before nudge his arm and showing him your palms, in the centre of both you had a large snowflake tattooed, “You know, my ma, she just used to call my Ice Hands, before they were always so cold, here...” you say as you touch his hand with yours, his was super hot but yours were just above fridge cold. His heated eyes cooled down as he invited the cold, you stood there for a few minutes before the cold of your hands had gone warm and his cold.

“I'm Diablo,” he tells you, you smile kindly.

“I'm Y/N,” you tell him softly,

“AND I'M HARLEY QUINN!” Harley screamed jumping into the conversation, clearly thinking this was a meet-and-greet but the rest of us rolled with it, the scruffy man was called Boomerang and the prick that you dumped into the ground is called Slipknot. Killer Croc just wanted to be called Croc so you didn't press him for his real name.

“Let move, Suicide Squad!” a voice yelled over the paddock as a quinjets engine roared.

“Suicide Squad?” Floyd questioned as the rest of them mumbled.

You shrug, “Guess that's us,” you say not bothered at all by the name, better you die outside of Belle Reve than inside it's walls.

Taking Harley's hand the two of you kipped towards the quinjet, the rest of the team followed you, settling down in the seats of the jet, Floyd took the seat to the left of you, he smiled at you and touched your hand gently.

“Always check your six, babygirl.” he remains me before sitting back in his seat and signing loudly. Harley was yapping like normal to Croc who looked as thought he wanted to kill her already. Boomerang was being a pervert and staring you up and down as well as Harley.

But you pushed them all from your mind, this mission sounded dangerous and unlike anything you'd seen before, was this J having one of his jokes or an actual threat. You had no idea what to expect, non of you did but you had to suck up your doubt and put on a brave face.

It's survive or die, and you planned to live a long life.

[goldcoastdreams]

What's on the Navy's dinner menu?

Updated May 27, 2019 23:20:24

Photo: Fifty loaves of bread per day, two weeks worth of fruit and veg and 10kg of croc build up the bulk of LS Luke Bodner's shopping list. (Supplied: Defence Force Recruiting ) When you picture a defence force dining hall, do you imagine sterile metal trays being spooned mass-produced slop for dinner? You are not alone. During the Territory Taste Festival, Navy, Army and Airforce chefs showcased the reality of cooking for the troops, and the menu did not disappoint. The team behind the stovetops served up a selection of territory favourites like buffalo, crocodile and lamb with local bush tucker flavours. Leading Seaman Luke Bodnar said life as a chef at sea came with interesting challenges but had provided him with a lifetime of experience. "I do recommend being a chef for the defence force, yeah you are first up and last to bed, but it's a job I can take anywhere," he said. "You get to use the world's best ingredients, every new port is an opportunity to grow your culinary skills." A peek in the pantry LS Bodnar has been a chef with the Navy for 13 years and visited 16 countries across multiple deployments. He said it was his dad who inspired him to join the defence force. "My dad did 20 years in the navy as a combat systems operator," he said. "I have always loved cooking and food, so I wanted to combine my dad's history and my love of food together that's why I became a chef with the navy."

Photo: LS Bodnar explained depending on the size of the vessel, there can be up to 30 cooks in the ship's kitchen. (ABC News: Gabrielle Lyons) When walking onto his first vessel as a new recruit, LS Bodnar admitted he had low expectations of the kitchen he would be working with. "My initial assumption of the sort of kitchen I would walk into on a Navy ship was an oven and a deep fryer, but that's just not the case," he said. "The kitchens are large and have spaces for prep, multiple fridges, up to four hot plates, even eight on larger vessels, deep fryers, and every bit of equipment you could imagine." Although LS Bodnar agreed many meals must be produced in mass quantities to feed anywhere between 30 and 100 crew members, he said there's no slop on metal plates. "We bake fresh bread onboard. We are much more than just chefs, definitely gets the crew pretty excited when they can smell fresh bread coming out of that galley," he said. "The quality of food on board is fantastic, from sirloin steaks, spaghetti bolognaise, lamb shanks, lasagne and theme nights too just to avoid the feeling of groundhog day on the boat. "Pizza night is a real favourite. I suppose it's all about comfort food and meals that make the crew feel closer to home."

Photo: LS Bodnar says his specialties are derivative of his German-Hungarian background, but he's also a dab hand at satay. (ABC News: Gabrielle Lyons) Surprise produce at international ports LS Bodnar said, with each international port he had pulled into, he had learnt to adapt his menus to suit unusual new produce. "When I was on the Gulf deployment in Iraq we received a crate filled with milk cartons that had a picture of a camel on it, the crew were really concerned we would be serving them camel milk for breakfast," he said. "Luckily it was cows' milk just bad labelling. "The hardest ingredient I have had to work with is lambs' brains. Trying to sell lambs brains on the servery line is near impossible so we called them 'lamb nuggets' didn't last for long before we were caught out." Similarly, LS Bodnar said trying to accommodate cultural expectations into an onboard menu had left him high and dry. "When I was deployed to East Timor, no-one told me that the crocodile was their national animal. I didn't know this when I prepared 10kg of crocodile meat for the trip," he said. "I felt like Bubba Gump [American seafood restaurant chain] trying to use croc for just about every meal for the crew croc tacos, boiled croc, croc burgers. "They were pretty sick of it by the time we got back to Australia."

Photo: Forget mass-made slop in a stainless steal vat. Each of his chefs learn to be bakers as well. (Supplied: Defence Force Recruiting) Christmas dinner and birthdays call for extra special menu editions. "Of course we change up the menu for special events, if it's your birthday and you want pulled pork burgers I'll say 'sweet, let's do it'," he said. "The only downside, as a chef people tend to forget your birthday. One year I made myself a solo cupcake, took it up to the deck with a candle and sung happy birthday to myself." The forgotten sectors of Defence LS Bodnar said he felt lucky to have had his dad give him inside knowledge of the defence force, and positions on offer outside of frontline combat. "I don't think too many people recognise just how many sectors of defence there are," he said. "Being a chef is a great way to see the world and walk out with a trade, which would allow me to work anywhere in the world." Flight Lieutenant Brendon Knopke has focused on the recruiting aspect of defence and agrees there's more than meets the eye working in the defence force. "There are over 300 roles throughout the defence force, most people don't know that the hospitality sector exists," he said. "We want to educate the wider public about how many options there are and show that it's not mush on a plate. "Our chefs are fantastic. It's an exciting sector within our team."

Photo: After 13 years with the Australian Royal Navy, LS Bodnar has travelled to 16 countries. (Supplied: Defence Force Recruiting) Topics:defence-and-aerospace-industries,defence-forces,defence-industry,food-and-cooking,lifestyle-and-leisure,recipes,diet-and-nutrition,travel-and-tourism,darwin-0800 First posted May 27, 2019 17:11:14 http://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-05-27/what-is-on-the-navy-dinner-menu/11152228

[elsewhereuniversity]

Darling

Crossposted to AO3

In the East Hall, the Gentry are called Takers-And-Givers. Marie had her best 2B pencil stolen only to find three packs of pencils - different hardnesses, sizes, colours - in her room that evening. Charley’s bottles of milk were stolen in the first week of term but now their whole flat gets weekly deliveries of dairy far better than any bought at the local shops. Sanjeet’s flowers were decimated a week before Valentines, but now they’re the best and brightest blooming flowers on campus.

First they Take and then, later, they Give, something of equal or more value. No one seems to know how or why, it just is, until the new kid arrives in halls - a late transfer, some incident at their last uni dogging her steps, giving her haunted eyes and probably-nightmares and arms clutched close around her chest whenever someone looms too close. 

When people ask, she says to call her Ravenna. That that’s not her name, but her actual name isn’t one she trusts anymore, that it makes her feel unsafe in her own skin. So everyone in the Hall calls her Ravenna, or, sometimes, Blackbird if they know her well enough, and give her space.

She hates beyond hate to be touched.

–

Marie sees her one day, within touching distance of one of the Takers-and-Givers often seen around East Hall. They go by Darling - an odd moniker for a six foot creature with a greenish cast to their skin and a bird’s nest of hair, but no one would ever dare say anything to them. They stand just within arms-reach of Ravenna, watching down at the short girl with half-narrowed eyes.

“I don’t want to be afraid,” Ravenna is saying. “I'm sick of it. They say you can help with that, that you can take something away and give something in return. Can you take away my fear?”

Marie almost bolts down the hall to Ravenna, almost warns her against making a deal with the Takers-And-Givers, almost warns her against even mentioning the distance they are from normal but Darling only smiles gently, politely, not the predatory way they had when Marcus from Sumner’s Hall had tried to strike a bargain.

“No one can take your fear,” Darling says. “It’s yours. But if you give me a taste of it then I will give you protection when you are fearing.”

Marie starts backing down the hall, back towards her room, but she still sees Ravenna pause, nod, and go completely rigid as Darling bends their head to gently kiss her.

A wind blows down the hall, smelling of chickens and straw and Michaelmas daisies and Darling is vanished.

–

We need milk [Sent: 10 minutes ago | From: Maxie]

Please Charley, they’re puking everywhere [Sent: 5 minutes ago | From: Maxie]

CHARLEY. WAKE THE FUCK UP [Sent: 2 minutes ago | From: Maxie]

Charleeeeey. Please? I’ll pay for your coffee for the next week? [Sent: 30 seconds ago | From: Maxie]

Charley rolls out of bed and groans. Rubs their eyes with the heel of one hand and pulls on some trackie bottoms, a hoodie. Sticks their phone into their pocket, and their dorm card so they can get back into the halls.

Sumner’s Hall isn’t that far away but also: it’s cold out. They could text one of the others to let them back in, or make a libation of milk and see if Angrboda will use her tricks to get them back in the hall, but honestly, they can’t be fucked. The deal with Angrboda for free dairy is good, and they’re not about to add more clauses. Not after how much it had cost to pay Petey the Law Student for their help last time they’d made a change.

There’s crocs near the door, which they toe into and then pace down to the kitchen area to the fridge. Pull out a two-pint thing of milk, check their pockets again and sigh.

“Maxie,” they mutter. “You are paying for my coffee for a fortnight.”

–

When they get to Maxie’s floor in Sumner’s they see what the fuss is about. It’s a party, which is to be expected on a Friday night, and while Maxie is great at stocking up on bread, and they’d made a deal so their tapwater is the best and cleanest stuff on campus, Maxie never has enough milk.

Sometimes Charley thinks that was the price Maxie paid for the water.

The pukers are gathered in the kitchen, an array of bowls on the table, and all of them hunched over one. Maxie grins when they spot Charley, heedless of the flowers falling out of their tight curls.

“My friend,” they say. “You are the best. Stay awhile?”

Usually Charley wouldn’t but tonight, for some reason, they do. They help Maxie take care of the pukers for a few minutes, and then they go to circulate, catching up with Maxie’s flatmates.

It’s while they’re doing this they see Ravenna, her fall of dark hair and closed-in posture instantly recognisable and made worrying by the guy leaning over her, getting in her space. 

Charley’s pushing through the crowd when the guy yells, turns, and Ravenna vanishes.

They cast their eyes around, searching desperately - Ravenna was one of theirs, an East Hall-er, and she was from their flat, and everyone could tell something had happened, that she had something bad in her past. Their whole flat had met a week after she’d arrived to quietly promise to make sure she was safe as far as they could manage.

They spot Ravenna in an alcove by the door. Her head’s tilted back against the wall and opposite her–

Is that Darling? 

It is, six-foot Darling, built like a beanpole, green-tinted skin to match and they’re giving her space apart from a too-many-times-jointed hand on Ravenna’s wrist.

“Are you all right?” Darling is asking. “I wasn’t sure if I got here in time.”

Charley sees Ravenna draw a deep breath in and nod. As she leans forwards and Darling - slowly, very very slowly - wraps an arm around her shoulders, Charley meets Darling’s eyes. 

Charley knows Darling is quite aware of the iron nails they keep in their bag. They’d burned Darling’s hand when they’d tried to Take some sugar sachets back in December.

Darling nods.

–

They all see it, in the flat. Whatever happened to Ravenna, all her nightmares, they still dog her steps, but Darling dogs those - dogs the memories, the nightmares, and provides protection whenever someone looms too close.

Darling even appears in the kitchen area one morning when Marie reaches too close to Ravenna to take a pencil - suddenly a shadow solidified into the dark-greenish skin of Darling, a shimmering reflection of light became Darling’s smile. 

“Give her space,” they’d said, simply, and Marie retracted her arm.

Ravenna had smiled, reached back to Darling. “I know they won’t hurt me, Darling,” she’d said.

“Maybe,” Darling had said, taking Ravenna’s offered hand, “But I could taste your fear.”

Ravenna had smiled again, squeezed Darling’s hand.

Darling’s there in classes as well, at parties. In the library, in the cafe, even in the shops. When Sanjeet joins Ravenna to go to the gym he sees Darling solidify for a moment in a shadow by the door, unable to enter a place so full of iron. 

Keep her safe, Darling mouths to Sanjeet, and he nods back.

She’s from their flat after all. One of theirs to keep safe.

–

“Mavourneen,” Darling whispers to Ravenna one day. They’re sat in Ravenna’s room, Ravenna in her chair, Darling giving her space and perched on the very edge of her bed. “That’s my name.”

Ravenna’s hands cup her elbows, and she’s all curled into herself on the chair. Less curled into herself than she had been at the beginning, before she’d approached them and made the deal, but Darling can still see how tension rests in her bones, how fear itches at the back of her neck.

There’s an unspoken promise in giving Ravenna their name, and they wonder if she quite understands it. She understood enough to ask for the deal, to make very clear what she was asking for and to only accept will give you protection, not can. But she kept no iron with her, no salt, not a single charm or medallion to confer protection.

“I don’t know if my old name is really mine anymore,” Ravenna says, and they know she’s understood. “It doesn’t feel right, not since-” she pauses, swallows. “Not since what happened.”

They offer a hand, palm up. Ravenna takes it, slowly, and for a moment there is fear before her thumb runs over their skin and she relaxes. 

“What she did to you,” Darling says gently. “What she did was wrong.”

Ravenna smiles tentatively. “I think,” she says, “Ravenna is my real name, now. My true name.”

Darling smiles, showing far too many teeth. Their teeth are almost catlike, thin and almost translucent some of them. 

“Mavourneen,” Ravenna says softly, sounding it out. “That’s a lovely name. Does it mean anything?”

Darling smiles wider, shows more teeth. “It means,” they say, “Darling.”

Ravenna’s delighted laugh is the sweetest thing they’ve heard in years.

[x]

[lauradenno-blog]

Here's why veganism isn't for everyone...from a failed vegan

Published by Press Association. 

I know, I know, I know, I know. I know – this is dangerous territory. The same vegan community who pose gently with bowls of courgetti could be willing to beat me around the head with the vegetable from which it came should I bad-mouth their way of life…so I’ll try to tread lightly.

It’s totally understandable that the subject of food and diet is one that is so emotionally fraught and contested. Food is individualistic and central to our social lives, our economy, our physical self and our mental health – having tussled with years of bulimia, I know this better than most. Those who believe that one size doesn’t fit all when it comes to our diets are being held to ransom, dismissed as simply being stubborn, unhealthy, confrontational or just pure stupid.

“Look at her! Using real butter on her toast like a heathen!”

Truly, I am Quasimodo. I am an ex-vegan of six months who did the unthinkable and went back to a world of eating flesh, pus and chicken brains coated in fried batter. I am the dirt through which your legumes and cauliflower grow. I am the Croc and you are the Louboutin. I am the present-day beast, you are the beauty and I stare at your Instagram account while gnawing on a leg of raw lamb, spitting fleshy juices at my iPhone screen.

I’m okay with being Quasimodo though, and not just because he was a lovely chap, but I’m also okay because since successfully dislodging my fingers from down my throat for long enough to gargle an audible opinion, I believe that I deserve for my voice to be heard. A voice that is honest and shaped by six years’ worth of eating disorders.

Veganism – you might’ve heard of it? It occupies your social media feeds and provides ample ammunition for many a think piece to be thrown down the internet’s well, along with this one, maybe. What was once a diet constructed to protect animals, the environment and the human conscience, has now been hijacked and reincarnated into the more marketable terms of #cleaneating and #plantbased – trends centred on vanity and giving yet more reasons to feel completely inadequate.

Many of us who have grown up online are constantly searching for justifications as to why we are yet to fulfil our potential – to find love, unearth abs and build a successful career with tonnes of money. We’re trying to figure out why we are 28 and living with our mums, who still wash our underwear. Then came a-marching the polished, clean eating brigade with their laminated answers to our existential questions typed up in a minimalist font. Hey! Maybe you’re just ugly because you are eating the wrong things?

Courgetti, chai seeds, Instagram, bone broth, spirulina, kale, quinoa, yoga, coconut oil, beach waves, white teeth, high-waisted thongs and sparkly eyes. These are the ingredients for a perfect, alkalised life. Wake up and smell the fermenting nut milk, won’t you! It appears that you must now be beautiful and “plant-based” to give nutritional advice. Food historian and writer Bee Wilson, wrote on The Pool after being jeered and reduced to tears by fans of a prominent clean eating blogger: “The implication is that – forget knowledge – you are only allowed a view on nutrition if you are young with model looks.”

A lot of today’s nutritional prodigies do not come from a medical background and present no qualifications other than good genes and perhaps a wealthy family – yet dictate strict food rules that people ought to follow. It’s rather worrying that a lot of their followers don’t seem to even know the difference between a dietitian and a nutritionist. Nutritionists are not trained in the clinical aspect of nutrition and don’t undertake any clinical placements. To become a nutritionist in the UK, you can do an online course which takes just six days.

I became vegan because, having spent over a quarter of my young life structuring my life around the number on the scales, I was desperate for something new that might help me decrease it. New-age veganism was an opportunity for me to disguise disordered eating with smoothies and health concerns, built on hopes of clearing up my skin and looking beautiful, not necessarily to have a kinder attitude towards the planet. This may seem selfish, but it’s incredibly difficult to look after those around you when you can’t even look after yourself.

My veganism died a predictable death because of boredom and my utter unhappiness at not feeling as good as everyone had promised I would. Defeated and bloated, I spoke to dietitian Ursula Philpot, who specialises in eating disorders, for confirmation that I wasn’t a total dud. She said: “Interestingly, whenever anyone changes their diet, or when they cut something out of their diet, about 90% of cases will report some positive outcome. But actually, over time, that effect plateaus or even dips and the temptation then is to cut something else out to get that same effect.”

Teen years spent on pro-ana Tumblr posts graduated to stylised Instagram galleries, continuing to fuel a sugar-coated self-destruction, but this time rooted in fundamental classism. Growing up in Dudley and having parents who are both as down to earth as is humanly possible without plummeting into its molten core, this was all very new to me. My dad, by the way, grew up on boiled new potatoes, meat and veg in a terrace house and yet became a professional footballer for over a decade. What does that tell you?

Ursula describes the current eating culture as feeling “very superior”. She said: “If you can’t afford chia seeds and you don’t blend your green shakes then you’re in some way inferior where your food quality is concerned, which I don’t agree with.” Ursula believes that part of the problem lies in the language used by those promoting specific diets. “‘Clean eating’, what does that imply? Food doesn’t hold a moral value, it’s nutrition, not something you should be making moral judgements about”, she said.

Thankfully, the years of living with an eating disorder are behind me and I’ve now grown to recognise the importance of questioning why we might be tempted to cut things out of our diet.

If you are considering veganism for no other reason than wanting to lose weight or to look more beautiful, I suggest you think deeply about how this disguised restrictiveness could heighten your problems with food and potentially jeopardise your happiness. I also suggest that you take into consideration the ever blurring line between clean eating and veganism and be honest about what it is you are trying to achieve.

In a world of green smoothies, know that it’s okay to be a spud.

[thefoxintheflowercrown]

Flower Crown Coronation

Early Testament of My Fashion Failures

My personality has gone through some drastic changes over the years. When I was 11 years old (yes, 11)  I endured this stage where I believed myself to be a generic Goth, adorning myself in cracked skull earrings, the most miserable mix up of black and grey t-shirts and murky lipstick shades. I spoke with an agonisingly low tone that I believed to be the key to Goth vocals. In saying this, I mean no offence to any Goths out there. I wholeheartedly respect you and your diverse means in dress and culture. Truth is, I had no idea what a Goth was or what they stood for, and I am sure I have made that rather clear. Till this day, I cannot claim to be an expert in the world of heavy black accessories and absurd heeled boots. I was a child, seeking to identify with something different, desiring to be acknowledged as an individual. You could say I endeavoured to dip my finger in every paint pot, hoping to develop a unique shade that would fit me. We all endure such experimental phases in our lives, where our means of dress, our mannerism and our outlooks change, as we search for our mould. For some, that change is permanent, for me it was temporary. Thank the heavens.

Following on from this rather embarrassing persona I so confidently believed I perfected, I branched into other phases and clusters of people. From cringe worthy crocs and cake faced makeup, to wearing the Veronicas line from Target with thick black eyeliner on both the top and bottom of my lids. You could say I was a real trend setter, perhaps the first volume of a hipster trilogy that lasted for what felt like an eternity. I continued to progress through my expedition of discovery, realising band t-shirts, skinny jeans and converse just aren’t my fantasy fondue, and that I look horrendous in bodycon dresses, polo shirts and the colour purple.

The New Testament of My Fashion Feat

In year 11 and 12 of High School, more specifically my final year, I received a revelation. This long awaited self-discovery soared into my life like a fairytale godmother, hooked on saving me from my perilous puberty phases. She was well overdue, no doubt. She introduced me to the wild and wondrous world of Anime, alongside the remarkably vast blogosphere of fashion, the finery of feminine floral fabrics and vivid prints, the timeless elegance and splendour of vintage dress, and finally, the writings of Jane Austen and its consistent depiction of a woman’s purpose. These elements, although immeasurably unrelated to one another, united together to form my heavenly halo, my flower crown. The flower crown is almost symbolic in my becoming and, what I sincerely believe to be the blossoming of a woman. It was the emblem of my evolution. The flower crown marked the period in which my true self surfaced and began to bloom. 

Although I will always be persistent in exploring the diverse cosmos of fashion and lifestyle, I’ve found my place and instilled my roots. In discovering who I am and where my passions lie, I have come to dress accordingly. I take pride in the way I dress although I have no desire to aim for perfection. I care not for trends or the current statement enunciated by the fashion industry on both a national and international scale. I recognise these trends as I study fashion at university level. However, I do so for the opportunity to be apart of an industry that will one day thrive and empower, rather than regulate and scrutinise size and shape in both men and women. I dress according to my passions, for the purpose of comfort and confidence. I do not believe the world recognises just how important dress is. Not to be dressed in a way that mirrors the idealistic and often impractical trends of fashion, but to be dressed in a way that softens your soul, giving you this priceless sense of security and balance you cannot hope to obtain in any other sphere of life. Fashion and dress is a distinct and engaging language of intimacy exchanged with the self to awaken true identity. Dress to love yourself and not to be loved. Then and only then, will you be crowned in ceremony with your floral crest.

All my love, 

Jean-Mari Vos

[lindoig]

Days 68 to 74

Just to orient ourselves, Day 68 was Monday, 3 July!  (And I am posting this on Sunday, 9 July.)

It started with me taking the car in for its 70,000Km service and walking back the 200 metres to the van for breakfast.  We did a load of washing in preparation for moving on again on Tuesday (at last – starting to get a little stir-crazy after 9 days propped in Katherine with not a lot of things to do apart from working around the van).  I went birding and photographing along the river in the afternoon and the first thing I saw was a small red-bellied black snake crossing the path a metre ahead of me.  I took a pic of it, but it was hiding its head in the grass so it just looks like a shiny black rope.  We saw a somewhat larger one on Thursday when we were driving so I tossed out the anchor, but it (the snake, not the anchor) also seemed more anxious to slither away than getting its photo taken.

We had had a looooong phone call with Deanne on Sunday, mainly chatting about our overseas travel plans for 2018 – 3 weeks around Ireland in a campervan, a 10-day eco-cruise in the Scottish Isles, 3 weeks campervanning in Scotland, by train to London and on to Istanbul (retracing the Orient Express), then some time in Turkey, a little driving, but mainly training to Beijing (with some stopovers), a mini-tour of China and home again – but everything after Scotland is still subject to negotiation.  Deanne and Rob may be in Asia about the same time as us and we hope to cross paths if that happens.  It got us quite excited!

It is now almost a week later and I haven’t written anything in all that time – just too busy relaxing I think.  It is not always easy finding a block of time to update my blog and it is too hard to do it a couple of sentences at a time.

We are now in Kununurra – and that means that in the last 3 months, we have caravanned in all Australian States and the Northern Territory.  That is certainly a first for us.  Even when travelling for work, I probably never visited all the States in 3 months and only ever went to the NT on business once or maybe twice.  It wasn’t on my Bucket List, but I am happy to tick it nonetheless.

The week has zipped past. Tuesday, we hit the road again and it was a great feeling.  Everything seemed brighter and sharper away from Katherine’s ‘Big Smoke’ – the senses seemed more acute and the colours were brighter and the sounds clearer. Love this country!  It was the hottest day we have had since leaving home (mid-30s, and the sun burns fiercely when directly overhead so far north) and they have all seemed much the same since then.

We were hassled out of the caravan park in the morning.  They had someone parked at the gate early in the morning waiting for our site and the manager sat on his motor-bike almost beside our van to geeing us along while we were packing up.  Even though we were off the site by about 10:10am (normal checkout is 10am but many parks won’t let new bookings in until after 2pm), it was a little confronting to have him sitting there for half an hour hurrying us up.  

At last, Katherine was behind us and we were on our way to Timber Creek, stopping at the Victoria River Roadhouse at lunchtime.  We drove down to the river and walked around the rocks, but it was very hot so we didn’t linger long. Interestingly, we got quite a good view of a grey falcon when driving down to the river and on the way back, it perched and posed beautifully for us in a tree close to the side of the road for us – Sean Dooley, eat your heart out!  (For those who don’t know, Sean is a well-known birder, but he has never seen a grey falcon – so frequently asserts that there is no such bird.  This was our 7th confirmed sighting, 6 of them really good views!!)

We started a walk at Joe Creek in the Judbarra National Park and saw some spectacular rocky cliffs, but it was simply too hot to do the uphill stretch so we retraced our steps back to the car.  Strangely, it seemed at least twice as far back to the car as when heading out – maybe we were dehydrated or something, but it was hard work – but worth it for the spectacle.

An interesting aspect of the day’s drive was the absence of ‘dressed’ anthills. We have seen three varieties of anthills in our travels: more-or-less conical ones, often no more than a metre high (but some are quite high); the ‘magnetic’ ones that align north-south to control the heat in parts of the nest; and some larger dome-shaped blobs, as if a kid had thrown them together by chucking handfuls of mud at them, all lumpy and unsymmetrical.  The main ones, and there must be many millions of them, are the first type and all the way up the Stuart Highway and east into Queensland, there are thousands that have been dressed up in shirts, hats, bras, coats, you name it.  Some even have pants draped across them (difficult to get the legs in as you may have guessed). Every conceivable outfit and variation seems to be represented – hi-vis vests, hard-hats, crash helmets, uniforms of all sorts, fatigues, bikinis, with sashes, pipes, broom handles for arms, it goes on – and on and on – thousands of them in all states of disrepair. But I saw only one dressed anthill (with just a bra and panties so maybe she was almost undressed) all the way from Katherine to Kununurra.

We arrived at the Timber Creek Caravan Park, just in time to see the croc-feeding they do three times a week.  Boooooring…… they dangled some scraps of meat in front of a couple of small freshwater crocs that seemed to have little interest in it, but one had a bit of a go just to keep the crowd happy.   What was more interesting was the kite feeding.  They tossed small pieces of meat up and the black kites and whistlers dived and lunged to catch them on the wing – before they hit the ground where a hungry dog was enthusiastically lapping up the leftovers.  The kids got into the act and enjoyed it and I got a few pics – and gave a little lesson to some of them about how to recognise the various kites.  A really interesting thing happened as everyone was heading back to their vans.  A barking owl appeared from nowhere and attacked two kites that were perched where it wanted to sit.  It won – easily – and then sat and posed for me to take several photos.  Remember what I said about how hard it is to see and identify nocturnal birds – that was our third in about a week!

The caravan park was inhabited a large colony of bats with their distinctive odour (and their incessant rowdy bickering) permeating the air throughout the day – but mercifully not at night when they all took off to feed in someone else’s backyard.  At night, it was the road-trains that parked immediately outside the park with their motors and freezer units blaring away all night.  Most inconsiderate for the tourists trying to get some sleep after a tiring day reading and knitting and chatting and maybe fishing……!  We are in a somewhat similar situation at Kununurra, surrounded by screaming bats all day, but fortunately no trucks at night.

We booked a cruise on the Victoria River (NT’s largest and even in the Dry, it is huge).  We explored the area during the heat of the day, including a drive to a few river access points and up along the escarpment to some great scenic lookouts and one over the town.  Then we boarded an old bus to take us out to where the boat was waiting.  We cruised 70km downstream, checking out the crocs and their hundreds of wallabies prey – and some birds – and had a finger-food dinner on a pontoon in the middle of the river before returning just after dark. It was a good cruise and wonderfully cool on the water, but I felt the cruise-captain could have taken a little more time creeping up on some of the wildlife instead of roaring in on it and scaring them away before we got close enough for really good photos.  On return to camp, we were still a little peckish to bought some greasies from the pub before watching another DVD.

The next day, we set ourselves a challenge and we are so glad we did.  We have numerous 4WD and adventure travelling DVDs with us and we watched one about the Binns Track that runs for over 1000 km over some pretty extreme terrain.  We weren’t about to do that, but we did the first 150km of it, including our own bit of extreme terrain.  We drove out and down the Bullita Access Track and had lunch at the old Bullita Homestead – a quaint and very interesting old place, amazingly small for what was a working station for over a hundred years, nestled on a beautiful river with a mammoth boab outside.  We saw hundreds of boabs that day, from mere saplings to 3000-year-old monsters.  The trunks come in an amazing variety of shapes: round, square, bifurcated, trifurcated, quadfurcated, conical, inverted conical, smooth, gnarled, branched, symmetrical and asymmetrical – a most unusual tree and the older ones are quite awe-inspiring.  I just love them.  They call them the upside-down tree because when they have no leaves (now – in the Dry), their branches look like roots running in all directions and at all angles.

We also called in to Limestone Gorge.  It is a limestone gorge (yes, really) that is quite a few kilometres long and the end is accessed by driving down a ‘track’ that is simply large rough river boulders. It is a very dramatic gorge, mainly in blacks and greys with a bit of yellowish-cream in recently broken and unweathered places, but we just took some pics and headed back to the real objective of the day – the Tuwakam Track.  It is only 20km long and joins the Bullita road with the Buchanan ‘Highway’, but the guide says to allow 3 hours in good conditions – strictly high clearance 4WDs only. It was a lot of fun and we really only took a bit over 2 hours.  Some parts were reasonably good going – I got up to about 20 kph a couple of times – but a lot of it was ungraded rock and I was frequently walking the car over boulders twice the size of watermelons for 100 metres at a time.  We crossed a few creeks and creek-beds and some of the entry and exit angles were daunting. Several times, I thought the car would simply not climb such steep exits, but in 4WD low and with a heavy foot, it just ploughed ahead wherever I pointed it.  It truly is an amazing vehicle.  We saw a few wild donkeys and a snake along the track, but at the time, my focus was more on the track than the wildlife.  We met up with a young couple with two little kids doing the Track too – she is a travel writer and writes about travelling in extreme places with kids.  We chatted with them for quite a while when we reached the Buchanan – and they headed back to Timber Creek, but we still wanted to go further to Jasper Gorge.  That was about 30km further south on the Buchanan and it was VERY different from the Limestone Gorge of the morning. Similar structure with huge rocks and dramatic cliffs, but all in darker, richer reds, maroons and oranges.  We walked around exploring for a while, but we had 150km or so, mainly on rough roads, to get back in time for dinner so we set off into the dusk.  There was another couple setting up to camp overnight at the Gorge and we thought they would enjoy a nice quiet night on their own under the stars – but we saw quite a lot of cars, including a few hoons, heading down to join them as we headed north again.  It was a great day, a real adventure for us, certainly more extreme than anything we have attempted before and we came through without a scratch.  The round trip was exactly 300km, well over 200 on dirt roads and despite the Tuwakam Track only being 20km, it was a standout adventure for both of us.  Certainly a confidence booster for next time, whatever, wherever and whenever that may be.

Next day, we moved on west again and had planned to stay in the Keep River National Park, touted as a good birdwatching place. We stopped at the Ranger station, ate our lunch and looked at the display there, and I cruised the lagoon at the back, photographing birds and water-lilies – it was quite lovely, but very hot. I also noticed that our caravan was leaking – one of our water tanks was dribbling water.  We will have to get it fixed, but it looks like a cracked hose in a very difficult place to reach so I think I will get someone else to do the hard part.  One tyre has scrubbed out very badly and we have a couple of other small things to get fixed so hopefully, we can find someone with time to do these things while we are in Kununurra.

We drove through the rest of the National Park looking for a place to camp, but unfortunately, both camp-grounds were fully occupied.  The Park was a bit disappointing, not at all what we expected (in our ignorance), hot and dusty with long walks to get to any of the places we wanted to see so with a leaky water tank, we deemed it better to head across the border and stay at Kununurra instead.

We arrived here late afternoon on Friday only to find our first-choice van park full.  So was our second choice so we let our fingers do the walking and we eventually managed to get the last site available in a Big Four Discovery Park. Big 4s are my least favourite parks – over $50 a night, jam-packed against everyone else and with more draconian regimentation than anywhere else. They are usually manicured to within an inch of destruction - so don’t dare walk on the grass or do anything much else.  As luck would have it, this one doesn’t seem so bad and it certainly hasn’t seen a manicurist for some time.  The design is less than optimal, but we are on a good site, a little separated from our neighbours – even if it was almost impossible to reverse into the allocated space.  We are not much more than 50 metres from the lake and the facilities are close-by too so we don’t have much to complain about.  We have booked some great adventures for during the week so managed to extend our stay until Friday – I just hope we can get our maintenance jobs done before then, because we are heading for the Gibb River Road after that – one of the most iconic trips in outback Aussie travelling folklore.

Yesterday (Saturday) we needed some down-time so we took it very easy, hiding out under the air conditioner for most of the day.  We did a couple of small maintenance jobs and a bit of cleaning – and the ‘weekly shopping’ at Coles in the late arvo, but not much else.  I did a big review of our birding log – currently 230 for the trip and 41 newies for us – and caught up with several days’ email from when we had no service at all.

Today, we have done the washing and updated our blogs a bit, but very soon, we have to get up to Reception because we are going on a Sunset cruise on Lake Kununurra – with a BBQ dinner at dusk.  Incidentally, keeping up with time is a bit difficult.  We crossed the border and picked up 90 minutes, but going from the extreme west of one time zone to the extreme east of another means that the difference in ‘solar time’ is more like 3 hours – we are awake by about 5.30, but it is dark again by just after 5 in the afternoon – seems very weird, especially with such short twilights in these latitudes.

I will post this now before our cruise and add some relevant pics in the next day or two.