white barn owl

Owl Friends:

(1) アフリカオオコノハズク (2) ワシミミズク (3) キュウシュウフクロウ
(1) Northern white-faced owl (2) Eurasian eagle-owl (3) Ural owl

(4) メンフクロウ  (5) モリコキンメフクロウ (6) メガネフクロウ
(4) Barn owl (5) Forest owlet (6) Spectacled owl

Maeve's Owl

Can we talk about Maeve’s white barn owl and how it’s mentioned when Aelin first arrives with Rowan and how it flies away when Rowan takes the blood oath in HoF? What is its significance? “Who” is it? Where does it go? I think it’s clear enough that Maas wouldn’t simply give Maeve a pet. It’s mentioned the other times we see Maeve in the other books. Thoughts?

Overwatch characters and their fursonas
  • Genji: A thin, green dragon with bright orange hair and spikes. Wears Vaporwave clothes,
  • Mccree: A Big, super fuzzy, chubby dark brown coyote who probably needs a bath.
  • Pharah: A black and gold jackal with beautiful angelic wings. Sleeps upside down like a bat.
  • Reaper: A black and white Barn Owl with deep orange eyes who is never not wearing a hoodie.
  • Solider 76: A Bald Eagle with big talons that give away his position when he walks cause they keep clip clacking on the floor.
  • Sombra: A bug in the system: a glittery purple paying mantis cyborg.
  • Tracer: a King's cheetah with extra poofy hair. She made Emily a sona and they have pics of their sonas cuddling hanging in their room, as well as them with Winston's sona.
  • Bastion: A big yellow tweety bird with a huge gun who has a cute robo drone sidecick that chills on his shoulder.
  • Hanzo: A dragon/wolf hybrid with an undercut and about 1000 commissions of him making out with Disney's Robin Hood.
  • Junkrat: A rat. A Naked one cause all the explosions burned his fur off as well as his leg. Smells.
  • Mei: A raccoon who nobody can recognize that she wears glasses cause they blend in with her face mask.
  • Torbjorn: He doesn't deserve a fursona.
  • Widowmaker: Vriska.
  • D.Va: She's contractually obligated to have a bunny as a sona, so she has a buff pink, blue and white bunny that all of her fans draw art of. She always donates to people's paypals when they draw her.
  • Reindhardt: He's a Lion. A Huge, Buff Lion who can't put on a helmet cause his mane is too big.
  • Roadhog: Big Piggy! Big Tusks, Bigger Belly, Biggest heart.
  • Winston: Tracer showed him her sona and he fell in love and Winston got obsessed and took a long time consulting with Athena and Tracer before deciding on a Big Black Bear. Can't draw but draws his and tracer's sona chilling alot.
  • Zarya: Big Pink Grizzly Bear! Part of her training reigime is training in her fursuit so she can be ready for anything.
  • Ana: Has no idea what these young whippersnappers are into but like mother like daughter she also has a jackal, but her is blue and black!
  • Lucio: Frog man! THis should be a surprise to literally no one like he performs in his 10,000 dollar fursuit that can make its own laser light show.
  • Mercy: White persian cat with a bright pink nose!
  • Symmettra: A blue and white Jaguar with very symmetrical rosettes that look like her turrets.
  • Zenyatta: A peacock with cool highlight projected tail feathers. Genji made it for him!

lifeisnotanmp3  asked:

Cute one-shot about teen Mycroft and small Sherlock please 💙

Mycroft hurry up!” Sherlock complains loudly as like a bull in a china shop he tries in vain to keep up with the barn owl flying overhead while traipsing over the abundant dry brush.

For one so small he makes short work of the terrain hidden under the darkness that it almost seems comical for him to be armed with a troch as he more or less went without it swinging wildly on at his left hand.

While not having the advantage of height to slip past the worst of the thicket Mycroft struggles to push forward as not to lose his only brother in the darkness of the forest.

He finds that even with the lantern shifting its light between the ground and the overhead limbs pushing out into his face Mycroft can’t seem to catch a brake let alone Sherlock.

“Sh…Sherlock, don’t stray too far ahead,” Mycroft called after him lamely as he struggled to make headway over a fallen tree.

Its limbs may have given Sherlock enough room to crouch under but for Mycroft-he was liable to get stuck and given at Sherlock’s pace trying to go around it would separate them further.

The night was unbearably muggy in a way that made his hairs stick to his face in a most irritating way that rivaled that of the bugs that were attracted to the torch and his blood.

“Blasted things,” Mycroft grumbles as he tries in vain to crawl through the limbs that kept the tree from falling indefinitely to the forest floor only to have his knees scraped, his sleeves dirtied and gnats dive bombing his eyes causing him to blink rapidly in defense.

“MYCROFT YOU BETTER KEEP UP OR MUMMY WILL BE CROSS THAT YOU LEFT ME,” Sherlock shouts from somewhere in the darkness up ahead. .

And oh wasn’t mummy one to blame for this predicament?

Father had finished reading to them about owls as per usual of their studies. Of course Eurus and Sherlock were fascinated if not for different reasons; Sherlock for the bird’s anatomy (can you REALLY see their eyeballs from behind their ears??!) and Eurus (They spit out their preys bones WHOLE.)

Mycroft already had an appreciation for the animal as it alludes to more scholarly learning and introspect but when mummy decided it would be a great idea to go out looking for owls at night Mycroft was less than pleased.

“Mummy but the bugs will be out.”

“The bugs are always out Mycroft.”

“But we could get lost in the woods.”

“Mycroft the woods are hardly that big behind the house and I’ll leave the lights on  the upper story to help guide you back.”

“But mummy we could get injured and die out there.”

“Mycroft if you die in our backyard then there’s really no hope for you.”

It was little compensation that Mummy and Father had taken Eurus east to look for any owls while he was tasked with Sherlock but Mycroft had to preserve or they would both be cross with him.

And Lord knows Sherlock was already cross for being paired with him,

There is crunching, tripping and shrieks from Sherlock that follow along with the tiny torch light swaying madly in the trees but Mycroft counts it as a good thing until the noise becomes more stressed.

Finally free from the branches and dusting himself off Mycroft is greeted by a disgruntled Sherlock.

His face is wild as it is marred with dirt, debris, leaves, and strangely enough war paint (when had he done that?) as Sherlock badgers him thusly.

“Are we done making ourselves all prim and proper,” he sneers (Mycroft of this is sure even with the torch pointed at him directly) , “This is the wilderness Mycroft. There’s no need for formalities out here!”

Sighing at the attitude Mycroft corrects him. “No, this is our backyard.”

“Which is a forest-”

“In our backyard,” Mycroft interjects giving Sherlock the eye, “but regardless of it being our backyard I would still appreciate that you stay close to me rather than running up ahead.”

“Well if its our backyard then it shouldn’t be so ‘dangerous’ and what’s taking you so long anyway? Can’t get your elephant legs over a pebble?”

Its times like this that Mycroft starts to reconsider his position as the oldest. To what could he possibly hope to gain out of a relationship such as this? A complex? Control issues?

Even for an overly mature teenager such as himself it got to Mycroft so much so that upon resting his elbow on a nearby stump to rethink his life an white barn owl had decided to perch on his arm.

If Sherlock’s eyes could get any bigger Mycroft was sure that they would engulf their best china plates held in the cabinet by the dinning area and if the muffled shrieking was anything to go by Sherlock was likely to explode.

Now Mycroft while knowing everything you could ever want to know about owls had limited physical knowledge on how to deal with them.

Hell, the last time Mycroft had attempted to hold a bird it was at Jamie’s 10th birthday party and to impress a girl that he found intelligent and that had ended up with his parents buying the birthday boy a whole flock of parakeets to replace the one that escaped through his fingers.

But he wasn’t going to let Sherlock know that. Sure this bird could potentially scalp him, destroy his face with its talons or worse however the twinkle in Sherlock’s eyes as the owl continued to do its grooming on his arm was priceless.

So in an effort to ignore the talons on the owl digging into his arm and the free of the wild beast attacking either of them Mycroft began to narrate.

“And here we have the Bubo scandiacus, native to Arctic regions in North America and Eurasia.”

Unlike most times that Mycroft attempted to talk to Sherlock was riveted.

He was listening onto every word as Mycroft described the bird’s habits and facts while watching the bird in childlike fascination.

It wasn’t until Sherlock asked the dreaded question: “Can I pet it?” that Mycroft started to realize how dangerous this could be.

The owl could be carrying foreign bacteria that could get Sherlock sick, the bird could attack Sherlock and scar him or worse but the look on his face made Mycroft want to risk it if only to have this brotherly bonding.

“Of course but be very careful Sherlock while I distract our avian friend,” Mycroft says a bit nervously.

If the bird was to bit he would rather it be at him so taking his free hand Mycroft distracts the bird as Sherlock slowly comes from behind to stroke its feathers.

Gently, slowly, please don’t bite my brother…

Mycroft found it a miracle that the bird allowed Sherlock to stroke its feathers briefly before letting out an ear shattering shriek and flew off into the night.

Considering how brief the petting was Mycroft expected Sherlock to be miffed but it was the contrary.

“MYCROFT THAT WAS SO COOL I PETTED A WILD OWL AND EVERYTHING,” Sherlock  continued to gush as they walked back to the house.

“Yes, indeed you did,” Mycroft adds while he absently rubs his arm that served as a perch for what felt like an hour. The bird didn’t break the skin thank God but there will be marks in the morning he was sure of it.

When they get closer to the house Sherlock grabs his hand and says so very softly, “Thank you for taking me out  here.”

“What was that?”

“I said thanks! What? is all that fat clogging up your ears?” Sherlock bursts out before he thinks better of it and tries again with, “I mean, thank you for taking me out. I know you don’t like playing outside but what you did with the owl-that was wicked.”

“Like wicked cool?”

“Don’t ruin the moment Mycroft,” Sherlock says pointedly as he releases his hand and runs full speed at the back door.

Mycroft watches fondly as he follows at a more sedate pace. These are what happy memories are made of.