#corn fed queue

[mahvaladara]

Almost on queue they heard the singing of the hens as Syra rushed back up the path throwing corn with a whole bunch of chicks chasing her. She smiled at them and made a surprised sound when she saw the fixed coop.

Syra: You fixed it!

They smiled looking at the coop as it now looked better than it had ever done. As Syra came running with the chickens, they turned to Mal.

Fannar: And I am as prepared as I can be, and I intend to stick by him to the end, whenever that might happen.  -they nodded, then looked at Syra. - Impressive, they seem to know resistance is futile. - they chuckled and picked up one of the chickens. - See new house and all.

Syra: These aren’t the original chickens -she confessed sheepishly- But we didn’t want Arlo to get upset.

Fannar: Oh.

Syra: Sorry. Brightside though! Disposable Rooster #2 -and she pointed to the rooster- Will live a long happy life and not become chicken soup!

Mal: Waste of perfectly good meat. With his size and age, his liver is huge, tasty and healthy, his heart rubbery and tasty, and if I pull and snap his neck and hold him upside down long enough all the blood's going to accumulate on the neck and head and then I can boil him, clean him up and cook that neck with coagulated blood to make the most marvelous chicken soup.

Vy and Fannar stared Mal horrorfied.

Mal: What? You guys never had chicken?

Syra: No dad. I think they did. I just think you horrified them with the graphic description of how you prepare them.

Mal: Or, you're one of those "only eat chicken from the supermarket, injected with growth hormones, held up in tiny pens and fed the remains of their crushed siblings and rejected eggs, and killed by electrocution" kind of guys.

Vy: Well... but you actually snap their necks? With your bare hands?

Mal: With what else would I kill the chickens? You expected me to go ax murderer on the chicken? This isn't The Shinning. Wastes effort, time, it's messier, more painful for the chicken, can actually take longer to kill it, especially with a rooster that size that requires at least two good hits to chop off his head, and shooting a chicken would just be overkill. Besides, it would waste all the blood I'd want around the neck to cook.

Vy: Why do you want to eat the chicken's cooked coagulated blood?

Mal: Because it's a delicacy where I come from! Don't you people have cultural gastronomy? Where I come from we eat everything from the chicken! Everything from the pork too! And almost everything from the cow. Except the kidneys, the kidneys just taste bad.

Vy: No wonder you don't eat dragons. You eat everything else, devourer.

Mal: I don't eat cockroaches, and have only eaten bugs out of desperation. I am actually repulsed by them. If you want to incapacitate me in a battle, just throw a flying roach at me and I'll jump out a window to escape it! Or set the building on fire. I have done both in the past.

[spacedancer1701]

That smile! 🥰

Bones is Soft™ pass it on

[kaitymccoy123]

I have two ways I write:

Me: “wow this story is flowing so well it’s like it’s coming out of my soul the words are coming so easily” **writes 2,000 words in an hour**

OR:

Me: **googles how to spell the word ‘the’** **gets stuck on tumblr for 3 hours** **falls asleep with laptop open** **writes 3 words in 5 days**

[trickshxt]

@quantahope​ / from here!

There’s a creak to Wendell’s voice, like something long since dust covered and rusted being discovered once more. Recognition slow in bright eyes; not for lack of focus but far, far too much. It reminds him of the farm houses deep within the fields. Single paned windows emanating light in the distance over the whisper of the vastness of viridian stalks...

It makes him hurt in the same way the ache of empty nights does. He wonders, sometimes, in the privacy of his own head, however, whether such worry means anything in the grandness of it all. For he is not a thing of stardust or cosmos. Just a being of blood and flesh. And though he is lucky to call the Protector of the Universe Wendell a friend there are moments he sees the man he knows lose himself to the enormity of the infinite within him.

“Eh, just got here,” he lies with a brisk quirk of his lips. Sitting with a huff and kicking a leg up onto the railing, watching the cosmos swirl by. “I’d offer you a penny, but am all outta Canadian ones and think a credit would get you further up here...”

[kaitymccoy123]

Doctor McCoy, you are needed on the bridge. The Captain-

(x)

[venactricisfics]

Malibu Desert

Getting to know your neighbor is fun.

Mayans

Fluff, angst, more

Master List

Chapter Two 

I pull to a stop in my SUV. Glancing from the GPS on the dash to the rusted gate of Romero Bros Scrap. This was it. Behind there was Bishop and his MC. 

It had been a week since I had dinner at his place. And I'd been waiting on my day off to repay him. Which he assured me that I didn't have to do. I knew I didn't have to do it I wanted to. I really wanted a reason to see him again. 

The inside of my car smelled of barbecue and I hoped he'd like it. It was from a deli nearby. I wanted to feed the man, not kill him with my cooking skills. 

My nerves had settled a touch when the gate rattled open and I pulled through. I'm guided through stacks of what used to be cars and through a second gate that surrounded the clubhouse. 

"I'm here to see Bishop, " I said as a tall Hispanic man comes to the window to see what I need. The name tag stitched on his yard shirt read Angel. That was not an understatement. Santo Padre didn't lack in good looking men. 

"He expecting you?" He asks. 

"Yeah, I brought him lunch, " I respond. 

"Yo Prospect!" He shouts across the yard then turns back to me and gives me a once over as he opens my door, "you must be his Malibu Barbie." Another man, equally muscular, trots over before I could reply. "She's here for Bish. Carry her shit." 

"Thanks, " I say as the second man swings open my passenger side door and grabs the box of food.  “I could have carried it though.” 

“Bishop would have me on yard duty for a month if I’d let you,” he responds as he shifts the box of food to his other arm and holds the clubhouse door open. 

The clubhouse was relatively empty.  It was the middle of the afternoon, aside from Bishop and a long-haired man with a vice president patch on his leather kutte. Bishop snuffs out his cigarette and stands when he sees me.  Their conversation had stopped. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” the hem of my sundress flowed around my thighs as I walk almost mesmerizing the man.  I pat myself on the back internally for my outfit choice.  

He raises his dark eyes to meet my blue ones, “Not interrupting at all,” he replied, “This is my VP, Taza. This is Nova.”

“Nice to meet you,” I motion for the prospect to set the box down, “I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got some of everything. Chicken, beef, pulled pork and some ribs. Corn, coleslaw, baked beans. I may have gotten a little too much.”

“Just enough to feed the entire MC,” Bishop chuckles, ”nationwide.”   

“You’ll be well fed then,” I pull out the various containers of food and plates.  I take a seat next to Bishop after I was satisfied that he and his men had filled their plates to capacity.  I place a napkin in my lap and pray that I don’t spill any sauce on my face or the front of my dress when I ate.  I listened to Bishop and Taza talk about club stuff.  Or as much about club stuff as they would disclose in front of a nonmember.  My delicate nature couldn’t handle the blood and death that seemed to follow the MC.  I’d asked around. And knowing what little I knew, didn’t scare me. It intrigued me. Let me know that I had moved next door to a man that could keep me safe if I needed it.  

The hours passed by and lunch turned into the entire afternoon of talking.  The rumble of incoming bikes reminded both of us of the time and his commitments. 

"Templo, " Taza says as the door swings open and several more men in leather kuttes file through. 

"I guess that's my queue, " I slide my chair back and start to stand. 

"Stay, " Bishop says, "shouldn't take but an hour. Things get interesting after Templo." 

"What he means booze, fighting, and pussy, " Angel adds now wearing his own kutte. "It'll be a whole new experience for you, Malibu." 

"How could I possibly say no to that? " I give him a smile. 

Bishop arches a brow at the exchange as a smirk plays on his lips, "Damn, girl." He heads toward a door covered in stained glass images. "Prospect! Clean this shit up and keep her company." 

I watch as Bishop walks past that door followed by Taza, Angel, and the rest of his Mayans before the door slides closed again.

"So is Prospect your given name?" I offer him a smile as I start picking up plates and cups to throw away. 

"EZ, " he says as he sweeps. I give him a look, "Ezekiel."

"Very biblical, " I pluck a rag from behind the bar and wipe the tables. "Your friend doesn't seem to like me much." 

"Angel?" He looks up at me and I nod. "He's my brother and had his heartbroken by a rich white girl a few years ago. Don't take it personally." 

"Not much I can do about either of those things, " I give him a meaningful look, "though I'm not really rich."

"Living in Malibu, compared to how we grew up, " he uncaps a beer and hands it to me, "you are." 

I nod. I didn't doubt I had things better at least financially than EZ and his brother. We all have our crosses to bear. 

I feel of calloused hands on my hips, pulls me from darker thoughts.  I smile leaning back against him. "How'd it go?" 

"The way it should, " he responded. I knew enough not to ask him to elaborate and risk losing the warmth of his body pressed against me. "Come get a drink with me." I nodded, letting him lead me to the bar. EZ fills two glasses with Patron. I tremble a little as it burns it's way down my throat. He smiles pushing my copper locks from my face, motioning for more shots. And I match him shot for shot. Losing count and forgetting that I wasn't much of a drinker. It feels safe here to just let go. 

"Hermosa, " I don't know if he said anything after that because my lips were pressed against his. He tasted of tequila and smoke. And I wanted to drown in the man. My hands rest on the warmth of his leather, he squeezed my hips pulling me closer. I step back catching my breath. He smirks, "I was just gonna ask you if you wanted to go outside and watch the fight. Angel and Creeper are boxing." 

"Oh, " my cheeks flush. "Sorry." 

"Not complaining, " he slides another shot in front of me and downs his. I lift the glass and toss it back. He drapes his arm around my shoulders and ushers me out the door. 

I sit listening as fist collides with flesh, leaning into Bishop's side. The buzz ringing loud with the screams of the guys cheering their brothers on. If I were sober I'd wince at the sight but the tequila and the man beside me had my head spinning in different directions. My hand squeezes his thigh as Angel tossed Creeper against the fence. 

"You ready for me to take you home, sweetheart?" He asks leaning in to whisper in my ear, "I can't have you grabbing my dick in front of my guys." 

I look down realizing the leg I squeezed was actually his lap. 

"Yeah, I think we should get out of here, " my lips find him again. "You should drive, " I giggle, "I think I'm a little drunk." 

"Good idea, " he kisses my temple and helps me up. "Where are your keys?" 

"Inside, my purse, " I lean against my SUV. 

"Wait here, querida, " he makes sure I'm standing before walking off. EZ comes out holding my purse and I giggle again. 

"I put it behind the bar before anyone got here, " he said. That was probably a good idea but at the moment I didn't exactly know why. 

"Bishop is gonna take me home, " I stated louder than necessary. 

"It was nice to meet you, Nova, " he smiled as I dig my keys out of the bottom.

"Tell Angel I'll sew his pretty face up tomorrow if he’s nice to me. He'll look like Frankenstein if I try tonight, " I hand Bishop my keys when he comes back out. "Take me home. I want to see you naked." My brain to mouth filter had completely shut down at this point. 

"Come on, baby, " he helps me in the SUV before climbing behind the wheel. Moments later we've pulled into my driveway. He opens my door and I almost spill out. My arms wrapped around his neck pulling him to me. "Fuck, you are making being a gentleman hard as hell." 

"Among other things, " I smirk then kiss him again moaning into his lips feeling his reaction pressing firmly against my stomach. 

"Yes, among other things, " he scoops me up bridal style and carries me across the yard to his place. He fumbles with his keys and kicks open his door. He turns sideways to lead me down his narrow hallway. My lips and tongue tasting the salty-sweet skin on his neck. My feet touch the floor of his dark bedroom. Somewhere along the way, I'd lost my shoes. "Fuck, " he mutters as my hand finds the bulge in his jeans. 

Goose flesh prickles over my skin when he pulls my dress over my head and my bra falls to the floor. He shrugs out of his kutte and shirt. And I fell backward to the bed pulling him with me. I let out a moan as he grinds into me, the roughness of his jeans pressed against the soft satin of my panties. The friction lighting a charge deep in the pit of my stomach. 

*Condom, Bishop, " I moan needing to feel him inside me. He nods fumbling in his nightstand drawer. 

"I will be right back, " he kisses me once more before he crosses the room to his bathroom. I close my eyes just for a minute while I wait for him. "Nova?" I groan turning over on my side, snuggling into the pillow. He pushes my hair from my face. And I hear a smile instead of frustration, "Sleep,  Hermosa."  I feel the bed sink beside me as he climbs in beside me and pulled the covers up over us. 

_____________________________

I groan, hating the sun at that moment. Didn't it know that I was hungover? I open my eyes focusing on the unfamiliar surroundings. Flashes of the night before. His lips, his hands. Then blank. I'd like to think sex with Bishop would be so mindblowing I would remember it. 

I throw back the covers prepared for the walk of shame. My panties are still on.  I blink again seeing a glass of water, a bottle of Tylenol, and a T-shirt on the table by the bed. 

I swallow a couple of pills chasing them with the water. He thought of everything. He even took into consideration that my passing out voided my consent. 

I slip the shirt over my head and make my way into the bathroom and take care of that need. I wash my face and try to get myself somewhat presentable before I look for Bishop. 

Satisfied that I no longer had mascara on my forehead and my hair wasn't sticking up I emerge. I follow the scent of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon. 

"Morning, " I inch slowly into the kitchen. Bracing myself for the anger from a man who got worked up but not satisfied. The anger I had grown accustomed to before. 

"Morning, " Bishop's voice wasn't angry, it was soothing, "How are you feeling?" He motions to a barstool. I move timidly waiting for the other shoe to drop. He sets a cup of coffee in front of me.  

"Better now, " I inhale the sweet aroma. And take a drink. He'd added just enough sugar and milk. I take a sip then raise my eyes to his. There's no anger on his face, just concern. "I'm sorry about last night." 

"Why are you sorry?" He asked, "You had a good time right?"  I nod, confused. "Then there's nothing to apologize for. Though next time you don't have to try to keep up with me. I'm used to drinking that much."

"Wait, you're not pissed I didn't fuck you last night?" I watch genuinely confused.

He lifts my face so my eyes are locked with his, "I'm not sure what kind of pendejos you're used to but I'm a grown man. I don't get pissed when my girl doesn't put out."

"No?" I relax a little and he takes a seat next to me. 

"No, " he leans forward kissing my temple, "I got you in my bed. That's enough until you're ready for more." 

I give him a smile, quirking a brow, "Your girl?" 

"You know what I mean, " he places a plate with bacon and toast in front of me. 

"I think so, " I give him a smile taking a bite of bacon, it was just crisp enough. I close my eyes and whisper,  "perfect." 

“It’s just breakfast,” he gives me a smile. “I gotta go on a run to Vegas tomorrow. Should be back in a few days.”

“OK,” I knew it must be club stuff. I wasn’t going to ask.  He’d tell me if he could. I pick up my plate and his and carry them to the sink.  He stands behind me as I rinse. So close I can feel the heat from his breath on my neck, his hands rest on my hips.

“I want to take you for a ride when I get back,” he states. My cheeks flush at the double meaning. 

“A ride, huh?” I turn my eyes to meet his. My tongue glides over my lips.

"You keep that up neither of us will be leaving today, " his voice almost a growl. 

"You're the boss aren't you?" I arch a brow. His hands massaging my hips, inching my shirt up higher. 

"That doesn't mean what you think it means, querida, " he brushes my hair to the side and presses his lips to my cheek. "And don't you have work?" 

I could stand there with his arms wrapped around me indefinitely and I would be perfectly happy. But I couldn't stay in the comfort of this bubble much longer. "Yeah, I should head home and get ready. Will I see you before you leave?" 

"I'll do my best, " he responded. 

[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!"

[luthienebonyx]

16 for the prompt meme?

16: A Doomed Kiss

This was supposed to be a ficlet but it is NOT a ficlet, because apparently I’m not capable of those - or at least I’m not capable of them right now, anyway.

This first part is a prologue. Part II, complete with doom and kiss, should be along in a day or so.

A Doom Unescaped - Part I

They probably wouldn't have noticed the tent if Addam hadn't staggered out of the Gravitron and been noisily sick all over Jaime's trainers. Dragging Addam out of the way of the people queueing for their turn on the ride, Jaime had kept going until the two of them were around the corner, where he found a patch of grass that he could wipe his shoes - rather futilely - on. Beside him, Addam sank to the ground and sat with his head between his knees, taking great heaving breaths.

The day was not turning out quite as Jaime had anticipated. He'd turned thirteen the previous week, and somehow - he still didn't quite know exactly how - he'd managed to persuade his father that this meant he was old enough to attend the annual Lannisport agricultural show and fun fair without adult supervision. Tywin Lannister's only conditions had been to 'take your cousin with you, and don't do anything stupid!' Neither of these had seemed like particularly difficult requirements at the time. But that was before he and Addam had used some of Jaime's birthday money from Aunt Genna to eat their way through every food stand they could find, and then gone in search of the rides. That had been a mistake. Or, at least, those last four corn hounds on sticks that Addam had eaten had been a mistake. And the lemon cakes that he followed them up with probably hadn't helped either.

"Urk, I need something to drink," Addam said, when he finally raised his head.

"Just still water," Jaime said firmly. He didn't want to imagine the likely outcome, let alone be within range, if Addam tried drinking anything fizzy right now. He hauled Addam to his feet, and they wandered down to the drinks stand in the midst of the sideshows. Jaime bought two bottles of water; one for Addam to drink, the other for Jaime to use with a paper napkin to try to get the worst of the stink off his shoes. He didn't really have much success, but at least he got rid of the remaining chunks.

He chucked the now bright yellow napkin and the rest of the water into the bin next to the stall with the row of laughing jesters' heads, their open ceramic mouths rotating back and forth as they waited to be fed the balls that might or might not result in a prize. Jaime had a sudden mental picture of the jester heads spewing the balls back up. He shuddered inside, turned away - and spotted the tent, lurking right at the end of the row of sideshows. 

It seemed like a strange sort of thing to be grouped with the jesters and Tully's magnetic fish pond and the wildling hi striker. Unlike most tents Jaime had ever seen, it was made out of what looked like silk rather than canvas, and its walls were the same deep crimson as the field on the Lannister coat of arms. The tent was covered in gold stars both large and small. Gold, like the Lannister lion. There was a sign above the door that said, in extravagantly curly writing: "Madame Maggy, Your Fortune For a Price."

Maybe it was the Lannister colours of the tent that drew Jaime's curiosity, or maybe it was simply how out of place it looked. It was tacky, yes, but tacky in a completely different way from the attractions that surrounded it. Whatever the reason, Jaime went to have a closer look, with Addam tagging along behind, complaining that fortune tellers were boring girly shit, and that they should try out the Kraken next.

"You go on the Kraken," he told Addam, digging in the pocket of his jeans for some silver stags and stuffing them into his cousin's hands. "I'll catch up with you in a few minutes, and then you can go on it again with me." Apart from anything else, it wouldn't hurt if Addam emptied whatever might be left in his stomach when Jaime was nowhere nearby.

Addam didn't need to be told twice. "See you in a few!" he yelled over his shoulder as he raced off in the direction of the Kraken, whose great metal tentacles could be seen swooping above the people queueing next to the entrance gate.

There was no queue outside Madame Maggy's tent. There wasn't a single other person waiting, so Jaime ducked in through the opening in the silk that served as a doorway and called, "Hello? Is there anybody here?"

"Good day, young man," said a voice so weirdly croaky that Jaime couldn't tell if the speaker was a man or a woman. He was standing in an outer room of some sort, but there was no sign of anyone else. There were a couple of chairs by the wall that must have been set there by some optimistic person who expected that there would be at least two people waiting their turn at some point today.

Long strings of multi-coloured crystal beads and little gold bells hung in the interior doorway on the other side of the room. They clinked and jangled as Jaime pushed them aside and entered the tent's main room.

The inside of Madame Maggy's tent was swathed in long bolts of black and yellow fabric, alternating with others in green and silver. A heavily scuffed carpet in a murky shade of green covered the floor. Overall, it wasn't very Lannister-ish, so it didn't call to him the way the outside of the tent had, but he didn't spend much time thinking about that because right then he noticed the person sitting at the small round table in the corner. Even looking right at them, Jaime couldn't tell whether they were a man or a woman. He was barely certain that they were a living person. They were covered from head to - presumably - toe in voluminous black robes, and their face was yellow, like the faded pages of an old book, or one of the dummies in the waxwork museum he'd visited the last time he'd gone to King's Landing. There was also a huge, horrible wart with a long black hair growing out of it right in the middle of one wrinkly cheek.

"I am Madame Maggy," the person - well, probably woman - said in a raspy sort of voice, and cackled. 

Jaime had never heard anyone cackle before, but he knew one when he heard one. He watched, fascinated, as she took a set of false teeth from a very ordinary looking glass of water on the table beside her and pushed them into her mouth. He'd only ever heard about toothless crones in the stories that Tyrion's nanny sometimes told, but he knew one of those when he saw one, too.

"Come. Sit," Madame Maggy commanded, indicating the rickety wooden chair opposite her with an imperious wave of her hand - though it was so gnarled and bent that it looked more like a claw. Her words sounded a lot clearer now that she had teeth in her mouth, at least.

A Lannister never does anything just because someone tells him to - unless that someone is me. Jaime heard his father's voice, as clearly as if he'd been standing right next to him, and stayed where he was.

"Well? Are you going to just stand there? Why else did you come in here if not to have your fortune told?"

It was a good point, and anyway, Jaime had never been very good at doing what his father told him. He went, and sat.

The crone held out a claw. "It is customary for one seeking his fortune to cross my palm with silver, but I think the price for a Lannister must be gold."

Jaime didn't ask how she knew who he was. She was a fortune teller after all. Even so, he didn't like the thought of being cheated, and yet he'd given all his silver stags to Addam. All he had left in his pocket were gold dragons and a few copper stars and pennies. Clearly, Madame Maggy somehow knew that, too.

"Okay." Jaime reached into his pocket and pulled out a small handful of dragons. He placed them one by one on her upturned hand. It wasn't a large hand, but still, for seven gold dragons his future had better be filled to the brim with good fortune.

Madame Maggy's talons closed shut as swiftly as the jaws of a steel trap, and only the jingle of the coins as she secreted them in some hidden pocket of her robes proved that they'd ever been there at all. She turned and took a shallow bowl from the shelf behind her. Setting it down in the middle of the table, she filled it with water from the jug sitting beside the glass that had held her false teeth. Jaime hoped that none of the water in the jug had ever been anywhere near those teeth.

"Your hand, young Mr Lannister."

Jaime was feeling more and more that this hadn't been a good idea, but it was too late now. He firmed his lips, determined, and held out his hand. Madame Maggy took it between her own, paper dry ones. She was wearing a number of rings on her left hand, he saw now, silver rings sporting huge, mysterious stones so dark that in the dim light of the tent they appeared black.

Madame Maggy ran a fingernail down the centre of Jaime's palm, and he shivered, as if he'd just felt a knife between his shoulder blades. 

The old woman lifted her hand and jabbed her pointed fingernail right into the centre of his palm.

"Ow!" Jaime yelled, and pulled his hand back.

"Hold your hand over the bowl," Madame Maggy instructed, "and let a few drops of your blood flow from your veins into the water. Then we shall see what it has to tell us."

Jaime should have left. He knew it. It was the wise thing to do. But no one had ever accused him of being wise. He held his hand over the bowl, watching as his blood welled from the small wound and dropped into the water once, twice, and then again.

Madame Maggy pulled out a small plastic strip from somewhere.

"Look," she said, waving a hand above the bowl with a flourish while Jaime pressed the plaster to his still-bleeding palm.

Jaime looked. He expected to see a few small red splotches in the water, but instead the drops of blood had turned into swirls that looked almost like bright red snakes.

Madame Maggy tapped her finger - the same finger that she'd attacked him with - against the side of the bowl. The water swirled gently, and the snakes did too, slowly chasing each other around the bowl.

"You will travel," she said.

Well, that was disappointing. Jaime could have told her that himself for free. He'd already been to almost all of the Seven Kingdoms, and to Essos twice.

She tapped the side of the bowl again, twice this time. The snakes started moving a bit faster.

"And you will rise, so very high, and you will shine, golden lion of Lannister, as brightly as your house sigil, before one you trust implicitly betrays you, and you fall."

Jaime felt suddenly cold. "Are you saying someone's going to kill me someday?" he demanded.

The old woman looked at him unblinkingly, and tapped the side of the bowl three times in quick succession. She stared down at the snakes, which were moving rapidly now, seeming to twist and writhe in the water. "In the Riverlands you will meet your doom."

"So someone's going to kill me in the Riverlands?" Jaime felt sick to the stomach. He wondered what would happen if he threw up on the table and all over that bowl. If three drops of blood could do this, what could a stomachful of vomit achieve? Maybe at the very least it could stop the evil old crone's prediction from coming true.

The old woman didn't answer, but instead reached out and tapped the side of the bowl four times. As Jaime watched, the water turned completely red - the colour of his blood - and then black, and finally clear again. It looked just like it had when Madame Maggy had first poured the water from the jug. She picked up the bowl and emptied it into a bucket on the floor next to her chair.

"The waters have revealed no more," she said. "Good day, young Mr Lannister."

"What?" Jaime said. "That's it? You can't leave it there. Here, I'll give you more gold." He was already reaching into his pocket for some more dragons but the old woman shook her head.

"The waters show what they will, and only once. There is no changing it, and no explaining it. You may only learn the future in full by living it."

"Or dying in it," Jaime muttered. He got to his feet, and glowered down at her in what he hoped was a good imitation of Tywin Lannister at his most dangerous. Then, without another word, he turned and left, pushing the stupid crystals and bells out of the way as he went. 

He emerged blinking into the sunlight, still feeling like he wanted to be sick. He wished he'd never come here. He wished she'd never come here. He could do something about that, he realised - about Madame Maggy being here in the future, anyway. The fair was on Lannister land and, well, a Lannister always paid his debts, didn't he?

He didn't look back as he moved quickly past the sideshows, and didn't stop, or even look to right or left, until he found Addam waiting for him near the front of the queue for the Kraken.

"You got here just in time!" Addam said.

"How was it?" Jaime asked.

"Brilliant! I can't wait to go again."

"Did you throw up afterwards?" 

"What? No! Well, not much," Addam admitted. "I don't think there's anything left now."

"Good," Jaime said. 

"How was the fortune teller? Are you going to meet a tall stranger in the future who's going to sweep you off your feet?" Addam asked, fluttering his eyelashes at Jaime.

Jaime punched him in the shoulder. Not really that hard but:

"Oww!" Addam complained.

"No strangers. Someone I know is going to betray me, after I travel and… rise and shine?" 

"Sounds like too many early mornings to me."

Jaime ignored that. "And I'm going to be killed in the Riverlands."

Addam stared at him. "Wow," he said. "That's much cooler than I was expecting."

"Cooler?"

"It's better than dying in bed after a long, dull life. And anyway, it's easy to make sure that that last bit never happens."

"Is it?" Jaime frowned at his cousin.

Addam rolled his eyes. "She said it was going to happen in the Riverlands, right? Just make sure you never go to the Riverlands and you'll be fine!"

Jaime blinked. "That… makes sense," he said, surprised. Addam wasn't exactly known for being a deep thinker - or any sort of thinker.

The ride slowed and stopped before them, then. They waited impatiently while it emptied of people and then the ride operator opened the gate to let them in. They clambered into two seats at the end of one huge tentacle and strapped themselves in, and before long they were swooping up and down and around and around. It was exhilarating and terrifying and fun - but a small voice in Jaime's head kept insisting the whole time that Addam's solution to his problem wasn't really a solution. If Jaime was meant to die in the Riverlands then fate would make sure he would get there one day.

The Kraken started slowing down, and after it finally came to a shuddering halt, Jaime and Addam jumped down and staggered back out of the gate.

This time Jaime was the one who threw up all over his cousin's trainers.

[imperfectadventures-blog]

Praise God So Much

So it’s day 3 of my Ugandan adventure and the first day I’ve had access to spotty internet. Saturday afternoon I hopped on a 16hr flight to Dubai. I sat next to a man from India who spoke about 10 words in English. From his hand gestures and few words I learned that he has 3 sons, he likes whiskey (his wife yelled at him when he asked me to help him order some), and he has throat cancer (the reason his wife yelled at him). 

A couple hours before we landed, the airline fed us breakfast -- and immediately after we landed it was dinnertime in Dubai. My body was so confused. In Dubai I met Lauren for the first time. She’s from Ohio and is joining me for the next 8 days here in Uganda. Thankfully, we thought ahead and planned out a meeting place in the airport since neither of our phones worked once we got there. We didn’t have time to explore the city much, but we did venture out to get some incredible Lebanese food.

The next morning, Lauren and I were off again on a 6hr flight to Entebbe, Uganda. Unfortunately, the wifi wasn’t working on the plane for us, so we couldn’t contact Janet (the head honcho of Chayah & our ride) to let her know that we were delayed more than an hour. When we finally got all 350lbs of luggage out of the airport, Janet (who had been waiting for 3+hrs for us at the airport) and her driver, Luis, started the journey back to Chayah. The airport in Entebbe is only 79 miles from Chayah, but the trip can take 2-6hrs depending on how many times you get stuck in “the jam”. We got stuck in all the jams, so needless to say, when we arrived at Chayah at 9pm Uganda time (10hrs ahead of CA) we were exhausted. Stepping out of the van, we were bombarded with hugs from all the kids which made the long journey completely worth every moment.

It’s so good to see all the kids, moms, and cooks and hear their joyful laughter. Our first full day at Chayah, we went to downtown Jinja in the morning and shopped for food and muzungu items. Muzungu is the Ugandan term for a white person, although it technically means “English speaker”. You can’t imagine what a Ugandan market looks and smells like until you experience it for yourself, but here’s a couple pictures that might give you an idea.

After our market adventure, we went back to Chayah to eat lunch, rest, and do tie-dye with the kids. About 20 minutes into tie-dying we practically had a monsoon. I have never seen so much rain in my life! So 25 of us huddled on the brown tile porch, attempting to finish what we started. Almost on queue, when the last shirt was finished, the rain let up a bit. Uganda is a tropical country on the equator and its people are used to moderate, warm weather so the Ugandans were freezing during all this. We brought all the kids inside Janet’s living room. Since the power was out, we gave them books to read and played card games until it was time for the nightly devotion. The way they worship the Lord is beautiful -- they sing and dance like no one is watching and praise God with a humble gratefulness that is unmatched by anything I’ve seen. As they say here in Uganda, “Praise God so much.”

Day 3 we learned what Ugandans do with their corn (maize). We took 6 giant sacks of maize to a grinding machine and spent a couple hours waiting for it to become flour. They use it to make a dish they call posho (a gummy potato-like substance). Then Lauren and I went to a restaurant with wifi to have some sense of connection to our world back home for a little bit. We left at 5pm and you would not believe the jam we hit! After waiting in the van for 20 minutes, Janet, Lauren, and I decided to take our chances on walking a little ways to get a boda-boda. A boda is a little motorcycle that taxis people, among other things (like moving couches, carrying live chickens, etc). After the first half mile, we realized the whole bridge was shut down on both sides because there had been an accident. So we continued to walk until after 2 miles, we caught some bodas up the hill for the last half mile of our trek. What a day...

I’m so grateful to be here with the Chayah family and for all the ways God has provided for this adventure. From donations of books, backpacks, school supplies, toiletries and money to the money refunded on Lauren’s and my plane tickets, God has been with us every step of the way.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Tuesday 22nd December 2020

Our Garden Birds. Part 1

♦ bold type indicates an outside link not affiliated to this blog

Before I start today, did anyone manage to see the Great Conjunction last night?

It was thick cloud cover here and the only bright light in the sky was a reflection of the house Landing lights in the bathroom window. I’ll keep looking out and you never know our luck although I have to say considering yesterday was the shortest day, today is putting up some stiff competition and the sky is a sheet of grey.

Back to birds...

Long Tailed Tit on one of our feeding towers

I’ve been chatting with Ms NW tE and she’s disappointed that her venture into bird feeding hasn’t taken off like she’d hoped and she wanted to have a conversation about that and about why and when do the birds come and go, so I thought that’s what I’d write about today. It’s turning out to be long, so I’ll have to carry over to tomorrow.

Why and How to Feed Garden Birds

First off think about your budget and the amount of time you’re prepared to put into feeding your birds. Second, think about the birds and wildlife you attract into your garden and what their needs are. For example we have a large and active squirrel population and for that reason we tend to avoid feeding peanuts - the cost is just prohibitive, we wouldn’t be able to keep up with them.

We offer hanging feeders with high quality fat balls NB please do not buy the coarse,cheap ones which are less nutritious and avoid the dangerous netting at all costs, Birds can get trapped in the net, it’s a very bad idea. 

We have two metal garden obelisk type towers. They’re meant as features or to support climbing plants, but we have nicknamed them Italy and France (the Leaning Tower of Pisa and the Eiffel Tower don’tcha know, No prizes for why they got those names) and we suspend ‘Squirrel Proof’ (excuse me while I convulse with bitter laughter) Fat Ball Cages from each of them.

So called Squirrel Proof feeders No offence to designers and manufacturers but this is a battle you will never entirely win.

Squirrels are skilled acrobats and endlessly determined. We’ve used an old football rattle, a saucepan and wooden spoon, a kid’s Super Soaker water gun and any manner of things to frighten them off. They work, sort of, for a while...a short while.

We’ve had squirrels chew through plastic feeders and the ones made of very sturdy wire; learn to open the top lid so we had to secure it with twine and it was a devil then to top up or refill: one little squirrel actually got INSIDE the cage and when all else has defeated them they’ve stolen feeders and taken them away never to be found.

Squirrels really do manage the most outrageous assaults on the food sources

We also offer seed in ground trays of various sizes. The large wooden one has bitten the dust though after being trampled by Deer and the small ones have proven just the right size for tiny twins.

In the end we just accept that they’re hungry and pander to them as much as we look after our birds.

This brings me to another topic, not very savoury, but to be borne in mind - bird food may attract much less desirables. You can’t choose to put out food and always see it taken by what you intend it for and worst case scenario you may find it attracts rodents. Take in food at dusk if you can, sweep up any spilled seed and if you do have an issue then you may have to stop feeding for a time.

Also top priority for bird and garden health is to keep your feeders and the feeding areas clean. Good advice can be found Here and I do recommend to diary note regularly as we all know time runs away with us on the routine tasks.

Where to Place your Feeders

Bear all these points in mind:

Sheltered

The bird table needs to be positioned where there is not too much direct sunlight or in a windy location. Birds will feel safer it is in a sheltered position.

Quiet

If possible locate in a quiet place in your garden, preferably not by a path or any other area with human traffic passing. Remember not to place the bird table too far away from your house then you can still enjoy watching the birds!

One last thing to consider, make sure the bird table is placed away from cat ambush sites including fences which cats can leap from.

Safe Location

The bird table needs to be positioned next to a bush or tree; birds will perch before landing on the bird table to ensure that is it safe for them to land on it.

Raised

A raised bird table is easier to view from your house and safer being away from predators. Most bird tables are complete with a wooden pole but you can hang bird tables from a tree.

Nuthatch particularly like Sunflower seeds and you don’t have to spend a lot of money on suitable containers

Our feeders are directly in front of the kitchen patio doors so we have great viewing from our seats at the table - this is why so many of my photos are hurriedly snatched shots taken through the glass. We’ve left the dead trunk of the palm as a kind of Totem (our name for it) as the birds do like to fly to the various trunks and perch there or queue before going on to the feeder. The palm also offers some shelter and protection from both the weather conditions and the predatory Sparrow Hawk.  We have Bamboo growing in our garden and in the hot weather I’ve been known to cut branches down and use those as a natural parasol too. 

A lot of our birds are so used to us now that they don’t mind our presence and are happy to come and feed while we’re around outside. Some, like the Pheasants will more or less come and ask for more supplies, indeed when we had some resident Mallards, they’d peck at the door in the mornings. The Blue Tits will flock around my Crow as he fills up the feeders. We imagine the cry going out ‘The Man’s heeeeeeeere’

Female Common Pheasant above and Male below. The record number we’ve had in the garden at one time was the Season we got up to 22 - cost a fortune in corn

Anything for Me Please?

We’ve also been very lucky that when we had Dennis and now M Flambeau visiting, they are so well fed that they didn’t bother the birds at all. Actually Dennis used to watch the wildlife like he had his own TV channel for viewing pleasure. Here he is with his own personal Christmas tree. The little birds used to come and perch in it while he sat underneath.

When he first came to live with us he would occasionally give chase to a Butler (Squirrells) or two, but he soon tired of that and saved his energies.

Attracting Birds to your Garden

Just think when the breeding season is highly active, during Springtime, your garden feeders offer a handy and easy source of food for busy parents and their hungry nestlings. 

Hungry young Great Tit

In bad weather and harsh winters when natural food is scarce, feeders can be a life saver and please don’t forget to keep fresh water available at all times too.

The important things to remember are good hygiene for your birds’ safety and well being and that if you are going to feed, do it regularly as you don’t want birds wasting their energy seeking out a food source that isn’t available that day.

Much the same as humans have different tastes and diets which are based both on natural preferences and on learned or informed decisions, our animal and bird life is subject to the same. I’ve noticed how some birds learn new tastes and routines to go against type and some stick rigidly to their type. Insect eaters such as Swallows for example haven’t ventured into our feeding areas despite once nesting in our front porch in the Robin box.  Robins and the bigger birds like Magpie, Jackdaw and Rooks have found it very tricky to use the hanging feeders, but have persevered and triumphed, adapting their skills and mastering them to reach a food they enjoy. Others will happily scavenge for the bits that fall below.

‘Joe’ Rook and his balancing act. Source of the Joe nickname is Here

Starlings taking advantage of the berries on the palm

Top Ten plants birds will appreciate in your garden.

Birds of all sizes can be found sharing and feeding with impeccable manners, while others like Starlings descend like a veritable plague and are noisy and ill tempered with it. It all forms part of the experience of bird watching.

(mostly) Young Starlings and Great Spotted Woodpeckers make short work of three fat balls

Our gardens are an endless source of food for Green Woodpeckers, who unlike the Great Spotted ones, feed off Ants. We just need thousands more Woodies to keep up the sterling work.

Also insect eaters, Wagtails will come only to drink, although we did have one particularly comical Pied Wagtail who we nicknamed The Inspector because he liked to patrol the ground trays and see off other birds even though he didn’t partake for himself. I believe the expression for that is Dog in the Manger

Generic internet illustration

What's the origin of the phrase 'Dog in the manger'?

The infamous 'dog in a manger', who occupied the manger not because he wanted to eat the hay there but to prevent the other animals from doing so, is generally said to have been the invention of the Greek storyteller Aesop (circa 600 BC).

We happily ascribe this expression to Aesop, disregarding the lack of evidence that he even existed.

Many of the fables that have been credited to Aesop do in fact date from well before the 5th century BC and modern scholarship doesn't give much credence to the idea that Aesop's Fables, as we now know them, were written by him at all. Accounts of Aesop's life are vague and date from long after his death and some scholars doubt that there ever was a real Aesop. If he existed at all, it was as an editor of earlier Greek and Sumerian stories rather than as the writer of them.

Nothing written by Aesop now exists in any form. Nevertheless, you can go into any bookshop and buy a copy of 'Aesop's Fables'

I never actually thought of the expression as one of the Fables. The one that always springs to my mind is that of The Tortoise and the Hare, or the Hare and the Tortoise as it appears on the link above.

The carved staircase at Thornton Hall Hotel, Wirral - with scenes from Aesop’s Fables (est c1892) We used to go often for Sunday lunch when the girls were small

Once young broods are successfully raised you might notice feeders fall out of favour for a while. The wild foods like seeds and fruits in hedgerows and spilled grains from the harvest, mean birds can assert their independence and do their natural thing. They tend to return when they need to. Long Tailed Tits are a classic example of this behaviour taking long breaks in the woods and being missed very much by us. It’s great when they return.

Birds often disappear and go ‘into hiding’ after breeding when they moult and need time to recuperate, get their strength back and replace their flight feathers, Poor worn-out things.

Feeding birds can also have a side benefit - since the G S Woodpeckers became so very fond of the fat balls, we’ve noticed attacks on the bird boxes have ceased (fingers crossed) and everyone’s happily well fed.

To be continued.

Male Woodpecker using a crack in the palm to hold steady a piece broken from a fat ball

And do remember, as I said, in both hot weather and cold, please leave fresh, clean water for the birds to drink and to bathe. You don’t need a dedicated bird bath, they’re not fussy and really do appreciate a water source.

Little and Large, or should I say very large and little. Sparrowhawk above on the bird bath and Goldfinch below.

Decorations from the Standen Courtyard Christmas Trees

Two handmade heart decorations today. I thought we could do with seeing something nice and bright and different. These two are particularly beautiful and well crafted.

December 22nd Advent Door. The ever popular Blue Tit

The Nature Watch Nativity

The Shepherds were frightened at the sight of a brilliant light in the sky, but an Angel appeared and told them they should not be afraid as there was wonderful news to share. The lowly Shepherds were the first to be told of the birth of the baby Jesus.

Christmas Hymn of Choice today from King’s College Choir, Cambridge

‘Angels from the Realms of Glory’

[lostedges]

Food

I'm having to shift my relationship with food. Never easy, but necessary. Pain in the last few weeks. Maybe gallbladder or liver. Not surprising in some respects. I'm a fat man. I've always enjoyed eating, and have rarely had much admiration for self-denial.

Eating has been a pleasure and a comfort. Early memories. Sherbet fountains from bracchis. Bread roll from the bakers, the smell, the heat. Queues and flour. Whitewashed bakehouse off the street. The whistling butcher. Cake in the pushchair, shopping with my mother. A block with shiny icing. Stick of barley sugar in paper, given to pacify complaint. Marmite soldiers.

My grandmother's house, every day from school. Brown chips and beans. My grandfather eating burnt onions on a plate of melted cheese. My uncle, anaemic chips, drinking the vinegar off his plate. Cutting Welsh cakes with an orange beaker, tealeaves in a red plastic strainer. Turning the handle on the grinder as she fed it with onion and offcuts of fatty beef. Broth from bone. Hot jam and crisp pastry; sticky caramel crust. Biscuit tin. Custard cream, bourbon, pink wafer. Sat next to me she'd hit me with the tin, feeding. Lots of tea.

Saturday at Nans. Salad and soup. Four random tins mixed together. She would salt hers like snow, and butter her toast on both sides.

Sunday morning, crusty white toast and Marmite with the rugby papers. My mam, sharpening her knife on the wall by the back door. Cutting mint, chopped with sugar and vinegar. Making batter for Yorkshire pudding.

In Bath, food was a beer buffer. Late night comfort in Chelsea buns and butter. Hobnobs and black tea. Schwartz brothers mustard burger. Mr. D's. Steaks with Mark. First kebab. First time I'd seen pesto or Earl grey. A long way from the valleys. The beer, the beer. Brand oak in the tree. Hobgoblin, Pig and Bell. Dr. Thirsty, The Dog's Bollocks. Orange day-glo cider in the beehive, restricted to four pints. Cake and Steve, cheese and Dinos.

Comfort and refuge. Love and the silence of complaint. Could I eat myself to death? If I weren't painting, could I be cooking? Paths not travelled. Could I paint food? The strangeness and extremity of the culture, reflected in food. I look back and see the extraordinary privilege of my circumstances, even though, for Britain, my upbringing was far from wealthy. So many easy calories. All that fat and sugar. Post war fattening of Britain and America, built on colonial foundations. Both starting to dwindle, in part from their excesses. How can it continue. Will food continue past the rising of the sea, the drying up of oil and water? I think of the still life of a working class table from my childhood, stocked with Corona pop and wagon wheels. The cheap foods in the supermarket are not essentials, but the liver busting junk-manna, swollen with the rarefied sugar from the subsidised corn excesses of American farming. What might food painting look like now?

[mikescharriesme-blog]

Kanada-Ya is my favourite place for ramen in London and having tried many of its competitors, nothing comes close, in my opinion.

Established in Japan in 2009 by Kanada Kazuhiro, this game-changing ramen bar now has an outpost in Hong Kong’s Causeway Bay and three across London.  I recently had dinner at Kanada-Ya Angel, which is thankfully a little easier to get a table than its central London sisters, however you may still need to queue at peak times.

Kanada-Ya has added Gyoza to the menu at all of its restaurants this spring, so we just had to try them.  The precisely-folded dumplings were steaming hot with a crispy, golden base and generously filled with well-seasoned minced pork.

Chicken Karaage – another small plate – was tender and succulent with punchy flavours of garlic, ginger and soy and a crunchy fried coating.  I’ve previously found Kanada-Ya’s Karaage a little heavy on the batter, but this time the balance was just right.

A great new discovery was Chashu Don – the perfect dish to share if you can’t get enough of Kanada-Ya’s famous pork belly.  A plentiful bowl of soft, pearl-like Japanese rice dish was piled high with seared chashu pork belly and a layer of slow-cooked shredded pork, topped with spring onion.  It was ridiculously delicious and very filling – definitely a new favourite!

For the main event, we tried Tonkotsu X, a ramen dish exclusive to the London restaurants, made with pork and corn-fed chicken bone broth, chashu pork belly, wood ear fungus, seaweed and spring onion.  The umami-rich bone broth was meaty and slightly opaque and the silky chashu pork simply melted in the mouth.  Kanada-Ya offers a choice of firmness for the noodles (from soft to extra-hard) and the regular noodles were exemplary – thin, springy and tasty.

Chashu-Men was a slightly lighter ramen with pork bone broth, chashu pork collar, wood ear fungus, seaweed and spring onion.  The chashu pork collar was a little leaner and heartier than the pork belly and the pork bone broth was subtle and not overly creamy.  It was nicely complemented by fresh, earthy wood ear fungus, crispy dried nori and thinly-sliced spring onion.

We washed it all down with Kanada-Ya’s tangy, zesty Home-made lemonade, however you can also try an iced matcha latte, premium sake or Japanese beer.

Kanada-Ya is a fantastic addition to Islington’s Upper Street and its new menu of delicious small plates proves there’s much more to it than simply ramen.  I can’t wait to see what they come up with next.

Chérie City was a guest of Kanada-Ya 

All photos by Chérie City

[kaitymccoy123]

A Study in Nyota Uhura

So I thought for Uhura Week I would do something like I did for Sulu, a little character study.  Imma try to pop it out right now before I hit the hay, and I will set it to post tomorrow, but we’ll see how far I get. 

Uhura is fierce. 

-This is the word I think of when I think of Nyota.  

- Not fierce like ‘rawr’ but in the sense of intensity and power and passion. 

- When Uhura is involved in something, she gives nothing less than 100%.  Nothing less.   She is committed.  

- She does not back down from a challenge, unless the challenge is beneath her.  She will not stoop down to the level of those who try to provoke her unnecessarily.  She will not be involved in anything unjust or unfair.  She will not stand for it. 

-If something is unjust or unfair, you better bet she is trying to fix it, by any means necessary.  

But she is not mean.   

- She is all for fairness and she would die before being caught being a bully.  She can’t stand it.  And she doesn’t stand for it.  

- She may seem cold on the outside to some who don’t know her, as she tends to stick with her group of friends, and that can be intimidating to outsiders, but she really is an open person. 

- Though she is not usually the one to initiate a relationship.  She is not one to walk up and say, “hi, I’m Uhura.” because she hates small talk.  She avoids really befriending someone until she knows more about them and figures out if they would get along.  Because she doesn’t have time to waste in meaningless relationships.  

- But when you do become her friend, or more, you are her whole world.  It’s constant messages and always trying to meet up and hang out.  It’s big hugs and long nights sharing talking about the meaning of the universe and your deepest darkest secret.  

- Because you can trust her.  She would never reveal your secret under any circumstance because she knows just how it feels to be betrayed. 

Uhura’s happiness is...

- It’s a big sort of happiness.  A showy, loud, crazy sort of happiness and she’s not afraid to show it.  

- It’s giggly and bubbly and so stereotypically ‘girly’ that most people are shocked when they see her like this for the first time.  It’s a happiness that lights up a room, a laugh that is full and a smile that is a hundred miles wide.  

- Only certain things make her that happy, though, but if you strike the right chord with her, you will get to see this crazy happiness.   

- It’s hard hugs around the neck and kisses on your cheek and a laughter that you don’t want to ever forget. 

Uhura’s sadness is...

- It’s rare that you see Uhura crying.  Very rare.  And those who have seen her cry are those she trust the most, because if someone randomly catches her crying she snaps at them to leave. 

- It’s an internal sort of sadness.  It’s a lot of her thinking through the situation, trying to logic it out and stop being sad.  Because she hates the icky, gross feeling of being sad and if she can rationalize her way out of it, she will.  

Uhura is rational.

- Impossibly so.  She has to think everything through before she does it, and she values knowledge and logic above most things.  

Uhura’s anger is...

- It’s a volatile anger.  It’s sharp edged words that never slur, never stutter, and will destroy you piece by piece.  

- She doesn’t have a short temper, but more like she becomes angry when she rationalizes that anger is the right response at that time.  Which, in her field of work in space, can be quite often.  

- She doesn’t often get physical when she is angry, mostly because by the time she has had the chance to tear them apart with her words, they are more than happy to back down. 

Uhura’s love is...

- Her love is quick, but her relationships are slow building.  It’s a love that takes time and trust and lots and lots of overthinking.  

- You need to let Uhura take the lead in relationships, because if she doesn’t have the control, she feels scared that you will do something to hurt her.  But by relinquishing that control to her, to lead the way, she will use that to love you  more than you could ever know.  And eventually, bit by bit she will give some to you, when she trusts you enough. 

- She falls in love quickly, though.  She’ll fall in love over a superb smile, or the dimples on your cheeks, or the freckles on your shoulders.  It’s then she decides she loves you, but the actual relationship part of it takes time, because it’s a scary thing. 

- But if she loves you, you are one lucky person.  Because it’s proudly holding your hand as you walk through the halls, it’s hugs from behind when standing pretty much anywhere, it’s long, slow kisses before the start of a work shift, and it’s being comfortable enough just to sit in silence together.  

- She will protect you until the end of the world, and love you even longer. 

Alright!  That’s about it for right now!  Let me know if you have any theories or ideas about our lovely Nyota, I would love to hear them. 

So I also have my first full Nyota x reader fic that I am scheduling for tomorrow, and I really like it, so I hope you do too.  

I am going on a trip with my dad until Thursday this week and I am not bringing my laptop, but I will have my phone and try to respond as much as possible on there. 

<3

[travelonlinetips-blog]

New Post has been published on https://travelonlinetips.com/10-of-the-best-cairns-restaurants-and-cafes/

10 of the best Cairns restaurants and cafes

When you’re in Cairns there are a million other things to think about before your stomach. Namely, the Great Barrier Reef and how many nights in a row is too many to hit up Gilligan’s.

But, the good great news is, if you consider yourself a foodie, you won’t have to hunt far, with some of the best Cairns restaurants and cafes taking pride of place in the CBD.

Here are 10 of the best to check out next time you’re in Tropical North Queensland.

For the best brunch… Caffeind

Melbourne comes to the tropics in this coffee-first kinda cafe, replete with the best chilli eggs. Order a cold drip and if you’ve got a sweet tooth, don’t go past the house-made banana and walnut bread served with caramelised banana, coconut gelato and coconut caramel sauce.

Open: 7am-3pm daily.

For the best ramen… Ganbaranba

When there’s a line snaking up the street nightly, you know you’re in for a good feed. And when the ramen is fresh, delicious, cheap and comes with endless complimentary iced-tea, you can expect to be back here again tomorrow night.

Eat as the locals do at Ganbaranba and slurp through your flavoursome noodles with a side of gyoza.

Open: 11:30am-2:30pm and 5pm-8:30pm daily.

For the best steak… Waterbar & Grill

The secret to Waterbar & Grill’s melt-in-your-mouth steaks? Aged organic beef from the Atherton Tableland’s Morganbury Meat Company, keeping food miles low and flavours high.

Meat is the obvious choice here, whether you’re tucking into a mother of a 500g rump, a rack of ribs or the Espetada dripping with red wine and chilli sauce. (Don’t worry, there are plenty of vego options, too!)

Open: Lunch from 11:30am and dinner from 5:30pm till late daily.

For the best poolside snacking… Moku Bar and Grill

As if Cairns couldn’t get any more tropical – enter Moku Bar and Grill and its endless-summer vibes. Sitting pretty within Novotel Cairns Oasis Resort, the swim-up bar, melon coolers and dreamy daybeds aren’t the only Insta-worthy goods here.

Gather your mates for island-inspired share plates including soft shell crab bao buns, mussel fritters with kiwi mayo, and Fijian-style corned beef casserole with coconut cream. Daybed for one? You can have a lime-cured tuna or green paw paw salad all to yourself.

Open: 10am till late daily.

For the best Korean… Corea Corea

Tucked inside Orchid Plaza is one of Cairns’ best-kept foodie secrets: cheap and cheerful Korean street food with free mugicha (barley tea) on tap.

Join the queue at Corea Corea, order any stone pot – from spicy octopus to barbecued beef, they’re all amazing – and load up on kimchi.

Open: Monday to Friday 11am-4pm and 6pm-9pm, Saturday and Sunday 12pm-4pm and 6pm-9pm.

For the best Thai… Tamarind

Tamarind – inside the Pullman Reef Hotel Casino – is the kind of place you go in Cairns when you’re looking to impress, offering nightly degustations and an a la carte menu that punches with the force of Jeff Horn in the heavy-weight flavour division.

We suggest you let the chefs make all the hard decisions for you and just concentrate on savouring dishes like Penang duck curry with caramelised pumpkin, roasted peanuts and scented rice. This is a dish of death row proportions – so sweet, so spicy, so saucy that you’ll be looking over your shoulder to see if it’s okay to drink the sauce. Ps: It totally is. Just ask for a soup spoon!

Open: 6pm-10pm nightly.

For the best views… Salt House

No doubt about it, Salt House offers one of the best seats in town. Open for breakfast, lunch and dinner, this is the go-to for locals and a damn fine spot to call in for a meal any day of the week.

Get stuck into the chilled seafood tasting plate on a summer’s day or warm up on a rainy night with the Australasian seafood hot pot. Not into the food of the sea? The Argentinean wood-fire grill serves up grass-fed Angus.

Open: Monday to Thursday 8:30am-2am, Friday to Sunday 6:30am-2am.

For Indigenous flavours… Ochre

Where else but in Cairns could you expect to nosh on emu wonton, salt and native pepper leaf crocodile, char-grilled kangaroo sirloin with a quandong chilli glaze, wallaby topside, and wattle seed pavlova?

Fusing Indigenous bush food ingredients with the produce of north Queensland, Ochre is one dining experience you’ll want to book for, now served with marina views from its new location.

Open: 11:30am-3pm and 5:30pm-9:30pm daily.

For a leisurely lunch… Perotta’s at the Gallery

When you’re feeling the heat in Cairns CBD, take refuge on the deck at Perotta’s and tuck into fresh paw paw, strawberry and lime salad with house-made yoghurt, organic honey and sugared pistachio for breakfast.

Time for lunch? What about a zesty chilli salt squid salad popping with pomegranate and spiced popcorn, or twice-cooked pork shoulder tacos with kimchi and pineapple? Yep, we’re drooling too.

Open: 6:30am-10pm daily.

For a Mediterranean feast… Rocco

Panoramic views of Cairns and the Coral Sea are on the menu here at the city’s highest – and freshly opened – rooftop bar and restaurant. Sitting atop new five-star resort, Riley, Rocco’s food offerings turn all the spices of the Med on their head.

With dishes like grilled sumac calamari, falafels with jalapeño sauce and braised beef check on couscous, your senses won’t be complaining.

Open: Monday to Wednesday 4pm till late and Thursday to Sunday from 12pm.

What are your fave Cairns restaurants? Share below.

*This post was first written in 2015 and updated in April 2019.

Source link

[maneatingbadger]

Nighttime ridiculousness may need restocking, but next up in the #book quotes queue is The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals by Michael Pollan. 

To Daniel, 

Vote with your fork!

Michael

At least, I think that’s what it says. Yes I’m late to the party: The Omnivore’s Dilemma was published in 2006, my mother (bless her) went to Slow Food Nation 2008 in San Francisco to get it signed, and I’m only just now reading it a decade later. And yet, despite the subsequent controversies this bombshell helped trigger about everything from nutrition and ethics to the environmental tradeoffs of local/global sourcing and the legislative and marketing semantics of “organic,” it’s aged remarkably well. I saw Food, Inc., been using the @montereybayaquarium‘s @seafoodwatch foldouts and app for ages, and this book still managed to make me reconsider some things. 

Put simply, I’m a bargain food shopper. There’s a grocery hierarchy, and, like any low-income millennial fresh out of college, the price at the register (and other first-world concerns like convenience) drives what goes in my cart. I’d recently started modifying that mindset, but one of Pollan’s anecdotes really hit home: 

As things stand, artisanal producers like Joel compete not on price but quality, which, oddly enough, is still a somewhat novel idea when it comes to food. “When someone drives up to the farm in a BMW and asks me why our eggs cost more, … well, first I try not to get mad. Frankly, any city person who doesn’t think I deserve a white-collar salary as a farmer doesn’t deserve my special food. Let them eat E. coli. But I don’t say that. Instead, I take him outside and point at his car. ’Sir, you clearly understand quality and are willing to pay for it. Well, food is no different: You get what you pay for.’

“Why is it that we exempt food, of all things, from that rule? Industrial agriculture, because it depends on standardization, has bombarded us with the message that all pork is pork, all chicken is chicken, eggs eggs, even though we all know that can’t really be true. But it’s downright un-American to suggest that one egg might be nutritionally superior to another.” Joel recited the slogan of his local supermarket chain: ’“We pile it high and sell it cheap.’ What other business would ever sell its products that way?” (pg. 243-44)

It remains to be seen how effective or long-term my new perspective will be: Whether I’ll buy fresh produce only in season, whether I’ll keep buying the more expensive “free-range” or “grass-fed” meat without nitrates, whether I’ll have the courage to shame some poor waiter about where a restaurant gets its salmon. In short, whether I’m willing to care more, and whether, as Pollan suggests, that matters. But I understand now what “Vote with your fork!” means, and I’m grateful. 

Oh, and while reading it, I came across this: 

In 2012, Reuters reported that corn alternatives were in high demand in places where feed corn for cattle was becoming very expensive or unavailable. Using an alternative like candy could yield a savings of 10 to 50 percent for cattle farm operators, though prices for corn alternatives then began to increase as well. 

There I was reading about corn becoming livestock feed because the government subsidized it to be cheap, but now it’s so expensive that corn-derived candy is somehow cheaper, though even the cost of that is rising! Made me wonder what else changed in the last 10 years. 

[paintingmymoon]

Not just a trip to Dischem

The queue had curled itself around the rusk display by the time they had gathered their essentials: paraben and sulphate-free shampoo, non-GMO corn pasta, a kilogram of raw almonds (Gaby’s Earth Foods were on sale again), and five boxes of tissues. Her childhood home had never met a tissue box, but their own home was well acquainted with them, especially this time of year when the army of sprayers were about, and pesticides hung heavy in the air.

They only braved this queue, this mall, the throngs of people with their ankle-bumping trolleys, once a month. The last time they’d left their eco-village, nestled in the winelands, and ventured into town, they had braved an argument, too long put off, too.

“You don’t get to be upset with me,” she complained, slowly dragging the tips of her fingers down the length of her face. “I can’t just magically love climbing because you want me to.” With his weekends now empty of thesis toils, he intended to spend at least every second Saturday hooking his fingers into microscopic cervices on a cliff-face. The mountains fed her too, but rather than hanging off of them, she preferred to do her marvelling from a distance. He was stumped: his favourite endeavour lost some of its charm when there was no prospect of sharing it with her.

Today, however, only tenderness frolicked between them. When her shoulders flopped at the number of shoppers still before them, he slid himself behind her, rested his chin on the crown of her head and gathered her in his arms. She nuzzled into his chest and inhaled deeply, willing his musky scent to settle her as it usually did, but her nose was blocked. “Can we stop somewhere quickly on the way out?” The last word was shrill and wedged in his throat.

She was still marvelling at how effortlessly he manoeuvred his way around the mall, when he halted abruptly in front of a man wearing a swanky suit and a stern look. He was bulky enough to be a bouncer, but, instead, he was guarding the entrance to a walk-in treasure chest, and, apparently, someone called Anne. She turned to him with questions in her eyes. “I tried to measure your ring finger against my pinkie while you were sleeping,” he said to the floor. “I rate it would have been close enough, but Anne wasn’t convinced.”

As they made their way back to the countryside, she nibbled her bottom lip, desperately trying to coax her disobedient smile back inside her mouth. After all, he hadn’t actually proposed yet. But, when she turned towards him, he was beaming at her and making no attempt to conceal it. So, she stopped wrestling with her smile, and, for a moment, they were hypnotised by each other’s happiness. As he opened his mouth, she leaned towards him ever so slightly.

“You’re coming climbing with me tomorrow,” he said.