#Gerald, the Series - Episode 4 — "The Crown Was Not A Joke" They made her a crown out of sticks. Everybody laughed. @Geraldbosscrow was not laughing. @Kittennn_420 has notes. Two and a half minutes. New episode whenever @Bexxy__19 writes it. Inspired by a true story from #TheCrowLady Made with #Seedance25 in @dreamina_ai #DreaminaCPP
UPDATE ON GERALD AND HIS MURDER
I apologize for the lack of update yesterday. Work was a total shit show. I was absurdly pissed off. My patience was beaten harder than a metal chair being used in an MMA fight. And quite frankly I did not have the emotional capacity to withstand the participation in the mafia efforts of Gerald and his gaggle of murderous bandits.
To my dismay Gerald knew...he knew all of it.
How do I know you may ask...
Well today there was no egregious demands.
There was no nuts, or thievery.
No shiny objects brought forth onto my property.
And no seemingly aggressive negotiations held.
Gerald and his bevy of raven-black feathered Soldiers simply...
watched.
From the power lines.
From the fence posts.
And one from the rooftop across the alleyway, which quite honestly, felt unnecessarily tactical in my opinion; but I digress.
No problems were caused.
Just observation.
They were scouting.
Studying my movements....where I was going...how i interacted with my neighbors...just watching me from afar.
Waiting to see what my next move would be.
Somehow, this was much more concerning.
Time had passed and then Gerald came and sat next to me.
I sat too.
We suddenly found ourselves staring at one another for quite sometime.
Quietly learning...about ourselves, about one another.
Gerald nodded.
I nodded.
Gerald "hmmm"
I "hmmm" in response.
We began the negotiation proceedings.
The conversation was long. Complicated even.
Honestly, the negotiations took several turns, raveling back and forth.
Gerald "caw"
Me "mmm"
Gerald "coo"
Me "mmm hmmm"
Then a comfortable silence fell between us once more.
It was the kind of silence of two souls that have seen heinous shit and understand that somethings just don't need to be spoken aloud but in silence they acknowledge.
After several minutes, and suspense filling the air...
Gerald looked off into the distance.
I also looked into the distance.
Gerald looked back towards me.
I looked back towards Gerald.
He nodded, ever so slowly.
I nodded back.
A consensus had been made.
To what?
I have no fucking clue.
Whatever it was, we are both ready to die for it.
Then Gerald fled.
I thought the meeting had been adjourned.
I was was in fact wrong.
Because 3 minutes later, Gerald returns with a twig.
Another crown appears with a twig.
Then another.
And another.
At this point I sat perfectly still because when a harmonized murder of crows start devising something right in front of your eyes, interrupting feels like the beginnings of a curse.
They designed the twigs into what can only best be described as the utmost shittiest looking crown one should ever see. It was beautiful.
Gerald nudged it towards me.
I stared for a moment longer, and in a whisper asked "Gerald, is this for me?"
Gerald "CAWWW"
Naturally...I put it on.
Then Gerald bowed his tiny fucking head.
The entire power line erupted in what I hope was cheering...could have been screaming, or a declaration of a full on war with the next county.
But the ceremony was complete.
They named me King.
No, not Queen.
KING.
I made no effort to correct them.
Who the fuck am I to question Crow Law? I think the fuck not.
I stood upon my newly acquired Army of Avion Species, and with my newly crafted crown of which made by twigs, leaves and what I seriously hope to be string...
and performed my first official act as Supreme.
I grabbed the Good Spoon, and hovered over Gerald's majestic feathered wings...
and said "By the power irresponsibly and most certain mistakenly granted to me by this Order, I hereby knight thee General Gerald, Commander of the Driveway, Keeper of the Good Spoon, Lord of thine Power Line, Collector of Nuts, First General of the Crow Army, and Right Hand to the King."
Gerald bowed.
I bowed.
The Army squawked.
and then....
Every fucking one of them fled.
In the same fucking direction.
Gerald stayed beside me.
If only for a moment.
He stared at me.
Bored deep into my soul.
Gave one final nod.
and then, he flew in the direction our Army went.
I don't know where they went.
I have absolutely no idea what I fucking agreed upon.
I'm unsure why they needed a King?
I do not have any clue as to what Gerald is plotting.
So in conclusion:
Yesterday, Gerald was a mob boss out for blood.
Today, he gathered intelligence.
and tomorrow...
WE FUCKING RIDE!
To where? I'll leave you shiny bungholes to guess.
I better go stalk up on some fucking walnuts.
Chao!
THE PALACE IMAGINATION
Standing on a wet, cobblestone city street at night beneath the warm glow of a lamppost, a young girl tightly clutches a small teddy bear while gazing up at a nearby wall. Cast by the street lamp's light, her shadow transforms into a magnificent princess wearing a crown, holding a magic wand, and overlooking a grand fairy-tale castle nestled beneath a starry sky and a crescent moon.
In the quiet magic of childhood, our smallest moments hold the reflection of our grandest dreams. Every simple shadow reminds us that within an imaginative heart, we are already the royalty of our own wonderful worlds. ✨🙌🏿💫
YOUR ATTENTION IS YOUR LIFE FORCE
Attention is not a mere flicker of the mind—it is the sacred current, the living prana that weaves the fabric of your existence.
Wherever you place it, reality bends.
Scatter it upon the noise of the world, and your life force drains into shadows, thinning into echoes.
Hold it still, like a flame cupped in ancient hands, and it becomes the golden thread that stitches spirit to matter, dream to form, the infinite to the fleeting breath.
The mystics knew: the eye of the heart that gazes without wavering does not merely observe—it creates, it heals, it remembers the original light.
Your attention is the wand of the magician, the breath of the gods, the quiet fire that either consumes the illusion or illuminates the eternal.
Guard it as the alchemist guards the philosopher’s stone.
For in the end, you are not living where your body stands…
you are living exactly where your attention rests.
And that resting place is the true measure of your soul’s power.
✨🙌🏽💫