#bludbird

[metropolois]

he can't be in town — deep infiltration work — but special days are always remembered! there's a care package at the door. coffee capsules, carefully wrapped peonies, sugar cookies! (store bought, but transferred to a tin to pretend they weren't, even if he knew she'd be able to tell) and a card, handwritten every year. happy birthday, aunt lo. i'm the man i am today because of the woman you are. ♡

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 | 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑, surprise doesn't await her. while birthday wishes would slowly trickle in from acquaintances, along with impersonal gifts, ( her favorite kind. ) dick grayson never missed the day. a fact that no doubt astonished a younger lois lane ... with how flighty the boy proved to be. underlying was a much more daunting reality ... she had people who showed up for her. people as constants. despite how busy things got, no matter how forgiving she'd be at a late gift ... it never happened.

warm smile on her face, lois scoops the basket into her arms, and closes the door with her hips. now was a rare pocket of time where lois finds herself alone in the house. kon and clark were always in and out, and jon was ... becoming busier each day. ( though, all three of them were probably out tearing up the grocery store together in her honor. ) before she allows herself to become too sentimental, she parks herself on the couch, gifts in her lap.

she leans into fresh - cut flowers, taking in the scent before cracking the lid of the cookie tin. yesssss ... thank god he didn't bake. really. ( she loved all that processed crap. ) holding one between her teeth ... eyes slide over to the one element lois lane subconsciously delayed --- his card.

metropolis's star reporter didn't cry. never of weak stomach or mind ... hardly allowed her heart to sway any decision in the name of unbiased journalism. but, she knew her weak spots. namely, her kids. unwavering goodness matched with a love in her chest that remained entirely unconditional. even thinking about dick for too long was enough to get her misty eyed.

she takes a bite out of her cookie, and tentatively pries open the notecard. humble, penned in cerulean ink. when she reads his words ... she can hear his voice, see his face. she runs it through one, two, three times before palming her phone, and dialing dick's cell.

voicemail, of course, but she's no less content. " heyy blue jay --- it's me. " voice is full - bodied + loving into the phone. her thumb traces over the path of his ink pen. " i got your gifts, the peonies are beautiful ... travelled well too. " some of the pigment comes off on her skin. " i hope you aren't working yourself too hard. " the kind of statement that begged for a witty quip that he was sure to enjoy ... but her mouth goes dry, and her mind blank. she felt horribly sentimental. a burn in her chest that wouldn't go away, the emotional lilt beginning to seep into her voice. she knew richard grayson needed lois lane just as bad as lois lane needed richard grayson. that the words she spoke freed her heart, and his understanding of them filled a vacancy. she knew more than anyone that unless she spoke something ... she'd live her life in an unknown. he needed to know. he deserved to know how loved he really was. " i'm proud of you, dick. thank you for thinking of me ... if you ever need a place to stay, or someone to talk to, i'm here for you. always. love you. "

[strfyr]

a kiss on her temple. ♡

.  ｡ +  ･ * ☆ ✸   ⸻   [                    earthling  holidays  highlighted  her  year  —  all  of  the  intricate  rituals  &  colorful  displays  inspired  such  awe  &  excitement  in  koriand’r  that  she  sometimes  smiled  so  much  her  face  ached  from  the  burden  of  her  joy.  tonight,  hand  in  hand  with  richard,  is  no  different  as  they  make  their  way  through  the  sparkling  winter  wonderland  that  was,  as  she  has  learned,  the  ‘  christmas  market  ‘.  a  small  village  of  shop  huts,  each  adorned  with their  own  wares  &  some  that  smelled  so  enticing  they  left  her  mouth  watering  long  after  couple  had  moved  past  them.  even  the  memory  was  enough  to  make  stomach  rumble  until  sudden  brush  of  warmth  at  her  temple  drew  her  back  to  herself.                            ❝  oh,  dick  !  ❞                   exclamation  is  soft,  nearly  lost  in  the  distant  band  playing  their  own  cheery  santa  claus  anthem.  a  small  bundle  of  leaves,  tied  tightly  together  with  ornate  crimson,  hangs  overhead  from  the  roof  of  one  shop.  MISTLETOE  -  curling  letters  swirl  to  point  upward  at  the  greenery.  this  was  a  practice  kori  found  particularly  pleasant  &  her  enthusiasm  speaks  through  the  quick  work  she  makes  of  lifting  dark  haired  man  a  few  inches  from  the  ground  to  lay  happy,  affectionate  kiss  to  his  lips.                          ❝  this  really  is  the  most  beautiful  time  of  the  year  !  ❞

[metropolois]

miss lois can u come get mr. grayson please hes bothering me

𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊. her fingers snap at him like he was a kid. so much for their years of built character ... dick knew not to bother women. ( though, she couldn't think of anybody who could have taught him that ... he had to have soaked it in from clark. maybe. ) him being a full - grown adult was not a good enough excuse to stop her from publicly tearing him a new one.

" hey ! " a roaring bark that would cut through any room, directed at ( @bludbird ). " apologize, now. you were raised better than that. "

[saintsplanet-old]

the tower feels too high tonight. too far from anything solid. tara markov stands near the training floor, boots planted hard against the mat as if she’s afraid the ground might forget her, as if gravity is a promise that can be broken. her power stirs anyway, low, restless, answering old instincts she didn’t choose and voices she didn’t invite. slade’s presence lingers in her head like a bruise you don’t touch but always feel, shaping her thoughts before they finish forming. control disguised as guidance. care disguised as command. she hates how quiet it can be. how normal it can look from the outside. she doesn’t turn when dick comes up beside her. she pretends she’s watching the city, pretending is something she’s very good at now. ❝ you don’t look at me like you’re waiting for me to mess up, ❞ tara says after a moment, light and careful, like it’s nothing important. ❝ most people do. ❞ her shoulders lift in a small shrug that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. ❝ you trust me like it’s normal. like i’ve earned it already. ❞ a pause—too long, just shy of noticeable. ❝ i’m not used to that. ❞ she glances at him then, quick and fleeting, a smile already in place. ❝ don’t worry, ❞ she adds, easy, rehearsed. ❝ i won’t give you a reason to regret it. ❞

@bludbird

[ioracle]

𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 . . . 𝚆𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚁𝚈𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝙶𝙴 » 𝚃𝙾 @bludbird

❝ so, you got talked into this too, huh. ❞ a smile, a hint of a tease, dances across her lips. a glass of champagne, barely even slipped, sits within her hand. the other smooths down the silk of her dress. green, of course. it hugs her body in ways she isn't used to, with smooth skin peeking out from the slit that runs from the hem to mid thigh. you look beautiful, her father had told her, and for a moment she actually felt it. dick, though - well, he always looks beautiful. barbara takes a slip of her drink, the bubbles fizzing against her tongue, both to calm her swelling emotions and distract from her thoughts.

❝ did bruce tell you he's presenting an award to my dad? service to the city, or something. ❞ the only reason she's here, putting up with the curious glances and fake smiles. the commissioner's brave daughter. how much their family has given in service of gotham city, now to be celebrated at the 15th annual gotham winter gala. she hates it. she wants to get far away as she can, but she's stuck. from a passing by waiter she takes a small canapé, something fancy she couldn't even name that barely has any taste. at least she feels a bit better knowing there's a familiar face. a hand she can hold if it all gets a bit too much. yet, even with dick at her side she still feels too vulnerable. ❝ once that's done i'm getting some real food. i'd give anything for a big belly burger right now. ❞

[strfyr]

❛ It scares me how much you mean to me. ❜

.  ｡ +  ･ * ☆ ✸   ⸻   [                     umber  brows  knit  themselves  concerned  as  she  fixes  emerald  gaze  hard  to  richard  *  the  contradiction  of  his  words  are  confusing  &  difficult  to  unravel  in  the  moment  she  allows  herself  to  register  them.  caring  ?  frightening  ?  the  enormity  of  her  affection  for  him  is  pulled  for  reference  —  the  terrific  adoration,  the  anxiety  when  he’s  away.  once  she  is  satisfied  with  understanding,  a  tender  -  hearted  hand  cradles  against  his  cheek.                           ❝  you  care  so  much  about  so  much,  dick.  it  is  one  of  the  many,  many  things  i  love  about  you,  ❞                        koriand’r  draws  in  closer  under  moonlight.  gentle  golden  glow  of  her  skin  reflects  onto  his,  allowing  her  a  better  view  of  the  face  she  so  closely  ties  to  everything  good  about  this  planet.  her  heart  stirs,  &  aches,  &  again  she  understands.                         ❝  if  i  am  in  your  heart  deep  enough  to  stand  out  in  this  way,  then  i  am  the  most  happy  someone  can  be.  ❞                      she  kisses  him,  soft  *  ardent  *  warm.                       ❝  i  am  the  most  lucky,  too.  ❞