Feb 1: What The Crows Whisper

Feb 1: What the Crows whisper

Have you ever heard what the crows speak? What they repeat to the world, many things they’ve heard throughout their adventures. They mimic those they find interesting and those they hear through the world. No such things as secrets between them. They shout it out, wanting to show the world what they’ve heard. Crows are prideful, of course, as many are, blinded by things that shine. They caw and shout, the shouts echoing through the world.

But have you ever heard what they whisper? The things they are too afraid to speak about. The whispers that will wriggle into your mind, like a worm. It’s nonsense when you first hear it, but ever so slightly, you think about it more, until it consumes your life. They whisper about adventure and things they’ve seen beyond the human eyes. Objects of power that could do anything one wishes. Whispers of promises of ancient cities and gilded fishes. Whispers of nonsense, of creatures within the night. Beings of madness, and could reach the skies. But, with every whisper is a small nugget of truth. Because when a crow whispers, the truth is a whisker away.

They love to crowd around the dead. After all, they are scavengers. They may simply look like they’re consuming, but with every bite they consume, they gain a bit of a story with them. The dead can tell many tells, just don’t have the voice to say it.

I have always listened to the crows. Many babble of things they’ve heard, seen, and I let them say what they want, but given a shiny object or food, they shall whisper to you. Many say nonsense, only a slim truth within their honey covered sentences. A little madness is key to finding it. But for the few that you pay something, perhaps a shiny bottle cap, or seed they truly desire, they’ll tell you the truth, allowing you to connect the dots yourself.

The dead would tell, but they have no voice. Even with no voice, they love to follow. They watch those who live, out of jealousy, curiosity, or benevolence, that I don’ t know.

Many don’t see them.

Many cannot hear them.

And many cannot hear the crows.

But I can.

And I don’t know why.

[First short story done :), I think this is fine. Unedited.]

Ok ok, that makes complete sense XD, but it’s a funny idea.

I have a question for owl house fans:

According to a tweet, a sour patch could kill a pilgrim. Pilgrims are from the 17th century. Belos is from the 17th century. That leads to me questioning: would a sour patch kill Belos?

My thoughts are loud and questioning

Lucky clover cat :3

See more:

Meowingtons.com

Doodle of oc

Ghost family I made out of clay to get into the spooky season :]

THE AMNESTICS DIDN’T STOP ME LAST TIME, IT WON’T STOP ME NOW

Another idea: Odd squad is just the kids version of the SCP foundation

Think about it. Where do the SCP foundation get so many skilled scientists or agents? Kids. From odd squad. It’s training them.