BIRDS OF A FEATHER

- - - - SYLV - - - - twenty-one; classics major, business minor.

[georgiafowlerfan]

Georgia Fowler by David Roemer for Harper’s Bazaar

[peacock-sylv-blog]

Kiss Me 8)

Between the two of them, seasoned drinker and blushed giggler-- they’d managed to guzzle down the better part of a bottle and a half of wine. Sylv stretched out lazily on the couch, one foot on the ground, the other (inexplicably sock-less) tucked under a blanket that draped over her lap. She had found a comfortable place against Lizzie’s side, contentedly telling a story while the other girl brushed out her long hair.

"Why don’t we do this more often?”

Sylv glanced up, peering at Lizzie through dark lashes. A smile touched her lips and she twisted to face her now. “Because,” she said lowly, her fingers twining with the other girl’s, “If you got to know me properly you wouldn’t enjoy spending time with me as much.”

The redhead shook her head in protest, “Impossible.”

Her reaction was so genuine, the furrow in her brows was carved deeply in her forehead. Sylv’s grip tightened comfortably in Lizzie’s, she had never had someone to consider a friend like this before. 

A swell of affection prompted her forward and she pressed her lips to the corner of the other girl’s usually smiling mouth. When she pulled away, her mark was left as a full lipped red stain. It made her laugh, leaning back into her companion’s shoulder once more.

“I love you Liz.”

[peacock-sylv-blog]

Haunt me

Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character watching over yours.

Sylv sipped her earl grey idly, leaning back in her chair. The brisk winds of fall had been stolen away for the cruel onslaught of unforgiving winter, her usual place on the outside of the cafe had a seasonal rotation– now, she enjoyed her drinks by the window, peering out to see the rosy cheeked passerbys. Arms were laden with gifts, hats protected exposed ears. She loved and hated the holidays, both with seemingly the same amount of passion.

Whitebridge would grow quiet and then– silent, that would be her cue to leave, taking nothing but herself back home, into a place that was only hers in name. Still, she drew out the minutes, watching the couples trudge through the snow. A familiar face caught her attention and she nearly lifted her hand to grab his– but it was the figure that his arm was intertwined with that made her pause, lowering her fingers. 

James looked happy. If he had smiled for her a hundred times before, she had never seen the expression look as genuine as it did then; despite the glass between them she could almost hear the peals of laughter from him. His companion was someone she didn’t recognize, but the jealousy that struck her was bitter, making the sweetness of her tea feel acrid in her mouth. 

He whipped around, finding her in the glass and his lips pursed into a kiss. He was a beautiful boy, he knew it and weaponized it– her reaction was a smile and a wave, before he trudged on down the sidewalk. Light eyes stayed trained on his back until he disappeared. Sylv shook her head; he reminded her of a version of herself that was freer, more alive. 

Despite this, she smiled, stirring her spoon in her cup.

[peacock-sylv-blog]

Leave a “Quite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]

Yesterday, when you held him, you felt something in him tighten and threaten to snap— you wanted to whisper by his ear that you loved him, more than the world but your heart sunk to your knees at his, “Why did you do that?”

Today, his fingertips brushed your knee when you sat on the edge of the roof, sharing your cigarettes and silence. He didn’t apologize, but you’ve never needed words before. You’re learning how to love each other, it’s just taking time.

— — — —- — — — — — — — — — — 

It happened again, the graze of her fingers against his bare wrist made him nearly jump out of his skin– Sylv winced at the way he seemed to act as though he wanted to kick out of it, to leave it crumpled in a pile like discarded linen. Her fingers curled back in, she withdrew, feeling suddenly as though she had dirtied him.

“Don’t.”

He snapped the words and she looked away, catching the tremble in his jaw. A twitch, something not unlike a machine in malfunction. She sighed, the exhalation falling between them before she caught the expression in his eyes. He was embarrassed, it showed in the skittishness, the storm that clouded a usually clear blue. They were both damaged pieces, it had been silly of her to think that together they would have formed something whole without effort.

To speak would be to betray his emotions, to point them out would shame him further. Had it been anyone else, Sylv would have tucked him into her arms– but for Victor, they were different. Instead, she reached in her pocket, freeing a crooked cigarette to offer him. The brunette’s chin moved in the direction of the stairs, to the rooftop, a quiet sanctuary to look at the stars.

“Okay,” she said lowly, but she hoped that he heard the words between her mundane phrases. I understand, we’re different. I know we need time. “It’s not cold tonight.”

[peacock-sylv-blog]

[peacock-sylv-blog]

Drabble Me

Leave a “Amuse Me” in my ask, and I will write a funny drabble about my character trying to cheer your up.

Leave a “Break Me” in my ask, and I will write an angsty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character asking for yours [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Drink Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.

Leave a “Enamor Me” in my ask, and I will write a fluffy drabble about my character trying to woo yours [be it out of the blue/Valentines Day,feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble out my character fighting with/or against yours.

Leave a “Get Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character saving yours.

Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character watching over yours[as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Invite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character asking your character to

Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.

Leave a “Love Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a fluffy drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Mourn Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character mourning your character’s death.

Leave a “Nurse Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character healing yours.

Leave a “Offer Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving yours a gift.

Leave a “Paint Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character drawing a picture of yours [like one of your french girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Quite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Shag Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a dirty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Tell Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours [be it a love confession, a secret, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Unbind Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines [be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Value Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character telling yours how they feel about them.

Leave a “Wed Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our character under the subject of wedlock [be it my character proposing to yours, or marrying yours, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “X Me” in my ask, and I will write whatever it is that you wish, [specify.]

Leave an “Yahoo Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our characters celebrating something [feel free to specify.]

Leave an “Zip Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character dressing mine, or the other way around [this can also be used for shutting them up as well, but feel free to specify.]

[falloncarringtongifs]

[bisithehummingbird-blog]

nervous

[peacock-sylv-blog]

bisithehummingbird‌:

Victor, beautiful Victor. A soft smile croossed Bisi’s face. “Always such a busy bee,” he hummed, getting out forks and knives for the pancakes, then settling down at the counter. The second fork was handed to Sylv. “Will they be disappointed if you don’t show up at all?” Of course they’d be, but Sylv would guess what the actual question was.

“Virgil says something about sleep being death’s brother,” Sylv mused idly, taking the fork. She speared another strawberry, “If I ever stop, consider me to be finished.” The brunette chewed the fruit, considering the question. “Likely, but I don’t think my reputation begins and ends with my loyalty to an engagement with an eye glasses company.”

[peacock-sylv-blog]

callme-pidge‌:

An apple’s never killed anyone. “I’m sure- there’s gotta be something in history that disproves that,” Peter countered mildly, contemplating the fruit in his hand. It was russet red, freckled with gold; he pressed a thumb lightly against the skin to test it for soft spots. Satisfied that it was up to his standards, he dropped it into his bag. “Like, people with unknown apple allergies, maybe.” 

The sound of Sylv biting into an apple caused him to lift his eyes to her, watching her with a sort-of muted surprise that he didn’t put to words. He’d never seen her eat something so… carelessly. At dinner, she always seemed to be cutting things into smaller and smaller pieces, as if the process of division would at some point equal zero. So- expression unchanged, only his eyebrows rising and falling akin to a shrug- Peter accepted the apple she offered him. He turned it over in his hands with brief skepticism, then took a tentative bite, one that barely broke the skin. He didn’t talk about his own iffy relationship with food: how it was usually bland and tasteless, or bordered on the repulsive; how he had to motivate his appetite by smoking because otherwise, eating felt too much like force-feeding. But the taste of the apple wasn’t something he had to force himself past. It was a flood of sudden sweetness, chased by a nip of tartness- the perfect harmony of a ripe October apple, as fresh and crisp as the air around them. Peter trailed quietly after Sylv, watching as she relieved the branches of half their fruit, watching as the gray clouds unspooled above their heads. He took another bite, a slightly larger one, and felt, just in this moment, briefly uncomplicated.  If this wasn’t what it felt like to be happy, it had to at least be close.

A second date? “Yeah. I don’t know when yet, or where, or…” Peter came to a stop besides her and shrugged, leaving the rest of his doubts unspoken- but even so, they were almost audible, droning like a swarm of bees in his stomach. The silent question of why was mostly a reflection on his own failures; the startled responses, the rushed exit and hasty goodbye, the stretch of silence that had followed. Why would there be a second date, when he had ruined the first? “Oh. That… sucks? Sorry, I don’t keep up,” he replied, after sliding a glance her way and wondering if he should be more consolatory- the little he knew of Emir hadn’t left a good impression, but maybe this had been a genuine heartbreak for Sylv. Luckily, that didn’t seem to be the case; she sounded very cavalier about it, and her laugh was enough to prompt the beginnings of a smile from him. Peter returned to sifting through the branches, resuming his careful selection process. “Any other updates I should know, preferably in Cliff’s Notes form?”

She heard the crisp sound of the skin being broken into and smiled without turning— she knew that he would finally concede. The wind that sang through the fruit laden trees picked up the stray pieces of her loose hair, toying with them as she walked. In the orchard, there was a sense of peace and Sylv revelled in it— it was as though they had found the perfect spot in time to hide away, to escape the world that demanded so much of them. Here, when she glanced back, they could give up the contention that lay between them and instead, she could be kind instead of cruel and he could be open minded instead of embittered. The brunette took another bite from her apple, chewing thoughtfully.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re that excited about it,” Sylv noted idly— but she would leave it there, an open option to bait Peter into speaking more about it if he desired. That was the formula with him, she decided: one could only do so much before he shut down, it was about gentle steps, ensuring his comfort— asking if he was alright with moving closer to something real. If it began to hurt, he’d bite back. Sylv was growing tired of being bit by the Voliere’s junkyard dog.

His clumsy words made her laugh, “Not really. We hadn’t been together properly for over a year, we only started dating because of Rachel.” The slip made her pause and she took another bite of the fruit, silencing herself before continuing. “He’s too in love with himself anyways, it made for a very clumsy relationship.” Any other updates? She beamed, turning on her heel to face him. This was something she could do— she hoped her excitement was infectious, she desperately wanted to see Peter smile. “Victor’s moving in with me.”

[peacock-sylv-blog]

thesingingswan‌:

   gale never realized how uplifting a simple description could be. he marveled at it. was this what his abuela had spoken of? he’d know he’d become who he needed to be when he’d be able to take pride in the names slurred at him. delicate. it wasn’t an insult. it could’ve been. it felt heavenly instead. he lowered his eyes in diffidence. “butternut squash sounds perfect.” he ordered it when sylvianne’s soup was brought out. curious he looked at it. “you shouldn’t have to wait for me. it will only get cold and lose it’s taste.” the idea of a smile graced his lips. “if i were offered a spoon, i’m sure i wouldn’t feel left out.” was he saying this so sylvianne wouldn’t feel obligated to wait for him? or was he saying this so he could satisfy his curiosity?

   he didn’t reply right away. it was a hypothetical question and no one asked of him to answer it. it intrigued him however. he’d never seen desire as god-given. the opposite rather. “how do you argue for either side?” of course. two different classes made more sense than a class combining such vastly different subjects. she had told him of her major and minor. he hoped he didn’t look too embarrassed. “how did you come to study classics and business? they don’t seem to be made for the same kind of people.” 

Sylv reached for a spoon, handing it to Gale immediately. “You’re welcome to try it, just mind your sleeves-- I had a mishap last week with the very same soup, it stains irreversibly.” She took a sip of it, savouring the warmth of the food. Fall seemed to be the best time of year for food-- it was all intended to chase the chill from your bones and the tiredness from your mind. “I think it’s quickly becoming one of my favourites.”

She tapped at her lower lip, considering the query. “I suppose it depends on what you believe in-- does god motivate you, or do your own desires? I suspect that some would say that it is a god that gives us purpose, who sets our paths.” Sylv’s shoulder lifted, “Another would say that we create our own destinies, and are ruled by our own greed.” A smile touched her lips, “I enjoy classics, but business is a necessity. I’m very fortunate to be able to do both.”

[peacock-sylv-blog]

lizziemallard‌:

       It was incredible to think that despite their vast differences, their friendship had made it this far. People never ceased to surprise her; they never were what they seemed at first glance. She was so thankful that Sylv had given her a chance. The redhead gave her friend a warm smile. “I’d like that.”

       The sentimental moment was gone in a flash. She watched as her car attacked the aforementioned friend in the passenger seat in shock, though her gasp quickly morphed into a laugh. “Okay, hold on.”

      With only a few hiccups, the duo made it to the festival safe and (mostly) sound. It was bustling with big families, energetic kids, and one very enthusiastic mallard. 

      “Oh, look a this!” Lizzie waved her friend over to a pointing scarecrow, who was wearing a bright yellow sign around its neck. She crouched down and read, “’Vendors and Pumpkin Patch, this way.’ How cute!” The corners of her mouth lifted up at the thought of the scary secret society having a slew of smiling pumpkins in their yard. “What do you say, Sylv? Wanna go pick some pumpkins for the manor? It could really use some decorating.” 

Sylv gladly exited the car, unfolding herself and bolting away from the tiny yellow trap. The door slammed a little too hard behind her, rattling it’s frame-- but she was sure that Brenda had lived through much worse abuse. The fair was just as she had expected, and despite herself, the brunette grinned brightly when she looked around. 

“I took Pete apple picking the other day, let’s go get some pumpkins too.” Something mischievous settled in her light eyes, “I think that Jamie would love the challenge of making even more pies.” Sylv straightened her purse on her shoulder, “I’ve never carved one either, we’ve got to try it.”

[peacock-sylv-blog]

cagedhawk‌:

“I know how to take ‘em off, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a girl ask me to put a bra back on before. Might stuff a few little oranges in the boobie pockets to make it more realistic,” he paused, then glanced back at Sylv as she crossed him with a loud snap of the tongs. “Clementines,” Jamie corrected himself with a small smirk.

While the other fought the fryer, he’s crafted a pretty bowl of berries with just a touch of honey added to heighten the sweetness. His next step was whipped cream, but Sylv’s sharp gaze had the little container scurrying back to the fridge with Jamie’s kind assistance. “Crossfit won’t let you enjoy the little things in life? I’m so disappointed–I was gon’ work out with ya ‘cause I wanted to be able to lift a 120 pound boy for long hours.”

Sylv glanced over her shoulder, feigning shock. “Did you just call my tits small?” Rather than feeling offended, she laughed, shaking her head. Confidence in her appearance was something that had been a slow acquisition, but as time progressed, she found herself rather proud of her features; an offhand would do little to shake her.

She placed another onion in, gingerly turning the one that floated up in the oil. “That’s not crossfit, that’s a Sylv thing.” She lifted a shoulder, “You’re welcome to come and work out with Erik and I, but I guarantee you’d flunk out in an hour.” Her grin was wide, but her attention snagged on the images on the fridge. Had she never noticed them before? The door shut and her brows stayed furrowed. “When did you guys take those?”

[dailyskyeward]

[peacock-sylv-blog]

@oneseagull

[peacock-sylv-blog]

andyalbatross‌:

There was Sylv’s car in all it’s glory, along with the other lavish vehicles. Andy had been waiting to ride in the girl’s G ever since Sylv had promised in the first weeks back at Whitebridge. Andy wasn’t much of a car buff, but she was interested to see what this kind of money would by (having googled the price online). It looked shiny.

Andy’s eyes widened at the atrocity of Sylv’s parking before opening the door to the Mercedes. She hiked up her skirt and used the side-step to enter the car. She clipped her seatbelt, admiring the plushness of the seat. But the comfort did nothing to distract Andy from the extremity of Sylv’s driving. Her hand found the handle above the door. “Don’t worry about the music, please just, focus on the road?” They went over a bump. “Jesus Sylv! Who gave you a permit?” She asked, only half-joking.

Sylv rolled her eyes, careening into the street with the same velocity as a bat straight out of hell. How many accidents had she gotten into over the course of her three years at Whitebridge? The thought made her grimace-- to date none of them included other people, but she’d climbed out of enough ditches, bulldozed enough mailboxes and scraped enough guard rails to consider never getting behind a driver’s wheel again. 

“I actually passed the international driver’s license exam-- so you’ve got a whole world of people to blame.” They spun into town and she headed up the road, the place was in Old Town, not very far at all from her apartment. After parallel parking in the middle of what should have been two spots, she killed the engine. “Hope you’re hungry, they’ve got a great cauliflower crust pizza.”

[bisithehummingbird-blog]

nervous

[peacock-sylv-blog]

bisithehummingbird‌:

The sound of the pancake flopping to the ground had Bisi glance back over his shoulder. “Whoop, there went your breakfast,” he said, a tinge of amusement in his voice which otherwise remained heavy and quiet from the tiredness. Exhaustion of all too many kinds. He watched her toss the pancake away before raising his gaze to her. For a moment he just looked at her and thought about the question. Then he nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” He pushed the pan off the heat. “How will you go home today? I might be staying here for another night.” He liked driving the Birds back to Whitebridge. 

She smiled then, the expression remaining small as she made her way back to the counter to poke at the fruit that was still set up there. “I was hoping for a fresh one, but I’d settle for a fruit bowl I guess.” Sylv chewed at a strawberry, lifting a shoulder. “I got a ride in with Vic, but if he’s not leaving soon I’ll probably hitch a ride with someone else.” She looked around her shoulder, “I have lunch in the afternoon with the Warby Parker founder, but I don’t think anyone is going to be that disappointed if I’m tardy.”

[hvnc]

♞stables

[peacock-sylv-blog]

hanacagedswallow‌:

she didn’t want to crowd sylv or her horse so she picked up a few paces outside of the stables to give her room and the clear view of the gravel trails that twisted off into different tree-lines. it was unusual seeing her unease, but it also wasn’t because she knew there were things the other girl didn’t like as much, like hana’s hips or buffets of food. it wasn’t like it was surprising that she seemed a bit clumsy now. after all sylv had warned her that it had been some time since she was out there and she knew that her horse was more of a want than a companion. she didn’t focus on her dishevel but she stayed close in case anything went wrong, hana so patient almost to the point of being passive with even the air she pulled into her lungs. she adjusted the coil of rope around the notch of her saddle and made sure her horse fell into step right beside sylv’s. 

“weird.” she mutters, an answer but not a good enough one. “it’s that stagnant feeling air where i must need to clean out everything i like and start over.” in her home, she meant. “the last dinner didn’t go so well. there’s so many uncaged to talk about still but i’m just…” she shrugged, as if right now she cared very little about that topic. “did you have fun at the ball at least? or…where you happy with how things turned out on the field.” it was at least a topic they were meant to talk about and be able to communicate over.

Sylv cautiously freed her hand to stroke at Galahad’s muscle bound neck, he was a beast that seemed to be perfectly crafted to be unruly-- it felt almost cruel to have him bent so easily to their will. His pace was slow and kind, her nails scratched idly at his skin. Was that love for their domesticators; or just a sugar coated kind of slavery? The horse didn’t seem unhappy, and she lifted her head to pay more attention as they picked their way up the field.

“I still have to collect my punishments for the quasi-process,” Sylv noted, lifting a shoulder. “I’m waiting for the dinner, I suppose.” The last one had been a disaster, cut short and leaving them all with too much left over to say. “I have my picks, my clever little demons-- I don’t think anyone will be shocked by what I have to say about them when we do meet up again.” The mention of the ball made her wrinkle her nose, “I have a few complaints, but I suppose it went as well as it could have.” Her head canted, a dark braid falling to one side of her neck. “Did you have a hand in organizing that?”

[wnq-anonymous]

Discretion is being able to raise your eyebrow instead of your voice.

Anonymous