#flybxy

[bertievi]

💡

Send 💡 for a plot idea I have for our muses

💡  - WWI flying training with Albert ‘Johnson’ in Cranwell? Or or or Serving on the continent with ‘Captain Johnson’?

💡  - Or another idea is returning home and sharing experiences over a drink either in the 20s or if you want, when he’s King. He’s always happy to talk to people but he is especially happy to talk to those in the military.

[wwxnka]

“All the world’s a stage, my good sir; although, with that in mind, I can’t help but sense that I’m overcrowding yours a little...or you’ve just taken an intense interest in my tie. Which is it to be?”

@flybxy​ liked this for a one-liner.

[eternlle]

                                                    @flybxy​  asked :    18                                    literally just bully my muse   ( accepting!! )

18.    put my muse on your muse’s shoulders

as soon as her feet leave the ground, she’s kicking like a wild thing, thrashing and screaming fit to shatter his eardrums.   were any part of him within biting range, he would be in mortal danger.     as it is, evelyn can do considerably little damage, slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

❝  don’t you dare! ❞     she hollers, and throws in a few very unladylike embellishments for good measure.     ❝  i’ll take you down with me!  i’ll  --- ❞

she would have probably done something very heroic, and exceedingly dramatic, if allowed half the chance.   wisely, jack doesn’t give it.   before evelyn knows what’s happening, she’s off his shoulder, and flailing through the air   ---   landing with a massive splash into the body of water over the edge of the embankment.

it is a long moment before she resurfaces, drenched  ---  dark hair dripping in her face, waterlogged skirt and blouse clinging to her in a distinctly unflattering way.   she looks like a drowned rat   ;   the death glare she aims up the embankment, dead upon jack, suggests this rat has claws.

❝ come in here, ❞         she declares,        ❝  so i can drown you.   otherwise i’ll drag you in myself, straight to the damned bottom. ❞

[pyrrhicwon]

@flybxy said:  𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜’ 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙

[colpapabear]

@flybxy mistletoe cause w h y n o t

"Are you waiting for someone under there or just hopeful about the prospects, colonel?".

It might have been the drinks running through his system or simply the sudden lifting of responsibility from upon the young man's shoulders, but regardless of what the cause may be, Jack wasn't in his usual standoffish mood when it came to the American man. After all, they all deserved the chance to enjoy the season.

"Doubt you'll find any pretty young lass swooning over the uniform around 'ere."

Rob, one hand in the pockets of his pants, the other holding a small glass of something looked up with a confused frown. It was only then he spotted he’d been standing around uselessly underneath a bit of mistletoe. Oh. 

Shrugging easily, he decided to go with it. “Never stop hoping, Collins,” he answer and took a sip. “Maybe Santa got my wishlist after all and Rita Hayworth’s already on her way over here.”

[colpapabear]

@flybxy "if you're in there, can you just knock three time so i know you're still alive?

George wasn’t aware at first of just how far his focus had drifted away from the cramped area he’d somehow settled down in to rest; a never ending list of things repeating over in his mind while simultaneously taking a mental note of whatever duties he had left to attend to before he could finally call it a day, if that was even a possibility. He didn’t hear the mumbled voice at first or really register that someone was trying to get his attention. It didn’t click entirely until he heard the query as to whether the officer truly was deceased instead of simply enjoying the break in the action.

“ Didn’t anyone ever tell you to just let sleeping dogs lie?” He muttered, pale blue eyes flickering open and upwards to take stock of the new guy with a less than pleased expression.

“ And who might you be?”.

An amused smile tucked at the corner of Rob’s mouth at the irritable response. “Major Robert Hogan,” he introduced himself easily. He’d just arrived in the UK a few days ago and thought that by all accounts he should be the one sleeping, considering the jarring time difference to home. 

“Just checking you’re not dead but by all means, go back to sleeping on the job, pal.” He waved him off with a small laugh. “I’ll find somebody else to show me around.”

[wwxnka]

@flybxy​ asked: “  do  you  recognize  any  constellations  tonight ?  "

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑫𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑰𝑻𝒀 || 𝑨𝑪𝑪𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮!

THE SKY ABOVE WAS WONDERFULLY CLEAR. It had been Collins’ idea to indulge in a night under the stars - behaviour he himself hadn’t undetaken in a remarkably long time - and, not wishing to bring about disappointment, had happily accepted, provided that they sought shelter the very moment it started to rain and not a second later.

AND SO, HERE THEY BOTH WERE, SETTLED ON A GRASSY HILL, LYING ON KNITTED BLANKETS, THEIR EYES FIXATED ON THE DIAMONDS ABOVE THEM. It was at this point that the other man had asked his question - the blonde could feel his stare upon him as he did so - and, pausing for a moment, aimed a point of his finger.

“Well...that one looks a little like a squiggle - oh, and that one looks like a zigzag! Can you see that? Stunning, aren’t they?”

[conquistadoradelmar]

" Come dance with me! A little rain never hurt anyone!".

@flybxy

She resists a moment longer, lingering in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and a smile on her lips as she laughs, lingering because she wants to watch him for a moment longer, to watch him and wonder if he knows the power he holds over her, the way the smile he’s wearing makes her heart ache with love for him. He has a way of inciting a mad recklessness within her and, in this moment, it makes her imagine pulling him inside and frantically freeing him of his soggy uniform, fingertips slipping hastily over buttons, pushing damp linen over broad shoulders, the warmth of him against her, and the taste of water upon his skin. That’s the Catholic within her, she surmises, that desire to taste the almighty, bread and wine, body and blood, the transubstantiation of man into God ( which is what Jack might as well be to her ). Blasphemous? Yes. But this whole war is an exercise in sin and hers, she wagers, is but a minor infraction in comparison. 

She steps out into the rain, turns her face to the sky, and flings her arms out wide. The rain feels clean as it seeps through her clothes and wets her skin. She waits until she’s dripping wet before she throws herself into his arms in a mess of soaking clothes and sopping hair, laughing like a madman. Her arms are wrapped around his shoulders, her legs clinging to his waist, forehead pressed to his and eyes filled with laughter. ❝ ¡Bueno, bailamos! ❞ She presses the syllables into his mouth with kisses. ❝ Bailamos, bailamos. ❞