beautiful snippets
The surgical drapes bunch under his hands. A cold and sterile blue, so unlike the clean azure of the Australian sky, where as a child, he would fly so high that he almost believed he could reach out and touch the sun.
An Australian Icarus, with wings silhouetted in flame.
But he is burning by his own choice for another reason now.
An Australian Icarus, with wings silhouetted in flame.
But he is burning by his own choice for another reason now.
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Chapter 1, Icarus by EirianErisdar
“Because you’re my flock,” he chokes, his vision blurring as tears well up over his eyelids. “Because my wings decided to make you my flock and when your wings hurt my wings hurt too. Like today.”
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Chapter 23, Icarus by EirianErisdar
She was six and wondering why God created people to be lonely and unhappy. She was seven and losing her faith.
Organization for Transformative Works • archiveofourown.org | 520: Web server is returning an unknown error
Chapter 11, Sinning and Healing by femmeheart
But tonight I get to be useless. Tonight I get to say the thing that is not helpful to the case and not helpful to the committee and not helpful to AAHCOC: I loved him by reading him. I did. I loved him by letting his “hurts” sit in my mouth like a coin and I loved him by hating the word sacred when it stole mercy and I loved him by saying his name... See more
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Chapter 13, Ω-17, Annotated by GaliPomPom
They sit, two birds etched in stone, as the sun rises further.
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Chapter 12, Icarus by EirianErisdar
Writing is the destruction of every voice, of every point of origin. Writing is that neutral, composite, oblique space where our subject [that is, the author] slips away, the negative where all identity is lost, starting with the very identity of the body writing.
The Death of the Author by Roland Barthes
Alex always guards George’s feathers with jealous zeal. When they burn their molted feathers after each molting cycle Alex always checks over every inch of the room, worried about missing a single feather.
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Chapter 13, Icarus by EirianErisdar
“Is something wrong?” he asks quietly.
Alex sniffles and straightens. “No,” he says thickly. The feather comb runs gently through George’s coverts. “It’s the opposite, actually.”
Oh. George swallows past the lump in his throat. He feels warm and fuzzy all of a sudden.
They go down to breakfast together. Alex makes a teasing comment about George’s... See more
Alex sniffles and straightens. “No,” he says thickly. The feather comb runs gently through George’s coverts. “It’s the opposite, actually.”
Oh. George swallows past the lump in his throat. He feels warm and fuzzy all of a sudden.
They go down to breakfast together. Alex makes a teasing comment about George’s... See more
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Chapter 29, Icarus by EirianErisdar
“What day is it?”
“It's today.”
“Ah, my favorite day.”
— Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin in Christopher Robin (2018)