“Oh stop whining. I’ve fixed plenty of broken bird wings before, and your wings aren’t any different. I could hurry this up if you stopped fidgeting.” AU
Character A didn’t technically fall from heaven, it was more like they took a wrong turn and then accidentally found themself tumbling down a flight of stairs leading to earth. Waking up, Character A finds themself in a city park, naked except for a coat that somebody put over them, and surrounded by a crowd of humans while Character B – the person who was wearing the coat – calls 911.
Character A’s grandparent liked to tell Character A bedtime stories of how their family members were descendants of angels, but as Character A got older, they realized how silly the stories were…until one day when Character B, a bedraggled and bloody angel, shows up on Character A’s doorstep, saying that Character A is the only one that can see or help Character B.
“There’s two troupes for fallen angels. We’re either devilishly handsome demons on earth meant to lead humans astray, or we’re beings of pure light and innocence that are here to provide miracles. Neither one of those are true; we’re mostly just really tired observers who keep reporting back to God in hopes that he lets us back in one day.” AU
Character A keeps pigeons up on the roof of their apartment building, and when going out to check on their birds one morning, Character A finds a winged figure sleeping in the middle of the bird cage.
“These scars? This was where my wings used to be before I got thrown out of heaven. Sometimes it feels like I still have my wings…” AU
character: William!!!! and your kuro otp also, if you want : )
Headcanon A: what I think realistically Headcanon B: what I think is fucking hilarious Headcanon C: what is heart-crushing and awful but fun to inflict on friends Headcanon D: what would never work with canon but the canon is shit so I believe it anyway
A: Realistically, he just wants to get his job done so that he can be redeemed already. Someone get the poor baby a coffee.
B: He enjoys dressing up his little pigeons in suits whenever they eat. Dinner attire. They are raised in a house of high-classed, and he’ll be damned if they show him up at dinner in front of their guests (the wild pigeons who sit on his roof sometimes).
C: He has the Thorns. Eventually, Grell finds out about it, and her immediate reaction is to begin collecting souls for him immediately. She barely even collects a hundred before he dies.
Alternatively: He grew up in an abusive household as a human. His mother died at an early age, leaving him with an alcoholic father who struggled to keep up with payments for their home. William tried to get several jobs to help his father, not that he had a choice, but met a male of a similar age and formed a relationship with him. His father inevitably found out about it and broke it up. To him, if William was a homosexual, then he could use that to make money, and forced William into child prostitution at the age of fifteen. His father eventually passes away, and the stress becomes too much for him, causing him to take his own life.
You know, because fuck you and your happiness.
D: He likes to wear his glittery suit of shame around the house and dances to Glee at two am. That’s why he’s always so fucking tired. God damnit, William.
Koro or incense burner in the form of an ancient Chinese roof tile with a small spider on the side, which has caught the eye of a pigeon perched above. The roof tile of hammered iron, the incense well of hammered silver, the spider of shakudo inlaid in gold, the pigeon of hammered silver inlaid in shakudo, red bronze, and gold. The pigeon signed with a chiseled signature on the underside of the tail feathers: Shoami, and the roof tile signed with an inlaid gold signature on the reverse:
Aries- The Blockheads show up at the studio dressed as police, causing the band to panic and flush all their drugs
Taurus- Topper and Paul are arrested for shooting pigeons from the roof after someone mistakes them for terrorists.
Gemini- Mick and Joe fly to Jamacia, spend the whole trip smoking weed while hiding in their hotel room, because two tiny white boys severely underestimated how different life was in Jamaica.
Cancer- Members of the clash are arrested for stealing pillows from hotel rooms. Reasons unknown.
Leo- Mick Jones sends Johnny Green out to get cocaine. The store Green was buying from is raided, people are arrested, and Green barely manages to sneak out. Upon his return, Mick is pissed that Green didn’t at least smuggle out some cocaine.
Virgo- Topper calls Johnny Green and asks him to come over, rambling about some pool table he just bought. When Green arrives, the table isn’t even set up, and it’s clear to him that Topper was just lonely and wanted someone to come over.
Libra- Mick Jones sits outside of the tour bus and refuses to move until someone gets him a joint.
Scorpio- Paul auditions for London SS, and it is immediately clear why Paul doesn’t sing. He is still kept in reserves, because Mick Jones thought he was very attractive.
Sagittarius- Paul begins bass and is terrible. His original plan was to stand on the front of the stage and jump around so much no one would notice he couldn’t play.
Capricorn- Joe Strummer is sent a death threat. Despite the danger, he still wants to play at the location he was told he will die in. Mick, Paul, and Topper refuse to let him.
Aquarius- Mick Jones writes Train in Vain and is immediately shut down by Joe Strummer, who despises heterosexual love songs.
Pisces- Joe sees a group of sad punks outside a venue he was supposed to play at and walks up to them. They couldn’t get tickets and were upset, so, naturally, Joe brings them in and gets them up front.
lmao, that time when Rob tried to sneak in through Pixel’s window but (ofcourse) fell down the ladder which resulted in a big bang and then Ziggy explains the noise with “just a big pigeon on the roof” and Pixel’s like “yeah that must totally be it” like wTF there’s no pigeons in Lazy Town???? Have you ever seen a pigeon in Lazy Town??? I’ve never seen a pigeon in Lazy Town
okay so in your tags for that sebastian stan and anthony mackie interview you ask why no one is asking you for sam/bucky fic. I AM ASKING. If it is an option, this is me, asking. I WANT IT SO MUCH AND NO ONE IS WRITING IT.
When Bucky loses track of himself in public spaces, Steve’s instinct is to guide, shelter, and nearly smother him with care. Bucky has to shake him off afterward, spend all of his remaining energy convincing Steve he’s alright.
He’s jogging with Steve and Sam when it happens one morning. He can smell some family setting out butterbrots and kasha and for a second he can’t remember–or maybe it is remembering, but it ties up his feet and he stumbles. He can’t remember whether he speaks Russian or English–no, it’s definitely Russian, he’s definitely speaking in Russian.
Steve gasps and rushes to his side, but Sam cuts him off, gets in his way.
“Hey, comrade,” said Sam, holding out a hand to Bucky, “thought you were on my right.”
Bucky takes the hand.
“На правой стороне. Да.”
Sam nods and takes off again, pulling Steve by the elbow. Bucky keeps pace easily.
He can’t sleep. The bed’s too soft, everyone told him that, but also the apartment was too close, too filled with Steve. It made his head hurt like trying to speak a language he doesn’t know, always throbbing in his brain.
He sits outside of Sam’s window in Harlem on the fire escape one morning just before dawn. There’s a nest of pigeons on the roof of the next building and he just watches them coo and rustle for a couple of hours.
He falls asleep with his head tilted against the window pane.
He wakes before noon and finds a paper bag next to him. He opens it and finds two donuts inside. One is topped with pink frosting and sprinkles. It makes him smile and tastes of nothing but sugar.
Sam leaves the window open when it gets warmer. Bucky sits on the window sill and listens when Sam explains why Marvin Gaye is all you need to know about the twentieth century and how his grandmother used to make rye bread from scratch.
Bucky doesn’t loop around Sam the way Steve does. Steve always has a route and a goal and a purpose, but Bucky never does. Sometimes he runs backwards, just to face Sam and to make him smile when he knocks into the inevitable obstacle.
Steve comes around again. Bucky tries to trip him, Steve leapfrogs over Bucky’s shoulders.
Bucky bites his lip when his own grin gets too big, but likes the way it lingers on Sam’s face.
Bucky cooks in Sam’s apartment and Sam leaves the baseball game on in the living room. Bucky doesn’t remember much about baseball, but he likes the crack of the bat when it hits the ball.
Sam meets him in a field with two catcher’s mitts and a baseball. Bucky throws with his right-hand even though it feels unnatural. Steve told him he was a righty, but he doesn’t remember it. He doesn’t feel like a righty.
Just to see, Sam runs down the field and Bucky lobs one with his left. Sam has to run even farther, his eyes squinting up into the sunlight.
Bucky runs after him.
That feels right.
Bucky watches TV with Sam on his couch until Sam falls asleep on his shoulder. Bucky doesn’t sleep easily and envies the ability to lean up against another person and forget that they could kill you.
He shifts his arm so that flesh-and-blood tucks around Sam and pulls him slightly closer. He can feel Sam’s warm breath on the joint between neck and shoulder.
Sam wakes up slowly an hour later and smiles at Bucky.
And Bucky may not be the man he once was–or even the man he was after that–but Sam’s too good, it fills him up to think about how good Sam is and how little he asks of Bucky.
“Hey, comrade,” said Sam, sleep-rough and deep, “is something gonna happen here?”
Sam probably spent so many of his birthdays quietly, either by himself or with family or just a handful of friends. But since becoming an Avenger his life has been anything but quiet, so imagine his surprise when he gets a big party and all kinds of great gifts from his superhero friends.
This one time there was a Girl who was convinced beyond all reason that she could fly.
She was a very twitchy loner and was semi homeless and her only friend were seeemingly the addicts in the alleys and the squatter punks in abandoned buildings.
Everyone called her Eggs after her torn up food council t shirt recomening 2 servings of eggs daily. She loved that shirt so much that if you tried to tell her chickens cant fly she’d just climb up the wall away from you.
Her conviction that she could fly seemed in part born of that she did posses a super human climbing ability. She could scurry up to the roof of any building in seconds. She would flutter up a featureless brick wall with an ease that seemed powered only by her own conviction that she was flying.
She was an un aerodynamic 5 foot 6 and bottom heavy 156 lbs. she would climb on top of roofs and chimneys and phone wires and balance up there teetering with a dumb luck more powerful than any practiced skill, testing the air and flapping very human arms, neither strong nor skinny, threatening to launch herself if she ever found the wind she was waiting for.
The other half of her conviction that she could fly was in that she had jumped off a hundred buildings and not died once. Her record observed flight was a leap off a 14 story building. It took her 42 seconds to hit the ground as she hit everything possible on the way down ricocheting off phone wires and clothes lines, winged by the edges and ledges, deflecting off a fire escape with mortally perilous CLANG and propelling herself forward and sometimes upwards by randomly pinwheeling her limbs. Her flight ended with her 14 feet up a small tree covered in scratches and bruises but absurdly unharmed otherwise.
She refused to come down claiming that flight in the city is exhausting and any one with a 5 foot 8 wingspan would get mangled trying to fly in this cluttered narrow street city.
No one worried even tho she had broken both arms and wrists and her left ankle leaping off buildings in the past 3 years shed been arround. She healed fast everytime and left the hospital by the window.
No one noticed when she disappeared from the tree two hours later.
Another reason that all her crazy gutter friends let her believe she could fly was that no one gad ever seen her touch the ground. She never wore shoes cuz she needed her toes to grip. She was always in a tree or up a pole or on the roof or on top the fridge.
She was only ever in her eggs t shirt and some thread bare red jeggings and socks with no toes and nuthing in her pockets for very long cuz she refused to take on any additional weight. She was first to explain that her ability to fly was very unlikely so she had to keep light as possible.
This disqualified her from ever being recruited as a cat burgler (or egg burgler…) certainly she delighted in using her imagined power of flight to break in to homes and buisinesses every night! She never took anything but mouthfulls of food, tho she would watch people sleep and sometimes try on their clothes. She’d never been arrested becuz any time shed been discovered shed climb on top their furniture and flap her imagined wings at them and puff her chest out and the dive out 3rd 4rth 7th or even 14th story windows, tummble away raising noise from everything on her way, and never quite making it all the way to the ground.
The reason she’d escaped every time was that she was so absurd, so obvious bruised and mangled from so many impossible flights, and all the while kept a sweet innocent personality as if she believed herself a giant sparrow who’d flown in an open window and gotten trapped in your house because of your own negligence to leave windows open.
That was Eggs the Girl who was convinced beyond all reason that she could FLY.
Mostly harmless, kind of cute sweet and funny, and if nothing else she was possibly the luckiest nut on the roof.
Everyone let her get away with everything including beleiving that she flew because we all wished it was true. She was like a fairy tale super hero but real and we could say we knew her. Several boys and even a couple of girls whose houses she had broken in to had crushes on her and were always poking arround trying to find her.
In the winter she’d steal coats and hoodies to wear for an hour while perched on a phone pole before ditching them to fly off to look for snacks.
Last fall when the first snow fell was when we lost her. The cold snap came so suddenly that and with ice rain that she didnt flutter far in to the city for a coat but took one off a roof in the near by housing project.
That night she was spotted perched on the phone lines anove the autobody shop strip ruining the recognizable 400$ jacket of a dealer named robin.
Robin got word and it was easy work to intimidate gutter punks in to tipping him off that Eggs might be in her winter residence, a sort of pigeon coop two punk kids had built for her on top an abandoned carpet factory near the train yard.
And robin found her up there at 9:45 pm hiding from the last of the ice rain. Without even thinking, which would have been too out of character for him, robin woke up the girl sleeping in his coat with repeated wacks with thin piece of lumber.
The coat absorbed the worst of blows but the Girl came to from a bent drywal screw chewing multiple gashes across her side.
She leaped out of the coat and threw it in robins face and kicked down the wall of her pigeon coop causing the roof to fall on robin.
He threw it off himself too tweaked up to care that he’d been punctured by a dozen nails in the colapse, and kicked her stupid forklift pallet house over and picked up a yard long splintered pine board with several twisted nails curled off the edge.
He swung at her and opened a deep blood spurting gash across her cheek.
Eggs scrambled up on the ledge of the factory wall. Robin went to hit her again but found himself too slow, just mow realising he had an 8 foot 2x4 stabbed in to his foot with seversl long rusty nails.
Eggs sneered at hom and squawked, scratched the ground defiantly with her foot, spread her imaginary wings to their 5 foot eight grandure, fluttered her long fingers, and dove off the side of the factory plummeting 100 feet down to the train tracks with nothing at all to break her fall.
No one has seen or heard of Eggs in months. A bunch of punks talked big about throwing robin off a roof under a train but hes still alive, still a busy dealer on his block, the only satisfaction is his gangeroys limb that he seems proud of.
Eggs dropped 100 feet right in to a speeding junk train pulling 200 gondolas of twisted scrap steel. Pessimists might say she was torn to bits and any identifiable scrap of her went in the furnace, her soul now diluted amongst one million tons of rebar. No part of her or her 3 items of clothes or anything was ever found.
Us fools who cant bear to part with our folk hero can only believe the ranting of the subhuman scum who chased her off a building.
Robin never killed anyone before and was stirred up. He pulled the nails put his leg and collapsed on the edge of the roof in time to see Eggs still falling.. Still falling tho she should have been under the train by now.
She was falling horizontally at 60mph riding the air cone above the friegt train, surfing 50 feet above it on the hoodie shed had been half wearing in her sleep.
She drifted down 40 feet, 30 feet, 20, now half a mile away. She shook her arm out the hoodie and eggs suddenly shot up and to the right and was flung in to the recesed trucker highway as the train crossed over it.
Now almost a mile away robin claims she bounced off an 18 wheeler hauling chicken remnants to the rendering plant, she bounced twice off the roof of the truck doing twice her speed and was thrown backwards and forwards at the same time, launched over the big green sign advising the turn off to the harbor, and seemed to soar above traffic for 2ooo feet before the road turned and eggs just cleared the top of a billbord advertising discount airlines, now because of the curve of the highway she was somehow 80 feet in the air again.
She disapeared behind the billbord flapping her arms the entire time and aimed more or less out over the container ships towards the ocean.
A gaggle of local squatter punks search her alleged flight path as best we could allthogh it meant searchin train tracks and a recessed truck highway and a container ship yard with mostly unhelpful disbelieving security guards.
Regardless of if she has the power of flight she is certainly impossibly lucky at falling and has walked away from falls twice that high before.
I suspect she might have gone south for winter. Keep an eye on ledges roofs awnings and thick phone wires. Leave brightly colored food in open windows and try to catch her long enuff to convince her to treat her wounds.
Tho money is tight this winter i can guarantee that any information on her whereabouts will be rewarded with free Eggs .