#Skywriting. // Answers //

[stcrmborne]

" nothing on earth can silence that quiet voice inside you ”| - Argo Faer, talking to Rhaya about wanderlust and the need to keep moving.

Upon hearing the words spoken, Rhaya pulled a face of thinly veiled ire. It was less eloquent than the situation called for, perhaps, but conveyed what she was feeling well enough without the need for words to sour the air further. Regardless, she opted to go for broke and drove the point home with a matter-of-factly muttered, “Well, that sucks.” She wasn’t entirely certain what she was looking for in venting her frustrations. Reassurance? An ear to simply listen? The rest of the crew often talked about their plans for the future, with the majority intending to retire in a safe port or a peaceful, cozy village with the savings they made sailing – if they survived. The concept of retirement genuinely baffled Rhaya, the young druid unable to grasp a world where she would be content staying in one place for any extended amount of time. “So, what then��? I just keep moving, never staying in one place or putting down roots anywhere? Forever?” A discernable tinge of bitterness crept into her words as she stared intently at her hands, nimble fingers beginning to furl and unclench. In the moment, she couldn’t decide what was more distressing: The idea that one day she might grow out of this ingrained wanderlust and grow bored of the world, or the notion that she never would.

[dayplays]

@fstbmp said: What about Women x Women? Would you ship that? Huh?

"Would you ship this?"- Accepting!

Gee I never thought of that one...

[comrade-slugcat]

draw ea sports and skywriter?

I wasn't asking for drawing requests at the moment but anything for my beloved fans

Yeah I know this is kinda wonky looking but I drew it was a trackpad or what those things are called so you have to cut me some slack

ill draw EA sports later

[seat-safety-switch]

"Don't overlook these deals on railings," chirps the last thoughts of the sentient auto-marketing bee drone before I crush it under my boot. Fucking things are bad this year.

You can't blame them, explained the politicians as they explained why they refused to sentence the folks to death. Ad-blockers had ruined the viability of advertising on the internet. Augmented reality dork glasses had done the same thing for bus, print, television, and even skywriter ads. To not advertise would destroy the entire advertising industry, which at this point was believed to be a structural element of American civilization. So they released the drones.

At first, it made some sense. The drones would find you looking at a pizza, or considering suicide, and they would buzz into your ear and tell you about a two-for-one coupon at 7-Eleven. Annoying, sure, but shockingly effective, especially by the low standards of internet advertisers. And they didn't have to spend much: the drones would fly back to their home stations and recharge. All they'd have to spend is electricity, and occasionally releasing another couple hundred drones to replace the ones that got smoked by cars while trying to cross the road, or eaten by birds thinking they were actual bees.

Like anything that works, though, it soon did not. All the metrics began to drop as folks figured out they could just swat the little bastards out of the air with a regular old flyswatter. Running a spark gap radio near them would confuse their little positronic thought matrices, causing them to plow into the nearest sidewalk and become incredibly sophisticated microplastic glitter. The only answer was to release more drones.

If you were born in the last, say, twenty years, I'm sorry to say that you have never seen natural sunlight. Sure, you get a bit of it reflected from their chromoly carapaces as they hover overhead in a dense swarm. It's just not the same as the before times. Hell, I'm not even sure Burger King still exists, but that won't shut up this giant cloud of them that keeps attacking me in my apartment building's underground parkade.

[theseeingfawn]

Hi Everyone, I have been working on a small town Elriel fic for awhile now and finally decided to post. This is my first time writing fan fiction so please be gentle with me.

Summary:

Elain Archeron, beloved sweetheart of the quaint town of Hewn Hills, yearns for a life beyond the constraints and expectations placed upon her by her family and community. Azriel Rosehall, a captivating yet misunderstood outsider, struggles with the prejudices of the town as he endeavors to forge his own destiny. Drawn to each other by an undeniable connection, Elain and Azriel are determined to be together, even if it means bringing trouble to the charming small-town. “Everything that's worth having is some trouble. - L.M. Montgomery

Chapter 1: Matchmaker Mayhem | Read on A03

Elain

It's official, this is the worst date I have ever been on. It doesn't make sense. The man is gorgeous, almost devilishly so. I've heard nothing but praise about his charm and wit. I've even seen it myself when he didn't think I was looking. But, the man is a nervous wreck and awkward . Or is it me? Maybe we are just feeding off each other's horrible vibes creating a vortex of our own personal hell. I had been reluctant when my sister all but demanded I go on a date with her friend Lucien. For the last couple of years, all Feyre could talk about is how great Lucien is and how funny and on and on and on . It was almost nauseating. I felt like Feyre was close to hiring a skywriter to let the world know that I was destined for her best friend. Ever since she married Rhysand she has taken up the mantle of matchmaker. So, to spare myself from further harassment I relented. Sure, I knew Lucien, but we have never had a meaningful conversation. Nothing other than pleasantries. I also work hard to keep him at arm's length, despite how often we are forced to interact. I see I was right to keep my distance. He seems as reluctant to be here as I am. I almost feel sorry for him… almost .

I'm glad I had the foresight to pick Velaris as our meeting spot and not Hewn Hills, the small town in the suburbs, where we live. I adore Hewn Hills but it is full of nosy nellies and busybodies. My baby sister is the biggest busybody of them all. So, when I suggested my favorite upscale restaurant in the heart of the city, Lucien readily agreed. It would seem he isn’t a big fan of all the meddling either. Though, I assume for different reasons. Thankfully, no one we know is here to witness our nightmare of a date. It didn't make sense. Despite knowing Feyre for years, and serving on our town council together, Lucien doesn't seem to know a thing about me. Well, other than surface level stuff. I sighed internally, of course he doesn't know much about me. My sisters do not truly know me. They only see the version of me that they wish to see, not the real me. No one really did .

I sit here staring off into the distance like I'm lost in a vision, imagining the bubbly young waitress will come back to end my misery. Really, how many awkward silences must I suffer through? As if reading my mind, Lucien broke the quiet tension with a question. “So, you like to garden? What vegetables do you grow,” Lucien asked with the enthusiasm of a root canal patient.“I actually don't grow vegetables, just flowers and herbs for my shop. Vegetables are much more difficult to grow than people realize.” He nodded. Please, where is the waitress.Then it occurred to me, I could use the bathroom and get away. Maybe I could slip out the window and run. What would he do? Tell my sister I gave him the slip? I'd pay good money to see that. No one would believe him. Yes, sneaking out is the answer. I feel like I've won the lottery for coming up with this brilliant idea. “Excuse me, I am just going to freshen up,” I say with syrupy sweetness. I hope I look graceful and not like I am barreling toward the back of the restaurant like I am fleeing the scene of a crime, but I doubt it. Once behind the closed door of the single occupant bathroom I take my first deep breath of the evening. I look around but there is no window, just a floor to ceiling mirror. Son of a bitch. I sigh and gaze at my reflection searching for an answer. Maybe it was my appearance that rendered him stupid. I’ve heard all my life that I’m beautiful. Not the polite kind of beautiful that every mother dotes onto their daughters. But, the type of beauty that could be used. Before she died, my mother dressed me up like her own personal Barbie doll. Taking personal credit for my appearance and awkwardly telling anyone who would listen that I got it from my mama. I cringe just thinking about it. Even my father had dragged me along to client dinners to dangle me in front of prospective clients like a juicy carrot. My sister Nesta is always watching my back, weary of everyone's intentions. Feyre, the bane of my existence at the moment, all but pimped me out to the dullest man in Hewn Hills because she thought her friend's happiness was more important than mine. Just a pawn to be used to make her life more exciting.

That's not entirely fair.

I know I’m seen as a goodie goodie, a pushover. Maybe I am, I caved to Feyre's demands after all. My sisters love to remind me how I am too sweet for my own good. A chaste virginal angel that they must protect at all costs. My reflection taunts me. Not a hair out of place, a flawless exterior that was pleasing to the eye. But, what had that gotten me? A failed engagement. A cage of my own making. Putting everyone else first and myself second. I shake away the bitterness, burying it deep down. It could be worse. At least Lucien is polite and respectful. I could do this, I could muster some enthusiasm and carry on with this date. No matter how much I wanted to shrink into myself. He is just a man and once it was over I could tell Feyre I had given it my best effort but we weren't a love match. Though I knew I didn't give Lucien my best, in many ways I blame him for what happened with Graysen. I just wanted tonight to be over with so I could go home and binge watch tv without a bra on.

With a new sense of purpose, I step back into the bustling restaurant and head toward the table. Lucien has his back to me as he chats on the phone, “you don't understand Jurian. She's so… so… meek, boring even. I don’t know why Feyre keeps insisting we’re soul mates. I know, she is beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman I've ever seen but she is dull , a snoozefest. Just call me in five minutes with a fake emergency so I can bow out.” Stunned, I dropped my head in defeat. Well, I couldn't blame him for wanting out of the world's most awkward first date. But, to call me meek and boring is just mean. I fought the urge to cry. No need to spill tears over Lucien Vanserra. Besides, it's not like he is the sly and charming man I've heard everyone drone on about. He is the snoozefest. He has barely said a word to me all evening. He is the headliner of the snoozefestival. How dare he!!!

I slide back into my chair and slap on the biggest fake smile I can muster. “Has our waiter stopped by?” I asked, pretending that I don't want to kick him in the shin. “No, not yet. This place is getting packed. It's hard to even hear what you're saying, we can just listen to the music and Ow!” Lucien hunches over and grabs his leg. “Oh my, I'm so sorry! I went to cross my legs but didn't realize you were so close,” I feigned innocence as I bat my eyes at him. I turn my head from his scowl before I start laughing. My eyes peruse the growing crowd of people streaming through the door and there he is.

His dark hair swept back off of his face, dressed in an immaculate black suit that hugs his sculpted form. I don't let myself admit this often but I have a tiny, itty bitty crush on Rhysand's mysterious brother, Azriel . Even his name is beautiful. I have only interacted with him at family functions but the sight of him alone is enough to make me swoon. He is always busy working some sort of mysterious job. I never get a straight answer on what it is that he does because it is all very hush hush. I caught bits and pieces from eavesdropping on conversations when no one was paying attention to me. They rarely pay attention to me. I know it involves surveillance work and traveling, which only adds to his allure. I like to pretend he is a spy like James Bond or even a kingpin in the mob. A dangerous job for a dangerous man. At least I like to pretend he has a dangerous side, he certainly looks like he does. He has dark features and is always draped in black and cobalt blue clothing. He is stoic with a piercing hazel gaze that could slice right through you. He is hard to read but I feel like his eyes give him away. It's the way the corners wrinkle slightly or glow brighter when he is happy. It's how directly he stares when he is mad and fighting the urge to speak out. Despite his appearance, he is always kind and thoughtful toward me. He holds the door for me or pulls out my chair at the dinner table. One time, after I spent all of Thanksgiving day cooking, he took the serving dish from my hands so I could sit down and enjoy the meal I worked so hard on. He even made everyone wait until I sat to eat. Men are rarely that chivalrous these days. The memory sends my heart racing. Azriel is quiet, but not awkward the way Lucien is currently behaving. He is confident and reserved in a way that adds to his enigmatic persona.

I watch him as he walks through the door and turns to the stunning blonde behind him, Mor. He was on a date with her . I recall the time I overheard Feyre telling Nesta that Azriel was in love with Mor. It made sense I suppose, she is gorgeous and has a way about her that makes it seem like she was lit from within. But a part of me doesn’t believe it. Feyre is often wrong about these kinds of things. Look at me and Lucien, she thinks we are fated. But, this date feels like pulling teeth. “Elain, did you hear me?” I shook myself out of my daze, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Lucien let out a sigh, “I asked if you like bread,'' Confused, I looked at the basket that was placed in front of me. I want to roll my eyes. Does he not remember that I own a bakery? “Who doesn't like bread, Lucien?” He scoffed, “you would be surprised, there are people out there who can't tolerate it.” I blink once, and then again. “That was a joke,” he states as if he were teaching humor to a martian. “Oh,” is all I can muster as I look at the bread, pleading with it to save me from this man. A dad joke, really?

Suddenly there is a long dark shadow cast over the table. My eyes shoot up to meet hazel ones. “I hope I'm not interrupting,” Azriel says, appearing like an answered prayer. “Azriel! It’s so good to see you,” I beamed, hoping the relief in my tone isn’t as obvious as it seems. The corner of his mouth ticks upward, “it's good to see you too Elain. I hope you have been well.” Gods he is beautiful and tall. Why is he so tall? He smells divine. I wonder if he is just visiting for a few days? Lucien clears his throat. I look at him, realizing I am still on a date. “Azriel, this is Lucien, you know, Feyre's friend.” Azriel slowly turns to Lucien and dips his head in greeting, turning back to me. “I didn't expect to see you out in the city,” he says with a curious look in his eyes. I smile shyly, “I'm… here on a date.” He looks back to Lucien slowly raking his gaze up and down, a hint of displeasure in his assessment. “I see. I'm just grabbing a bite with Mor.” He turns towards his companion who is sitting at a table across the restaurant. “I just wanted to stop by and say hello. I’ve taken a new assignment and will be in this area for the next few months. Hopefully we will see more of each other.” My smile widens, I would certainly love to see more of him. Azriel's lip quirks up ever so slightly on one side. BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

Lucien apologizes and grabs his phone, a puzzled look on his face. “Hold on. It's my roommate. It's odd he is calling since he knowsIi'm on a date.” He answers it quickly, while holding up a finger to shush Azriel and me. “Wait, what's wrong? Calm down.” Wow, he is really committing to the bit. “Are you sure? Okay… I am on my way,” he ends the call and looks up. “I'm sorry to have to do this but there's an emergency and I'm going to have to end our date early.” I fight back a chortle. “Oh no! What kind of an emergency, a flat tire or dead grandma?” Azriel coughs and turns away. Lucien looking stunned mutters out, “uhhh a flat tire.” I wave over the waitress who miraculously appears from nowhere, “Can we get our check?” I turn back to Lucien, “Sorry to hear about your roommates flat tire. I hate when that happens.” Before Lucien can reply, the waitress comes back with the bill. It's for two drinks and a bread basket. I start to pull out my wallet when Azriel clears his throat. Lucien looks from me to Azriel. Azriel asks with an unamused expression, “Aren't you going to pay, since it's a date?” My jaw nearly hits the floor. Lucien sputters and fumbles for his wallet. Hastily slinging a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Well it's been… a date. I will catch you around Elain.” Lucien shuffles around the crowd making a hasty exit. I keel over in a fit of quiet laughter the second Lucien bolts for the door. You know the kind of silent laughter where your shoulders shake and you can hardly breathe? That kind. I feel a warm rough hand stroke my upper arm sending a shiver down my spine. “Hey, it's okay, don't be upset,” came the soothing timbre of Azriel's voice. I look up to see his worried expression and start laughing even harder. His hand stills on my arm and grips me lightly. “Why are you laughing?” he asks, bemused by my giggling fit. I wipe away a few wayward tears as I fight back a bout of hiccups. “ it's just… it's just…” I snort. An honest to gods snort so loud that it draws the attention of at least three neighboring tables. Azriel is smiling fully now. A toothy smile that I just know he rarely gives to anyone. It over takes his whole face making him somehow even more handsome. Seeing him this way suddenly calms my laughing fit and I clear my throat. “It's just, we were having the worst date in the history of dates and he was so desperate to get away he made up an excuse to bail. But, I have to say his acting was pretty solid.” Azriel looks at me a little stunned, “you're not upset, not mad?” I smile again, “I can’t blame him, I wanted to escape through the bathroom window but they didn't have one.” His smile lingers as he stares at me. “You making him pay for the bill was just icing on the cake.” Azriel hums before saying, “it was the least I could do.” I stand and grab my small handbag off the table. “Well, Azriel, I’m happy I got the chance to see you. It’s been too long, I'm glad to hear you’ll be sticking around for a while.” He looks down towards his shoes and back up, the faintest blush on his cheeks. “Have a good evening,” I bid him farewell and walk out onto the street.

I stop to take a deep breath, cleansing myself of the bad date energy. It was terrible but at least I went out and could tell Feyre to back off. It had been several years since I had mustered the courage to date. Not since Graysen. I’m about to take a step when I felt a hand grab the back of my elbow. “Wait, I wanted to make sure you were truly okay.” I whirl around to see Azriel staring down at me. My heart flutters once again, the way it always does in his presence. His face was elegant with high cheekbones, a fine nose and a sharp jawline. In the halo of the street lamp he looked like a fallen angel. His scarred hand was still on my arm, a rose tattoo covered the back of it. “That's very thoughtful of you, but truly I’m okay. My pride is a little wounded but I'll get over it.” He studies me for a long moment before he leans in, “You're too nice Elain.” I stiffen but can't exactly argue. “He's a fool you know? Any man would be lucky to date you.” My stomach fills with butterflies. It was my turn to blush under the weight of his sincere gaze. I swallow the lump in my throat. “You should get back to your date, Azriel. I would hate to take up any more of your time.” He looks over his shoulder and back to me, as if confused. Maybe he was remembering where he was and what he was doing. “Are you sure you're okay? Do you need me to take you home? You could join us…” his thumb tenderly rubbing up and down my arm. He was probably just being kind because I'm Feyre's sister. The thought saddens me. “I'm sure Azriel, no need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” He looks unsure or perhaps he is just reluctant to let me go. His hand is still stroking my arm. “It was lovely to see you, maybe we can catch up another time?” A smile tugs at my lips, “I'd like that.”

Azriel

I can't believe my luck. I get back into the city and happen to bump into the girl I have been obsessing over for months. Truth be told, I have a thing for Elain Archeron. How could I not? She is gorgeous and so incredibly kind. She radiates joy and has a way of making everyone around her feel special. I am normally so good with the opposite sex. Hell I have quite the reputation as a ladies man but something about her leaves me feeling like a lovesick teenager. I wish I had a reason to make her stick around and spend the evening with me but I know I probably shouldn't.

I watch Elain walk away down the crowded street. Utterly lost in the way the wind catches her long golden hair. The way her dress skims over her gentle curves. What I wouldn't do to get the chance to touch her. I exhale slowly, burying my thoughts on her deep down, as I always do. I walk back into the restaurant and sit across from Mor. Once, many years ago I thought I loved Mor. But I mistook her kindness for love. I had never been around a girl my own age until I met her. She is so gregarious and radiates confidence. So when she doted on me, I read the signals all wrong. I built up something that was never really there. It took too long to discover that Mor preferred women. Even after, I held out hope that she would change her mind. Truth be told, it allowed me to keep other women at a distance. If I hid all of my feelings in the safety of Mor's friendship I never had to address my own issues with intimacy. But, I was done hiding behind Mor and living in denial. I started to realize I could never be happy if I didn’t face reality, no matter how scary it was for me to open up to her. It was awkward and she was hesitant to even hear me out. It was worth it though, because now she was my friend and one of my closest confidants.

“So, how was sweet Elain?” she asks. Elain didn't know Mor well, but Mor knew all about Elain. Mor being a family friend of Rhys’ was well informed on the Archeron sisters. “She seems okay, though it looks like she was having a bad date. He actually ditched her.” Mor gapes, “that piece of shit! Who was it?” I sneer, “Lucien Vanserra.” Mor rolls her eyes, “seems as though Feyre finally wore her down.” l hum in agreement. I’ll never understand why Feyre thinks Lucien and Elain would make a good pair. I suspect she wants Lucien to stick around and worries he wouldn’t without some other incentive. Feyre dated Tamlin, Lucien’s former college roommate and friend. After the nasty break up Lucien had taken Feyre’s side. But, he had grown distant and their friendship never fully recovered. So, she clings to the hope that if Elain marries Lucien he will become a permanent fixture in her life. Feyre also loves to meddle in other people's lives. She likes to think she has a gift for connecting people but in reality she is terrible at it. No, truly terrible. Her own love life until Rhys had been a shitshow so it puzzles me why Feyre thought so highly of her skills in the love department. I know Elain is too good for Lucien. I don't hate the man but he doesn’t seem like the type of man she needs. Especially after his pathetic stunt this evening.

I think back to Elain, how utterly beautiful she looked. The way her skin seemed to glow, how her face lit up when she laughed. The utterly intoxicating smell of her jasmine perfume. I hate the thought of her dating Lucian. I hate the way they look together, the way she seems to shrink around him. She is a bright shining light in a world of darkness. She deserves someone who appreciates how special she truly is.

“Hello, Earth to Azriel,” Mor says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “I'm sorry Mor, what were you saying?” She sighs. “I should have known the second you saw her that I'd lost your focus for the evening.” My eyes snap up, face utterly unreadable. “What's that supposed to mean?” Mor pats my hand and I pull it away. I hate it when people touch my hands . “Don't play dumb with me Azriel. I know you too well.” I narrow my eyes, weighing my next words carefully. “I'm not playing dumb. I'm just concerned after Lucien ditched her.” Mor gives me an unimpressed look. “For what it's worth, I think you should ask her out. You two would make the hottest couple.” She pumps her eyebrows at me suggestively. “I'm not going to ask her out… that's absurd… Why would you even suggest that?” Mor tilts her head back and laughs, “oh you have it bad.” I give her an incredulous look, “I can't date anyone, I travel too much for work, not to mention it could be dangerous. Besides, I'm not interested in falling in love.” She gives me her no nonsense face. I want to protest but there is that old saying about protesting too much and I don't want to egg her on. “Let's just drop it and enjoy our evening,” I say, refusing to take the bait. Mor sighs, “here's the deal Azzy, I will enjoy a lovely meal, which you are paying for, by the way. But, I'm not forgetting you are pining after you know who.”

“Fine,” I bite out.

“Have you decided where you are going to stay?” She asks in a tone that feels suspiciously like prying into more than just my place of residence. I shrug, “My assignment is in Windhaven.” Mor scrunches her nose in distaste. Not that I blame her, Windhaven is a shithole. “I don't have to live there full time, but I do have to stay a few days a week.” She nods, “why not stay in Hewn Hills?” There it is, her not so innocent suggestion. It's like she knows what I have planned. She knows me too well. I eye her suspiciously. “Don't give me that look, Az. Velaris is too far from Windhaven, and Hewn Hills is adorable.” It is a nice town, I wouldn't call it adorable. Though there is something there worth adoring . “They have great hiking trails, the parks are beautiful, and the downtown is just like Stars Hollow.” I sigh, “you don't have to convince me Mor, I've already booked a bed and breakfast.” She squeals, and I feel a headache forming. I rub my temple, “don't get too excited. It's the most logical choice.” She claps excitedly, “oh i just love it there, and now I have another reason to visit. You know I love Rita's and don't get me started on Petals.” I give her a perturbed look and pray to the gods that she doesn't read into anything more than she already has. There is only one reason I’m staying in Hewn Hills, Elain . Seeing her with Lucien tonight only reinforces the notion that I need to be close to her. Is it the smart thing to do? No, but I can’t seem to keep away. I’m just glad Mor’s job will keep her distracted from joining Feyre in competing for the biggest pain in the ass award.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

My heart is screaming Demon Neil, but my brain keeps me loyal to Angel Neil. The wings, Aerie! The wings are out! Is he flying now? Who was the other angel he met? Kayleigh? (That's Kevin's mother name, right? The brain fog from being sick is killing me, I can't remember shit.) Although, it seems like Demon Neil hasn't been getting the love it deserves, so if you end up not getting any asks for it, I will take you up on it instead. Oohh the reaction demon Neil had about his father. Huuu, powerful. I'm giddy every time I read either of these works. I've also been rly enjoying Mer AU. Are they ever going to swim together? I'm ending my yapping, I hope you've been doing well <3 (And if it wasn't clear my request is Angel Neil, but I'll take Demon Neil if it doesn't get any asks. Or if Angel gets a lot of them, like 4+. Gotta balance the love each gets.)

WIP Wednesday (10/30) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 250)

Andrew's barely finished his question when Neil gets a devious look on his face. Without warning, the angel scoots impossibly forward and crosses his arms in front of him. He kicks off against the side of the building and then he's falling. Andrew grabs for him but it’s too late. His stomach falls with Neil and Andrew scrambles back from the edge of the roof, his heart in his throat.

"NEIL?" Andrew shouts, on hands and knees. There's the sound of enormous wings flapping. Once, twice. Three times. And Neil is there, ten feet away with only his wings holding him up. Andrew's mouth falls open and he moves to sit normally, in awe of the image before him. Neil maintains his hover for a moment, then grins and shoots up into the sky.

A burst of air comes off his wings and flutters Andrew's hair, caresses his face. He watches, looking up, up, up, as Neil soars. He becomes impossibly small the higher he gets, until it seem he's about to disappear. But he doesn't. Andrew watches him make figure-8s up in the sky, leaving contrails in his wake. It's almost like skywriting.

Andrew almost shouts for him to draw something, but doesn't. Instead he just watches in amazement until Neil closes his wings and free-falls towards the parking lot before catching himself and lifting back up until he's able to step onto the roof again. As his feet hit the ground, Andrew's heart leaps. Neil is all smiles and ruddy cheeks and wings.

"That answer your question?" He asks, clearly winded.

Andrew nods, still mesmerized. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wants to bitch at Neil for scaring him like that, but before he can a ring of light appears over Neil's head. It's twice as bright as his wings and Andrew can't look away from it.

"You're so shiny," Andrew whispers, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes. "So shiny and beautiful."

"Andrew?" Neil says, but Andrew barely hears him. Barely hears anything. There's a gasp, a curse, then all the light disappears with a poof of feathers. The spell breaks and Andrew blinks himself awake just as Neil drops to his knees. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Andrew rubs his eyes, to find them embarrassingly wet. He roughly wipes his face with his sleeve and clears his throat until he feels confident his voice won't break. "Yes. I'm fine."

"Fuck, you're not. Can you see?"

"I..." Andrew can't see him. Not really. There's a vague outline that's probably Neil, but everything's too bright. Like staring at the sun too long.

"Happy birthday, Andrew," Neil says in a panic. "Fuck. I have to go now. I hope you get that cake you wanted."

"No, don't," Andrew blinks hard and reaches for him. "Neil. Stay, I—"

The Neil-shape vanishes before he can start to beg and Andrew drops his head into his hands, eyes still burning.

[javelinbk]

Hi to my favorite John historian!!

I have a question, did john have a type in women??

Oh god, I’m not sure I’m qualified for that title, but thank you anyway.

In terms of answering that question, let’s refer to John himself, shall we?

I'd always had a fantasy about a woman who would be a beautiful, intelligent, dark-haired, high-cheek-boned, free-spirited artist (à la Juliette Greco).

My soul mate.

Someone that I had already known, but somehow had lost.

After a short visit to India on my way home from Australia, the image changed slightly—she had to be a dark-eyed Oriental. Naturally, the dream couldn't come true until I had completed the picture.

Now it was complete.

Of course as a teenager, my sexual fantasies were full of Anita Ekberg and the usual giant Nordic goddesses.

That is, until Brigitte Bardot became the "love of my life" in the late Fifties. All my girlfriends who weren't dark-haired suffered under my constant pressure to become Brigitte. By the time I married my first wife (who was, I think, a natural auburn), she too had become a long-haired blonde with the obligatory bangs.

Met the real Brigitte a few years later. I was on acid and she was on her way out.

I finally met Yoko and the dream became a reality.

The only woman I'd ever met who was my equal in every way imaginable. My better, actually. Although I'd had numerous interesting "affairs" in my previous incarnation, I'd never met anyone worth breaking up a happily-married state of boredom for.

Escape, at last! Someone to leave home for! Somewhere to go. I'd waited an eternity.

Since I was extraordinarily shy (especially around beautiful women), my daydreams necessitated that she be aggressive enough to "save me," i.e., "take me away from all this." Yoko, although shy herself, picked up my spirits enough to give me the courage to get the hell out, just in time for me to avoid having to live with my ex-wife's new nose. She also had had side-interests, much to the surprise of my pre-liberated male ego.

They got the new nose. And I got my dream woman.

Yoko.

Excerpt from ‘Skywriting by Word of Mouth: The Ballad of John & Yoko’ by John Lennon (1986)

In short, it sounds like he went through various ‘types’ (the main ones being Nordic blonde and mysterious Asian), until he found that rarest of all creatures… a woman with hobbies

[kinardsevan]

30 day fluff challenge: day 6

"prom-posal"

“You sure this is gonna work,” Tommy asks as he eyes Bobby skeptically.

His former boss smiles with just a little bit of a twinkle in his eyes. “No,” he laughs. “But we’re trained to handle fire if it doesn’t.” 

Tommy just shakes his head, glancing back at the project in front of them. “Well here goes nothing.” 

. . . 

It’s not supposed to be a big thing when Tommy first starts planning. He’d talked to Maddie about it all before-hand, wanted to ensure that someone in Evan’s family was aware of his intentions. He really didn’t want to apply the pressure on Maddie or himself of ‘asking permission’. It was antiquated, and he knew that Evan didn’t really want that. He wanted Maddie’s approval, absolutely, but he wasn’t interested in Tommy calling his parents or even Bobby and Athena. “it makes me feel like people are claiming ownership of me, and the only person I want to own me is you”. He may have stated that naked in bed, but the intention behind the words still rang true.

But then, even after he’d talked to Maddie, he still didn’t know what to do. He wanted it to be simple, but he wanted it to move Evan. There was something about the look he got on his face whenever something happened he didn’t expect—like the first time they’d kissed—that Tommy got drunk on. So that required finesse. 

He thought about doing something in the helicopter first, but that lasted about five seconds. He remembered Evan’s story about the guy who had almost killed his fiancée during the proposal. Plus, skywriting wouldn’t be as fun if he couldn’t be able to do both. Then he’d contemplated something simple at home, but doing that didn’t feel like it would work either. He thought about calling Eddie for ideas, but sometimes he felt like they asked too much of him in their relationship. Not in a bad way, but in a way where maybe Eddie didn’t get any breathing room because he got lucky enough to have to hear everything in their relationship from both sides. 

So then he’d called Chimney. And that had been a failed endeavor, given that his proposal to Tatiana hadn’t gone anywhere, and that his proposal to Maddie had really ended in her proposing to him after she found the ring. 

After that he felt a bit rudderless. The internet wasn’t providing him any solid ideas, he’d tapped out his friends—even everyone at work who was married—and he’d been pretty set on doing it by their anniversary, which was limiting him on time. 

So he called Bobby. It was entirely on a whim, but Bobby helped him come up with a few ideas, and by the time he’d made the dinner reservation for the night of, they had a set plan. 

. . . 

“It’s sweet that you consider the disaster date our anniversary, but honestly we kinda stole my sister’s thunder,” Evan tells him as Tommy slides his card into the cheque envelope at Miceli’s. 

Tommy nods. “And if your sister and Chimney had a clue that we classify as our real anniversary, they might actually kill us,” Tommy says with a smirk on his face. He passes the envelope off to their waiter and then picks up his glass and takes another sip from it. 

“So you wanna go see a movie,” Evan teases. “I hear they have 18 screens.” 

Tummy chuckles. 

“Nineteen now, last I heard,” he retorts. The waiter returns and passes him the envelope. He retrieves his card from it and signs off on the receipt before tucking it back in his wallet. “But no. We have other plans.” 

Evan furrows his brow at him, confused. Before he can question further though, his phone buzzes in his pocket. When he pulls it out, Bobby’s name is on the screen. 

“Take it,” Tommy tells him, finishing off the last of his beer. 

Evan nods and answers the call. 

“Hey Bobby what’s up?” 

“Hey kid,” he replies. “Look have this thing I’m working on for Athena in the back yard. It’s a pop-up gazebo type, and it’s gotta be done by tomorrow. Michael was supposed to help, but his flight got delayed-..” 

“And you need help,”Evan finishes for him. Tommy gives him a curious glance. 

“Yeah,” Bobby drawls. “If you could, I’d owe you.” 

“It’s fine,” Tommy whispers. “Say yes.” 

Evan furrows his brow deeper at Tommy. He covers the speaker of the phone and pulls it away from his head a little bit. 

“What about your plans?” 

Tommy shakes his head. “We have two days off, Evan. Plenty of time.” 

Evan sighs, but then nods, bringing the phone back to his ear. 

“We’ll be right over,” he tells Bobby. He ends the call a moment later, and Tommy has stood, is holding their leftovers in a bag in one hand, offering Evan his other. 

The drive over to Bobby’s is quiet, but comfortably so. Evan is a little miffed that their plans have changed, but secretly, he enjoys getting to spend time with Tommy and other people in his life. They get plenty of time with Maddie, Chimney, and even Eddie and Hen, but he doesn’t feel like they spend nearly as much time together with Bobby. 

They arrive some twenty minutes later, and it’s all Tommy can do to keep Evan from dragging him into the house. He’s not sure where everyone else is parked, but Evan doesn’t seem suspicious, regardless. Still, Evan tugs him along, up to the door, and then into the house when Bobby opens up for them. 

“It’s in the back yard,” Bobby says, leading them through the living room and kitchen towards the back. 

“You need us to help bring anything out,” Evan asks. Bobby just shakes his head, gestures towards the door. 

“Come on out.” 

He heads out into the back yard, Evan pulling Tommy along closely behind. As they reach the door though, Tommy stops him, just short of door.

“Wait a minute,” he murmurs, tugging Evan back towards him. 

Evan narrows his eyes at him, but then smiles and steps forward, looking an arm around Tommy’s neck. 

“I love you,” Tommy tells him before kissing the corner of his mouth. “Happy anniversary.” 

Evan smiles back at him, unable to stop the grin that pulls across his face. “Happy anniversary babe.” 

When Evan turns to the door, Tommy inhales a deep breath. All or nothing, he thinks, lifting a free hand to keep the door open as Evan passes through it, and then they’re both standing on the back patio. 

“What’s…” Evan voice trails off as his eyes fall first on his sister, and then Chimney and Jee-Yun. His eyes trail over the backyard, seeing their friends and family, and then back to Tommy, his mouth open with questions still stuck inside his mouth. 

“I love you,” Tommy states again, an adoring smile pulling on his face. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you climbed up in my helicopter and asked if you could sit next to me. There was a time when I’d written off the concepts of a family in any form, getting to find the kind of love we’ve managed to cultivate. I mean it every time I say that loving you is easy. You have given me so much in such a short time that sometimes I have to remind myself this isn’t a dream.” 

He lifts his free hand to Evan’s cheek, wipes at the tears freely flowing down his face, and then rests a finger against his lips, keeping him from speaking. 

“I’m not finished,” he states with a small chuckle. “I heard this song the other day with this line ‘a love that makes a man have second thoughts’. You make me have all the second thoughts because I never want to leave when I’m with you. So, I was wondering if you could answer a quick, particular question for me.” 

He gestures across the backyard with their linked hands, and Evan looks away from him towards where he’s pointed to. A chainlink fence has been set up with a line of wood mounted on it. Each end of it has either Eddie and Chimney nearby, holding a set of pliers with rubber gloves. As Tommy nods towards them, they each connect their end of the wiring to a battery briefly as Bobby stands off to the side, prepared with an extinguisher. As the circuit completes, the wire lights up, quickly burning the message into the wood. As soon as the fire ignites, Eddie and Chimney both release the circuit and Bobby is blasting it with the extinguisher. Once the CO2 has dispersed, the message is still there, burned into the wood, and clear in the evening twilight. 

Evan lets out a laugh, mostly out of surprise, as he glances back at Tommy, adoration in his eyes. 

“You came up with all this?” He asks. 

Tommy shrugs, a sheepish smile on his own face. “I had some help. A certain fire captain.” 

Evan is still smiling at him, uncaring of the tear that races its way down his cheek as Tommy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. As he flips it open, a black tungsten ring with a rose gold inlay is revealed. Evan gulps at the sight of it, and the way it reminds him of fire. He looks back up at Tommy as his hands come up to his boyfriend- fiancé’s neck, leaning flush against him. 

“Yes, Tommy. A million times, yes,” he laughs before capturing his lips in a hungry kiss. 

Their friends are clapping and cheering, but Evan barely hears any of it past the sound of his and Tommy’s breathing as the other man’s hand loops around his waist, holding him tight. When they finally part, it’s only because Evan needs oxygen. His gaze falls to the ring again, and Tommy watches him as he stares at it. 

“Would you like to put it on,” he asks nervously. “I won’t judge you if you don’t.” 

Evan looks back up at him like he’s insane. 

“Yes I want to wear it,” he replies. “Let the whole damn world know you’re stuck with me now.” 

Tommy laughs at him but puts enough space between them that he can step back and remove the ring from the box. Both his own hands and Evan’s are shaking as he slides it onto his finger. It slots easily into place—Tommy had made sure he had proper measurements—and Tommy curls his hand around Evan’s fingers once it’s on, lifts his hand to his lips and kisses them. 

Evan’s eyes go wide again as Tommy lowers his hand and he raises an eyebrow.

“What?” 

“We could do a summer wedding,” Evan states with a gasp. “Or early fall. Yeah, do it as the leaves change, out at Griffith. Coordinate colors to the leaves changing.” 

“Hey, can we wait twelve hours before we have to contend with wedding and Clipboard Buck,” Chimney comments from across the yard. Evan throws a glare at him, which only earns him laughter in return from his friends. 

Tommy nuzzles his jaw before kissing it. 

“We can do whatever you want baby,” he tells him. “And I for one, can’t wait to see you in all your glory.” 

[johns-prince]

I told him: “You know you love your own company. Even Cyn says you go days without speaking to her. She feels a million miles away from you.” John replied: “Ah, but she’s not, is she. She’s in the kitchen putting the kettle on.”

—Tony Barrow, Beatles Book Monthly Magazine, No. 149 (Sept. 1988) [×]

¶

There’s one line in the lyric I don’t really mean: “Well knowing you / You’d probably laugh and say / That we were worlds apart”. I’m playing to the more cynical side of John, but I don’t think it’s true that we were so distant. 

—Paul reads from his new book, The Lyrics (2021). [×]

¶

“I’m kind of expected to say, ‘[John] was a saint, he was always a saint, I remember him as a saint’, but it would be a lie. He was one great guy and part of his greatness was that he wasn’t a saint. He was a great guy but he was pretty sacrilegious. He was pretty up front about it. But it was half the fun.”

—Paul McCartney (c. 1984) in The Dream Is Over: Off The Record 2 by Keith Badman [×]

¶

“John is neither a saint, nor is he a sinner. He was just human, like the rest of us.”

—Cynthia Lennon, answering the question “John Lennon: saint or sinner?” The Independent, July 1999 [×]

¶

“Seeing Lennon focus on Ono rather than him[Paul] was as devastating as it would have been for Cynthia Lennon to witness the couple making love.”

—Peter Dogget, You Never Give Me Your Money. [×]

¶

“Then also we were like married, so you got the bitterness. It’s not a woman scorned this time, it’s two men scorned — probably even worse. And I had to make way for Yoko. My relationship with John could not have remained as it was and Yoko feel secure.”

— Paul McCartney, Interview by Duncan Fallowell in the Chicago Tribune, October 14th, 1984 [×]

¶

“Apart from giving me the courage to break out of my stockbroker belt... Yoko also gave me the inner strength to look more closely at my other marriage. My real marriage. To The Beatles, which was more stifling than my domestic life. Although I had thought of it often enough, I lacked the guts to make the break earlier.”

—Skywriting By Word Of Mouth by John Lennon (pg. 17) [x]

¶

“I still think at the back of John’s mind was this fascination of wanting to get back with the first girlfriend, if you like, and that was to get back with Paul, who he had so much history with.”

—Tony Barrow, The Beatles’ press officer, on the Lennon/McCartney reunion that was never to be [×]

¶

“I mean, I think really what it was, really all that happened was that John fell in love. With Yoko. And so, with such a powerful alliance like that, it was difficult for him to still be seeing me. It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship, he had to put this other one away. And I understood that. I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, “Who’s this?” You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and…”

—April 3rd?, 1985 (Soho Square, London): Paul talks on German television show exclusive about the breakup of the Beatles and his personal breakup with John. [x]

¶

“But Paul was his own man and not afraid of John. In fact, musically and personally, the two were beginning to go in separate directions so perhaps Paul’s visit to me was also a statement to John.”

—Cynthia Lennon, John [×]

¶

“Paul, who believed strongly in the family and in family values, told me that he felt as if it was the Beatles themselves who were heading for divorce, not just John and Cynthia.”

—Tony Bramwell, Magical Mystery Tours [×]

I wanted to end this post with a quote from Cynthia, whether it was from a book or was an answer to a question, about how she simply misses lying in bed with John, and just the two of them talking. This quote from her book John [x] is relevant, but unfortunately I couldn't find the exact quote I wanted.

To accompany the sentiment from John's first wife though, is this quote:

“If John Lennon could come back for a day, how would you spend it with him?” “In bed.”

—Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998 [x]

[silver138]

Perfectly Flawed - Chapter 16

word count - 1.5k

warnings - none

Summary: Lina gets grilled by Penelope.

"That was insane, Penny! Just how many of the cases are like this?!" I ask, taking off my headset and setting it down.

Penny just grins and says, "A few too many, I'm afraid. Thankfully, we got it taken care of before a lot of people got hurt..." Taking off her headset, she stands up and collects her purse, saying, "C'mon, I'll drive you home..."

"Shouldn't we get started on the paperwork?" I ask, an unsure look on my face.

"Nah, we can come in tomorrow to get started on that. The agents will be doing most of that, anyway, since they were the ones going out and tracking the unsubs down," she says, digging her keys out as she hands me my purse.

"Oh, ok," I say, taking my purse and standing up.

As Penny and I walk towards the elevators, she says, "Now that the case has been dealt with..." and then smiles devilishly at me.

My head pulling back a little, I apprehensively ask, "What...what's that look for, Pen?"

"Told you I was gonna ask about it later...so how'd your little...coffee meet-up with Reid go?" she asks, ushering me into the elevator when it dings open.

"Oh, uh, ok, I guess? We didn't really get to hang out a whole lot, maybe, like, 5 minutes before we got the calls..." I say, leaning against the elevator walls. Penelope hums, and I ask, "What? What's that 'Hmm' for?" 

"Oh, nothing..." she says with a sweet smile.

"Pen, I know I'm still new, and I don't know everyone's 'tells'," I start, walking out of the elevator after the doors open again. "But yours might as well be on a billboard. Now tell me, what are your thoughts?" I ask, trying to catch up to her as she walks to the parking garage.

"Just...what do you think you and Boy Genius will do as a 'make-up hang out'?" she says, still smirking.

Flushing, I say, "I-I don't know, I guess I'm gonna have to ask him when I see him next..."

Unlocking her car doors, Penny asks, "Ah, ok, so, tomorrow, then?" I give her a questioning look, and she continues. "They're on the jet coming home now, they'll be back in for tomorrow morning." 

I nod, giving an, "Oh." in understanding. I climb in and secure my seat belt as Penny starts the car, lowering the volume on the radio before it can blast out whatever station she had on this morning.

I lean my head back and sigh as Penny drives, softly saying, "I am exhausted, and I was here in a chair. I can only imagine how tired the rest of them must be..." Penny nods in agreement. I look out the window, watching the city lights flicker on as we pass. We're almost to my apartment when I get a text message.

Probably Val, asking if I'm gonna have another late night at work, better let her know I'm on my way...

As I read the message, I quickly realized it was not my roommate who texted me, but Spencer. 

Hey, Lina. Hope I'm not interrupting you, but I wanted to ask if we're good for that raincheck on hanging out? Maybe we can try Saturday again?

I try to hide the goofy grin that crosses my face, but Penny notices. "Must be an awfully funny text there, chica..." she says with a smirk.

Flushing, I squeak out, "It-it isn't funny, Pen. Just...unexpected."

Nodding slightly, she hums out an, "Uh-huh...so what's the Mighty Professor gotta say?"

I whip my head to face her, and say, "How-how do you know it's Spencer, huh? Why couldn't it be, I dunno, someone sending me a cat picture or something?"

She snorts and laughs, saying, "My tells may be as big as a billboard, but yours might as well be in skywriting..." The light turns green, letting us continue on our way.

My lips bunched to one side, I sighed as I said, "Yeah, ok, it's Spencer. I have got to work on keeping my facial expressions to myself..."

At a stoplight, she turns to me and says, "Well? What did he say? Are you gonna answer him?"

"Oh!" I exclaim, typing out on my phone a reply. "Ye-yeah, I'm gonna answer him, gimmie a moment..."

Yeah, that'd be awesome, Doc. Did you want to try to do the same thing, or something else on Saturday? Are you home already?

After sending the text, I feel the car stop. I look up and see I'm home. I look over to Penny, and she says, "Well, hon, you're home. I'll see you tomorrow. Have fun texting tonight..." 

I snort, letting myself out and waving to her as I head up the steps to my apartment. As I make my way upstairs and unlock my apartment door, I feel my phone buzz again. Heading inside, I call out, "Val? I'm home, the case was resolved." I pull out my phone again as I close the door and take off my shoes and coat.

"Be right there!" she yells back from her room.

As I put down my purse and hung up my coat, I read the text Spencer sent.

No, I'm just getting off the jet, I should be home in a bit. I mean, we can get coffee again, but I was thinking we could maybe check out a bookstore or two? If that's ok, I know you mentioned that as a suggestion before?

Grinning, I answer him as I sit down on the couch.

That sounds amazing, Spence. Yes, absolutely! I've been meaning to get a few more books, too. 

Val pads into the living room, eyebrow raised. "Glad you're home at a more decent hour, there's some leftovers in the fridge." She sits down next to me and asks, "So, who ya texting?"

Clutching the phone to my chest, I look her up and down quickly, then say, "...Spencer."

She looks at me and says, "Mmm-hmm. Isn't he in Jersey right now?"

I smile and slide the phone back into my pocket, getting up to check the fridge. "Yeah, well, he said he just got back in Virginia, so he'll be home pretty soon." I look through the shelves, trying to find something. I pick up something in aluminum foil and turn to look at Val, raising my eyebrows as if to ask 'What even is this?' She just gives me a shrug, and I put it back in, figuring I'll deal with it later.

Val stretches out on the couch as I continue my search. She then asks, "So, uh, what's he asking you?"

"Oh, um, he...wanted to see if we wanted to try to hang out again this Saturday, since the first time we got called into a case," I say, finally deciding on some leftover pasta dish.

She hums in acknowledgment as I dump the food onto a plate and put it in the microwave. After setting the time, I turn to her and ask, "What?"

She shrugs and shakes her head, then says, "Nothing. I'm gonna head to bed early, g'night."

"Night, Vallie," I say, getting my food after the machine beeps. As I sit down on the couch again to eat, my phone chimes again.

Smiling, I check it and read the message.

Oh, really? Any in particular you were looking for?

Thinking for a moment, I quickly type out a reply and send it, a grin on my face as I finish eating dinner.

Kind of, I was hoping maybe you could help me look for some of the ones you suggested? If you don't mind, of course.

I take my empty dishes over to the sink, humming as I wash them. Drying off my hands, my phone goes off once more.

I don't mind at all! I look forward to Saturday.

Heading to my room, I sit on my bed and type out one more message.

It's been a while since I've gone on a good bookstore search, and I don't think I've ever been on one with someone. I can't wait!

  I change into some pjs and start getting ready for bed. As I brush my teeth, I get another text.

You know, I don't think I've ever done that either? Definitely something I eagerly await. Well, I better let you get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow, Lina. Goodnight. :-)

I grin and set my toothbrush down, sending one last text.

You should try to sleep, too. Goodnight, Spence. :-)

I finish brushing my teeth and head back into my room, slipping into bed, and drifting off to sleep.

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[idabbleincrazy]

Some corset clex:

Standing at the top of the steps, Lex had to stifle the gasp of surprise that filled his throat as he looked across the loft, sure that the moonlight streaking in through the open window was causing his eyes to play tricks on him. Surely, Clark Kent was not standing at the other end of the loft, in front of a full length mirror, shirtless. In leather pants. And holding a red and black corset to his chest.

Blinking, waiting - and dreading - for the image to disappear, he watched Clark wrap the leather corset around himself, muscles straining as he tried to tighten the stays. The image never vanished, and after a minute of watching the impossibly erotic struggle, Lex took pity, brushing aside all the why's and how's, and took a step further into the loft.

"Need some help?"

Clark yelped in shock, dropping the corset as he whirled around to face the unexpected intruder into his sacred space.

"Lex! Wha-what are you doing here?" His voice was caught somewhere between fear, fury, embarrassment, and indignation, fluctuating from squeaky to gravely and back again. Lex watched his foot out of the corner of his eye as it tried to kick the now offensive garment into the shadows of the room. "Why are you here?"

"Well, you haven't been answering my calls, texts, or emails, Clark, and I figured you probably wouldn't appreciate me giving the town gossips more fodder, so I decided to cancel the skywriting. If Mohammed won't go to the mountain…" Lex trailed off with a shrug, trying to keep his face blank of the arousal he felt coursing through him, thickening his cock. He nodded his head at the pile of fabric on the floor. "Your secret's safe, by the way."

There was enough light in the room to see the deep blush that darkened Clark's golden skin, the flush traveling enticingly from his cheeks to his neck, and down over his chest. Lex's eyes followed the rise of color, down over the expanse of exposed skin, gaze soon distracted by the reminder of the existence of leather pants, fabric stretched so tight across broad thighs they looked like they were painted on. His brain didn't know what to do with the fact that the groin area was bulging slightly out, and so simply refused to acknowledge it.

Apparently angered by his own reaction to Lex's soft comfort, Clark let out a snort of derision.

"Yeah, right. Safe. Where is it safe, Lex? In your private little stalker room?" Clark stepped forward, hands clenching into tight fists at his sides, and Lex couldn't help a shiver, of fear, of arousal, not when the evidence of all those surmised muscles were actually bared to his sight. "Gonna take a picture, Lex? Add it to your collection of me? Bet it would make a nice addition to that digital scrapbook you've got going. Or, wait, maybe you could take the corset with you, put it on display front and center, next to that bullet-mobile."

Lex pinched the bridge of his nose, his erection still not deflating despite the beginnings of a headache. This was exactly what he didn't want. He came here to make amends, not start the same argument all over again.

@leatafandom

[stcrmborne]

“I’m tired and I think I want to go home.” (From the sentence starters, maybe from either Linast or Oscar?)

At first she said nothing, staring down at the elemental with a face creased in apprehension. There was something about Linast that spurred an instinctive need to make sure he remained safe – or at least unharmed, and that urge alone was enough to make Rhaya uneasy. “Yeah– Okay, might be a bit tricky, but… sure,” she offered, not unkindly as she stepped up beside him to scan the horizon. “Can you, uh… point us in the right direction for that, by chance?” she ventured, aiming a sidelong glance his way before she turned to look over her shoulder. Some members of her crew were positioned behind them a distance away, busying themself with cleanup.

[dayplays]

@fstbmp said:

Do they win a prize?

Blaze's Type Bingo- Accepting!

They do.

[comrade-slugcat]

thinking about my ocs relationships with their ancients based on that one post about the pebbles Alexa thing

EA would have, in the early days, most likely enjoyed talking to the ancients, but after having the limiter placed on them, I think they would just do their best to ignore them, as yelling at them would only make the situation worse. Of course after they drove their ancients away and were renamed, they couldn't have talked to them anyway

Glories would make them like, debase themselves? Is that the right word? Anyway, he thought of the ancients as servants despite one of them being his administrator. They didn't talk much, most ancients found him insufferable

Descent used to love to talk while working, helping solve little problems was always satisfying

NRE didn't talk to his ancients much, mostly just answering their questions and moving one, unlike descent who would be sometimes trap people in a conversation for hours

Skywriter never had any ancients

A Dark Stars ancients were prisoners, people who committed terrible crimes. They didn't have a good relationship to say the least

SBRF was always perfectly cordial but cold to her ancients

obsidian found his ancients annoying

[wearyrains]

In 2014, the life that Henry has rebuilt for himself and his children is turned on it's head, when one of Elizabeth's friends leads him to LA in search of a PI named Lisa.

Washington DC, 2014, Henry

George Peters walks by me in the hotel lobby guilt written all over his face. He hands me the business card, he wanted to give me yesterday. I take it out of curiosity, but reading it only causes confusion.

Lisa Aldin

Lewis & Lewis, Attorneys at Law; Investigator

Las Angeles, CA

When taking the kids to DC, I was not expecting to run into Elizabeth's friends. But it was fitting to run into George and Isabell while at lunch yesterday. We're here because Stevie wants to feel closer to her mother. She is the only one who truly remembers her now. After all, she's been dead for ten years.

"Dad, can we go by Mom's grave before we leave?" Jason asks. That's surprising, he usually doesn't mention her. He was only 3 when she deployed to Iraq, he doesn't remember her at all. And as much as I tried to keep her memory alive in our home, ten years is a long time. I met Jessica and fell in love, and she and I have raised Stevie, Allison, and Jason, and then added two more, Robert and Andrew. The twins weren't planned but I was ecstatic to become a father again.

"Of course we can kiddo" Jessica answers for me when I failed to provide one. I nod taking one more look at George as he walks away. I slip the business card into my pocket not quite understanding why I need to keep it. It just feels important. I gather all of the luggage and put it into the carrier on top of the Mini-Van. As my family loads into the van I look over to Jessica. I love her, but a wave of grief hits me anyway as she sits in Elizabeth's place. I'm reminded once again that grief is forever.

Iraq, Elizabeth, 2005

Pain. Blinding searing pain. It's all I feel, but I have to get up. I have to go home, I promised I'd make it home. I try to move my arm but it's stuck. I pull harder, my wrist doesn't budge. I try to open my eyes again. I need to see. There's nothing but darkness. I slightly panic at the blindness, but then feel the cloth covering my eyes. There's a bag on my head. I sense I'm moving now. I have to be in a car, correction, the trunk of a car. I can tell by the wrist binds and cloth bag and the trunk that I'm not with friends. The panic increases, I try to push it down. If I have any chance of making it out of this, I have to be smart. My back hits the seat behind me as the car comes to a hard stop. My wrist is broken, I can feel that now as it's pushed between my body and the seat behind me and the pain radiates up into my shoulder. I hear the trunk open. I hear a man yelling at me in Arabic. I can't make out what he's telling me, my head is pounding too hard for me to translate.

He roughly grabs my arm to pull me out of the trunk. He throws me over his shoulder and he walks me into a building, I hear the terrain under his feet change to wood. He throws me onto the ground and I let out a groan. I can feel myself drifting back into unconsciousness. What do I do now?

Washington DC, Henry, 2014

We are walking slowly through the cemetery. I've walked this path so many times. More than Jessica and the kids know. I find myself driving down here from Pittsburgh to visit her once a month or so. I make sure her headstone stays clean and cared for. I like to bring her fresh flowers, hydrangeas, her favorite. I talk to her about the kids and about me. I never talk to her about Jessica, it doesn't feel right. I like to keep the things that would upset her away from her place of rest. We walk down her row, and stop at the fifth headstone.

Elizabeth McCord

Beloved Wife and Mother

1968 – 2005

I notice that Jessica, Bobbie, and Andrew hang back a little. The twins are only 7, Elizabeth is nothing but a concept to them. They know nothing of the life I shared with her. The love I shared with her. They don't know about the discount skywriter proposal. They don't know about the strip scrabble games or midnight mac and cheese dinners. They don't know about the courthouse wedding with the cranky judge. They don't know about the joy we shared when we became parents together. They don't know her.

I hear Allison let out a sob. I pull her in, and hold her tight. Allison has always felt like something is missing from her life. It's not something that Jessica or I can give her. At fifteen now, she asks a lot of questions about Elizabeth, like she's trying to piece together a complete person, using just people's memories.

"Dad?" Jason whispers.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Did she, did she love us?" I look at him with shock and confusion. I don't know why he would ask that question, have I failed Elizabeth, by not making sure that the kids knew of her love for them?

"She loved all of us, more than words can explain." I hope he can read my sincerity.

"Then why did she leave?" Stevie asks, anger clearly present in her voice. I've asked myself that same question, over and over. But in the end I know why.

"There was a job to be done, and it was her duty to do it." I answer. It's the truth. I was a Marine, I know better than to think that she just didn't love us enough to quit.

"We were at war, your mother got her orders and she did her job. She didn't know she was going to be killed over there, just like the other 4,500 American service members who died in Iraq. But she loved you guys, and more than that she loved being your mother." I promise them.

Washington DC, Elizabeth, 2004

"I got new orders today." It's the first thing I say when I walk in the door. I don't want to delay this conversation. He looks up from the book he's reading. It's something about Aquinas. He raises one eyebrow in question.

"I'm forward deploying to Iraq. It'll be a yearlong tour." I notice the fear in his eyes, but he just nods. This isn't the first time we've had this conversation, although this time it's reversed. I think about how scared I was when he got his orders to deploy for Desert Storm. I think about the sleepless nights I spent praying to a God I'm not sure I believe in that he would make it home to me.

"There's nothing I can do, I signed the contract at the beginning of the war. Uncle Sam owns me for three more years." He nods again. "I got the kids a calendar, so you can keep track of the deployment and count it down. I will write them, and we can talk on the phone. I've been assured that I will mostly be on base, running ops, not doing them." I look at him, begging him to speak.

"When do you leave?" There are tears in his voice.

"Friday." That's the word that finally breaks through my shock at the information Conrad gave me two hours ago. I let the tears fall.

"I don't want to leave you and the kids, but I don't have a choice." He raises his hand to wipe the tears from my face and smiles at me.

"We'll be fine. I love you" He pulls me in for a hug and then a kiss.

Washington DC, Henry, 2014

I want to be able to re-assure them of her love better than that. I remember the calendar. Elizabeth had worked on it all night on the day she received her orders. She had marked in her deployment date and her homecoming date. Then she filled the months in between. She cried as she put in "Buy Halloween costumes" and "Santa Comes tonight". She laughed at my demise as she added trips to Chuck E. Cheese. She gave me instructions when she wrote in "first day of school" I can hear her so vividly in my head "You have to take pictures, Henry." And "Make sure their outfits match, babe."

I can't hold it back anymore. I let out a heartbroken sob. I feel Jessica behind me, rubbing my shoulder, her touch so different than the one I'm longing for in this moment.

"It's okay, honey." She whispers as she pulls me in for a hug. I feel the need to apologize, when I open my mouth to do so she shakes her head.

"I know you still love her. I wouldn't have married a widow, who had no love for his first wife." I love this woman. It's different than what I had with Elizabeth, but different doesn't mean better and it doesn't mean worse. It just means different.

"I love you." I tell her. I hope Elizabeth would be fine with that. I hope she's not rolling over beneath our feet. But I don't think she is. I think she would be happy to know I found someone, and that I'm not alone. She would be happy to know that our kids had someone, too.

US Air Force C-130 Transport Plane, Elizabeth, 2004

I try not to let my emotions show. I'm surrounded by kids playing dress up. They are all trying so hard to not be scared, laughing and joking with each other, the way that soldiers do. But there is unspoken tension in the air. It didn't take me long to realize that I'm the oldest person on this plane.

"Those your kids ma'am?" the private next to me asks pointing to the picture I'm holding. I look him over. He's one of the older one's on the plane, and by older I mean about 21. I give him a nod and a slight smile.

"My girlfriend's due in 3 weeks. We both thought I might actually be there when the baby was born, but the little one didn't want to come early" He laughs.

"Get used to that! Kids never do what you want" I decide to join Private Miller in conversation, we have a long flight and I have a feeling no one will catch any sleep before we land.

Los Angeles, Lisa, 2014

"Another day, another dollar." Archie jokes, as he does every morning when I walk into the lobby of the Wilshire Center. I nod and give him a small laugh, like I do every day before proceeding to the elevators. My office is on the 47th floor. It's a lot of stop and go today on the way up because I'm a half hour later than usual. I spent the morning interviewing an investment banker from New York, for info on a case. When I get to my office, my secretary hands me my messages, well one single message.

"You're quite popular today." She states sarcastically.

"Yes, well we can't all be you, Ash," I joke back her, taking the message. "I'm working on tracking the financials for the Miller case, leave me alone today with the math if you can help it." She nods, and I head into my office.

I set the message down on my Desk and catch a glimpse of the caller, Henry McCord. My breath catches in my throat. I put my hand in my pocket to retrieve the last remints of the life I left behind. Two rings dangle on a single key chain. One is a wedding band, the other has three birth stones on it. I sit in my chair and fiddle with the rings for a second. I hesitate, questioning whether or not I should read the message, but curiosity wins out.

Caller: Henry McCord

Message: George Peters gave me this number and told me I should give you a call. He said you knew my wife, Elizabeth. He said you might want to talk to me.

I read it and re-read it, over and over again. I think George is playing games, trying to draw me out. He should know better. He is the one who helped me come here, he helped invent Lisa Aldin, and he doesn't get to bring Elizabeth McCord back from the dead.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14140766/1/The-People-Left-Behind

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41931426/chapters/105241746

https://www.wattpad.com/story/337064601-the-people-left-behind

[mangus-khan-blog]

Skywriting - 090120231253

What motivates you? PROSE – INTROSPECTION I sit thinking about the question before me. As usual, I overthink everything. Qualification is a necessity before answering the simplest question: insanity, a worthy description of my state of being and actions. I believe I’m slow dancing on the edge, but I’m drowning in the middle of an abyss I conjured. The only thing that keeps me going is my grit.…