Classic_Classy



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  1. Rec *

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    The phantom’s eyes are round, no longer like the blades they so often are. There’s no predator and prey, only Tommy and Wilbur.

    Tommy’s throat chokes as he swallows another call, only prompting Wilbur to ask again.

    “What’s- what’s wrong?”

    Tommy squeezes his eyes shut and tightens his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the next begging screech that pierces the air. He can’t stop his crowing. The unanswered pleas for love, for protection, flock, family, somebody, anybody-

    Tommy looks up.

    Wilbur.

    -•-

    Or: Tommy is molting, meaning he’s high on instincts, and being a foster kid, low on flock. Enter Wilbur, who is a little too protective over who he considers family.

    Or or: brother and dadbur instincts fluff

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    10 Oct 2024

  2. Rec *

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    Another louder crash, and Tommy hardly sees one of the aisles collapse in on itself before he’s buried his face in Wilbur’s chest.

    His heart is thumping like he’s running a marathon, and all but his legs are wrapped around Wilbur. Shaking and uncontrollably chirping, Tommy still doesn’t think he’s felt safer in his life than in Wilbur’s arms.

    And Wilbur is hugging Tommy back, rubbing above his wings and whispering, “It’s fine, no one was hurt. It only fell, dear. I’ve got you.”

    Tommy can’t totally understand the words, not when his mind is a jumble of fear and adrenaline. He’s all instincts now, but he knows that Wilbur is protecting him and Wilbur will keep him safe. Tommy can’t even fight his birdbrain when the name of his foster brother is replaced by the title, dad.

    -

    Or: Tommy accidentally imprints on his human foster brother, Wilbur, after a minor inconvenience. Now, he feels pressured to keep his instincts and feelings a secret… which should be easy enough, right?

    Series
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    10 Oct 2024

  3. Rec 15

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    No way was this happening. No way was there a child in his chicken coop. How did he even get in there?
    Slowly, Purpled opened the door again. The kid was still there, staring at him with those large, blue eyes and slitted irises.
    “Are you gonna scream again?” Purpled asked. The child stared. Just stared. “Do you talk?”
    The kid opened his mouth again. Purpled prepared himself for the same ear-grating screech.
    “Are you dumb?” the chicken-coop-kid said, his wings ruffling.
    So he could talk.
    “What are you doing in my chicken coop?” Purpled asked, slightly affronted.
    “What are you doing in your chicken coop?” the kid shot back.
    Purpled was gonna stab him with the pitchfork.

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    09 Oct 2024