|An audiokinetic firebending INTP neutral good Slytherin, a Knight of Breath and a Derse dreamer, a dragon rider, alchemist, and chuunin of the Leaf, and Keyblade Master of House Stark with a female opossum dæmon.|
Little Soldier Boys, Come Marching Home“Hold on, we’re sending in Great Red as backup-“Little Soldier Boys, Come Marching Home by Feloss
“No, don’t. You won’t make it here in time, and… Tobi, I… I’m sorry. This was never, I never meant for you to, god, I’m sorry!” Deidara’s voice gets an increasingly desperate tone to it, and the control room is as quiet as if its occupants were all holding their breath. Maybe they are.
Tsunade certainly feels like doing it at the moment, but she fights the urge. Her men, these boys, really, need their Marshall coherent and in control right now.
Gunfire’s left leg and arm are both entirely wrecked, and even there, two kilometres away from the site of the battle, the bellow of the Kaiju seems much too loud, much too close.
“It’s okay, Dei, really. It’s been worth it, I think! Thank you. For giving me this chance, and stuff.” Tobi sounds choked up, but like he’s still smiling.
"Fuck you," A breathless laugh. "Se
FleetingSasori knows from the start that Deidara’s attentions, just like the rest of him, are fleeting and ever-changing.Fleeting by Feloss
The knowledge works its way under his skin as Deidara throws out his watercolours and finds an old camera at the thrift store near the apartment they share; it seeps into his bones when the camera starts gathering dust after Deidara comes home with an easel and a bunch of vibrantly coloured acrylics; it worms its way into his heart once this whirlwind of a boy (not a man yet, not with that childlike innocence that shines through sometimes) grows bored with that and starts working with clay, creating fantastical creatures and structures only to crush them and make something new.
And it hurts, makes him want to tear it all away; skin, bones, heart, Deidara; because while Sasori knows that Deidara’s affection is a temporary thing, his own isn’t, and he hasn’t loved anyone like this since his parents died and he knows that in one way
Where the Windows are Always OpenThere is a bird on your patio. You're frozen in the doorway. You don't know anything about birds, don't know what kind of bird it is, but it's very large and very vicious-looking. And it seems to be glaring at you. You glance at your sandwich.Where the Windows are Always Open by Feloss
The bird leaves the bread alone and squawks impatiently for more of the sausage.
It keeps coming back. In the mornings, when you drink your coffee outside, the bird usually keeps you company. Sometimes you quietly talk to it. It seems to listen and you appreciates the chance to put your thoughts and ideas into words. Your friend once suggested you get a cat. You figure the bird is even better.
It's a really beautiful bird. You finally sit down with your computer one morning and go through webpage after webpage of raptors, glancing up at the bird, then back down at the images on the screen, until you find the one you're looking for.
The Harpy Eagle (Harpia harpyja) is the largest and most powerful