#LD Queue

[luckyartdrawer]

Hello good sir, I am sure you have well intentions! :)

I wanted to do some lighting practice for fun and now I have this sly devil. I'm pretty proud of how he turned out and how fast I was able to make this! :3

Welp. Now I kinda wanna turn him into a character. we'll see if I ever do, hehe :P

[thebladesmithmuses]

@rosesilverpenrp Continued from This Ask

Rose slowly let the vines retreat. "We have to get you to Jane." She hesitated, then picked up Duck. He was heavier than she thought, but she managed to hoist him into her arms and started carrying him. "If you're going to shut down, I'll bring you back to Jane. She'll know what to do. Focus on conserving power. I've got you."

Duck nodded and leaned his head against Rose. His limbs just kind of dangling uselessly as he tried not to move too much. At some point in their walk Duck had slipped into sleep mode. The last thing he saw as he drifted off was a warning that his thiruim levels were dropping.

.... Thiruim levels 48%

Jane was at the front desk. As she normally was when Duck was out, or if he just couldn't handle humans that day. When Rose entered, there was a smile and as her mouth opened to greet them.

It didn't take long for that smile to be replaced. At first she looked confused. But she knew Duck wouldn't just 'pass out' like this for no reason. Something was wrong. And the horror showed on her face soon after. The change happened within seconds.

Jane's eyes grew wide and her brows creased deeply. She covered her mouth as she gasped so sharply she could have choked on it. Jane was on her feet and across the waiting room before Rose could even speak. Her hands so softly cupping Duck's face. She's trying to find out what was wrong by just studying him, bit there was so much blue blood covering him it was hard to tell exactly where to start.

Jane's attention went immediately to Rose. "What happened? No, wait. Get him inside. Go set him on the couch in my office. I'll go see if we have any blue blood stored away." Jane didn't know what to do. The only thought crossing her mind at the moment was to get his thiruim levels stable. Though, even if they kept him stable, there had to be some kind of damaging if he was leaking this much. He was in a solid sleep mode. His LED was flickering.

No.

He needed immediate repairs. There had to be an android repair shop nearby, but she didn't have time to search around. So, Jane did the only thing she could think to do.

She got out her phone and made a call.

Jane was back soon enough, and it seemed she was still on the phone as she walked in. There was a bottle of the same blood substance currently leaking out of Duck right now. She had to firmly grasped in her other hand, with her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. She was talking to someone and trying to keep calm as she did. The bottle was then offered to Rose. Jane pointed to Duck, and made a motion like she was drinking. She did it a few times, hoping Rose understood what she meant. She was quick to walk over to her desk. Scrambling to get paper and a pen.

[spockvarietyhour]

Elsie Ferguson, 1924

[teh-nos]

a collection

[thewomancallednova]

It has just occured to me that the black hole in the Lower Decks intro looks like an animated version of the Talos IV wormhole illusion from "Light and Shadows", while looking different from every other wormhole previously presented in Trek. I choose to believe that the Cerritos almost visited Talos IV.

[slash-aaa]

'everybody has problems,' he understands how that sounds - dismissive, apathetic to what percy is saying to him, but daniel is ready to assure her that he means the opposite as he takes a sip of his ginger ale. 'and i'm not saying that so you feel bad about sharing yours. actually, the sentiment should give you some solace. we all have problems - that's a human experience that we all share, and - i think that's why a lot of us can feel empathy towards the problems of others,' daniel grins at the woman over his glass before placing it back down on the table between them. he still goes to bars, even though he doesn't drink, even though the temptation of alcohol was just a few steps across the building. seeing the people here reminded him of why he got sober, and what he had been through. 'i don't mean to be cryptic... you tell me your problems, i tell you mine - that's what i mean. that's how it works. and the support comes naturally after,' @spiritdreamt.

[thebladesmithmuses]

@cyberlifeceo Continued from This Ask

He can hear bits and pieces as he focuses on the conversation. It became clearer as he regained full consciousness. The man blinked, realizing she had been keeping track of his pulse. Elijah winced at the noise that came from Duck's joints. They were in terrible shape if they made noise like that. He also went to move but Jane warned him not to. Probably for the best. A pause. Where was he? He blinked taking a moment. "Your office?" He said, a bit unsure himself. At least he thought he remembered being there.

"Good. Who are you?" Jane is carefully checking him over while she asks her questions. Nothing too intuitive. Just making sure his head wasn't bleeding, or that neither of his arms seemed broken. She was gentle. Not trying to hurt him more then he already was after all.

[thebladesmithmuses]

@cyberlifeceo continued This Ask

Elijah stood there letting Duck look him over, noting the red LED. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned it.

Ah. So Duck didn't see anything wrong with his condition. He should probably phase this carefully. "Oh, no, I'm not saying you're broken, Duck. I just think you might need some routine maintenance. Kind of like how humans go to doctors or physical therapists to maintain their physical health, androids still need to take care of that sort of thing when they can."

Elijah had certainly come to the office enough to notice that it took Duck sometime to process what was being said to him. It was a noticeable delay by a few seconds, but it seemed worse today with that stutter.

The LED at least turned something other then red. It was yellow at first, then blue for a few seconds, before it ultimately stuck to red. As it turned to blue, he had looked away from Kamski. Duck was looking at his own arms. There was a softening of his expression. But as he sat with it to think, his brows narrowed again, prompting the red.

"I'm-mm how I n-need to be."

[thebladesmithmuses]

Phoenix has arrived on his bike to collect Jane so they can see their father for Father's Day. He's standing outside texting her multiple times in a row because they're already late for lunch

Jane came out of her office, typing on her phone before closing it and putting it away. The change in seeing her brother earned a smile, a wave and a warm

"Hi Phoe! Thank you for waiting." She didn't take that long, but she still wanted to thank him for being patient.

"Are you ready to go?"

[thebladesmithmuses]

"Here, this is for you, Nugget."

Nugget looks at the little badge. He's taking his time reading it, despite being able to read very well for his age. A bright smile comes over his face before he pulls Spinel into a hug.

"Nugget loves it! Thank you!" Nugget chimes.

[nandorisms]

Unnamed WIP

The basic premise is that Nandor and Guillermo were bestfriends growing up, until they weren't, as a result of a kiss and confession of feelings initiated by Guillermo and subsequent ghosting from Nandor afterwards.

I'm still trying to come up with names for it, and I am struggling a bit writing from Guillermo's POV, but here's a little preview...

Please let me know what you think!

Guillermo hated the coffee at Cannon Capital.

He still drank it every morning at exactly 8:37 a.m., when the break room was usually empty and he could avoid forced, awkward small talk with his coworkers. The machine made a wet, hissing noise like a deflating balloon that always made his jaw tighten, his teeth itch, and his skin crawl from the sound.

Not because he enjoyed it.

But because it was part of his routine.

A predictable start to a predictable day. Wake up. Shower. Moisturizer. Slacks. Smile. Coffee. Emails. Lunch at his desk. More emails. Commute home. Make dinner. Try to fall asleep.

Repeat.

He would stand there and watch the slow drip fill his mug.

The same one he used every morning since his boss gifted it to him—the one with a chipped rim and faded print that used to say World’s Okayest Assistant, but now just read ld’s Oka—ssist and waited until he could start the next part of his routine.

He would wait until the drip slowed, until the machine gave its final sputtering wheeze, and then carefully pulled the mug free. 

Then, oat creamer. Stir. Sip. Recoil.

It tasted terrible.

But some part of him found comfort in that. In knowing what to expect.

Which is why, when he came in that morning and found the coffee machine gone, and a Post-It note slapped onto the cabinet that read Coffee machine broken :(, he knew his day was going to be shit.

“This day is going to be shit,” Guillermo muttered, checking his watch as he stood in line at the Dunkin’ next to the office, the one Freddie always turned his nose up at in favor of that pretentious, overpriced place two blocks over that that sold coffee made from beans that had been eaten, digested, and shit out. 

Kopi something?

He could never remember the name. Just that it came with a lecture on origin, process, and mouthfeel. And that, for some reason, Freddie loved it. Though honestly, Guillermo always suspected it had more to do with the price than the flavour.

He shuffled forward in line, following the queue, when he heard it. 

A voice.

Warm in that familiar way that made Guillermo’s stomach knot.

The voice of the man he had nightmares about. The one who haunted his life with spectres of memories he could never quite exorcise. The object of his fantasies, and the reason for his quiet, constant self-loathing ever since he was eighteen.

And of course, he was here. Today of all days.

Ordering a caramel swirl iced coffee with cream and sugar, with a boston creme donut.

It was such a Nandor order that the corners of Guillermo’s lips twitched with reluctant fondness—because some things, it seemed, never changed. A caramel swirl iced coffee. Sweet. Indulgent. Unapologetic. Ridiculous, really, at their age. But that was Nandor.

He hadn’t seen him in over a decade.

Not in person.

And now here he was, famous, six-foot-something, standing at the counter like he didn’t carry the ghost of Guillermo’s first real heartbreak in his back pocket. Taking selfies with the cashier like he wasn’t the reason Guillermo had been in counselling sessions once a week, since what he dubbed the incident, working through what his therapist had gently explained was a core wound.

Core wound. Guillermo never liked how clean that sounded. Like the pain had edges to hold it all in, when really, it had spilled over into everything. How he viewed himself. How he loved. How he trusted. How he had to control every aspect of every day in the fragile hope that, one morning, he might look in the mirror and not see that teenage boy still waiting to be chosen.

Nope. Not going there. Not today. 

Guillermo stepped back, already mapping out an escape plan, mentally weighing the odds of slipping out unnoticed. He could leave now, pretend this never happened, pick up some of that shit-bean coffee from the pretentious spot Freddie loved, and power through the rest of the day, until he could go home and call his counsellor about it.

He’d be charged extra for the month, but it was more than worth the investment, at this point.

Guillermo took another step back. Slow. Careful. Nonchalant, like he wasn’t on the verge of fight-or-flight over a man holding a donut.

But then he turned and knocked into a man.

Which wouldn’t have been a big deal, if the man hadn’t been carrying a tray of iced drinks, with a box of donuts perched precariously on top.

“What the fuck!” the man shouted, coffee splattering in flecks across his face, shirt, and shoes.

“Are you serious right now?” He looked down at his soaked shirt, holding the fabric out with two fingers. “This is gonna stain. What, you can’t fucking watch where you’re going?”

Guillermo looked between the man and the door, then back to where Nandor was standing, wondering if he could make a clean break for it—just bolt past the spilled donuts and iced drinks and out onto the sidewalk—before Nandor could notice him.

But Nandor was already turning.

Brows furrowed, iced coffee in one hand and, a donut in the other. He looked… older now. Broader in the shoulders. Face fuller. Hair longer. With silver streaks that framed his temples, like someone had taken a fine brush and painted in every year Guillermo hadn’t seen him except on television, in advertisements, in magazine spreads and newspaper headlines he tried not to read.

And still. Still, he was beautiful. Heartbreakingly so.

Nandor’s eyes landed on Guillermo and widened in recognition.

Fuck.

So much for escaping unnoticed.

“Hey! I’m fucking talking to you!” the man shouted, shoving Guillermo hard enough that he stumbled back a step.

His dress shoes skidded slightly on the tile. Heart racing, he raised both hands in surrender.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, breath shallow. “It was—my bad, okay?” He tried to sidestep the guy. “I didn’t mean—”

But the man shoved him again.

And then—

Familiar hands caught him. Long, elegant fingers. Manicured nails. And calluses, right where Guillermo remembered they’d be. He remembered how they used to feel on him—how those rough pads would skim over his skin, slow and absentminded, tracing the bump of bone where his wrist met his hand. How they dragged, catching slightly on fabric as they settled on his hips, back when Nandor had tried to teach him how to play basketball.

“Guillermo.”

That voice again, low now, edged with that same protective sharpness that used to shield him from bullies, hallway pranks, and cruel whispers in locker rooms.

“Is this man bothering you?”

Guillermo stepped back. Not far, just enough to get those hands off him, before the ghost of heat that lingered on his skin could settle in, the way every other ghost of Nandor always had.

He didn’t look up.

Couldn’t.

Not with everyone staring.

Especially not him.

“I—it’s fine,”Guillermo heard himself, voice small, gaze fixed on the donut-and over-sugary drink-covered tiles. “It was my fault.”

“Shit, you’re Nandor ‘the Relentless’ al Quolanudari from the New York Knicks!”

The change in tone was instant. Like a flipped switch.

Guillermo clenched his jaw, felt it jump from the tension.

Of course.

Of course the guy went from shouting to starstruck in two seconds flat.

It was just like high school all over again.

“You’re, like, my brother’s favourite player,” the man said, already patting his pockets for what Guillermo knew was his phone. “He’s never gonna believe I ran into the Beast of the Middle East at Dunkin’ of all places. Can I get a picture real quick?”

Nandor didn’t look at the man.

Guillermo knew without even looking up that he didn’t. 

He could feel it.

The way those beautiful, dark eyes were solely on him.

Always had.

It felt like fingers, mapping him out—

Following every line and valley. Tracing every dip and curve.

Every emotion.

Every insecurity.

Every feeling.

Every part of him.

Pinning him in place—like a butterfly to a corkboard—by the quiet, devastating act of being seen.

It made Guillermo want to run.

Or cry.

Or laugh.

Or maybe all three.

Because how dare he.

How dare he still look at him like that and just know.

Like nothing between them had changed.

Like the years hadn’t turned them into the closest they had ever been to nothing more than strangers.

“No,” Nandor said, eyes still fixed on Guillermo like he might disappear, which, considering Guillermo fully intended to do just that the second this encounter was over, wasn’t far from the truth.  “But I want you to apologize to my friend for pushing him.”

“Right. Yeah. Sorry, man. I didn’t know he was your fr—” the man started.

“We’re not friends,” Guillermo cut in, voice sharp as he finally lifted his head.  He didn’t know what his face looked like, but judging by Nandor’s expression, it wasn’t pretty.

He reached into his wallet, pulled out two crumpled tens, and held them out without meeting the man’s eyes.

“For your coffee,” he muttered, already moving past him.

“Guillermo,” Nandor called out, pushing past the man, “wait!”

Guillermo picked up his pace at the sound of footsteps behind him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Guillermo, please!” Nandor called again. 

Guillermo walked faster, he was near the doors to Cannon Capital building now, if he could just make it inside, Nandor wouldn’t be allowed past the front desk without an employee badge or a visitor’s pass, and he’d be safe.

He heard the footsteps behind him pick up, slow at first, then heavier, faster.

And then a full-on sprint.

Was Nandor running?

Guillermo glanced over his shoulder—just a flick of his eyes—and there he was.

Over-sugary-poor-excuse for a coffee in one hand and donut in the other. Running. Actually, running after him like something out of a daydream he’d never let himself have anymore.

But this wasn’t a dream.

Not to him.

Not anymore.

This was a nightmare.

One he was determined to escape, even if it meant running in dress shoes.

Guillermo broke into a run, heart racing, soles pounding against the pavement.

But it was no use.

Nandor caught up.

Fuck.

Guillermo really needed to start wearing his New Balances in the mornings.

Maybe join Freddie on his morning runs.

Add another thing to the daily routine.

Wake up. Shower. Moisturizer. Slacks. Smile. Coffee. Run from the past in sensible footwear.

A hand caught his elbow.

Not forceful, but enough to stop him in his tracks, because of the awful, intimate way the body remembers before the mind can protest.

Before reason has a chance to remind it that this isn’t a safe space anymore.

Forget fight, fright, or freeze.

This was something crueler.

An instinct. A trick of sense memory.

A betrayal of the body that had never quite learned how to stop wanting. How to stop loving.

Even after a heartbreak that never scabbed.

Just bled cleaner with time.

“Guillermo,” Nandor said shakily—and annoyingly not gasping for breath like Guillermo was—staring at him like he was a living, breathing miracle, rather than the slightly sweaty, red-faced mess that he was. “I—it’s me, Nader.”

He smiled that same smile—the one users on the NandorSnark Reddit forums always talked shit about—but to Guillermo, it had always been his most favourite smile in the world. He loved how it shifted the planes of his face, taking him from statuesque and untouchable to warm, expressive, and human. How the lines crinkled near his eyes,and how one side of his mouth always curled just a little higher than the other, like even his smile couldn’t decide if it was confident or shy.

It hit like a punch to the gut.

Like that time at the batting cages, when the ball smacked him in the ribs—hard—while he was hanging out with his cousin Miguel. One of the first times they’d seen each other again, after Guillermo had pulled away from his family out of fear they’d reject him for being gay.

Which, it turned out, they didn’t.

Miguel had just clapped him on the back and said they didn’t give a shit. That they’d all kind of just been waiting for him to come out before saying anything.

Guillermo yanked his arm away. Not safe. “I know who you are,” he said quietly. “Why do you think I ran?”

Nandor’s smile fell, hurt flashing in his eyes, before he forced it back into place. 

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me. But when I saw you—after all this time—I knew I had to…” He trailed off, chin dropping, before lifting it back up.

“We can’t go back. I know that. And I can’t erase what I did. Or take back the hurt I caused you. But—” his voice cracked, and Guillermo hated how much he doesn’t hate Nandor.

Even now.

“But I am so sorry, Guillermo. I was…scared. Scared and…and confused.”

“And you think I wasn’t?” Guillermo snapped. 

Nandor shook his head, tears building in his eyes. “I know you were. Especially back then. But you have no idea how much I’ve regretted what I did that day.” 

“Are you really going to stand here and talk to me about how you felt?” Guillermo said, his voice cracking, the tears stinging hot behind his eyes.

No.

He wasn’t going to cry in front of Nandor.

Not again.

“Do you know what it was like for me?”

A traitorous tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away before it could settle.

“Do you know what it was like losing the only person in my life who ever got me?”

The tears he’d been holding back finally spilled over and ran down his cheeks.

“You had the whole world and I only had you.”

Guillermo swiped angrily at his face, willing the tears to stop, but they didn’t listen. They never did, not when it came to Nandor.

He hated it. Hated how much he still felt like that sad, pathetic teenage boy nursing a broken heart. He had worked years to bury that version of himself. Pushed him down so deep beneath routines and goals and polished professionalism that sometimes he could almost pretend he didn’t exist.

“I…” Nandor croaked, and cleared his throat, a tear slipping from his overfilled eyes. “I can’t imagine what I put you through. I’ll never understand that. But, Guillermo, I’m really sorry. So, so, sorry.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “I wish I could go back. I wish—”

A flash.

Sharp. White.

Followed by the familiar click of a shutter.

“What the fuck?” Guillermo whipped his head toward the source, blinking against the afterimage. “Did someone just take our picture?”

Nandor turned too, the recognition on his face flickering into something closer to dread. “Shit.”

Another flash.

“Is that what I think it is?” Guillermo asked.

Nandor nodded, hastily wiping his face. “Paparazzi.”

“Fuck,” Guillermo took a step back, shielding his face with his hands. He should’ve brought his briefcase. “This day has officially gone from shit to the second-worst day of my life.”

“I’m sorry,” Nandor said quickly, stepping in front of Guillermo to shield him from the cameras. “I didn’t think—”

“No. Of course you didn’t,” Guillermo snapped. “You never do.”

He turned, ready to bolt—back toward the office, back to routine, to safety, to invisibility—

When.

Flash.

A voice cut through the moment, loud, grating and intrusive.

“Who’s this, Nandor?” one of the paps called out.

Flash.

“Is he your boyfriend?” another chimed in.

Guillermo had almost forgotten that Nandor had come out as pansexual a few years back,

Flash.

“Are we looking at marriage number five?”

Guillermo turned back at that last one.

He’d seen enough in interviews, press clips, TikTok’s, Instagram reels, and Facebook videos how questions or comments about Nandor’s last four failed marriages hurt.

So, without thinking, without hesitation, without consideration of what it could mean—or maybe because of it—Guillermo took Nandor’s hand and started leading him toward the office doors.

“Guillermo,” Nandor said, breathless. “Where are we going?”

“My workplace,” Guillermo replied. “Security won’t let those vultures get past the front desk.”

Once they were inside the lobby, the reality of what he had just done—and that he was, in fact, holding a celebrity’s hand—was staring him right in the face.

Literally.

Security guards. Coworkers. Receptionists. All of them were staring at him. 

Guillermo had spent so long walking around like a ghost that he forgot what it felt like to be seen.

He didn’t know what to do with it, this sudden spotlight, this unbearable awareness of himself, of them.

Them.

Fuck.

He was still holding Nandor’s hand.

He dropped it, and ignored the way Nandor pouted from the loss.

It shouldn’t have been endearing. But it was. Ridiculously so. Always had been.

How many times had he imagined kissing it away?

Now that he thought about it, it was probably too many times to count.

In his room. On the train. In class.

Always when he shouldn’t.

Now though? When he thought he had moved on?

It was worse.

Time to shut that down. 

Guillermo flexed his fingers. Felt a bit like Mr. Darcy for doing it. But after holding Nandor’s hand? 

Yeah. He got it.

“Come on, Miss Bennet,” he said, already walking toward the front desk. “Let’s get you a visitor’s pass.”

“Miss what?” Nandor asked, trailing after him like a confused puppy.

[thebladesmithmuses]

Duck notes the bag, noticing it a little into their walk. He pauses, before carefully shifting her so she's resting on his chest, arm under her to give her support. He is careful taking the bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Once he has it secure, he puts his arm gently on her back and continues to walk.

Poor kid must have run away, and it didn't take a genius to see why she ran away.

Her condition was proof enough of that. At least she didn't seem to be running a fever, though, he couldn't be sure, and even if she wasn't being in this weather wasn't going to help her.

Duck quickened his pace. The sooner they got to the ferry back home the better. She can get into some dry cloths and get checked out to make sure she was alright.

The trek to the ferry and the trip back took about an hour, but Duck made sure to get her a towel and dry her off the best he could. Though, once they got to the island, Duck went straight to his apartment. No detours or straying, the girl needed a warm place and out of those wet clothes. She was young, but luckily Duck still had clothes from when he's boys were young. Damian's were a little big, but Dasu's fit just fine. The boys were up, and of course there were questions and concerns. They all decided it was best to call Dr. Payne and have the kid looked at. It took time, but she did show up.

Ilia felt herself being moved but was too exhausted to protest, she just hoped it was someone friendly. She had a little backpack dangling off of her as she was lifted. Her clothes had some blood stains, though she seemed uninjured aside from the deep burn scar along her neck.

[chutefullofholes]

020. jamming out to a christmas song, and inflicting the pain of holiday songs on someone else. - for Bucky, please 🥹

Their house at the end of the road came into view as Gale turned the truck onto their street, headlights cutting through the early dusk. The Christmas lights their neighbors had put up blinked against the snow, the inflatable reindeer John had convinced him to stick in their own front yard rocking a little from the wind.

Inside the truck John's singing carried over the hum of the engine, and the voice of Bing Crosby's rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas coming through the radio. Gale failed at stifling a laugh when his voice cracked- his husband remaining undeterred and not needing his encouragement anyways when he had his own cheerleader.

"Daddy you needta' do Jingle Bells," Josie piped up from the backseat, leaning forward as much as she could to make her request.

“All right, all right,” John said and grabbed for his phone to queue it up on Spotify.

As he turned the volume up Gale passed their house and made a left to do another loop around the neighborhood.

“Wouldn’t want to cut the show short,” He said, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth when John squeezed his knee.

As the final notes of Jingle Bells faded out Gale guided the truck up the driveway, the motion sensor light above the garage flickering. It needed a new bulb, but the Christmas lights dangling off the roof served the same purpose for now.

Climbing out of the truck after John, the cold bit at his face at the same second Josie barreled into the side of his legs. Snow crunched under all their boots, John shoving his hands in his pockets, grin lingering.

"Not itching for an encore?" He joked and bumped his shoulder, Gale's chuckling.

Josie unfurled from Gale to walk in between them, hopping a little with each step. "I think you sing pretty daddy," She chimed in, giggling at the sight of her breath making clouds in the cold.

"Thank you baby," John said as he ruffled her hair to the extent that he could over her beanie. He stopped just before Gale reached for the door, catching the back of his elbow.

"Hey," He started, teasing edge gone from lowered voice. "You okay?"

Gale paused, his gaze lingering on John’s face for a moment before looking down at Josie, still giggling at the sight of her own breath.

"Yeah, just," He started, wetting his lips and blinking against the snowflakes in his lashes. He glanced down at Josie and back up at John, lump forming in his throat that he couldn't press down. "Good, good to be together,"

John only faltered for a few seconds before he moved his arm up around his shoulders to tug him just a little closer, pressing a kiss to the edge of his forehead. He dropped his voice just enough for Gale to hear as he pulled back, gloved thumb rubbing where it had come to rest on his neck.

"'m glad I stayed too.”

“I’m co-ld,” Josie interrupted, tugging at the side of both their coats, bouncing on her heels.

Gale chuckled softly, as he shifted his focus to typing in the door code. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you, bug. We’re going,”

When he got the door open John brushed ahead of him to lift Josie up over the threshold first, not putting her down inside the house until he'd given her a good spin.

When he set her on her feet Gale took over helping her get her winter layers off, catching John's eyes as he pulled the undid the buttons on her coat. It was the same tenderness he always found when he caught him staring, but there was a flicker of something else there now.

Josie took off running the second she was down to just her dress and tights, Gale standing back up to hang her stuff on the hook, glancing behind himself to make sure she was out of earshot before he spoke.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly and John hummed, as he shed his jacket, dropping it on the bench by the door and reaching out to hold Gale's face in one hand, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

“Mhm,” John replied. “Don't think I've ever been better,”

When John stepped back Gale caught himself thinking about how, not long ago he would've been making himself nauseous trying to work out whether he could believe his husband's own assurances or not.

But Josie’s voice came through from the living room, calling for them both, and the smile that reached his eyes said more than enough to quash that ghost.

Every good day is another day that what you left behind is in the past, his therapist had said a few weeks ago, and Gale had understood what she meant at the time- but her voice in his head had a way of suddenly reaching just a notch deeper.

“Hold your horses, Jos, we’re comin’!” John called out, his voice affectionate as he kicked off his shoes, and leaned in for another kiss before nudging Gale down the hallway toward the sound of their daughter.

Gale exhaled and smiled as he walked ahead of him, his cheeks flushed half from the lingering chill and half from the warmth spreading through him.

[lemondemonpickuplines]

you, yes YOU could become the next greatest LD pickup artist! that is, if you have a couple free minutes and are a fucking loser. just like me! submit your pickup lines today!

to jumpstart your beautiful and creative minds, I've made a list of songs that are yet to have a line under the cutoff. Remember, though, we're only Lemon Demon in name - you're also welcome to post about a Mouth song, a YouTube video, or anything else that speaks to you and that Neil Cicierega is a part of. GOOD LUCK!

Error

Bowling Alley

Wrong

Hazel's Modus Operandi

Idiot Control Now

Pepper and Salt

Holy Bison Beaks

Fire Motif

Elsewhere

Hydroelectric Viking

The Saga of You

Mr Wolfgang

Destructo

Fly Straight

Oz Explodes

Booja Jabooja

Chu Chu Rocket

Switzerland**

Birdhouse In Your Soul

Mold en Mono

What's In The Toaster

Sunbeam Light Show Flower Seed

Musical Chairs

Matches and Nails**

Relativity

Fancy Pants Manifesto

Go To Hollywood

Sick Puppy**

Almond

Bad Idea

Behold the FUTURE

Not Applicable

Roman Robot Statues

Run, Harry, Run

Take a Picture

There's a Robot in My Head

Dead Sea Monkeys

What Will Happen Will Happen

Subtle Oddities

Gonna Dig up Alec Guinness**

Smell Like a Cookie All Day

Eventuality

March of the Living Figments

Lollipops

Bicycle Race

Fuzzy

Bottom Line

Sky Blue Up

I Want to Wake Up

Stampy

Zero Gravity

Mothers All Over the World

Pirate in a Box

How To Poop

Neil.soul

Dinosaurchestra Part One

Archaeopteryx**

This Hyper World

The Too Much Song

Stick Stickly

Princess Unicorn Bunny Kitten Angel

Abraham Lincoln's Head

Funniest

Snakes On a Plane

Turkeys

Kaleidoskull

Gadzooks**

The Afternoon**

Nightmare Fuel

The Wiggles Hate Each Other In Real Life

You Got a Toothache

320x200

Strangelet

Today's Secret Word

While My Keytar Gently Weeps

Treasure Map

Creepy

Super Hey Ya

Prelude to Presents

Spiral of Ants

Geocities

Angelfire

Gravitron

Moon's Request

Cat Hacks

Kubrick and the Beast

WIERDNESS

Everybody Likes You

Christmas Dog

Clark Kent

Degrassi

eBaum's World Dot Com

Fly Away

Happiest Shit Ever

Sorry For the Text Posts

Experiments in VOPM

Happy Songs

Hydoelectric Viking Funeral

It's Gonna Get Weird

Illemonama Polkarama

Magic Dance

MyNewSong

Pokerap

Prince Ali

Robo

Vanilla

Wiry Song

Wolfden Radio

Yellowfish

Zip-up Rap

**the songs with asterisks may or may not already have lines. my blog is old enough now that I struggle to comb through the whole thing, and tagging isn't always perfect. don't worry about re-using a song, though; as long as it's not an egregious duplication of an existing post, you're alright.

also, I only post every few days, so forgive me if it takes a while to get to your submission. sometimes I don't post lines until months after they've been sent in, so if you've submitted and I haven't posted, it may just be lost in my ass-long queue. or i just don't think it's very good. but you have no way of knowing, do you.

[thebladesmithmuses]

Duck Just a remember that you are literally the sweetest person and I hope you have yourself an absolutely fantastic rest of your day, lovely kitty

"..... If you say so."

[thebladesmithmuses]

Jane did smile a bit knowing Elijah at least found a way to sleep a little easier. She knows it hasn't been easy for him. Even if it doesn't happen every night, it's process towards better sleep. Perhaps, in the meantime, she should look for resources to help him if he asks, or if she deems it necessary to suggest.

"I find... that people tend to know themselves better than they realize. While it's not immediately apparent. Even if there is no label for it, you know that it does help you sleep. And if it gives you a sense of safety then I'm glad you both found something that works for you.

How often do you two sleep in the same bed?"

"Actually we did watch that one recently. I forgot how goofy it was," Elijah laughed. "We also both have some trouble with sleeping at times, but we found after a while that being near one another gives us a feeling of safety that just lets us fall asleep easily anywhere. Most nights I toss and turn, struggling with sleep. But being close to my brother seems to make all of that go away."

Part of him wondered why that was. Maybe it was the instability he'd had from years of time apart. Time where too many bad things happened. His face fell, shoulders sagging slightly as he chewed his lip. "I guess it reminds me of when things were simple and easy and safe..."