#Blue Skies Smilin' At Me

[scleramotif]

blue skies smilin at me

[hojiteaversion]

blue skies, smilin' at me

(leo x laia | 2296 words | fluff, alternate meeting | on ao3)

While Laia hadn't visited West Park much, it was more lively than she'd ever seen it. Children shouted in glee on the playground to her left, which didn't seem to bother the old men focused on their chess match nearby. A mother passing by Laia's bench rushed her daughter to eat her popsicle before it melted. Even the dogs seemed louder than usual, playing without any care for the runners using the track.

It was a beautiful, sunny day with a clear sky. No wonder so many people had decided to take advantage of it.

But Laia's attention was mostly occupied by the volleyball match near her. She knew enough to guess who was winning — and even if she hadn't, the team that kept coming together for a quick high five was enough to clue her in. By now, she almost understood the rules of the game. So when the tall, golden copper-haired guy gracefully jumped and slapped the ball into the other's team court, she knew enough to get that he'd scored for his team — again.

"Nice one, Nolan!" someone shouted, and the guy turned, smile radiant.

For a second, his eyes met Laia's, but she averted her gaze, pretending she hadn't been looking. She positioned her pencil above the page on her lap, as if she was considering where to start drawing. In truth, there was no more space on this sheet. It was all filled with sketches of the players — mostly the golden-haired one.

In Laia's defense, it was just practice, and she would never show it to anyone. She hadn't even known she was going to draw anything. She thought she couldn't, at this point, considering how long it had been. But the day was so beautiful that she thought, Maybe I'll have something to say about it.

No one was more surprised than her at the fact that, yes, she actually found something worth committing to the page.

It wasn't just the fact that he was... ridiculously beautiful. It was the way he seemed made to come alive under the sun, his smile bright and inviting; the way he moved his hair out of his face. He was just mesmerizing to watch, and Laia found herself wanting others to see him, too. To feel his presence and the sunny warmth he radiated with every movement. That's what she had been trying to portray.

Looking at the sketches, she wasn't sure she had succeeded. They were messy, as they were supposed to be. They captured his movements, and the anatomy was wonky only in a couple of places. One of her favorites was the doodle of his hands, stretched high to block the incoming ball. But would a hypothetical viewer fall in love with him?

Laia sighed, turned the page, and began afresh, searching around for other beautiful things worthy of being remembered. And, in a way, everyone here was. Everyone had that spark. Everyone looked kind. The day was beautiful, and that was worth celebrating and a miracle in its own right. Imagine that. If someone, centuries from now, saw what Laia was seeing, they, too, would be in love. She wanted to record that.

So she tried. She put it all down, trying to commit the movement and life to page; the trees, the volleyball court — and she tried not to spend too much time perfecting one particular player — the playground, the food stand to her right, the sandy footsteps left behind on the grass. The dogs, the old ladies power walking on the track, the bicycles with their little bells. A couple of girlfriends having a picnic in the distance.

When she was done, she looked at it.

Laia... didn't hate it.

Her heart fluttered in her chest — a stupid reaction to messy lines, she knew, but it had been so long since she hadn't hated something she made. And, true, this wasn't exactly a full original or anything, but it was a first step.

She raised her gaze to the park once more, and saw the golden volleyball player looking at her.

Laia looked away first again, eyes falling on a little boy trying to recapture his dog's leash, and his parents chasing him on top of that. She tried not to laugh, but when she peeked at the court again, he seemed to be smiling too. So.

Someone in the court shouted something before the volleyball hit the man on the head.

Instinctively, Laia almost stood up — but before she found out what she even intended to do, the guy started laughing. His cheeks flushed pink, and Laia couldn't move from her seat even if she wanted to.

God.

Then he smiled at her, and she smiled back.

Someone, a blond bearded guy, patted her favorite player's arm, saying something to him, and the spell broke. Laia managed to tear her gaze away and back down. She absentmindedly added a pretty yellow butterfly who was playing with the flower bushes, ignoring the heat on her cheeks.

It was just a guy. The flutter in her heart would pass. Lastville was big enough that she would probably never see him again, which— Well. There was no way someone that mesmerizing was single anyway, so.

Laia turned the page, once again unsure what to draw next. This park had other interesting subjects, as the previous drawing showed. She forced herself to find them.

She lost herself in the familiar sensation of being enraptured in creation. Trying not to correct herself that much, she just followed the flow of the lines, drawing one subject after the next and trying to portray their beauty. Filling the in-between space with veronica plants, like the pretty ones framing the runner's track.

Laia jumped when someone sat beside her on the bench. Heart racing again, she hid her sketchbook on her chest and looked up.

There he was.

Up close, he was somehow even more captivating. He had freckles — little stars on the expanse of slightly tanned skin. He was just so much more alive than she had been capturing. The lines weren't enough. She needed a world of colors to properly portray him. Sage green for his eyes; fire for his hair, whose tips were slightly dripping as he moved them out of his face; rose pink for his lips, now smiling softly at her.

He had a towel around his shoulders and a clean, baby blue shirt. When had he... had she missed him taking off his shirt?!

Laia wished she wasn't as angry with herself about it as she was.

"Hi. Do you like volleyball?" he asked, the friendliest smile she had ever seen gracing his face and bringing her back from her stupid thoughts.

"A bit," she said, only half-lying. The past hour proved sports could have their appeal. And before he could do something insane, like invite her to the team, Laia hurried to add, "Just watching, though. I'm not very good at playing... anything."

Which he would hopefully never find out was an understatement.

"Right." Little crinkles formed in the corner of his eyes when he smiled. Her fingers suddenly itched to capture that, that genuineness. She hadn't, in her sketches. Not like this. "You're an artist?"

Why, oh why — and how — was he attentive? She was pretty sure she had been discrete!

She hugged the sketchbook closer, as if she could hide it from view.

"No! No, not at all, uh. I'm an art restorer, actually."

He perked up. "Oh, wait, that's really cool! I mean, I don't know much about art." He scratched the back of his head, averting his gaze for just a second before he looked back at her. "But I bet you're one of those people who understands what to look for in a painting."

Laia's heart raced. Intellectually, she understood that if she said something like, It's not that difficult, really. If you'd like, we could go to a museum sometime and I can show you how to do it, and then maybe we could go for coffee afterwards?, then maybe he wouldn't say no.

But the words got jumbled and stuck in her throat. And by the time she got the courage to say it, the moment had passed, and she hated herself.

He continued, though. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Were you drawing us?"

To say no would technically not be a lie, because she hadn't drawn the other players that much, and certainly not all of them. Laia bit her lip, looking away, trying to decide which one would be the least bad option.

But ultimately, she didn't want to lie to him.

"A bit." She hurried to amend, "Just for practice, and just— doodles, really. Not proper drawings. And don't worry, they'll never see the light of day."

He slowly nodded. Then he smiled, playful. "Not even for the muse?"

Laia hated how much she liked that. Her entire being was momentarily thrown in disarray, heat flushing her cheeks, joy speeding her heart. She had to take a deep breath before she could find words again.

"I suppose exceptions can be made." Because, honestly, she wasn't sure how to deny him anything. And while she wasn't necessarily confident in her work, she was curious.

So Laia carefully untucked the sketchbook from her chest, turned back a few pages, double checked the sketches she'd made, and showed him.

She had chosen a double-spread with only him. Random assortment of poses he'd struck while playing the game filled the second page, but a single drawing occupied the entire first one — him facing the viewer and laughing, hand keeping the hair out of his face. What it lacked in detail, she had made up in feeling and in technique, she thought. It was the closest she had gotten to rendering his light on paper and pencil.

As he watched the pages, she watched him. He looked so serious, careful. Seemingly unconsciously, he raised his fingertips to the page, but stopped before he made contact. For a second, he seemed to blink in recognition, like she did whenever she recognized the style of a painting or a signature mark, but it faded as quickly as it'd come.

Still, he slowly smiled (there it was again, that genuineness), eyes darting around the sketches, but coming back to that first one. She hoped he could feel the care she'd taken.

"Well"—he cleared his throat—"I mean no offense to your profession, but if you're not an artist, then I don't understand the art world."

That startled a little laugh out of her, and now his smile was directed at her. Laia had to resist the urge to look away, not because she didn't want to look, but because his attention was so— intense, so addictive.

"I'm Leo, by the way."

It suited him. She liked it.

"Laia."

"So, Laia," he said, mischief evident in his tone. "I don't have art that can be restored, I don't think. But, I heard that artists sometimes do, like, patronages? Like, that thing where"—his cheeks were beginning to turn rosier, and Laia fell a little more in love—"where a client pays for something specific?"

She waited a second before replying, just to mess with him. "Yes, I know what you mean."

Relieved, his grin came back. "Oh, right, of course." He scratched the back of his head again. "Do you work with those?"

No. Not at all.

"Yes! What were you thinking?"

Was this unprofessional?

...Nah. In a way, if she was taking more work, it was more professional, really.

"Right, so," Leo took his phone out of his pocket, and quickly swiped a few times before handing it to her. "My cat. He's been sad lately. I thought a portrait could maybe cheer him up? Would that be, like, possible?"

On the screen was Leo, smiling for the camera and clad in a tight navy shirt that made her swallow. In the photo, he was holding a Sphynx cat who seemed as hostile as his human master was friendly. The cat looked like he almost knew he was being photographed, and that he didn't like it at all. It almost made her smile.

"Sad?" she repeated, trying to continue the conversation.

"Yeah. Nosferatu has been away from his family too long, I think." Leo frowned. Clearly this had been a long-standing problem for them.

"I like his name." The mental image of the kitty dressed in a gothic vampire outfit, cape and all, delighted her. Maybe she could draw it for them as a bonus.

Leo grinned at the compliment to his cat.

"So, how does it work?" Leo rested an elbow on the back of the bench.

Laia explained the basics to the best of her abilities for someone who hadn't done this job since junior year of college. And while Laia quickly explained the different materials she could use (and tried and failed not to feel smug by how impressed he was), she tried to decide if she should ask him out. She... really wanted to. Everything in her wanted to take the chance and see where this could go.

Laia had already screwed up asking him once. She didn't allow herself to do it again. And since she wasn't technically an artist, then, technically it wasn't unprofessional when she added, "And, since we live in the same town, I could do a live drawing, if you'd like? It would help me get a better feel for the cat's, uh, personality..."

It sounded weak to her, but Leo brightened further. "Yes, that sounds perfect! Just tell me when and where."

Her heart raced, her lips involuntarily mirroring his smile. Laia might actually have a chance, and she wouldn't waste it.

[silverae]

This is Us S04EP18 Strangers: Part Two

DR. K.: So, you're having trouble thinking about the child that you lost, and you thought that the old man might have some words of wisdom. Yeah, that's, uh... that's it in a nutshell.  Hmm. I did the thing about the lemons already, right?

- You did. You did. Uh... A year ago today.

- Hmm. Damn. 'Cause that was a good one

- Yeah. It had a... sizable impact on our lives.

- JACK: Mm-hmm. 

I-I think I told you last year, Jack, that my wife and I lost our first child. 

Yeah, mm-hmm. 

-Well, imagine me way back then, if you can, full of hope, - full head of hair, expecting my first child.  

I used to sing to my wife's pregnant belly. Never had much of a voice, but that didn't stop me. My go-to was, uh, "Blue Skies". 

You know that one? 

Uh... ♪ Blue skies smilin' at me ♪ ♪ Nothin' but blue skies ♪ ♪ Do I see ♪ ♪ Bluebird singin' a song ♪ ♪ Nothin' but blue skies ♪ ♪ From now on. ♪ 

I sang that song every day to my unborn child. And then we lost that child. 

For the first month after that, my wife and I would... sit in our den and listen to that song on our scratchy old record player over and over and over again. It made us so sad. It was like we were punishing ourselves. Yeah. 

But then one day, my wife got pregnant again. And to my great surprise, I found myself singing that very same song to that very same belly. And then, years later, I'd dance with my daughter to that song at her wedding. 

That song. Ah. It made us happy, it made us sad, it made us happy again. The whole human experience just wrapped up in that one song. 

Hospitals are kind of like that, you know. These bizarre buildings where people experience some of their greatest joys and... some of their most awful tragedies. 

All under one roof. I think the trick is... not trying to keep... the joys and the tragedies apart. But you kind of got to let 'em cozy up to one another. You know, let 'em coexist. 

(...)

And I think that...

...if you can do that, if you can manage to forge ahead with all that joy and heartache mixed up together inside of you, never knowing which one's gonna get the upper hand...

And, well, life does have a way of shaking out to be more beautiful than tragic. Not as good as the lemon thing, but it's the best I can do at short notice.

[theoldbone]

Blue Skies Smilin' At Me; Conserving A Henry Ranger Seascape

[ukiyokki]

mars reads too much dreamnotfound fanfiction for their own good

a dreamnotfound fanfic recommendation list by your resident dumbass (me)

this took way to fucking long... i’m tired

below is a (very extensive) list dedicated to all my favorite dnf fics, ranging from quick one shots to 100k+ word monstrosities that devour the storage on my computer, forever incomplete masterpieces to ongoing works of art, you get the idea. i provided links for each fic/series for your reading pleasure. there will be no smutty/nsfw fics on this list, that’s just not my vibe lmao. this list goes in no particular order, and i’ll update it from time to time when i feel like it. now, without further ado, let us begin.

Heat Waves (complete) by tbhyourelame

(wtf else did you expect, looking at a dnf rec list?) amazingly well written, and while it’s not my favorite dnf fic it’s damn near close. in the midst of a brutal heatwave, a suffering dream comes to terms with the fact that he is desperately in love with his best friend. everything i could say about this fic has already been said by nearly everyone who’s read it, so if you haven’t yet caved into the hype, just go for it. you won’t be disappointed.

Gonna be around (completed) by georgescatcafe

(mc irl) my favorite dnf oneshot to date. just read it, i don’t wanna spoil for you :)

Inferno in the Sky (ongoing)by zairielon

(star wars au) an ongoing star wars au currently clocking in at almost 200k words. need I say more? everything about it absolutely slaps, each chapter is amazingly written, and it’s just good. also, can we just appreciate dream and tubbos dynamic in here? 10/10, amazing, must protecc. oh right, a summary: george, an exiled padawan turned engineer, must return to the jedi temple after attacks on it from an unknown assailant threaten the safety of himself and the other jedi.

Like Magic (ongoing) by KangarooKen, NotGra55 (Gra55)

(harry potter au) the unofficial official dnf harry potter au. we watch the young unlikely wizard pair grow up together throughout their years at hogwarts as they battle good old fashioned wizard racism. beautifully written, incredibly fun and suspenseful, and just an overall blast and a half.

GeorgeNotFound, Son of Poseidon, and the League of Minor Gods (ongoing) by Clichewho_69, Cygnvs, Trash_Kinggg

(percy jackson au) percy jackson au? check. “road trip” (technically quest but u get what i mean)? check. enemies to friends to lovers? check. this fic follows the plot of the lightning theif (albeit loosely), but everything is explained enough where you don’t have to read percy jackson to understand what’s going on. basically after moving to the usa, george gets taken to camp halfblood where he learns that a) gods exist. b) he’s the son of poseidon and c) he needs to prove that he didn’t steal zeus’s master bolt.

Protected (completed) by aenqua

(royalty/camelot au) my favorite piece of dnf media of all time. dubbed the official dnf camelot au, where dream is the heir to the throne and george is a servants son with a secret that couldp get him killed. these childhood friends grow up together and learn trust, love, and acceptance. (that summary did not justice to the masterpiece that is this fic) here’s the directors cut

The Hunter (completed) by HederEgo

(mc irl) a choose your own adventure fic with 13 different endings, where dream the hunter must kill george and stop him from beater the ender dragon. enough said.

The official dream team cowboy AU (series)(ongoing) by antsu_in_my_pantsu

(cowboy au) cowboys and outlaws horses and shit. and the big gay. it’s a cowboy au, what else did you expect? fucking yee haw (all seriousness this is a great read, i loved it so so so so much and i can’t wait for the final chapter to release).

This is a Drista moment, let's just accept it (completed) by Qekyo

dnf fic from drista pov. considering its unique perspective, it’s perfectly done. beautifully showcases a sibling relationship through drista and her memories/moments with dream, and it just works, y’a know? also drista supremacy.

Dear Dream (completed) by Qekyo

(wwii au) i don’t cry when watching/reading anything sad. translation: i’m a heartless bitch. however, this fic is the only exception. it caused me to cry so hard my mom walked in my room and asked if i was ok. ‘nuff said.

TECHNOlogical Wingman (completed) by Closeted_Bookworm

techno is the autocorrect ai on dreams phone, and he gains sentience. interesting concept, and the author fucking nailed it. great fic.

It Was Only a Fic (ongoing) by imagineitdear

dream starts reading a dnf fanfic (we’ve all been there buddy).

Teacher’s Pet (ongoing) by niyuha

(teacher au) in which dream is a high school english teacher and george is the new comp sci teacher in room 297.

Saltwater Secrets (ongoing) by earlgay_milktea

(mermaid/high school au) a great example of the shear amount of variety in fics this fandom has to offer. when i started reading dnf fics i would have never thought i’d find one about a mermaid george hopelessly crushing on his human friend, who happens to be his schools star swimmer. yet here i am, and i am far from disappointed.

Smash My Heart (incomplete) by dontrollthedice

george and sapnap are commentators for duper smash brothers tournaments, and george develops a crush on an up and coming smash streamer named dream.

roleplaying in the dark is harder than it seems (completed) by Alienu

laser tag. 10/10

solar system (completed) by quartzfia

(mc irl) george vists dream in pandora’s vault.

Ramblings of a Lunatic (completed) by jungkooksfic

ahh communicating through a notebook left on a shelf in a bookstore- what a perfect way to start a relationship.

Paint me like your French Girls (It's Charcoal, Actually) (completed) by Turtle_ier

(artist au) george is an art student, and dream is a model.

00:00:00 (completed) by isleofdreams

(soulmate au) 00:00:00 is the moment you meet your soulmate, as indicated but the clock ticking down on your wrist until the moment you meet. i’m not a fan of soulmate aus; this fic is the exception.

Blue Skies Smilin' At Me (completed) by kivy

(artist au) i don’t usually cry while reading stuff, but this brought me damn near close. george is a painting conservator and chats it is with the ghost of the artist if the painting he is working on. they fall in a love.

Current Location (incomplete) by hendollana

(influencer au) george simps for a hot american instagram model. who knew he’d actually follow back?

The Withering (series) (series ongoing, 1 work completed) by App1e_Juice

(mc irl) lore and world building and fight scenes and everything i crave. what’s not to love? something starts making the plants and crops around dreams village wither, and must team up with new friends to find the cause of the mysterious disease plaguing the land.

Minecraft, But You Can't Leave (complete) by facadecake

(mc irl) dream and george are sucked into their own private minecraft world together and must beat the game to escape.

Free The Game, Beat the End (incomplete) by goatgoatwasfound

(mc irl) a glitch in minecraft causes thousands of players from around the world to be trapped inside minecraft, with only one way of escape- beating the ender dragon. first dnf fic i ever read, and it’s still 10/10 for me.

Why don't you come a little closer? (completed) by lifeofandoms

george gets stood up by a date, and Dream pretends he’s the date to save george from the embarrassment. simply adorable.

lightning bug (completed) by saintachesP

(band au) while on tour, dream realizes his feeling for george.

Hold me closer (completed) by Treesofmyheart

(mc irl/dsmp) i just,, really like this trope.

Dizzy on caffeine (completed) by GleamingGreenGoggles

(coffee shop au) best dnf coffeeshop au i’ve read. periodt.

living a life of crime isn’t always easy (series) (completed) by itisjosh

(mafia/assassin au) stockholm syndrome except it’s not weird.

Inhibitions Make Interesting Situations (completed) by Ship_On_The_Sea

i pissed myself laughing. it’s just a dream and george being hilariously dense, flustered idiots. serotonin central.

thy eternal summer shall not fade (completed) by gracequills

(high school au) that moment when you recite shakespeare to your crush in your ap lit class instead of confessing (hate it when that happens).

All is Fair in love and Football (ongoing) by graciegirl2001

(college au) #1 favorite college au. in which george is a cheerleader, and dream is the football teams rising star player. this one gets extra points because of the amazing karlnap moments sprinkled throughout. *chefs kisses air*

online love (completed) by andbutso

(high school au) online classes go zoooooooom

Can’t help falling (completed) by isleofdreams

dream re-learns the guitar to sing to george on his birthday. beautiful. fluffy. amazing

dance in the rain and my arms (completed) by lazy_kitkat

george is a rain god, and dream is a wind god

Weather Boy (completed) by DaintyDiizzle

wouldn't you like to know, weather boy? (where dream can control the rain)

The color orange (completed) by anon

(mc irl) dream describes the colors of a sunset

Family Mode (completed)by Strawberry_flavoured_tears

they’re dads :,)

Breathing Room (incomplete) by papercranes

(band an) an amazing band au. the mad lad author wrote original songs for each chapter. above and beyond, mad props :). unfortunately, it’s incomplete

Piece of Clay (completed) by carbonbrine

(artist au) george is a sculptor and his sculpture comes to life- but oh no he’s hot.

Try (completed) by Not4typicalwriter

(royalty au) george must choose a suitor, but none of them are up to dream, his head knights, standards. or dream is hella jelly. also protective dream is perfect

When the Roses Bloom (completed) by HederEgo

(royalty au) close second for my favorite fic. go to royalty au for a quick serotonin bost. it’s all fluff and flowers and crushes, and i love it. criminally underrated.

Heavenstruck (ongoing) by dontrollthedice

george is dreams guardian angel, and dream want to find out more about him and his past life. bittersweet :,)

Bang and Burn (completed) by App1e_Juice

(spy au) george accidentally falls for target number 1 on sapnap’s secret agency’s hit list. this ones great, i love me a spy au :)

Can I get a uhh… (completed) by lemonskies

dream keeps pulling up to the drive through mcdonald’s that george works at drunk.

Pretty Stranger (completed) by anon

when looking for dream in the terminal, george sees a cute guy and decides to flirt.

Take my Hand (completed) by latinbias

(royalty au) another royalty au? poggers. surprise twists? double poggers. love this a lot.

seconds, minutes, hours, lifetimes (complete) by meridies

ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP *inhales to compose herself* roadtrip au. unrequited love, ignored feelings, longing, pining, you know the drill. absolutely love this one, its the best roadtrip au i have ever read, in any fandom. (maybe cause i identify with it a little too much, but thats not important. whats important is that you read this fic. right now. im waiting).

Message redacted (complete) by justyouraverageloser

(text fic) dream asks for a girls number and realises hes been given the wrong number. however, an unexpected relationship starts to form between him and the stranger on the other end of the line.

the waves (completed) by anon

(mc irl) this fic was written by the same anon who wrote the color orange, which is up there on my fav dnf oneshot list. dream and george know they have a higher purpose. they don’t know where they came from, or why they are seemingly the only humans in the world, or how they feel about eachother, or even where the skeletons come from, but they are sure of one thing: they have to beat a dragon.

The Dream Doll (completed) by PeppDream (Pep_Pizza)

(voodoo i guess) i’m a real big fan of fics with really out there or unique concepts, so naturally this one makes the cut! i really liked it, it’s really sweet and made me think a lot about what matters to me in the world. george finds a strange doll in an antique shop, and would really like to just stuff it in a drawer and forget about it. sadly (?), the doll has other plans.

last updated February 6th, 2021

[literaphobe]

ghost fic rec ! they never fuck but they do fall in love and it's beautiful 👌

blue skies smilin' at me by kivy

OOH 2k+ kudos that’s crazy i mean not that a fic’s quality is measured by the kudos i just filter by kudos and am pleasantly surprised i’ve never seen this before

[likepine]

Blue skies smilin’ at me

Nothin’ but blue skies do I see

[lightns881]

Hoo boy school has been a big pain in the arse. Hope you’re doing well !

Blue Skies Smilin’ At Me by kivy is a story that I keep going back to. I’m not entirely sure why, but it holds a special place in my heart :)

Word count: 17,738

Ghost Dream watches George bring his old painting back to its former glory. A little bit of angst but it hurts in a good way.

-🃏

I've read it!!! Oh man I remember this story made me cry at the end, it was so beautiful and well written, so worth it though! 😭

The ghost x human trope is one I don't see very often, and it was used deliciously on this fic. Even though it takes place during a short time, it's such a good pacing and you can really see how they connect throughout it. It's so adorable! Security guard Sapnap is also a nice addition as a side character.

This story honestly deserves a lot more than it's gotten! Go check it out y'all :)

Also, doing awesome, thanks for the amazing rec as usual!

[dnffanfic]

paranormal fic recs ? ex george like hunts ghost and dream is a ghost he encounters

hi anon! thanks for stopping by, here's some that i found! - Mint (Admin 2)

- Liminal Spaces (natsucks, ~10k words, rated M): https://archiveofourown.org/works/31138703

"If you're not careful and you no-clip out of reality in the wrong areas, you'll end up in the Backrooms, where it's nothing but the stink of old moist carpet, the madness of mono-yellow, the endless background noise of fluorescent lights at maximum hum-buzz, and approximately six hundred million square miles of randomly segmented empty rooms to be trapped in. God save you if you hear something wandering around nearby, because it sure as hell has heard you…"

- Piece of Clay (carbonbrine, ~14k words, NOT RATED): https://archiveofourown.org/works/24508102/chapters/59162446

"George and Sapnap are artists—the former sculpts and the latter paints—in their two-studio house. George has been working on a life-size sculpture for around a month or so, and when finally piecing him together, he comes alive. Coming from the Greek myth, Pygmalion, the sculpture he names Dream makes himself at home."

- Blue Skies Smilin' At Me (kivy, ~17k words, rated G): https://archiveofourown.org/works/27107596/chapters/66193198

"At winter's arrival, conservator George receives a new painting to work his magic on... and is quick to learn that paint and grime aren't the only things the painting brings with it.

Along with reversing the years of neglect embedded on its surface, George finds himself tasked with entertaining (and totally not flirting with) the painting's original artist: an uncharacteristically talkative 19th-century ghost who calls himself Dream."

[krankittoeleven]

Blue skies, smilin' at me Nothin' but blues skies do I see Bluebirds singing a song Nothin' but bluebirds all day long

[stupidredsuspenders]

top 5 beejhawk songs back atcha

ohh this was fun!! thanks hazel <3

Calico Skies - Paul McCartney | long love all of us crazy soldiers / who were born under calico skies / may we never be called to handle / the weapons of war we despise / I’ll hold you as long as you like / I’ll hold you for the rest of your life. I stand by my thoughts that this is the most beejhawk song to ever exist

I’ll Come Running (To Tie Your Shoes) - Brian Eno | I sit playing solitaire by the window / just waiting, seasons changing / you’ll see one day these dreams will pull you through my door / and I’ll come running to tie your shoes

Riches and Wonders - The Mountain Goats | You find shelter somewhere in me / I find great comfort in you / And I keep you safe from harm / You hold me in your arms / And I want to go home / but I am home

That Thing You Do! - The Wonders | And you / Don’t mean to be cruel / You never even knew about the heartache / I’ve been going through / Well I try and try to forget you, girl / But it’s just so hard to do / Every time you do that thing you do

We’ll Meet Again - The Ink Spots | But I do know that we’ll meet again some sunny day / So honey, keep on smilin’ through / just like you always do / ‘Till the blue skies drive all the dark clouds far away

[etherealsaul]

‪♪ Blue skies smilin’ at me, nothin’ but skies do I see ♪ ‬

[driftwoodthrone]

Isa Briones - Blue Skies (Cover), Star Trek: Picard 

Blue skies smilin' at me Nothin' but blue skies do I see Bluebirds singin' a song Nothin' but bluebirds all day long...

[dahj-soji-source]

“Blue skies smilin’ at me

Nothing but blue skies do I see”

Star Trek: Picard main cast in the NYCC trailer (x) and the “Blue Skies” TV spot (x)

[asparrowandaswann]

C2: RETURN TO SHIPWRECK COVE. PART 3#

The room was small and bare, with a bed which she could tell from a glance creaked terribly. A chest of drawers, empty. A chair with a woven seat stood against the wall. A small table sat in the corner, an old pot of ink, but no papers, no quill. An inch-thick layer of dust covered everything, as Teague had warned. No one had entered this room for quite some time. She could find nothing personal. Nothing which could tell her about Jack, from when he was simply Jackie. Jackie Teague. The boy before the legend. A pang of disappointment gripped her stomach. She had hoped to know him better. Something of his childhood which he would never have told her himself.

Nevertheless, the room smelled of him. As though he had just left the room. Something spiced, a vague hint of sandalwood, and... sweat. Quite overpoweringly of sweat, in fact, considering he hadn't set foot in the room for Lord knows how long. And there was something else... something...

Elizabeth moved towards the bed, the bedding seeming to be the source of the smell, as, where else could his scent be coming from? She pulled back the covers gingerly, and gasped, leaping back. Blood. Dark, old, blackened blood. With a brave sweep, she pulled away the thin blankets entirely. The bed was soaked through. Or had been, some time ago.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Yes?" Her voice broke. She couldn't take her eyes off the blood, wondering whose it was, and hoping to God that it wasn't Jack's.

The door inched open with a creak, and when she turned, she saw a little man, grey and slightly bowed, backing into the room, carrying a stack of linens in his arms as he pushed the door open with his shoulder.

"'ere y'are, yer Kingly-ness." His voice was smooth and grandfatherly, and as he turned, kind blue eyes caught her worried gaze, following it to the bed. The man shook his head sadly. "Aye, t'was a bad time, that."

"What happened here?"

The man placed the bedding down on the wicker chair, taking a moment first to wipe away the best of the dust with a rather soiled handkerchief.

"I've been 'ere since Jackie were a wee lad." He explained, stripping the bloodstained bedding away as he did so. "I was born int' piratin', but truth be told, never been much good a' sea. Much prefer land, so I found myself 'ere, amongst me own, withou' 'avin' t' do much wot pirates be doin'. The lad weren' like tha', though. It surprised no one when 'e ran off t' the sea the momen' 'e turned four'een, withou' so much as a 'bye, pops' to ol' Teague. 'E'd come back now and then, though... always sportin' an injury which needed seein' t'."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. So it was Jack's blood.

"Aye, Miss." The man said, seeing her worry. "There were one particular night... nigh ten years ago or so, now. The boy came stumblin' back, 'avin' sailed 'ere in a little scrap of a boat, with a man named Gibbs. 'Is only crew a' the time, though if you'd seen this boat of 'is, 'e were in no need of a crew. It were small enough to be manned alone. No, 'e'd lost 'is ship, the Pearl, quite recently, in fact, and was still cut up about it. Loves that ship like a mistress, 'e does. So, Gibbs practically carried 'im up 'ere, up the hill, screamin' the whole way for a doc'or. Obviously, place like this, we 'ave one, an' we give 'm enough business to keep 'im 'ere. Doc'or Grove, is 'is name. 'E saw to the lad. 'E'd been shot, twice." The man patted his chest, just over his heart. "T'was a near miss. A few inches further south an'... Well, Teague were furious with 'im. The lad 'ad 'ad a pistol, after all, but 'e'd refused to use it. 'That bullet weren' mean' fer 'im, Dad', 'e kept sayin'. Never seen old Teague so mad, I ain'." Taking the straw mattress, which was also stained straight through, he carried it out into the hallway, returning moments later with a replacement. "This were pillaged just a week ago from a fine Spanish galleon. Should be more fittin' for a King." It was too large for the small bed frame, hanging limply onto the floor, but Elizabeth was grateful all the same.

"I've seen Jack's scars." Elizabeth confessed, thinking back to their time on the island, having been mutinied by Barbossa. She thought of the dark cloud which had crossed Jack's gaze as he had drawn back his sleeves. "How on Earth did he survive?"

The man glanced towards the skies. "Miracle, I reckon. That lad's seen 'is fair share. Someone's smilin' down at 'im, scoundrel though 'e is. 'E must 'ave charmed an angel in a prior life, I reckon. Nah, 'e pulled through by the skin of 'is teeth. I s'pose no one thought to change the beddin'. 'e only ever comes by with some injury or other, when this is the closest friendly bit of land with a doc'or. Whatever 'e lies on would only get soiled again anyway." He busied himself, tucking fine sheets - no doubt taken also from a fine galleon - as best he could under the oversized mattress, and fluffing a fresh goose pillow.

"And that was the last time? That Jack was here?"

"Aye." He brushed his hands together as he stood back to admire his work. "Though..." His face froze, and he half-turned, smiling at Elizabeth with a glint in his cornflower-blue eyes. "Now I come to think of it, there were one other time since. Quite recen'ly, in fact. Couple years back. 'E'd just gotten 'is Pearl back, I believe, an' it were once again ol' Gibbs who brought Jack 'ere, the lad staggerin' an' shoutin' that 'e didn' need no doc'or, 'e just needed 'is Pearl, but Gibbs knew best, as always."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. That must have happened since they had met, after she had watched him from the battlements of Port Royal, sailing into the distance. "What happened?"

"Fever. 'E'd caught summit nasty from some tribe, an' it were burnin' through him. Delirious, 'e were. Rantin' an' ravin' one minute, weepin' into the pillow, the next." He was eying Elizabeth curiously now, watching her. She shifted uncomfortably. "After all 'e'd survived before, no one doubted for a moment that 'e wouldn't pull through. A legend like 'e's carved out for 'imself, 'e could 'ardly go down to a fever, now, could 'e? But it were a nasty sickness, all the same. I remember one evenin', the night before the fever broke, I came in carryin' a tray of broth, to try an' get summit into 'im, an' there were no one else there at the time but the doc'or. The lad were sleepin', so it seemed, but 'e were mutterin' t' 'imself, nonsense, as always, an' neither the doc'or nor I paid it much mind, until..." He stepped closer to Elizabeth now, his voice dropping to a mere whisper. "'E started speakin' a name."

A coil tightened in Elizabeth's gut. "A name?"

"Aye. Name of a woman. Chantin' it, quiet, like, under 'is breath. Now, it caught my attention because I know the lad not to be the settlin' sort. 'E's 'ad 'is flirtations, sure, but no one 'as ever truly caught 'is eye, to my knowledge. The doc'or noticed too, an' asked me if I recognised the name. I said I didn'. 'E stopped as soon as 'e started, an' 'e woke the next mornin', past the worst of it."

Elizabeth licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know. Obviously Jack had had his fair share of women, but to think that one would leave her mark enough for him to speak her name during his delusions. But of course, her curiosity was too great.

"What was the name?"

The man smirked. "Lizabeth."

Her face burned, and for a moment she lost herself, her mouth gaping with shock. He had spoken her name. They had parted ways, and yet he had chanted her name, calling for her, perhaps dreaming of her under the heavy sleep of fever. What could that mean, besides...?

Pulling her lips into a pout of indignation, she stepped back sharply. "Common enough name. No doubt the whorehouses of Tortuga are teaming with Elizabeths and Lizzys and Elizas and... I'd thank you not to look at me that way." She snapped at his knowing gaze. "And to keep any gossiping thoughts to yourself."

The man mimicked drawing a line across his lips in an oath of silence. "Believe me, Miss, with all that goes on 'ere, that would be one of the more mundane tidbits, anyway."

Still not convinced, she asked warily. "What is your name?"

"Perkins, Miss." He didn't bow, as the gentlemen of Port Royal would have. This was the Kingdom of Pirates, after all. "Pleasure's all mine."

She nodded her head curtly. "Thank you for replacing the bed. I think... I shall sleep now."

The bid him goodnight, locking the door behind him.

Sitting heavily onto the bed, the mattress dipping dangerously off the side of the bed-frame, she thought about all she had learnt that night. She imagined Jack, in this very room, as a young boy desperate to follow the call of the sea, until the urge had been too strong to resist any longer. She imagined him on this bed, writhing in agony while a doctor pulled the bullets from his chest. So much blood had been lost. How on earth had he survived? She imagined him bathed in sweat, sleeping in the bloodstains of his last visit, chanting for her, calling for her. She imagined herself, water bowl in hand, dabbing with a cloth at his brow, soothing him. Clinging to his hand as the doctor performed his crude surgery on his wounds. Stroking his hair as the wounds were cleaned with precious rum, and cauterised with red hot metal. She imagined them both, in this bed, whispering to each other...

Oh, you hussy. Her husband not but a few hours gone, and already she was picturing herself with another man. And not just any man. That man.

God, ten years was a long time, indeed. Her body had been awakened to sensual realities of womanhood, and she knew that she couldn't wait ten years. But as for him... no, she'd have to steer clear of him. Jack was as much a danger to her heart as to her body. He would worm his way into her heart, and stay there. And she must protect Will's heart, above all else. Protect it within her own.

But as for physical pleasure... she resolved again to find a way of communicating with Calypso. After all, all men took lovers, why not a Pirate King?

Removing her heavily armoured coat and belt, she slipped beneath the covers in her black dress, placing her effects on the ground, within easy reach. Glancing again to check the lock of the door, her hand skimmed over her thighs, her fingers travelling to that secret part of her. A part of her still sore from her hasty honeymoon. Flashes of images raced through her mind as she touched herself. A pair of dark, kind eyes. Strong, calloused hands on her bare waist. Her fingers tracing over a scar on a man's chest. Soft, greedy lips tasting her own. A wry smirk. A glint of gold.

Tipping herself into ecstasy, she let the night take her, and let her exhaustion claim her.

[idonei]

🎵🎶Blue skies smilin' at me- Nothin' but blue skies do I see. Bluebirds singin' a song- Nothin' but blue skies from now on… -the one and only, Willie😎 (at Fort Worth, Texas) https://www.instagram.com/p/CC6SIeQHh9d/?igshid=zpxhvhtyuga