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brd. / bird. honorifics
flags for those who use brd. and/or bird. honorifics.
dv. / dove. honorifics
flags for those who use dv. and/or dove. honorifics.
pgn. / pigeon. honorifics
flags for those who use pgn. and/or pigeon. honorifics.
tagging: @radiomogai @imoga-pride @obscurian @pvincely @goregender @avianchive
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sometimes when ur sad u just need to draw sk8r boyz over random pictures u have saved n thats okay
She’s running while she shouts this. “F-FATHER IS A D-DIRTY PIGEON!” Where is she running? To Hari.
rorschach;
@callme-pidge
< come over, we need to talk. >
She’d left the message at that, knowing that as soon as Peter received the message, he’d likely dissolve into a state of anxiety. Blue eyes flicked towards the large clock that hung on her wall and a smile curved upon her lips; she’d give it half an hour before he showed up at her door. The brunette stood up from her reclined state on the chaise, abandoning her cell phone on her glass coffee table as it began to buzz in response, moving in a sleek line of silk towards the kitchen where she flicked on the kettle. Two cups were set out, one with a darjeeling tea bag the other with earl grey, thoughtfully set onto a tray before she went back to the star of the show she aimed to put on. A birdcage was a new addition to her apartment, in antique bronze it seemed to fit by the window and inside it sang a pair of cockatiels. Sylv cooed at them, ignoring her phone and the slow boil of the kettle, only turning when a flimsy knock at the door indicated the arrival of her guest. “Come in, it’s not locked.”
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A P P L E O R C H A R D;
@callme-pidge
Of all of her friends to take to a festival, Peter was certainly not Sylv’s first choice, but when her question (first posed rhetorical) wasn’t met with a swift refusal; she decided to take it as a clear sign that such opportunities weren’t to be wasted. Her car idled outside of Peter’s apartment-- stepping outside of the vehicle felt a little bit like traipsing straight into a minefield. Instead, she shot off a text to Pete before glancing at the time. She’d give him two minutes, then she’d start leaning on the horn.
@callme-pidge
It was a typical Thursday afternoon and she was heading back from a luncheon with the Japanese consulate’s son, a charming gentleman that she was certain would be using the number that she had left with him. She paused by a side street, catching the deep tones and overtures of the Chairman’s Waltz. A smile curved at her ruby painted lips, and the brunette reached into her bag to free a fifty dollar bill. Sylv’s stride echoed like an impromptu metronome against the cobbled stone of the pedestrian walkway and it was when she turned the corner that she came to see Peter, all six feet of him curved over his oversized violin. “Fancy seeing you here,” she cooed, holding the money over the rest of the tips; all of which were no more than coins and five dollar bills. “Can you play something for me?” It was a cruel game, but she was willing to see if their pigeon would play.
