#birds snippets

[oh-no-its-bird]

8k words on uchiha houhua au ch 1,,, so fucking close,,,

[frownyalfred]

okay but the delicious angst of Batman and Robin getting trapped in a collapse or some other situation where an agonized Bruce is the only thing holding up the rubble/a piece of concrete on his back above an injured Dick, playing at being Superman by holding a superhuman amount of weight on his shoulders because if he lets go, they’ll both be crushed? and Dick wakes up, instantly clocks the situation, and knows that the only thing he can do to help is talk Bruce through it. to distract him long enough for someone to find them. to keep going, B, you can do it—

[green4allseasons]

The lights to the townhome are mostly out… save for the single lamp in the window. And Jason’s heart warms at the shallow glow because that means somehow he’d known that Jason would be returning tonight. 

Somehow he always knows.

Jason walks the motorbike the final block to the house. The thing is loud, which he usually enjoys. But tonight… he doesn’t want to run the risk of waking any sleeping occupants. So instead, he quietly stashes the bike beside the garage and hoofs it to the front door, pulling out a key that had been made specifically for him. 

He loves the way the townhouse welcomes him home. How, although it belongs to someone else on paper, as soon as he steps through the door it greets him as if he's always belonged there too. 

On the crooked end table with a single glowing lamp, there's a stack of books that he recently finished reading from the library, all long overdue. And his jackets... those are all neatly hanging from the coat hanger while another's lay stale and untouched in an ever-growing heap on the floor. 

Even the fridge is marked with his presence, occupied with tupperware full of stir fry. His recipe... though it had been made by someone else in his absence. 

And technically, he could go to his room. Tim had made sure that he knew that it always belonged to him. Even from the very beginning. 

So at first Jason considers it.  The door’s wide open and waiting for him. And it’s what he usually does when he gets into town late; they’re considerate of each other’s sleep schedule like that. 

But... it’s Valentine's Day. Or it was Valentine's Day, he thinks, looking down at his watch and seeing the short hand point at the 2:00. And while Jason’s not a sap for all that capitalist bullshit, he finds himself teetering on his feet in front of his doorway, side-eyeing his bed that looks so cold and lonely in the dark.

“Fuck it,” he decides, turning on his heels and striding into the room across from his. Timmy might get a little pissy about being woken up but he’d just have to live with it for one night. It’s Valentine's Day, or was… and god dammit if Jason isn't feeling a little sentimental. Sue him.

He sounds a lot tougher in his mind, but his actions tell a different story as he slowly nudges the door open, cringing at the resulting creak of old hinges. Had it always been so loud?

Of course, Tim startles, his eyes blearily opening, the pupils constricting at the sudden light. “Jay?” he asks, “Everything okay?”

Jason feels instantly bad. Like he said, they never do this, not unless something’s wrong. So Tim’s instant concern isn’t totally baseless. Usually they give each other a day to adjust to the timezones and whatnot before inexplicably finding themselves in each other’s beds. Intertwined for however long they're both in town… which isn’t as often as either of them would like. 

“Yeah, all good, just…” Jason pauses, a little embarrassed to say the words out loud. He was really counting on Tim being asleep. And goddammit, the little smile that crawls across Tim’s face makes him want to bury his head in a hole. 

“I didn’t take you for a Valentine’s sort of guy,” Tim teases, that little sleepy smirk so fucking annoying. And yet, Jason feels himself unraveling in ways that he can’t put words to.

He swears, “...Just scoot over, will you?”

Tim lets out a small laugh but opens the covers anyway. Jason’d already showered at his new safehouse so he doesn’t feel bad as he crawls into the sheets. But he doesn’t think Tim would mind either way. 

Tim doesn’t turn around, preferring to face Jason as he lays his head back down. They could only manage to fit a twin mattress in the room so it forces them to shift close. Jason sure as hell doesn’t care as their foreheads touch on their shared pillow. 

And god, if Jason doesn’t feel like a man with his whole world in his hands. Tim’s warmth so all encompassing that slowly he feels the tension in his muscles lessen, unwinding with every breath that flutters against his cheek. Tim’s breath is still minty from brushing, giving away that he’d probably stayed up too late… again.

Sighing, Jason settles his hand on Tim’s cheek, adoring the contrasting sensations of the impossibly soft skin under Tim’s eyes and the rough stubble over his jawline. Just another indicator that he’d been working too hard. 

Ah well, it just means that Jason needs to stay longer this time. 

Jason’s fingers rest against Tim’s jawline before he grips gently, using the leverage to press their foreheads together.

“I missed you,” he breathes, holding back so much more that he want’s to say because it’s late, and Tim’s tired, and he doesn’t get enough sleep these days as is. 

And really? All that Jason wants to say has been said before and can be said again once morning comes.

Jason plans to spend his whole life saying it. A whole life proving how it’s true. 

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

THOUGHT

What if the entire reason why Sanguinius usually speaks in such a formal way is straight up because he's speaking Gothic and thus a second language from his native tongue. Depending on how his native baalite (or however it is called) is, it could mean that Gothic isn't the easiest language for him to speak so he ends up just coming off as super formal. Meanwhile in his native tongue, he sounds a lot less formal and might even seem crass or vulgar when speaking. Mind you, he can still be formal sounding in his native language, but I imagine it's a hell of a lot easier for him to speak in a more relaxed manner.

As much as Sanguinius probably does know less formal ways of speaking in Gothic, but he's not exactly good at speaking in an informal way of talking because he often needs the formal way far more often then the informal. And if he does need to speak informally, it's usually with his sons and thus it's just simpler to speak in his native tongue.

I imagine with his brothers, he may attempt to be somewhat less formal with them, such as Horus, but his accent tends to get in the way at times, or he forgets the word he wants to use entirely despite the fact he has an eidetic memory.

[presidentbungus]

“What are you looking at so intently?” says Engie like any good Texan boy would, all fluttering eyelashes and blushy grins despite the fact his eyes are behind half a centimeter of tinted glass. Medic puffs out his lips into a little pucker, then smooths back out, and Engie glints with satisfaction at just the lightest dusting of pink that rises to his cheeks.

He makes sure to be just a little extra slow and sultry when he leans over and plucks a beer from the case by his recliner-chair. “See somethin’ ya like?” By which he means: you're staring for a good reason, please, god, aren't you? But he’s too respectful and upstanding to say that, though he considers himself certainly talented at this whole implications thing, and the deep mauve Medic turns when he tosses just a slightly inflected look in his direction indicates he must get the general idea.

“Well—hoo, well.” He spends two seconds frankly adorably stumbling through his words and then that gloved hand darts out and there’s rubber around Engie’s wrist, two long, thick fingers barely touching thumb-to-pointer in a little ring. “I was—er…”

He rescinds the hand, temples his fingers under his chin, caught between sitting and standing and settling in a weird in-between as Engie watches, fascinated. “I was just… thinking… about your heart. And your lungs.” He tilts his head. “And, in a small measure, your brain, I suppose. Er, imagining your breathing, and your circulation, and the oxygen flowing in and out of your limbs, and… so on. Drawing your veins in my mind and, and such.”

… Huh. Maybe he misread the situation.

And he keeps just stumbling through, pushing up his glasses every few seconds, still perched on his heels with his arms wrapped around his knees. “You’re a—private man. I have not seen much of you besides what I have been able to—have the company require,” and his voice pushes up a few notes on the last word, and well he’ll be damned if it’s not the cutest thing he’s ever seen, “but I… think about you.”

He lowers his voice just a little for this one, reclining down onto his back. “Oh, you do.”

“You have a very impressive set of lungs. Even for all the, er, damage." Engie frowns and Medic puts his hands up. "That's a compliment."

"Uh-huh."

"And your heart is a perfect specimen. Strong, and healthy… pulsing with vitality," and his eyes bug out just a little on the last line. "I was almost upset to have to cut it out of you… until, well…"

Ain't that interesting. "Until?"

He smiles sheepishly, wringing his hands together with a frankly disgusting sound of rubber against rubber. “… I may or may not have kept your original heart in a jar. With my other personal possessions.”

He mentally re-catalogues everything of interest in the lab, mentally travels to Medic’s big mahogany former-bookshelf, stacked top-to-bottom with preserved organs in jars, and sees a lot of hearts. A lot of hearts. But, then again, his mind is drawn back to a smallish mason jar near the front, suspiciously unlabeled, amidst rows and rows of perfectly organized bits and pieces.

Yeah, sure.

He's sure Medic is approaching this more from scientific curiosity than any particular angle he'd prefer, but heat's rising to his face before he knows it and frankly he doesn't really feel like putting in the effort to quell it.

And just to press the envelope that tiny bit further, he ventures: "Well I'll be darned if that's not the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

Medic turns the color of his tie. Engineer's sure he follows suit.

[jackdaniel69nice]

Tokoyami: *scrolling through the channels on the tv when he suddenly comes across a bird documentary. They are doing a mating dance*

Dark Shadow: Oh! I like that!

Tokoyami: *chuckles and moves on*

Sero: I thought you said the bird jokes were “distasteful”

Toko: It’s funny when we do it

DS: Who said I’m joking~~

[aliferous-ly]

Once, someone asked him what type of bird he was. It was someone Grian didn't particularly like, so he'd sniffed haughtily and said a curt, "I'm not an animal." They'd backed off real quick and he went about his day.

Some assumed he was a parrot, because of how frequently he kept his feathers bright red. Others thought sparrow. Once, a disgruntled fighter called him a "bullshit chickadee," which was funny because Grian slaughtered him not two minutes later.

In reality, he was all and none of them. He wasn't an animal, he merely mimicked them. Bird wings were far prettier than whatever angelic nonsense Skizz had going on. And he enjoyed selecting feather colors to match his outfits.

Being bird-adjascent earned him many a feathery nickname from his friends, but when a stranger dared encroach on such territory they tended to snap just as much as he did. He wasn't an animal.

But, well. Sometimes a "birdbrain" from Cleo really was deserved.

[lettersnorth]

Febhyurary: Sleep

Somehow, Aislinn managed to sleep. If asked she’d be hard pressed to explain the phenomenon. For so long it had been as elusive as the horizon. But warmed by the tea and Locke both, any flutter of nerves was soothed by the sense of safety she felt when he was near. No one could touch her, and wrapped in that assurance she finally laid down her guard.

[theanonymousninja247]

Birds

A small project dedicated to @sophiacloud28 and her story “A Shot in The Dark.” And inspired by this comment I was able to snag from her

I had so many thoughts and feelings working on this project, but the symbolism behind just birds and freedom in particular wouldn’t leave me alone. And you know what they say about a picture is worth a thousand words? Well here’s my attempt of a thousand words. So I present Miss Estrella as the Twite Bird

Flower meanings in Floriography

Iris: Valor, Wisdom, Faith

Ivy: Fidelity and Attachment

Picture progress because without fail, I always like the “before’” the actual final 😆

[aalinaaaaaa]

Proud of Tag

Thank you @karkkidoeswriting for the tag!

Premise: Post a snippet you've written that you're proud of/pleased by and tag some people!

This snippet derives from a certain angsty pining scene that exists in my files and in splinters on my blog 😅

—

He took another step backwards, his resolve ebbing. “I assure you that’s not the case, at all.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Then why wish for things to be switched? You should be fortunate to have emerged unscathed.” “Unscathed?” He scoffed. “Do you know how it felt like being forced to watch you have that wretched poison shoved down your throat? Watching as you shivered, screamed and convulsed on the ground, eventually knocked cold to the point you went still? I thought I lost you. Of all the ways, it had to go like this.” “Don’t remind me.” “Eshani Faison,” His voice took a harsher tone, yet wavered. “You have easily got to be the most impulsive, reckless, self-sacrificial person that I have ever met. You are stubborn beyond words, your interference infuriates me, I-“

—

Sending tags to @jev-urisk @space-writes @winterandwords @frostedlemonwriter @bardic-tales @inkednotebook @illarian-rambling @tryingtimi @thecomfywriter plus an open tag to share your favourite lines!

Obsidian Sapphires plus General taglist (ask, comment, message me if you'd like to be added or removed): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @oliolioxenfreewrites @theglitchywriterboi @did-i-do-this-write @threeking @seastarblue @gioiaalbanoart @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @outpost51

[prince-liest]

I needed a break from radiostatic, so instead I bring you: a different flavor of trainwreck waiting to happen!

[oh-no-its-bird]

Here before and after me chapter 4 ??? So soon ??? In this economy ????

More likely than u think...

[rrat-king]

wip ask game: lessons in youth?

yes!!! lessons in youth is my sandra lynn + appleboys bonding over gardening fic!!! well. cork + sandra lynn and also bricker is there for a little bit but i'm counting it. little snippet for the people:

Bricker is chewing on his cheek, shifting from side to side as Cork tugs on his arm, standing just behind him and, though she can’t get the best look at him, pouting from the looks of it. What Sandra Lynn would not do for Jawbone to be there. Pouting kids is not in her skillset.  “My, um,” Bricker starts, toeing at the ring of rocks around the garden with his tennis shoe, “well, one of my friends asked if I could hangout.”  She nods. The Nung kid, if she has to guess. He seemed sweet the times that Sandra Lynn has interacted with him, and Jawbone loves to chat with him. Knows the kids' dad, she thinks she remembers, the two of them being buddies back when Jawbone lived in Bastion. “Sounds like fun. Do you need a ride?”  “Oh, um no, but thank you.” He looks surprised to be asked. She should mention that to Jawbone later. “We’re just gonna bike over to the park, if that’s like, ok.”  “Of course,” she nods, knowing the poor kid needed whatever assurance he could get. “It’s too nice a day to spend inside.”  Even with her go ahead, the two of them are still standing there, Cork now truly hanging off of Bricker’s arm, head pressing to the sleeve of his shirt. Sandra Lynn supposes she should be used to this by now, having spent years dealing with the fact that trying to get Kristen to tell her what she wanted was like pulling teeth. Apparently the apples don’t fall far. 

thank you for the ask <333

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

It was midnight when they’d finished. Quickly bidding the forest animals a quick farewell they’d returned home to help her birds settle in for the night. To Cepheus’s credit, he’d spared no expense in lacing the old shed with several ‘extra security measures.’

“How does it work?” Asha asked, looking at the now invisible runes etched onto the shed exterior.

“It’s simple! If something thinks about eating them, then it won’t get a chance to have a second thought!”

“That sounds…gruesome.”

“Gruesomely effective? I know,” he beamed as her birds chirped their approval. 

[tracle0]

Snippet Sunday X

babes we reached 10 of them!!!! Here is a snippet to celebrate wahoo!

Wow,” he said. “That’s incredible. Why didn’t we notice anything was weird?”

“We did. We found the gods. But statistic wise… well, when did people realise you were a prophet?”

His steadily growing grin faltered. It was a hard question to answer - there was no one moment when anyone had known, least of all him. When he had been very young, both him and Cain had boldly assumed that some dreams would simply come true, which had resulted in a joint terror of coming home to find their parents replaced by overly zealous frilled lizards after Cain had had a nightmare about it. Perhaps his parents had begun to suspect when he had asked them about grand historical events or for clarity on complex, upcoming social issues he had no right to know about as a six year old. Or perhaps it had been when he had been seven, and had been able to repeat, word for word, the story his grandmother would tell at her upcoming birthday. It had been finally, quietly accepted when he was eight, after he pinpointed the exact grief his father had experienced when his uncle had died, and discussed obscure details of the time his mother had been bed-bound for two months with an aggressive strand of the flu with her, and when the cancer he had predicted three years prior had finally struck their cousin. 

“After every option has been exhausted,” he said instead. He was acutely aware of his hands. Why did they feel so present, so awkward? What did he usually do with them? Try the pockets. Hide them away. 

[crab-crab]

Scoop

I wrote sad now I present Happy. This is 100% based off the cutscene from Star Wars where Han just picks up Leia and sets her down while walking

The argument brewing between Time and Twilight had been days in the making. 

They had stopped in a town in Legend’s Hyrule, everyone happy to finally be off their feet when everything went downhill. There was shouting from down the hall and Warriors had left to go make sure everything was alright. 

Everything was evidently not alright Sky thought as he heard a door slam open and then closed, heavy steps pounding down the hallway followed by the door opening again with a strained Twilight!

Ever the peacekeeper, Sky stood and hurried away from the rest of the chain. He had just rounded the corner and caught sight of the Rancher storming towards him when he was scooped up under the arms.

Sky barely got out a muffed squeak before he was set back down to the side, out of Twilight’s way, and was greeted by the sight of the Rancher’s retreating figure.

“He moved you like a sack of feed” Wild hummed as he reached Sky’s side and watched along with the Chosen as Twilight finally disappeared outside of the inn. Legend appeared on the other side of Sky with a slow whistle and a glance back at where the Rancher had come from

“Best not get in his way anymore, he’ll just move you.”

—---------

Sky was getting very tired of being moved.

The argument between Twilight and Time had been one thing, Twilight was one of -if not- the strongest among them so it made sense that he could easily lift the smaller members.

Warriors, however, looked like a stiff breeze on Skyloft could blow him over some days.

Sky had tried to stop the Captain from storming out of the academy, saying that he could instead go to one of the other areas where it was safer but no!

Just as Sky had stepped forward to try to placate the Captain he had been scooped up under the arms again and set aside while the older man had disappeared around the corner. 

It was suspiciously quiet behind him

“Oh Golden Goddesses even the Captain can move you”

Sky turned to see Legend looking as if he’d seen the Master sword suddenly talk. Eyebrows hidden in his hair, eyes wide, and mouth dropped open. The other Links were in similar states of surprise.

“Sky come here I wanna see if I can lift you too!” Wild shot up and started heading for the Chosen.

“No!” Sky screeched when Wild dove for him and he jumped back, keeping away from the Champion’s hands.

Legend was wheezing, head planted on the table, and fist banging on the wood as he cackled. Wind had joined in on chasing Sky around and Four seemed to be looking between Sky and Legend with an intense expression, eyes flashing violet.

Another screech made Sky stop long enough to see Legend held up by Four, the Smithy grinning.

“Looks like your lightness runs in the family” He hummed as Legend thrashed about and spit curses.

Sky had enough time to laugh before being scooped up again and glaring down at a smiling Champion.

“You’re so scoopable!” He cackled and Sky heaved a sigh as the realisation settled on his shoulders.

This would not be the last time that he would be bodily moved out of the way.