#sparrow in the field

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Much Ado About…Well, Everything

Summary: Roger falls in love while Chuck is waxing poetic

Rating: G

Genre: Canon Era, Falling in Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Slice of Life, Shakespeare References

Words: 1434

A/N: for @sparrow-in-the-field !!! It was so much fun writing these two. Thank you for the prompt!!

~

AO3

or

The shell house is abuzz when Roger gets there.

He didn’t think he had slept in that late, but everyone else is already there, voices colliding in an echoed din.

When Roger joins his team, a piece of paper is immediately shoved under his nose. Chuck’s grin is wide, bright, and Roger wonders if Chuck got any sleep the night before.

“Stub, Shorty, and I got the parts. You better be there,” Chuck all but throws the flier at Roger before bounding off to hand out some more.

Roger blinks, looks at the bold text, the obscene amount of exclamation points. He remembers the off-comment Roger made about trying out for the local theatre’s spring play, but he thought it was a joke.

“What part?” Roger asks when Chuck eventually takes his place next to him.

“Benedick. Shorty is Claudio, Stub got Leonato.”

Roger tries to think back to his high school English classes, but he never was one for Shakespeare.

“You’ll help me practice, won’t you?” Chuck smiles.

With a swallow, heart beating in his ears, Roger nods.

He’s not going to survive to opening night.

~

The thing is, Roger never meant to fall in love with Chuck.

In fact, he doesn’t know how it happened. One day Chuck was just a friend and the next, Roger couldn’t keep his head on straight.

Had Chuck’s smile always been that beautiful? Was his voice that deep this whole time? Roger turns on his head trying to figure it all out.

It doesn’t help that he has no one to talk to about this. He’s sure he’s the only one on the team who’s like this. The unspoken side of the world no one wants to acknowledge. So, he has to fester inside himself, try to deny his feelings.

Except, it’s harder than it looks. Chuck is so casual with his arm thrown about Roger’s shoulder. When they’re out drinking, Chuck doesn’t even think as he leans in close to speak in Roger’s ear over the blaring band in the corner.

Roger shivers as Chuck’s fingers dance along his neck.

“She’s a looker,” Chuck points to the singer, a blonde bombshell in a form fitting dress.

She is pretty, Roger can see that, but it doesn’t stop the envy in his chest. “Yeah, she probably has a boyfriend already.”

“Yeah,” Chuck sighs wistfully. “Ah, well. We’ll find our girls someday, won’t we, Rodge?”

Roger knows there won’t be anyone but Chuck. At least not for many years. He forces a smile, nods before taking a sip from his drink.

Chuck has taken to rubbing circles in Roger’s shoulder now. It’s maddening, but Roger doesn’t move away. For just a little while he can pretend this is something more.

They take a few minutes to enjoy the bar scene, people-watching the variety of couples, bright colors against the dim lamplight. Roger sees one woman lay her head on her man’s chest as they’re dancing and his heart aches.

He won’t ever have that chance. He won’t know love like she does.

“Thinking about stealing her away?” Chuck’s voice rumbles in Roger’s very soul.

Roger closes his eyes, inhales sharply. Chuck’s breath tickles his ear and Roger thinks he feels lips just graze the outline.

“Thinking I should be getting back,” Roger mutters. “We. Practice tomorrow.”

Chuck gives a small laugh, slaps Roger on the back. “Ever the wise one. Shall we?”

Getting to his feet, Chuck throws his coat over his shoulder, raises a brow at Roger. Nodding, Roger shoves on his hat and follows.

They walk back to the dorms in relative silence and thank god for that. Roger’s mind is abuzz, all he wants is to just tell Chuck the truth. But then everything would fall apart.

When they reach their respective rooms, Roger looks back and freezes when he sees Chuck doing the same.

“Night, Roger,” Chuck all but purrs.

Roger uses all his strength to stop his knees from buckling, steadies himself on the door. “Night, Chuck.”

He rushes into his room, slams the door shut which makes Joe lift his head just a little from his bed. He mutters something but falls back asleep to Roger’s relief.

In the darkness, Roger finally takes a breath. He’s in a losing battle and he doesn’t know what to do. So, he trudges over to his dresser, gets ready for the night.

Maybe a good night’s rest will help.

~

“Alright,” Chuck slams down a thick booklet in front of Roger. “I need help.”

Roger glances from the table to Chuck. Here he was just having a nice moment in the sun room and now Chuck’s come to disturb the peace. Not that Roger is truly mad at him.

“Thought you were rehearsing with Stub and Shorty,” he frowns.

“Yeah, but they aren’t cutting it and I can’t get this part right.”

Roger doesn’t trust this excuse but he picks up the script anyway and flips through the pages. The amount of lines Chuck has is astounding and Roger’s stomach flips. How he must sound on stage, his voice shaking the auditorium, reverberating in everyone’s hearts.

“Which,” Roger clears his throat. “Which part?”

Chuck takes the script from Roger’s hand, turns to the last few pages. “From here.”

Roger raises his brows but starts where Chuck instructed. Chuck is a natural, he has all his lines perfect, even his cues, so what his plan is underneath all this is beyond Roger.

“Soft and fair, Friar. Which is Beatrice?”

“I answer to that name. What is your will?” Roger winces.

His reading is stilted but in his defense, he’s not supposed to be a masterful actor.

“Do you not love me?”

Roger pauses, glances up at Chuck. He forgets the script, swallows as Chuck stares right into his eyes.

He does. With all his heart.

Then, Roger shakes himself, tries to get back to the lines.

“Why no; no more than reason.”

Shakespeare himself is taunting Roger and if he could go to England, he’d do it in an instant to yell at the dead man.

“Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio have been deceived; they swore you did,” Chuck makes his way over to the couch, oh so slowly sits next to Roger.

“Do…do you not love me?” Roger stumbles over the line.

This is all too real. His heart threatens to burst out of him, the script crumpling in his tight grip.

“Troth, no; no more than reason.”

The next moment is a dream. Chuck leans in, his breath gracing Roger’s lips. Roger knows they shouldn’t, knows he should push him away but he just can’t. He wants this so much, he’ll destroy everything just to have Chuck.

He sighs when Chuck kisses him. It’s just like he thought. Chuck is harsh, but calm, guiding Roger through their bated breaths.

Roger falls easily, melts when Chuck takes his face in both his hands. They follow each other in their embrace, a reluctance to part until they absolutely must.

“How long?” Roger asks as their foreheads press together.

“I don’t know,” Chuck admits, voice just above a whisper. “Maybe always.”

Roger nods, covering one of Chuck’s hands with his own. He’s going to wake up any minute now. But as the seconds pass, Chuck doesn’t fade. They’re still in the sun room, the script long forgotten on the floor.

“Your…,” Roger points to it. “What about your lines?”

Chuck laughs, bright and loud, pulling Roger into a tight hug. “Rodge, opening night is next week. I think I’d be in deep shit if I didn’t have my lines all but perfect.”

Roger’s eyes go wide. It was a ploy after all. He’s not mad though. If this is what gets Chuck by his side, then Roger loves him all that much for it.

He joins in with Chuck’s laughter, loves the way Chuck stares into his eyes. The calloused hands on his skin are perfection and Roger wonders how he ever lived until this moment.

With a devilish grin, Chuck leans in close to Roger, breath hot on his ear.

“But…we can always rehearse some more,” Chuck murmurs.

Roger bites his lip, soaks in Chuck’s rich, tantalizing voice. With just one nod, they scramble from the sun room, tear off to Roger’s dorm. Joe’s always out with Joyce after all. As Chuck pulls him into another kiss, Roger flies into the clouds.

Sitting in the crowd next week will be torture but at least Roger will know that all the love Chuck recites will be for him and him alone.

[snailkites]

love learning about odd-couple interspecies joint-nesting events

nesties (nest besties)

[geopsych]

As promised, some birds from last week. I took hundreds of pictures this past week and am in danger of not posting any because it's so beautiful now. In order, a female red-winged blackbird, two male red-winged blackbirds fighting or who knows, maybe yaoi, a common egret, an eastern kingbird, a field sparrow, two tree swallows—the one on the left may be a young one—a purple martin, and a brown thrasher.

[podartists]

Junco hyemalis | Spizella passerina | Spizella pusilla | Amphispiza bilineata | Pooecetes gramineus | Ammodramus savannarum | Passerculus sandwichensis

Plate XXIII | Die Nordamerikanische Vogelwelt (1891)

[brooklynbridgebirds]

Field Sparrow Brooklyn Bridge Park, Pier 3 uplands

[rumeko]

at this moment

見届ける

[sparrow-in-the-field]

Been thinking about an established winteragent scenario where John's doomscrolling leads him down a rabbit hole of people who specifically analyze thunderbolts media to "prove" that Bucky still hates John.

(scene under the cut because it got a bit long!)

Bucky knew John had mostly broken the habit; the bolts had helped him quit doomscrolling early on, often having to physically confiscate his phone to get him to stop. At first it was much to his annoyance, but eventually he must have realized it did him a lot of good, to not give into the pull of his phone, to not read the vitriol and unwarrantedly strong opinions of people online.

But like for anyone, habits are hard to break, and John certainly wasn't perfect. The good thing about John was that it was easy to catch him doomscrolling-- he had a certain posture for it. Slouched over his phone, chin in hand, pouting and eyes nearly glazed over as his thumb hover constantly above the screen of his phone to keep scrolling.

Bucky noticed this posture immediately when he walked into the living room, where John was alone. He was so caught up in his phone that he didn't hear Bucky enter the room, and Bucky used that to his advantage. Keeping quiet, he walked over to the back of the couch, glancing over John's shoulder to read--

"Top 10 Moments of Bucky Barnes Being So Done with John Walker"

Bucky scoffed. "What the hell are you reading?"

John startled, jumping and turning to look at Bucky, placing his phone deliberately face down on the couch. "Nothing. Just--I dunno, some stupid shit. It's nothing."

Bucky furrowed his brow. "It looked like people are talking about us."

With his hand on the back of the couch, he jumped over it, landing on the cushions next to John.

John avoided Bucky's gaze, shrugging halfheartedly. He looked embarrassed, bothered. Defeated, in the way that doomscrolling always caused him to feel. It was a shame the habit was so hard for him to break, when it affected him so badly.

"What were they saying, John?" Bucky asked quietly.

Normally he preferred ignoring the words of people online; normally the bolts would confiscate John's phone and encourage him to forget whatever nonsense people had said. But this time--well, if people were making claims about Bucky himself, he wanted to know. That way he could set the record straight before they seeped into John's head.

John shrugged again, picking up his phone. "It's nothing. Just...I guess people know you used to hate me, so they think now you're just putting on an act, playing nice for the sake of the new avengers. But that you still...you know, hate me."

Bucky sighed, running a hand over his face. Sometimes he really hated modern technology. "And you know they're wrong? That any moments they're finding, they're just taking out of context to fit their own narrative?"

"Yeah," John said weakly, as he still scrolled through the damn list.

Bucky took in and let out a breath to quell his anger; it was more towards the losers online than at John getting sucked into his old vice again, he reminded himself.

He knew John well at this point, he liked to think. And he knew John responded better to reassurance than to any argument about how those people sucked.

So Bucky moved. In one swift motion, he was straddling John's waist, taking his phone out of his hands and tucking it into his back pocket for the time being. John opened his mouth to protest, but quickly gave up on the effort, sighing instead.

Bucky brought his hands up to hold John's face, the only way he could get him to meet his gaze. "John F. Walker, what those losers online and what that stupid article doesn't know, is that I spend almost every single night falling asleep in your arms."

John blinked, his cheeks flushing. Bucky stroked his thumbs across them.

"What they don't know is that after most missions, I pull you away to kiss you senseless because I'm relieved you're not hurt. What they refuse to accept is that most interviews I just look like that because I'm tired and uninterested in the questions and that has nothing to do with you. I don't hate you, and I haven't for a long time." Bucky gave a small smirk. "Matter of fact, nowadays it's quite the opposite."

John huffed, blinking up at the ceiling for a moment before meeting Bucky's gaze again.

Bucky smiled. "So are you gonna listen to those losers who don't know jack shit about us, or are you gonna listen to the man who's literally in your lap right now?"

John huffed again, this time closer to a laugh, and sure enough, a smile crossed his lips. "Okay, fine. You're right. I know."

"Good," Bucky hummed, leaning down for a quick kiss. He pulled away again, calling out to the empty room, "Ava?"

It took a moment, but Ava phased into the room. She arched her brow but otherwise didn't question their position. "Yeah?"

Bucky took John's phone out of his back pocket, throwing it to her. "We're playing keep away for the next week."

"A whole week this time, huh? He must have been in deep," Ava said after catching the phone.

"Yeah, come on Bucky, that's so long. What if something comes up with my son--" John started to complain, but Bucky shushed him.

"You know if anyone important contacts you we'll give it back," he said, and John sighed when Ava phased out of the room, his phone gone with her.

Bucky stood up, pulling John to his feet. "Now come on. I think you still need some more reminding of just how much I don't hate you anymore."

John blushed as Bucky's hand went to his chest, leaning up for a kiss, before pulling him away to the bedroom.

[leafatlaw]

This screenshot literally messes me up so much. Derap seeing the destruction of the field for the first time. Zam seeing it as if anew through Deraps eyes. Theyre literally holding hands here argue with the wall.

[scavengersketches]

just a few of the sparrows native to my area

[na-bird-of-the-day]

BOTD: Field Sparrow

Photo: Tom Murray

"The plaintive whistled song of the Field Sparrow often can be heard in brushy pastures, even on hot summer days when most birds are silent. Despite the name, this is not one of the sparrows inhabiting open fields of grass; it prefers brushy places, overgrown meadows with many bushes. It looks distinctively small and long-tailed, and its plain face gives it an innocent expression to match the sweetness of its song. In winter, Field Sparrows gather in small flocks."

- Audubon Field Guide

[seasidesandstarscapes]

WIP Wednesday!

tagged by @arokel thank youuuuu<3

Here’s a snippet from my next trans don fic:

“Oh, god!” Johnny stumbles back, hands over his face.

The door slams shut on its own and Don pulls up his jeans as Bobby tucks himself back into his own.

“What?” Gordy’s voice hits Don’s ears and he winces.

Gordy’s head pops in around the door, a frown already prepared for his friends.

“On the oars, guys?”

“They’re spares,” Bobby bites back. “And we’re on the lifejackets.”

Tagging!!! @sparrow-in-the-field @teaforarteza @dogwooddiaries

(Following arokel’s lead and letting others have a chance to tag fjjdjdjs)

[iridescent-wildlife]

Field Sparrow (Spizella pusilla). Family Passerelidae, order Passeriformes.

Tulsa, Oklahoma, USA. October 2021.

[improvised-finish]

Miqo March #16 - A Winged Visitor (Free Day)

"Oh, hi there, little light! Come to share the road with me? Feel free to rest a while."

"I've got quite a few more malms to go before I make it back to mom's house, but I wouldn't mind a traveling companion for the journey!"

Thought I would take the opportunity of the free day today to finally fulfill @iron-sparrow's request for some poses involving their little light!

Happy (early) nameday! It's been an honor to get to know you a little bit this past year, and I look forward to many more :D

[extinctionstories]

A lot of my work focuses on why and how a species ends, but the where can be quite interesting as well.

Seen from the Walt Disney World monorail track this afternoon, just pulling out of the Contemporary Resort, here is a view of the now-abandoned Discovery Island.

Prior to the opening of Animal Kingdom, the island housed Disney’s onsite zoo and animal preserve, a facility that included one of the largest walk-through aviaries in the world, as well as the biggest captive flock of scarlet ibis.

It was here that the last four living Dusky Seaside Sparrows, all males, were brought in 1983, in support of a captive breeding program attempting to hybridize the birds with a related species—a last ditch effort, too little too late for a species left diminished by decades of habitat destruction.

And it was here, on the grounds of the Disney World theme park, that the endling, Orange Band, would die of old age, just four years later.

[pigeonstab]

I really like one specific scene for William Turner's character. And that's the one where Jack is chased by all the cannibals. And I love that he starts out saying "What about Jack? I won't leave without him" and just does a full on 180 when he sees the horde that's after him. It's taking his character, who's righteous and assertive and it's adding so much more to him by subverting that. Because Will is a bastard of his own, and this scene to me is not only really funny but makes him that much more interesting.

[ruby-lith]

field sparrow