a cry for help

i have a title: 'the creatures that time forgot'

i have a premise: barnitude. fireflies. discussion thereof.

i have improv words (courtesy of obsessedmuch)

i have music: ed harcourt 'here be monsters'

i even renamed the LJ and got a new icon... unfortunately, i also have no juice. no drive. no fucking words are coming. my boss isn't even here, and i could write for six hours! it's so sad. i had this all sorted out at the airport yesterday, of course i had also been awake for about 26 hours at that point.

um. can i get a little help here? somebody? anybody?

lord, please send me a clue

nothing happening. nothing at all. SV ad on the cover of last wednesday's variety. it's so airbrushed and digitized, phil said they even inserted the shadows. for the record, KK has got these enormous hands (almost as big as TW's in the advert) and these claws that make me afeared. yes, i said afeared.

scare-ree.

this story is going nowhere. here's the drabble that will never be the intro...sigh.


~ * ~

Lex’s arrogance is his saving grace. It’s his note to the teacher and his lord’s prayer all in one. Lex can do anything anywhere and anytime and because he’s a Luthor, it’s okay. And even if it’s not okay, to be that arrogant, somehow, because it’s Lex, it’s still…right.

Still fitting.

In a place where people are supposed to be kinder, gentler and just plain *better*, Lex is a relic. He’s a rare species like his father, and okay, that’s a bad comparison, but there’s something about Lex that makes his arrogance okay.

That makes it well, hot.

Clark wishes that he had something like that. Something else besides his lack of communication skills and a spaceship in the cellar. Something else besides too many hormones and not enough knowledge and experience.

Clark wishes for a lot of things. He wishes that he had the kind of strength that Lex does, not physical as much as mental. Clark has his believes and stuff, things he knows are right and wrong. Things that he’s willing to fight for – but he doesn’t have that edge. That *thing* that Lex has that just seems to light up everything when he’s around.

Lex just *knows*.

Lex is something that Clark can’t describe, but he keeps thinking of lighthouses and beacons and flashlights. Lights that shine through the darkness and cut through the night and the fog.

A guide for Clark's blindness.