#I FORGOT LEMMONS

[disneybrandautism]

i love men (and women) who fly planes. truly. i love them and their weird homoerotic friendships and their callsigns and their everything. i love fanboy and rooster and hangman and coyote and phoenix from tgm who initiated this obsession. but i also love the originals like goose, iceman, maverick, and slider. and i love my new guys like rosie, buck, bucky, curt and cros. i love learning about planes. shout out to my favorite two ground crew guys: lemmons and hondo

moral of the story is that i’m autistic. and maybe unhinged.

[ping-ski]

Self insert who!?

Do with this as you will (MARRY CHRISTMAS!!!)

ohhh my GOD. THIS ABSOLUTELY PRECIOUS!! <33 this is all so cute!! im staring so hard at this because my gosh your artstyle is lovely <3 (1/5/25): ...okay this sat in my drafts for 3+ weeks unposted because i forgot about it and since it wasn't in my inbox i lost track of it i am so sorry! this deserves to see the light of day and to be seen, thank you so much lemmon!! <3

im still obsessed with how you drew eclipse aaa!! everytime you draw DCA in general you make them look so pretty in your style im SWOONING.

[hotvintagepoll]

SHADOW BRACKET: LOSER SADBOYS 2/4 (update)

did your fave not make it into the next round of the hot men bracket? injustice! we must declare the hottest of the sadsack losers to right this wrong. There will be four polls with ten contestants. ONLY THE TOP TWO VOTED HOT LOSER MEN FROM EACH POLL MAY CONTINUE TO THE NEXT LEVEL OF THE SHADOW BRACKET. Contestants were chosen based on the amount and fervor of the propaganda submitted. May the bloodbath commence.

This is a re-upload because I forgot Orson Welles the first time!

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 3

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |-| Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Summary: In the wake of a terrible loss, the arrival of a new airman at Thorpe Abbotts promises to change the trajectory of Frankie's life forever

Warnings: Death, grief

Word Count: 3.9k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles

A/N: HE'S HEREEEE 🗣🗣🗣

It was dark in the mechanics' hut, the lights kept off during the day to preserve power, but the overcast nature of the afternoon did nothing to light the space from the outside. Hours had passed since the pilots had left, and although Frankie was never made privy to the specifics of their missions, she could tell by the amount of fuel that had been requested that they were going far, much further than they ever had before. There was not a man among them who hadn't seemed to have a dark cloud over his head as they had prepared to depart that morning.

She and Lemmons sat on the floor together, backs propped up against the wall, both too troubled by worry to work. Frankie had an old fashion magazine in her lap, and they passed the time by flicking through each section and poking fun at a myriad of ugly sweaters and ridiculous hats.

"Those are nice," Ken stated, pointing at a pair of green brogued shoes.

"Seriously? I think they're garish."

He shrugged. "My Fonda has some like it. They look nice on her."

She let out a low whistle, teasingly nudging his side as his face turned bright red, a satisfied smile curling his lips. For a boy as young as he was, he sure loved Fonda. Frankie had noticed the heart-shaped locket that hung from his neck the very first day they'd worked together, but it had taken weeks for him to let her have a look inside. It must have been nice to be loved the way she was.

The magazine was losing its charm. It had been over an hour, and they were running out of pages. With a huff, she tossed it across the room, landing in a heap of crumpled pages underneath the table. Ken looked over at her, raising a brow.

She shrugged. "Bored. Want a cigarette?"

Without waiting for an answer, Frankie dug around in her pocket and produced two loose, slightly bent cigarettes, passing one to Lemmons. She lit hers swiftly, taking in an inhale of smoke. He rolled his between his fingers, never bothering to light it. Sometimes she forgot he didn't smoke.

"I'm gonna take you for a drink tonight. We deserve it."

"I'm nineteen."

Frankie stared at him for a long moment. "...So?"

"So, I can't drink."

"Jesus Christ. Welcome to England mate, you might be the only nineteen-year-old currently in the country who doesn't already have a drinking problem."

He opened his mouth to respond, but before the words could emerge they were interrupted by a rapid knocking at the door. Far from the usual pounding thuds the men usually used, this knock was delicate, polite, but its urgency set Frankie's heart to beating twice as fast.

Scrambling to her feet, she rushed for the door, tossing her cigarette into the ashtray on the table as she passed. Hauling it open, a wave of nausea coursed through her as she saw George standing outside, hair damp from the drizzle, tie pulled loose away from her neck, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

"Wh-" Frankie trailed off as she slammed into her, gripping her in the tightest hug she'd ever felt. As she wrapped her arms around George's back, she could feel her shaking beneath her palms.

George let out one sob after another, face buried in Frankie's shoulder as her tears soaked the fabric of her coveralls. Looking back over at Lemmons, their gazes met in wide-eyed expressions of anxiety, and if George hadn't been crying so loudly Frankie was sure the thumping of her heart would've been audible.

"George- George," She spoke firmly, hands pressed to George's cheeks as she forced her to meet her eye. To be so harsh to a woman who needed nothing but softness ripped a hole through her, the guilt churning her stomach, but she needed to know. "Tell me what happened."

She nodded hurriedly, wiping her tears away with the backs of her hands. "They made it to Africa - we started getting messages through about an hour ago, but, uh..." George's lip trembled, and she sucked in a long, haggard breath. "Curt's dead, Frankie."

Lemmons let out some sort of strangled gasp as Frankie felt all of the blood drain from her face. For a moment she didn't know how to process the words, she just knew she needed to hold George - to hold her tight, tighter than anyone ever had. There was not an inch between them as she stroked a gentle hand through her golden hair, trying with all her might to keep breathing as she felt a warm tear roll down her cheek.

Over George's shoulder, she spied Ken making for the door, a frown casting a shadow over his boyish face. He met her eyes, and she offered him a nod, freeing him from the scene so he could inevitably tell the others.

The two women held each other for a long moment, Frankie's chin burrowed against George's collar. When she finally spoke, it was little more than a hoarse whisper, her throat suddenly dry as a bone.

"...And Bucky?"

Sniffing loudly, George pulled back, shaking her head. "No, no, he's okay. He made it to Algeria." Frankie hadn't released she was holding her breath until she let it escape her, raising a hand to cover her mouth as she nodded.

"Yeah? Yeah. Alright," She could worry about the others later - for now, knowing Egan was alive was enough to settle her drumming heart. "You need to go home, ok? You need to rest."

"My shift's not over, I still have to-"

"I am gonna walk up there myself and tell them you're not coming back today. Not tomorrow, neither. And if they've got a problem with that they can take it up with me - believe me, I don't give a shit if I take an insubordination charge over this."

A tearful smile broke out across George's face, holding onto Frankie's hand as it cupped her cheek. "Tangling with you? I don't fancy their chances."

Frankie chuckled, pulling her into one last hug and pressing her lips firmly to her temple. "Go, go. I'll see you soon, ok?"

"Yeah," She whispered against her neck, reaching out to squeeze her hand as she broke the hug, stepping backwards towards the door and disappearing.

As soon as she was alone, Frankie sucked in a long, laboured breath, collapsing into one of the rickety chairs that surrounded the table in the middle of the room. Doubling forward, she lay her head in her hands, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes as she focused on taking one breath after the next.

Since the war had begun, she had been cycling through phases of fear and calm, letting herself slip into the all too comfortable belief that it couldn't touch her here - couldn't take from her as long as she was home, as long as she was safe.

But God, how the world kept proving her wrong.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Almost a month had passed. Every mission took a toll, but the trip that had killed Curtis Biddick seemed to hang heavier than any other ever had.

Or perhaps it just seemed that way because of George.

Some nights Frankie would stay up late, rubbing exhaustion from her eyes as she fought to stay awake long enough to finish a chapter of her book, lit by the dim bulb of her bedside lamp. And then in the darkness she would hear a rustling, a casting aside of the course, army-issue bedsheets, and feel a weight press into the mattress beside her as George slipped under the covers, silently resting her head against Frankie's shoulder. She liked to listen to her heartbeat on the nights she felt most alone - when she felt the farthest from home, the most separated from the boy she almost loved - it brought her comfort to listen to that telltale sign of life radiating from the person closest to her. She had someone, and that was enough to live with.

Frankie had liked Curt, but she hadn't known him well. Sometimes she wished she had, if only so that she wouldn't feel so guilty, comforting her best friend over a loss she no longer felt so keenly. Instead, all she could do was softly whisper the words she was reading to her, and let her mere presence be the comfort as they both drifted off to sleep.

It had grown warm overnight, and the humidity combined with the heat of George's body burrowed close next to hers left Frankie slick with sweat by the time she woke up, her hair sticking to her neck in damp strands. Peeling the covers away as she clambered out of bed, careful not to disturb her sleeping friend, she made a beeline for the showers, hoping to wash away the unpleasant, sticky sensation that coated her skin. She was used to evening showers after a long day's work, and it felt strange to stare down at the hot water rolling off of her body and see it come away clear, clean, not streaked with the dirt and oil she was often coated with by the time she made it home each night.

Wringing her hair out with a towel as she made her way out of the bathroom, Frankie dodged the other women emerging from their beds as she reached her own area, her coveralls and workboots waiting for her on a nearby chair. George had moved back to her own bed, carefully removing each of the curlers she meticulously applied every night, just like all of the other servicewomen who were afforded the luxury of working indoors, a far cry from Frankie's reality. It wasn't that Frankie didn't like to dress up - she loved the chance to do her hair and makeup, to dress up and feel pretty for once - it just wasn't a practicality her profession afforded. Her hair needed to be out of the way, and it made no sense to waste money on makeup that would be ruined by sweat and grime within the hour.

"If Dye makes it back, there'll be a party tonight," George stated, watching her reflection as she looped her tie into a knot. "You gonna go?"

"Uh," Frankie considered this for a moment, sniffing her coveralls from the previous day and grimacing at the smell, switching them out for a clean pair. "Nah, not tonight, I don't think. I've already got some outstanding stuff from the last few days that needs sorting, it's gonna be a busy one."

"Alright, I'll see if Sandra and Helen are going."

"I'm glad you're going," Frankie smiled.

George's gaze turned to her, and she considered this for a moment before shrugging. "Can't sit here forever."

It was a fact that didn't need dwelling on, and Frankie wouldn't patronise her with praise. This was just the way their lives worked now. One by one, the women in their hut finished getting ready and left for their various jobs until Frankie was the only one left, locking up the front door as she exited. The burn that had scorched her palm had long since healed, leaving a mottled pink scar across her hand, but she could clutch the handlebars of her bike without pain now, so she had returned to her morning ritual of cycling as fast as she physically could to the airstrip, revelling in the feeling of the warm morning air blowing through her hair.

Dye's plane was swooping in as she arrived, and Frankie couldn't help but smile at the chorus of whoops and cheers that pierced the air, flight and ground crews alike lining the runway to await his valiant return. Twenty-five missions. She could barely fathom it. For as long as she could remember, planes like this had been her life, but she'd never flown in one - Dye had done it twenty-five times. The number boggled her, a reality so close to and yet so distinctly separate from her own.

"Frankie!" Lemmons called over from where he was sitting with a few of the local boys. The village kids had taken a shine to the young mechanic, and she found she rather enjoyed their presence, childish wit relieving the strain of their long working hours. She crossed the grass towards them as he spoke up again. "Gonna replace the panelling on the bombers from last week, you in?"

She shook her head, batting a hand dismissively. "Nah, you go enjoy the celebrations with the others, I'll handle it."

He frowned, a crease appearing between his brows. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, I hardly even know Dye, I'm not missing out. Take the night off, you deserve it."

A smile began to spread across his expression. "Well thanks, Frankie."

"No worries. Hey - did we get that delivery of rivets that was meant to come in?" Lemmons shook his head, and she shrugged. "Don't worry about it, I'll take a list to the boss of everything we need."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was growing dark, a work light on the tarmac illuminating one of the B-17 engines as she worked away at it, a pile of scattered tools littering the ground from where she had tried and failed to toss them back into her toolbox without paying proper attention. She could hear the muffled music far off in the distance, the lights from the party casting a golden reflection against the clouds like a beacon in the night. Tightening one of the bolts, Frankie prayed to herself that George was having fun.

The sound of footsteps approaching from behind alerted her to sudden company, but she was too engrossed in her work to turn. Besides, she could already guess who it was.

"Heya, Frankie," Bucky's voice came, and she suppressed a smirk at the accuracy of her prediction.

"Evenin'."

"We missed you at the party," He stated.

"Busy," She replied, letting out a grunt as she pinched the skin of her thumb with her wrench, flapping her hand for a moment to relieve the pain.

"Just came to see ya 'cause I don't think you've met Rosie yet."

Frankie let out a sigh, sliding her wrench into her pocket, speaking as she began to turn. "Bucky, if you boys have got yourselves another fucking dog, I swear-"

There was another man there, standing next to Egan, blue eyes watching her as she stumbled over her words, trailing to an awkward stop. She had a smear of oil across her forehead from where she had absent-mindedly wiped the sweat from her brow with a filthy hand, and Bucky pursed his lips tightly as he tried not to laugh.

"Not a dog," Rosie stated, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.

"No," She breathed, snapping herself out of her awkwardness. "No, uh, sorry - Frankie, I'm Frankie," Holding out her hand to shake, she noticed its filthiness and grimaced, swiftly retracting it.

"Frankie's one of our mechanics," Egan explained. "She'd be happiest if we fired the rest of the ground crew and let her do the whole thing herself."

"But then who'd clean the dog shit and vomit out for me, eh?" Frankie shrugged, a pink spatter colouring her cheeks. Bucky almost frowned, taken aback by her uncharacteristically awkward demeanour.

"Look, I promised Buck I'd only be gone five minutes, so," He looked down at his watch, shrugging.

"No, no, that's fine, you have a good night," Frankie smiled, wiping her dirty palms on the sides of her trousers.

Bucky turned to leave, pausing for a moment. "Rosenthal?"

"Oh, no, I was gonna head off anyway, thanks Major," Rosie nodded, and they lingered in silence for a moment after Egan left, his silhouette disappearing into the darkness down the runway.

"Sorry I thought you were a dog," She chuckled slightly, breaking the quiet as she rubbed her thumb where she'd pinched the skin, a red mark forming.

"Well," Rosie shrugged, standing with his hands in his pockets. "Been called worse."

Frankie smiled, a flash of teeth in her grin as she glanced back at the engine for a moment, the great thing looming over her in its frame. "And... sorry Bucky dragged you all the way out here, I'm sure the party is much more interesting, and-"

"Hey, you don't have to apologise," He shook his head. With the work light shining on them, it seemed to cast a halo around her head, brown hair running golden along its edges. Even covered in filth, she must've been one of the prettiest girls he'd seen in... well, he couldn't quite recall. "How long have you been out here?"

"Uh, what time is it - eight?"

Rosie let out a laugh. "Gone midnight."

"Jesus Christ," She flashed him a tired grin. "Shit, I missed dinner."

"Well," He shrugged. "I am a Captain. Sure we can find something."

"You're on," Frankie agreed, the empty feeling in her stomach suddenly amplified once she realised how long it had been since she'd eaten. "Although, I'd better clean up first," She noted, wiping her hands on one of the engine rags.

"By the way, you've got a little-" Rosie gestured to his own forehead.

"Oh, shit," Frankie muttered, reaching up with the rag and just managing to miss the oil stain. He let out a chuckle, stepping forward.

"Here, lemme just-" She offered up the rag, and he dabbed at the stain, which less went away than it did smudge even more. He furrowed his brow as he tried to get rid of it, and she couldn't help but let out a laugh at the sheer concentration in his expression, their faces far closer than she would ever usually allow with a man she'd only just met. But there was something endearing in him, something safe. "I think... I think I got it."

"Thanks," Frankie chuckled, taking back the rag and stepping back towards the Nissen hut. "I'm just gonna wheel this engine inside and wash the crap off my hands, then we can go."

"I await your return, milady," Rosie nodded, smile turning to a cringe as she turned away from him. What was that? Don't say that!

She smiled to herself as she entered the hut, her pleased expression turning to a grimace as she got a waft of herself, the twelve-hour shift out in the sun making itself known. Oh shit.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The mess hall was completely deserted, the only light coming from the kitchens as Frankie waited patiently for Rosie to return. He had volunteered to go and scrounge for food, confident that his rank would protect them if they were discovered, and she grinned as he returned, proudly carrying a large tin of peaches and a couple of bars of ration chocolate.

"Oh, perfect. Midnight feast," She beamed, taking a seat on one of the long benches that lined the tables as he sat down opposite, producing a tin opener from his pocket.

"Food fit for kings, I'd say," Rosie agreed, wrestling with the peaches for a moment until he was able to break the lid. Producing two forks, Frankie held one out to him, using her own to skewer a slice of the orange fruit.

"I'd just like to preface this by saying that I don't usually smell like this... actually, I do," She admitted, picking at some dirt stuck beneath her nail.

"Hey, I'm not judging - you wouldn't either once you'd smelled the inside of our flight suits," He shrugged, and she let out a huff of laughter, chewing on her peach slices, a droplet of sweet juice running down her lip. "So... how long've you been a mechanic?"

"Dad's been running an auto repair shop at home since before I was born, I grew up on it," Frankie explained, skewering another slice with one hand as she unwrapped her chocolate bar with the other. "He wanted to go over to France, help fix army jeeps, but he lost his foot in the Great War so they won't take him - I was born when he was away, see, he'd been over there for six months or so when a shell went off and he lost it. So the cars were all we had. I switched to planes when I was about fifteen - bit of an impractical hobby, but I've read every single book on it they had in Stratford library," She chuckled.

"Stratford... Shakespeare, right?"

Her brow raised. "Yeah. Right. Y'know I think the only good thing about this war is that the tourist buses have stopped coming around," She joked, and Rosie laughed, nodding along as he ate. Why was she telling him all this? In the last hour, he'd found out more about her than Bucky or Lemmons had in months. But she found she didn't feel embarrassed telling him any of it, the words just flowed naturally.

They sat there in the dim mess hall eating peaches until they started to feel sick, the hands of Rosie's watch ticking steadily past 1am by the time they left, making sure to hide all evidence of their midnight raid. It had begun to rain by the time they stepped out into the night air, and before Frankie could utter a single word of complaint he had shrugged off his uniform jacket and given it to her to hold over her head, her own makeshift shelter whilst his own curls fell flat, the water leaving dark streaks down his shirt.

"Are you sure about this?" She asked for what must have been the third time as they reached the end of her row of Nissen huts, Rosie's hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, his skin almost visible through the drenched state of his clothes.

"I said stop asking," He assured her, nodding confidently despite the visible trembling in his shoulders.

"I'm just worried I'm gonna ruin your jacket."

"Well, it'd die for a worthy cause."

Frankie grinned, slowing to a stop as she reached the front door of her hut. The lights were all off inside, not a single sign of life as her bunkmates enjoyed their well-earned sleep. When she spoke again, it was in whispers, careful not to wake them even despite the hammering of rain against the metal roof.

"Thank you for dinner, it was... unexpected."

"Very," Rosie nodded in agreement, mirroring her smile. She handed over his jacket, and he folded it, tucking it beneath his arm, already well past its usefulness.

"Tomorrow's gonna be a rough morning."

"Take the day off, have a lie-in, you deserve it."

She raised a brow, and he laughed. "You know I won't."

"I suspected as much," He agreed, nodding firmly. "G'night, Frankie."

"Goodnight."

Frankie slipped carefully inside, cautious not to make a sound as she crept over to her bed, stripping off her wet coveralls as she reached quickly for her nice, warm pyjamas.

When George's whispered voice broke the silence, she swore she almost had a heart attack. "You've been... working?"

"Something like that," Frankie shrugged, taking the fact she was awake as a sign of consent to turn her lamp on, giving her the light she needed to untie her boots. "Have you met the new Captain?"

"Who, Rosenthal? No. Why?"

She didn't answer for a long moment, buttoning up her pyjama shirt before flicking off the lamp, plunging the room into total darkness as she climbed beneath the blankets, letting out a satisfied sigh at the warmth.

"He's nice."

George let the silence simmer for a moment, her tone laced with suspicion. "... Right."

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 8

james douglass x olive lewis

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

masterlist ao3 olive's playlist

notes: a little heavy petting 🤭

Something big is brewing on base, the Brass keeping their cards close to their chest. The Red Cross Girls navigate their way through revelations, chance meetings and feelings from the past that rear their ugly head.

Despite the very few hours of sleep she had gotten, the sun rising over the beautiful Suffolk fields as the gang had all congregated in the cool morning air in celebration of no longer being a fractured bunch, Olive felt refreshed. 

The group had left the club in the early hours to see the sun rise, telling each other that the lack of sleep would be worth it. The gang, joined by Curt’s co-pilot Dickie, sat on the surprisingly soft grass of the airfield in a gentle silence. The sweet countryside air whipped all around them, Olive finding warmth tucked inside of Dougie’s jacket, his arm around her as she snuggled into him. She laid her head on his shoulder, him smiling as she stroked his face. The fiery hues of the morning sky brought out the beautiful blue of his eyes, Olive practically falling into them as the two of them seemed to slip into their own little world. It was at this moment she realized; she was falling in love with him. It had hit her like a freight train, the thought causing her to gasp out loud.

“Okay, doll?” James asks, holding her even closer to ward off the cold.

“Never better, honey.”

—

The early start came with the beginnings of a headache from lack of sleep. However, Olive found herself extremely peppy for this time of the morning. She, along with Tattie, had gone about most of their morning duties occasionally exchanging quiet conversation and Tattie preparing herself for her impending hangover. “It doesn't knock you on your ass if you don't go to sleep,” she laughs, wincing at the sound of her own voice. 

“You didn't sleep? Jesus Christ, Spaatz. You mad bugger.”

“There was no point,” she replies, beginning to daintily arrange donuts on a tray. “By the time I'd have got myself into bed, it would have been time to get up again. There,” she says, placing the tray on the counter. She lights two cigarettes, handing one to Olive before pouring them a cup of coffee each. “This'll perk us up, kid.”

A bark echoes through what feels like the whole air base, Olive and Tattie both jumping at the sound of it. “Hold on to your hats,” Tattie smiles. “Here comes trouble.”

“Oh, yeah! He's brought Meatball with him too!”

Benny strolls up to the Clubmobile alongside Meatball, stifling a yawn as he approaches. 

“Demarco!” she cheerfully greets, pouring him a coffee before he even has a chance to ask. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Meatball was crying for the bathroom, then I saw Lemmons while we were out there. Said he needed me to look over something on Our Baby.”

“Ah,” she nods. “Leave the good boy here with me. It seems pretty easy out here today, so it's no bother.”

“Thanks, Ol. Hey, everything worked out now?”

“Oh, yes,” she blushes. “Everything smoothed over. What about you?” she enquires, eyebrow raised. “You set him straight?”

“Too right. I made it clear that it's only him you care for in that way. I told him that if he thinks he saw what he thought he saw, he should've asked me; I also told him that if he ever made you cry again, he'd pay for it. He got a little sheepish at that.”

“Christ,” she whispers, shaking her head in amusement.

“Hey, no hard feelings. We shook hands, back to being pals. No harm done.”

“Well, if you say so. Here,” she says, placing another two cups of coffee and a few donuts in front of him. “One for you, the coffees and other donuts are for Kenny and Wink.”

“Thanks. Run over and grab me if the dog is too much trouble.”

He turns on his heel and departs, Meatball barking incessantly as his person walks away from him without so much as a pat goodbye. 

“Benny!” Olive shouts. “You forgot something!”

—

“Good morning boy, hi!” Olive hears, seeing Meatball perk up instantly with his ball in his mouth, expecting playtime at the sight of more people walking up to the Clubmobile. Val bends down to pet him, scritching at the dog's ears as he drops the ball at her feet and pants happily in her face. “Did you have a nice snooze?”

“He snoozed more than any of us, that’s for sure.” Helen says, rolling her eyes and smiling.

“When I checked last night, you were snoozing on top of Dickie,” Olive smiles, cheekily pointing at her friend with a triumphant grin.

“He was closest,” Helen grumbles. “And Tattie took the dog.”

“Surprised Benny didn’t put up more of a fight for him honestly,” Tattie says, stubbing out her cigarette and turning to begin spot cleaning the counters.

Mentioning Benny's name seemed to be a careless mistake. At the mention of his name, Meatball leans forward and begins howling, Cleven’s assumption once again being proved right. 

“That wolf is part dog,” he had grumbled to Olive, a few days after their first meeting. Seeing her love on him, he crouched down beside her and told her all about how he'd come to be the group's mascot. 

“Benny won him,” he laughed, holding a hand out for the dog to sniff at. “Craps.”

“Probably the luckiest win of his life,” Olive had replied, nuzzling into Meatball for warmth. “Wait, how did you get him here all the way from Greenland?”

“He flew with us. Howled the whole darn way, Lewis. It was unbearable, let me tell ya.”

“I'll bet,” she had said, raising her eyebrows. 

“Benny joked that his dog was part wolf,” he pauses, standing up and wiping his hands on his slacks. “I said that wolf is part dog.”

“Okay, Meatball, shhh.” Olive crouches down to ruffle the fur between his ears in comfort, when suddenly, the dog mistakes her loving on him for playtime and jumps up onto her, pushing her to the floor.

“Oh, Meatball!” Val laughs, unable to pull him off Olive and help her friend as he continues to lick her face. Through the chaos, laughter and struggle, a familiar voice booms across to them, with Everett Blakely following closely behind.

“Wow, and here I thought I was the only fella who got to smother you in kisses!” Dougie’s voice calls out as he walks up the path to the Clubmobile, a smirk about his lips. He seems to have woken up incredibly happy, a jaunty little pep in his step as he walks up to greet everyone. 

“Fella, yes,” Olive looks up at him from her place on the ground, his blue eyes softly boring into her. “But he’s not a fella, he’s a Meatball.”

“Well, then he’s the only Meatball who gets to smother you in kisses.” Dougie approaches the dog, gently tugging at his collar to get him off Olive and helps her stand, his hand stroking hers as he does so.  

“Did anyone get any sleep last night?” Dougie questions everyone, looking at their exhausted faces as he helps Olive dust off, tickling her playfully as he does so. 

“James!” she shrieks, playfully swatting at him.

“Barely,” Val sighs, answering his question through Olive’s giggles. She moves slightly, joining Ev and snuggling into him. “I can’t remember the last time I stayed out all night like that.”

“Had to be sometime before the war…” Ev sighs, placing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Somehow it always involves Curt.” Val groans, her back turned to the path the aforementioned man is now sauntering down. 

“Hey, yous guys!”

“Talk of the devil…” Val begins.

“And he shall appear,” Olive and Helen finish, climbing into the truck and pouring coffee for those who have now congregated around the area. They hand out the cups, now knowing each coffee order by memory. If anything proved how close these girls had gotten to these men, it was this very thing. Sometimes, all these men needed was a silent nod and a wry smile as a perfectly warm beverage and donut was set in front of them without a word. All the girls could do was hope they were able to make the same coffee the next day, hoping more than anything to keep seeing these familiar faces, just as the men wanted to see theirs. 

“Ol, Harding wants to see me. Not sure what it's regarding but I'd better get there al momento. Curt says he'll be on Meatball duty but–”

“Yeah, he'll sod it off after five minutes,” she titters. “Need one of us to go with?”

“Ev is giving me a hand, thanks, doll.”

“I'm sure he is, you cheeky pair.”

“Leave it, English,” she scolds with a wink, surprising her with a kiss on the cheek. “Be back soon, ‘kay?”

“Tell me what it's about when you're back! I may be sleepy but I am still nosy!”

—

“Mail's here!” Tattie yells, wafting a letter in front of Olive's face. She takes it from Tattie’s fingers with a smile, and takes in the unfamiliar penmanship written upon the envelope. It feels thick, the paper creaking slightly as she squeezes it to survey its contents without needing to open it. Not able to keep herself waiting any longer, she rips it open with her thumb and removes six thick pages, tied with ribbon, along with a single sheet of paper that's been beautifully folded into three. Setting the wad of paper to the side for just a second, she quickly scans the letter: your friend, Juliet.

“Aw!” Olive says, stuffing the papers back in the envelope they arrived in. “Brady's girl wrote me back. That's so sweet.”

“What you got there?” Dougie asks, stuffing a second - or was it a third? - donut into his mouth, looking at the huge stack of papers in Olive’s hand. She opens it, a huge smile spreading across her face, causing her cheeks to glow a little. Dougie feels his breath catch in his throat as he sees her eyes light up, quickly taking in the first three pages. It's the dimple in her cheek as she grins, the way her eyes sparkle and crinkle as her cheeks lift, the subtle glow of them, too. He clears his throat after realizing he's been holding his breath, a hand out towards Olive.

“I've got a few minutes. You wanna go somewhere quiet and read that?”

“I'd love to! Helen?” She calls, turning her head to find her friend. “You good here? I wanna go read this,” she says, gesturing to the thick pages in her hands. 

“Gosh, yes!” she cries, beginning to pour herself a coffee. “Take your time. I'll have Meatball bark if I need you!”

—

Sitting on her bunk with a sigh, she pats the space next to her. “Are you staying?” she asks Dougie, who is standing awkwardly by the door.

“Am I allowed in here?”

“It's just me, so, yes, I'd say so. Don't be trying to come in when we're all in here though; it gets a little cramped.” She pats the blanket again, hoping he takes the hint. “Come sit, darling.”

He finally begins walking towards the bunk, swiping up Val's copy of Screen Romances as he reaches Olive. “You think she'll mind?” he asks, holding it out toward her. Smirking, she shakes her head, beginning to open the letter again. Dougie sits down next to her as gently as he can, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. Her head falls on to him right away, as if his shoulder was always its safe place.

“How long do you have?” she murmurs, looking up at him from where she's laying.

“I've got a little while,” he smiles, opening the magazine right at the gossip column. “How ever long you need, Ollie.” 

She whizzes through the essay, her head on Dougie’s shoulder the whole time as he flips through the magazine, letting out little gasps and even an “ooooh!” when he reads about Clark Gable's latest exploits. Olive folds the papers back together and ties them with the ribbon they came with, smoothing out the silk as she ties it as neatly as she can, trying her best to replicate Jules’ expert handiwork. She looks over at Dougie, shifting slightly under his arm so she can sit up. He doesn't realize she has moved at first, his eyes still on the page and his brow furrowed in concentration. She smiles softly at him, trying her best to take in every detail of his sweet face.

“You're so into the gossip in that magazine, huh?” she asks, breaking the silence. He jumps, face now turning toward her. “Gossip queen.”

“What can I say? I like to be in the know,” he laughs. 

“That's just called being nosy, my love.”

“Yeah,” he blushes, taking her hand. “But you know you love it.”

“I do,” she sighs, her face coming towards his to kiss him as her eyes flicker down to his plush lips. She kisses him gently, her heart growing lighter as he smiles down at her. She doesn't pull away right after, and he isn't about to let her. His hand gently tilts her chin up to him and their lips meet again, the both of them softly falling into each other with a sigh. He delicately strokes down her chin to gently grip the side of her neck, an action that causes her to gasp and push her tongue into his mouth. A breathy moan leaves his lips as she kneels - never breaking the kiss -  and places a leg on either side of his lap. Her hands wander up to his cheeks, letting them take in his features without needing to open her eyes as his hands fall to her waist, gently squeezing and stroking each curve he can reach over her clothes. Sighs and moans pass between their lips, both of them fighting the urge to not get totally lost in it, a whine of displeasure leaving her as he pulls back to catch his breath. 

“Ollie,” he whispers, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You're so pretty.” 

That does it for her. She quickly closes the distance between them, tugging on his shirt to bring him impossibly closer, intent on getting the very thing her body craves from him the most. The warmth of his body touching hers, the way he touches her: being so gentle with her that it was like she was something precious and made of fragile porcelain. Her mind recounts previous kisses with previous people and she is sure it’s never felt this good with anyone else, nor has anyone else treated her so lovingly. She sighs back into him, pushing her hips into his. 

She's not sure how long they stay like that, herself pulling away to catch her breath. The rule, it seemed, was that she was allowed to do that and he wasn't. Either way, she hated losing the time but loved the split second of taking in his half lidded eyes, as if he were in some kind of dazed state. His expression made a warmth erupt within her, her lungs filling with a contented sigh. She couldn't get enough of knowing she had got him into this state and only she was ever going to make him look like this. 

She adjusts herself on his lap, feeling him rock hard underneath her as she sits back down on him. As she moves, a hearty moan leaves him and his breath hitches and she begins to slowly rock on top of him. 

“Aaah,” he sighs, his hands now in her hair as he pulls her face away from his. He sees a worried expression flash across her face, her kiss swollen lips beginning to pout as he holds her hips still. 

“Why did you stop me?” she asks, intertwining her fingers with his. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no! God, no,” he urges. “I really really want to do this. But I don't want it to be some quick thing where we don't take our time. You deserve better than that.”

“I don't care,” she whimpers, planting urgent kisses all over his face and neck as he laughs. 

“I do,” he sighs, kissing her back once she breaks away. “I can't give you the time you deserve right now. I wanna do this right, take our time. Show you how you should be treated. Okay?”

“Fine,” she pouts, her eyelids blinking up at him.

“Hey, don't be like that, angel. Soon, I promise. Pinky promise,” he says, joining their pinky fingers together and kissing her hand. 

A tap, tap, tap on the window pulls them out of the moment. They both turn towards the window and see Ev standing out there, urging Dougie to go to him, Dougie patting Olive's behind to get her off his lap. “Give me a second, honey,” he says quietly, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead as he gets up off the bed. 

Olive watches them through the window, Dougie's eyes widening slightly with whatever information Ev seems to be relaying to him. She sees his shoulders droop slightly before Ev pats one of them, beginning to walk towards the hut, and gesturing by pointing at the door for Olive to let him in. She gets up off her bunk, placing the letter on the small desk next to it and walks towards the door, opening it quickly.

“You can open it yourself, Ev,” she laughs, smoothing her hair down quickly.

“How was your, uh, reading?”

“Educational, thanks,” she replies, blushing and giggling. 

“Can't believe that guy got to sneak in here before me,” he complains, shaking his head and pulling a small sheet of paper from Val’s stationary.

“Maybe you're not picking the right moments, Blakely. What are you doing?”

“Leaving a note for Val, English.”

“You're so sly,” she pokes, reading it as he places the small sheet of paper on her pillow. She catches sight of the last line and gasps, almost squeals, in fact. Love you.

“Don't let that slip before I can, Ol.”

“Don't know what you mean, Everett,” she winks, nudging him with her elbow into his ribcage. “I promise I won't tell her before you do.”

“Good. Then I promise to not tell you before Dougie does.”

She processes what he has just said. What did that mean? 

“Ha ha, yeah, good one.” She stumbles over each word, her mouth drying as her hands clam up. A false laugh tumbles from her lips as she rushes towards the exit, finding Dougie still outside and waiting for her and Everett.

“Everything okay?” he asks, her hand finding his instantly. She feels him relax into her touch, his face softening as she silently comforts him. She pulls him towards her and holds him close, breathing him in as she savors the words that have just been said. “I promise to not tell you before Dougie does.” 

“I've gotta go,” he sighs. “We're taking the new boys on a practice run.”

“New boys?” she questions, realizing that was why Val was beckoned by Red and Chick earlier. 

“Yeah, replacements came in today. Ev says they seem a little nervous, but–”

“Hey, you've both got it,” she says, pulling him close. “You'll lead them through,” she soothes, beginning to stroke the back of his neck. “I know it.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I'll be back later, okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, kissing his cheek. “Be safe, all of you. Especially you.”

—

Olive spots Tattie leaning against the vehicle, smoking a cigarette and deep in conversation with Jack Kidd, Tattie breaking into peals of laughter at something he has said. Olive subtly looks between the pair of them, him smiling down at Tattie as laughter rises from her throat. She sees his whole face light up with joy as he watches her laugh, the first time she has seen him without a scowl upon his face. The air somehow feels different between them, and Olive finds it best to not disturb that. 

She feels a wet nose poking into her leg and turns around to see Meatball sniffing at her incessantly. “Hey, buddy,” she says, leaning down to pet him and making kissy faces at him. 

“Hey, kid,” greets Tattie, making Olive jump slightly. “Val and Helen are tidying up after greeting the new guys, so we're on Meatball duty.”

“I guessed. Ev had to come grab Dougie from me so they could go on their practice run,” she shrugs. “Curt just go too?”

“Jesus, no,” she laughs. “He gave up on doggy daycare after five minutes.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she replies, smiling. “What do you need me to do?”

“There's a load of donuts we need to get rid of before they go stale. Know anyone on the ground that would be interested?”

“Seems I know just the guys, Tat. You parcel them up and I'll take Meatball over to the hardstands to see Kenny and Wink. This dog needs a run around anyway.”

—

The sun tucks itself behind the clouds, the skies graying as the afternoon passes slowly. It seems that British summer time never changes, Olive thinks to herself as loads up a tray with coffee and donuts for the ground crew. Placed in the middle was a paper bag stuffed full of donuts, the bag being found by Tattie as she rifled through the last of the day’s newspapers.

“Ah,” she declared, somehow expertly turning it inside out without ripping it, so as not to get newspaper ink on the baked goods.”Just perfect,” she had said, a half smoked Lucky Strike hanging from her red lips. Without warning, the smoke had risen up from the cigarette and crept its way into her eye, her hand instantly clamping over it as a single tear ran from the lid. “Darn it!” She had shrieked, whipping a cloth from Helen’s shoulder as she secretly tittered, her own hand over her mouth. Olive tries her best to hold it in, the full coffee cups shaking on the tray she was holding. 

“Get gone, English, before I clip you around the ear hole for laughing at me!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Olive giggled, slipping Helen a subtle wink as she departed.

Left with no other choice, Olive lets Meatball walk off leash. “Don’t make me regret this, buddy,” she urges, watching him walk not in a straight line but in some strange zig zag motion, as if to antagonize her into dropping the six cups of hot liquid straight on to the pavement. 

“Woah!” she scolds, nearly tripping over the furry fool’s body as he stops suddenly to sniff the air, panting at the sound of his friends’ voices from afar. He almost looks like he’s smiling at her, seeming to enjoy her almost panicking at each drip of coffee falling from its full cup. “Meatball, we’re about to not be friends if you have me tripping face first into the ground.” 

He suddenly obliges, though not to appease Olive; a baseball lands right at his feet and he’s off like a shot towards the hardstands the second he retrieves it in his mouth.

A few moments later, Olive finds him being fussed over by Lemmons. She places the tray down on someone’s tool chest, rubbing her sore arms. 

“Heavy?” Wink asked, nudging her with his elbow.

“Not really,” she replies. “Not much weight to it but it was the keeping it upright that was the challenge. Especially with trying to keep Meatball close by and not have me tripping over my own feet. Here,” she says, handing him his cup. “I know it’s a little late in the day, but–”

“No, it’s much appreciated, Lewis,” he replies, taking a deep sip. “We’re out here for a while longer anyway, and this’ll keep the energy up for sure. We’ve got a long night ahead of us, I think, judging by Harding’s urgency.”

“You know what it’s about yet?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he laughs. “You seem to be in the know. Friends in high places and all that.”

“No special privileges here, Wink,” she jokes back, opening the bag of donuts and offering it to him. “I know as much as you, kiddo.”

“Olive!” Lemmons greets, grabbing a coffee from the tray. “Y’know, I expected more cold beer than hot coffee for keeping your little secret, but seeing as you brought donuts, I’ll let it slide.”

“You’d better,” she smiles, handing him the bag. She realizes that Wink is still standing in the same spot, absolutely in earshot. He is either too invested in his donut to look shocked, or there’s the alternative. Olive’s eyes narrow and bore into the young man in front of her, happily sipping coffee and petting the dog.

“Kenny…” she says through gritted teeth. “Did you tell anyone else?”

“Oh, heck,” he murmurs, his face dropping and growing ashen by the second. “Y’see, I just– well, he wanted to know why I was just so het up and I–”

“So you told Wink, without checking with me first, and he–” she stops, turning to the man beside her. “You’re fine with it?”

“Yeah, Olive. I was telling Kenny you seem a little different and I was just putting it down to you being English.”

“But I let it slip. I–I’m sorry, Ol.”

Her teeth bare again, her brow furrowing so hard that she is sure it could one up Valencia’s famous glare. “Kenny,” she growls, her eyes beginning to fill with angry tears. She drops the act the second she sees him wince at what’s coming next. She laughs, wiping her tears and sees his eyes grow wide. “I’m only fucking around, pal. It’s fine, you’re grand.”

“Jesus, Ol,” he breathes out, relieved. “Ya scared me, girl!”

“I told you, I’m an actor. I’ve got to pull it out every now and then to mess with my friends, it’s only fair.”

“Well, it worked! Hell fire!” He wipes his brow, finally taking a bite of the donut he had picked from the bag a few moments ago.

“Will you keep the dog for a little while? Me and the girls want to be ready for when the boys come back and we don’t want our nicer uniforms covered in dog hair.”

“What, not just this once? Take a little Meatball to dinner with ya?” Kenny coos, bending down to be close to Meatball’s face and pouting. Laughing, he stands up and brushes at his knees. “Sure thing, buddy. I’ll bring him back later.”

“Thanks, Ken. See you later!”

“Hey, thanks for dinner and a show!”

“You’re welcome!”

—

Back at the hut, Olive slumps on her bunk with a tired sigh. All this staying out into the early hours of the morning was beginning to take a real toll on her, no matter how fun it was. She feels herself getting drowsy, a sleepy warmth washing over her as she lay her head on her pillow for just a moment, to get the room to stop spinning. She calculates how long it's been since she went back to Pearl, and sits up in shock. Her whole body suddenly tense, she makes a mental note to go back as soon as possible. Not knowing how time will behave and treat her, she feels a panic rise up in her chest, the breathlessness of it making a rush of heat run up her body and burn her throat.

“Ol?” a voice, Helen’s, but sounds like it's underwater. “Olive, look at me,” she urges, her hand now on Olive's forehead. “Breathe, girlie.”

 She nods weakly, and begins to look around the room as the walls begin to close in on her. She tries to find something to focus on, her eyes falling to the bed opposite hers - Valencia’s bunk - with the note still sat prettily atop the pillow. Disappointed that Val hadn’t seen it yet, she hopes that she arrives back soon to retrieve it. It’s this simple thought, the thought of her friend smiling as she reads it, that brings her back to herself. 

“There,” Helen comforts, wiping Olive’s face with a damp washcloth. “I’ve got you. What pulled you out of it?”

“Thinking of Val’s face when she sees what he’s written.”

“Oh, I know!” She squeals. “I can hardly wait. Did she tell you who I met today?”

“No!” she cries. “I haven’t seen her since this morning. Oh my gosh, spill!”

She begins, her words coming out of her dainty mouth at a mile a minute as she regales the tale of meeting ‘the most handsome pilot I’ve ever laid my eyes on.’

“The most handsome?” Olive teases, hanging on every word.

“Yes!” she giggles, once again describing him. As she continues to chatter and giggle, Olive joining and doing just the same, the door swings open. Their conversation stops, their eyes sparkling and smiling widely at their friend. 

“You’ve got mail…” Olive sing songs playfully, pointing over at the pillow.

“What don’t I know?” Val smiles, her pretty green eyes narrowing at the two giggling girls on the bed opposite. 

“Nope,” Olive says, truly sticking to her promise of not revealing anything. She mimes zipping her lips, the action sending her and Helen into a peal of girlish giggles all over again.

“Olive!” she stomps, shaking her head at the mischievous pair who are falling over themselves with laughter. 

Olive sees Val’s eyes read the note one, two, three times, each time with a little extra speed than before. She stands up from the bed and stands in front of Val, that all knowing, cheeky glint still sparkling in her eye. 

“He…oh my God…” She stutters out, her hand flying out to find Olive’s to steady herself.

“He what, honey?” Helen asks, despite knowing exactly what she is referring to. 

“That’s the first time...in a note!” She cries, trying to find a way to steady her heart’s rhythm at the revelation. 

“The first time for what?” Helen teases again, still perched upon the bed with the same all-knowing look Olive has on her own face.

“Val, honey, are you okay?” Tattie asks, quietly entering the room. 

“DID YOU KNOW?!” Val yelps,  her attention turning to Olive, who is taken aback by the way Val’s voice is a few pitches higher than they’re all used to.

“Did I know what?” she asks innocently, almost winking at her.

“THIS!” she shrieks, waving the paper in front of her eyes.

“What’s it say?” the Brit asks, trying to peer around the paper to read the words she’s already read numerous times today.

“English, please!” She releases Olive’s hand and sits on her bed, her lungs tightening in her chest.

“Okay, okay,” she relents, taking a seat beside her on the bunk. “I promised,” she says, crossing her heart, “that I wouldn’t let it slip before you found out or he told you.”

“How did you…”

“Dougie and I were in here earlier,” she smiles at the memory, remembering the way he touched her hours before sending her organs dancing into a frenzy. “I was reading my mail when Ev came looking for him.”

“Yeah, okay, you two were ‘reading,’” she kids, rolling her eyes at her friend.

“Don’t change the subject, Valencia!”

“Olive!” Helen calls, her face now suddenly a picture of disgust. “Please tell me I’m not sitting where…”

“No, Helen, you’re safe. Nothing happened.”

“As long as I’m not–”

“Would you two please focus?” Val urgently cuts Helen off. “Everett just said he loves me!”

“Well of course he loves you!” Tattie says, rolling her eyes as she walks past the hubbub on her way to the shower block. 

“No, I mean, that’s the first time he’s ever said it.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she yells, turning one of the showers on, the squeak of the pipes causing her to need to raise her voice so she’s heard.

 “What makes you say that?” Val queries, the note still in her hands. 

“Well, for starters,” Helen begins, hoping she is not interjecting on whatever Tattie has to say. “It’s the way you gaze into each other’s eyes when you think no one is looking…” She rolls over, her stomach now on the bed with her feet kicked up behind her. 

“Or when we are looking,” Olive teases, nudging her a little. She reaches into her pocket and grabs her cigarettes, lighting two and handing on to Val. “Here, chicken, come on…”

Val takes the cigarette from Olive’s fingers and takes a long drag before exhaling quickly, Olive seeing that the deep breath she took is beginning to somewhat ground her. She begins to talk again, in her normal tone and slower this time, the words accompanied by a plume of white smoke as she speaks. Her eyes seem to glaze over, like she’s lost in another time far away from this one.

“The last person who told me they loved me,” she begins, blinking suddenly.

“There was someone before Blakely?” Tattie calls, her head popping around the wall of the tiled bathroom as she dries herself. 

“I don’t like talking about it,” Val sighs, her eyes almost back to their usual green tone. “We met when I started working at the bank. He was a big shot and I was a secretary.”

“Val, you don’t have to tell us.”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighs, looking between her friends. “I want to. I think I need to, to finally be rid of him.”

“Rid of him?” Helen questions.

“He was a real sweet talker,” Val starts. “Not like Curt or Ev. He was the kind of guy who could charm the skirt off a nun. Not even Curt can do that.” She titters, taking another pull of the cigarette in her hand.

“Oh…” Helen cringes slightly, still intrigued by Val’s story.

“So, he charmed me. Charmed me real good, made me lots of promises.”

“Val, did he…” Olive asks.

“No,” she urges, shaking her head. “I was so enthralled by him, I had wanted to.”

“So, what happened?”

“The secretaries would always leave at five in the dot. So, there would be nights I would go home and he would still be working, and so Curt would meet me and walk me home. And one night, we were walking home, we came up to the picture house, and there he was.”

“Oh no!” Helen cries, her hand slapping to cover her mouth as she figures out where this is going.

“He was with another woman,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t know who she was, but I begged Curt to take me home.”

“Did you ever see him again?”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “In the police station, after Curt beat him within an inch of his life. They both got arrested for a public brawl.”

“Valencia!” Olive cries, somewhat shocked but not shocked at all at the mental image of Curtis Biddick defending his best friend with his boxer’s fists. 

“I had to identify them both. Curt had claimed self defense, so, when it came time to make my statement, I said that my ex had attacked me, and Curt fought back in my defense.”

“Oh my God!”

“I tried dating other fellas after the dust settled, but Curt was always wildly protective and made it difficult. I get why he did it.”

“He really is your protector, isn’t he?” Olive soothes, her fingers intertwining with Val’s.

“Until I found out he was the one who divulged my cocktail order to Everett…”

“Curt did?!” Helen cries happily, almost cheering at the discovery.

“He did,” Val smiles, the cigarette long ignored as it burns its way down to her fingers. “He surprises me in funny ways like that.”

“Insufferable, that one,” Olive chuckles, shaking her head. “But he really is a good egg.”

“What are you going to tell Blakely?” Tattie asks, joining the others in the room again. 

“That I love him too,” she grins, showing her perfect teeth. “Because I do love him.”

“Ohhhhh!” It’s Olive’s turn to squeal, almost jumping up and down in excitement. “I knew it!”

—

Olive and Helen watch as Val takes Ev’s note and delicately places it between the pages of the book that rests on her side table. Everett Blakely’s first ‘I love you’ was now secretly pressed between chapters seven and eight of The Great Gatsby. The girls then found themselves in front of the mirror, prettying themselves up for dinner. Being invited to eat in the Officer’s Mess was slightly anxiety inducing anyway, but even more so when Chick Harding would be sat just a few tables away. They dug out their cleanest uniform, once again glad that Olive had sent Meatball to the airfield for his daily exercise. For such an occasion as this, the uniform needed to remain dog-hair, coffee stained and donut sugar free. 

Olive watched as Valencia expertly daubed rouge on her cheeks and her signature Victory Red shade on her lips, pouting occasionally in the mirror so as to ensure she’d got the right shape. She tries her best to mimic her movements without making it obvious, pulling her dark brown hair out from under the silk scarf she had used to keep it contained all day, now pinning it away from her face. She had found the perfect shade after the disastrous testing and application of Val’s Victory Red on her first night in the hut. It’s one she will be happy to have kissed off her mouth later, that’s for certain. 

“That color looks good on you,” Val utters from next to her.

“Yeah?” She replies, meeting her glance in the reflection of the mirror and resuming the primping of her hair, hoping to somehow smooth it into submission. “It’s not too dark?”

“Not at all. It’s the perfect red for you.”

“I think only you can pull off that Victory Red,” Olive chuckles, the pair of them remembering how that shade had been much too light against Olive’s pale skin, it washing her out and making her impossibly more pasty. “It was not for me.”

“Oh, gosh, do you remember how fast you wiped it off?”

“Immediate no,” she laughs. A sigh leaves her lips, throwing a stray hair pin that had escaped from her hair onto a nearby table. “Ugh, this side does not want to cooperate!”

“Here, let me…” Val stands and walks towards her friend, standing behind her as she begins gently rolling Olive’s hair between her manicured fingers and pinning it in the desired spot.

“How do you do it?” She grumbles, her hair now perfect within seconds, all thanks to an expert hand. 

“From an early age, my mother taught me how to be a ‘proper lady’,” she replies, Olive stifling a giggle at Val’s impression of her mom. “‘Valencia, don’t leave the house without lipstick on. Don’t forget to set your hair.’”

Olive laughs fully now at the broken English accent that comes out of her. She is so good at it that it’s almost like her mother is in the room with them. “Is that what she sounds like?”

“Oh, yes,” Val nods. “And Nonna, not a word of English.”

“Well, you’re a whizz,” she compliments, looking up as the final pin is placed in her hair. “I need to pay attention to how you do your hair.”

“You’re doing just fine, chickie,” she winks, walking over to her side table and putting on her watch before collecting her jacket. Olive does just the same, Helen waiting impatiently by the door. “We were all there once.”

“Thanks,” Olive beams at her friend, shoving her arms into her own jacket. “Now, come on. It’s almost 5:30 and if I know those two…”

“They’re probably already outside,” she finishes, Helen opening the door. 

The two men stood outside, smoking together and deep in conversation, no doubt about the replacements that had joined them today. Listening in as they mischievously stare through the screen door at  their fellas, they catch that Ev had taken a few of the boys up and tested them on formations and calling out navigation patterns. Dougie had simulated a bomb drop for them, the pilot and the bombardier agreeing that two forts in particular had impressed them - the rest, not so much. 

“I wanted to take Ol to the pub tonight, but that’s not happening,” Dougie grumbles as he senses the girls making their way towards them. 

“I know,” Ev groans in response. “I owe Val a date but, based on what Jack told me earlier, we’re about to go through the mud for a bit.”

“This whole place is mud. Never stops raining!”

“This one sounds big,” Ev musters, his voice low. 

“He say where?”

“No, Harding’s keeping it close to the vest.”

“Dammit,” Dougie shoots out, teeth slightly gritted together in annoyance. “It would be nice to know what we’re up against for once.”

“Yeah,” comes the quiet reply from Everett, the final ember bursting from his cigarette. “Explains why he wants us looking after these new kids.”

“Fucking replacements…”

The conversation carries on, the men so involved in it that they still haven’t noticed the girls right by them. The compliments flow, them talking about a pair from Laredo who seemed to be the only ones worth their salt. 

Dougie does a double take as he realizes his girl is right by him. He throws his finished cigarette into the makeshift ashtray in front of the hut and smiles his sweet grin, holding out his hand. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. “You look beautiful.”

“Heh, thank you,” she giggles, feeling herself blush at his compliment. “You’re looking mighty fine yourself, my love.”

“Good day?” he teases, kissing her gently on the mouth.

“Hm, it was okay, I guess. Nothing much happened,” she pauses, this time being the one to initiate the kiss. “A lot of reading.”

“Oh yeah, we definitely read a lot. Can we read more tomorrow?”

“Only if you buy me a drink later.”

“Deal,” he winks, pulling her close. “Oh, you smell divine, Ollie.”

“Yes, I’m quite appealing when I’m not covered in dog hair and coffee.”

“I think you’re just as beautiful all the time,” he whispers, his voice in her ear sending a delicious tingle down her spine. She lets him keep gently whispering sweet nothings in her ear as she catches sight of Val and Ev going on ahead, the pair of them walking in step as he wraps his arm around her shoulders and keeps her close. 

“We’d better go,” she laughs, nodding her head towards their friends. “We’re gonna be late.”

“If that hut is empty, I’m fine being late.”

“James!” she scolds, but laughs nevertheless. “You are so cheeky!”

“Yeah,” he grins, his eyes beginning to light up. “Only for you, though.”

“Oh, it had better be only for me, Douglass,” she flirts, batting her long lashes at him. “Nobody else is getting a piece of this!”

“Nu-uh, no, ma’am. Never.”

The evening air has a chill upon it, Dougie feeling it the moment they begin walking towards the Officer’s Mess. He throws his arm around Olive’s shoulders and pulls her close, the warmth from his body edging the cold away with each step. 

“I’d give you my jacket,” he offers. “But I’d have to put it right back on in a second.”

“I understand, sweet. No bother at all.”

He stops, taking her face between his hands and plants a deep kiss on her mouth, both of them feeling the other smile as their lips meet. She giggles as they break apart, taking her thumb to wipe the lipstick from his lips. “Oh, seems this red is your color, too.”

“I knew it. Does that mean I can keep kissing you forever?”

“Sure,” she swoons, the word ‘forever’ sending her insides melting. “I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he whispers, a tone of nervousness to his voice. “Come on, pretty girl. We’re late.”

— 

Upon entering the mess, Dougie’s arm once again wraps around Olive, they hear Val’s voice loudly making a remark to Harry Crosby. Gesturing to the couple who are smiling themselves into oblivion, they hear “that about answer your question, Croz?”

“Sure does,” he laughs in response, smiling at them both as Dougie, ever the sweet gentleman, pulls the chair out next to Val for Olive to sit on before rounding the table to sit opposite her, next to Everett. 

“So, fellas,” he pipes up, his eyes crinkling from his smile. “How’s it going then?”

“Could ask you the same thing, Dougie,” Brady grins, nodding towards Olive.

“Oh, I’m great,” he enunciates, winking at his girl opposite him, who rolls her eyes in return.

“Brady,” Olive begins, tapping his hand to get his attention. “I just wanted to say how lovely your Juliet is. I received her reply today, and I’ve got to say, what an amazing person. What a magnificent writer she is. Those kids are lucky to have her as their teacher, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, thanks, Olive,” he smiles, his cheeks turning red at the mention of her. “Make sure you mention that in your next letter. I tell her that all the time, yet she never seems to take it in from me. Maybe she’ll listen to someone else.”

“Maybe so! I’m very much the same, John. It’s a girl thing.”

“She write you an essay?” he jokes, shuffling with the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

“She did, actually,” she nods enthusiastically, promising to show him tomorrow.

“Yeah,” Dougie interjects. “We read it together.”

The men at the table give a roaring cheer at his remark, Olive feeling herself turn a deep shade of beetroot as she begins to laugh. “James!” she says, holding on to Valencia as they both laugh with tears in their eyes. “Keep it quiet.”

“Yeah, Doug,” Ev says, ruffling his hair a little. “Keep it quiet.”

Next to her, she sees Val catch the eye of one of the new replacements that had been mentioned earlier. Due to her having not been introduced to them yet, she is finding it hard to place which one had captured Helen’s heart and mind this morning from description alone. Nevertheless, Olive smiles brightly at them in greeting, the curly haired mustached man waving across to Val. 

“Hey, Val,” Benny calls from the other end of the table. “Looks like you’ve caught the eye of some of the replacements.” Olive sees Everett’s head twitch just a little at Benny’s words, turning his head slightly to get a better look. “Starry eyed kids.” 

“Rosenthal and his crew?” Val responds, shaking her head with a laugh. 

“Uh, no, actually…”

“What?” Ev scowls, and finds the men Benny has been referring to. His eyes narrow towards them, his gait akin to a wild cat ready to attack. Olive feels her chest tense up, hoping and praying this isn’t the start of a whole new argument, so soon after getting over the last one. 

“Everett, they’re not doing anything,” she pleads, her voice soft. “They’re just–”

“Drooling at my girlfriend like a pack of dogs.” 

Olive quickly looks over each of her shoulders, hoping that brotherly Curt Biddick isn’t in the vicinity. Olive isn’t sure who Curt would go for first in this situation - Ev for acting in such a way, or the new boys acting like uncouth savages whose mothers hadn’t taught them manners. 

Dougie places a hand on his friend’s shoulder, bringing him out of the envious trance he’d gotten himself in. “Ev, hey pal. They’re just kids, they’ll learn.” 

Olive sees Ev’s eyes unlock from the group with a shake of his head as he hears Dougie’s words, the ready-to-pounce stance dropping almost immediately. 

“Yeah…learn not to ogle other people’s girlfriends,” he spits, pointedly talking to those same boys, whose faces had dropped a mile in fear. 

“Everett…” Val warned, her eyes meeting Olive’s in some kind of confusion. Before he can respond, Gale Cleven stands with his hands on his hips, ever the authoritative figure. Major Buck Cleven addresses the boys, their faces now pale and their eyes darting to fixate on anything but Everett Blakely. 

“Fellas,” he nods. “Those girls will get your utmost respect, understood?” 

“Y-yes, Major,” they all stutter out, Buck nodding before moving along to say hello to everyone. 

“Boys. Miss Lewis, Miss Val,” he smiles, giving Val a little wink after realizing she has heard his talk with the replacements. “Enjoy dinner, everyone.”

“Thanks, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Val and Ev, who are sitting opposite one another just like Olive and Dougie are, begin quietly talking to one another. Olive finds it best to not listen in, having found that this situation was enough drama for one night. Instead, she catches the eye opposite her, Dougie shaking his head and rolling his eyes with a smile as the pair murmur next to them.

— 

Dinner finishes, and the group finds that the tiredness has finally caught up with them all, Olive and Val exchanging tired glaces which are not just from feeling full after all they’d eaten for dinner.

“So, club?” Dougie asks, taking a drag of his just lit cigarette and passing it across to Olive.

“Hmm, no. Not tonight,” she shakes her head, blowing smoke out of her mouth. “Unless Val wants to?”

“Hell no,” she laughs, dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. “I need my bed.” She pauses for a second, evidently piecing a thought together. “Why don’t we just go sit outside our hut for a while?”

“It’s a nice night, I don’t see why not,” Olive agrees, already beginning to stand. Dougie rushes up behind her and helps her with her jacket, holding out his hand for her to hold. “Come on, honey,” she smiles, before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “We can have a cuddle.”

“Perfect.”

The group makes the short walk back, Dougie not letting Olive’s hand go for a second. Every now and then, he puts it to his lips and kisses the back of it, smiling softly at the sight of their fingers linked together. Once the hut is reached, the girls rush inside and place a vinyl on the player, gesturing for one of the guys to grab a chair and prop the door open so the music can be heard from where they will sit. 

“Ev, we need a record player in our rack,” Dougie says, handing a cigarette up to Olive who is sitting on his lap, his arm around her waist, holding her close to him. 

“Croz has a record player,” Ev responds with a sigh, him and Val squeezing up to share a chair so they can be as close as possible to one another. 

“Yeah, but he plays fancy stuff,” he laments, his free hand squeezing Olive’s waist a little more. 

“What exactly is fancy stuff, Doug?” Val asks with a laugh. 

“You know, opera and stuff.”

“Classical music is nice,” Val reasons to him, her eyes softly narrowing at him. “Nonna plays a lot of classical Italian at home. It’s actually quite nice.”

“Hey, Ol,” Dougie asks, nudging her a little. “What does Pearl play?”

She smiles, happy that this is a question she can answer truthfully.

“A lot of Glenn Miller in her house,” she sighs, another reminder to go back to her and reality looming over her. 

“She has good taste,” Ev offers, nodding. 

“Heh, yeah. She sure does.”

The four of them excitedly begin exchanging anecdotes about their families, Helen and Tattie joining them while Ev is in the middle of a story, regarding his mother and how she dealt with his rebellious behavior as a child.

“All I heard was, and it scared the life out of me, let me tell ya, was ‘Everett Ernest, if you so much as look at that vase–’”

“Wait, wait!” Olive shakes her head, wanting to make sure she heard him correctly. “Your middle name is Ernest?”

“Yes, and what of it, English?”

“I'm sorry, it's just–” she is cut off by the sound of a cackle erupting from her own throat, clutching her stomach as her eyes squeeze shut. “I didn't expect that. You don't–” she squeals, trying to compose herself. “You don't look like an Ernest, that's all.”

“Go on then, what's yours?”

“Maude,” she giggles, catching the glint in his eye as she says it. 

“Maude? Jesus, Ol, that's somehow worse than Ernest!” It's his turn to laugh now, the pair of them throwing their heads back and laughing loudly into the night. 

“I think it's cute,” Dougie says, sweetly tapping her nose with his finger. 

“Thank you! I think so too.” Her nose wrinkles sweetly as he touches it, him mirroring her expression and pulling her into a quick peck on the lips. 

Tattie lights one of the last cigarettes in the pack, passing it between the group. 

Helen, the most inexperienced smoker of them all but not wanting to be the odd one out, keeps coughing at each drag she takes. The dainty little noises leave her every few seconds, her chest heaving delicately as if she were a sickly little kitten.

“Helen, doll,” Olive urges. “Put that out. You're hurting yourself!”

“I don't wanna look like the party pooper!”

“I can promise, you're not,” she laughs, gesturing with a wave of her hand to give her the cigarette, the tip covered in her lipstick. As she stubs it out, she sees four men round the corner, all of them wide eyed and seeming to be taking in their new surroundings. Val looks up with a grin and waves, beckoning them over while Helen visibly swoons at the sight of the thin, dark haired pilot. 

“Ohhhh,” Olive says, knowingly. “That'll be Nash, then.” Helen simply giggles, tucking an invisible strand of her behind her ear.  “There is no hair loose, my girl,” Olive guffaws, shaking her head. 

“Ol, come meet the new fellas!” Valencia calls, three of the four in front of her. Nash had made his way over to Helen without a hello, his target clear from the moment he'd seen her leaning against the wall of the hut. 

“This is Robert,” Val begins. “Speas here is Nash's co-pilot and…where's he got to?”

“I'll give ya three guesses,” the round faced blond man perks up, eyebrows wiggling.

“That was fast. He's keen.”

“Sure is. Sorry, Miss…?” he says, looking at Olive.  

“Lewis. Olive Lewis.”

 “No way!” he gestures to himself, patting his chest three times in a fit of excitement. “Pappy Lewis!” 

“Oh, what?!” she squeals, clutching on to his arm. “I mean,” she stutters. “It's a pretty common name, Pappy.”

“Never met a Brit with the same one before though. Truth be told, never met a Brit til just now.”

“It's your lucky day. A Brit and a long lost cousin,” she jokes, stubbing out the last of her cigarette. 

“Oh! You're right! Hey, Rosie!” he calls over to him, not realizing he's still stood right next to him so he almost deafens the curly haired pilot. “Came all the way to England to find my cousin!”

“Pappy, she's not–”

“Long lost cousin Olive,” he says, pulling her into a hug. Olive pulls away as he loosens his grip on her, platonically grabbing his arm to lead him over to Ev and Dougie. Olive catches sight of Everett talking in hushed tones to Dougie, his hand on his shoulder. Ev is carrying an expression that's rarely seen, his brow softly furrowed and his body squared up as if to cover Dougie’s from where he is sat. The pair seem to be speaking softly, Ev obviously talking Dougie down from a mood that hasn't been apparent thus far. Olive worries, instantly trying to break the ice between them and her new friend. She rifles in her pocket and pulls out the box of cigarettes, somehow hoping that a simple gesture will give some ease to the surrounding atmosphere.

“Smoke?” she offers to Pappy as they reach the two men. “You guys have–”

“We've met,” Dougie says sharply, taking the last pull of his Lucky Strike as he stands. 

“Doug…” Everett urges, gesturing for him to sit back down. Olive can clearly see Dougie’s neck tightening, a vein beginning to pop out on his forehead. His face is covered with a thin sheen of sweat, him wiping at his brow quickly as Olive takes in his expression, her eyes full of concern. 

“Excuse me, Pappy,” she says, placing herself in front of James. “Honey,” she soothes. “What's up?”

“Nothing,” he replies, his voice meek and quiet. “It's nothing.”

“You wouldn't be acting like this if it was nothing.” She puts a hand on his face, before raking her fingers through his dark hair. “Come on, come with me.”

She links her fingers with his and takes him to a quieter spot, the back of the hut where they can't be seen. Instantly, she crosses her arms and shakes her head, as if to urge him into telling her what's going on.  “Well?” 

“I need you to know I'm not mad,” he begins, his eyes stuck on a spot on the pavement below. “I just…I get uneasy sometimes.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Someone - an old girlfriend - stepped out on me. Was unfaithful and I don't–”

“My goodness. I could never. I would never.”

He sighs, the back of his head against the wall as he breathes out. “I just need to know you're my girl.”

“Oh, James,” she mollifies, lifting his chin to have him look at her. “I'm your girl.”

“What if you change your mind?” He sounds so unlike himself, his voice, so small and meek, barely above a whisper as it cracks just a little.

“I will never change my mind. D'you hear me?” He nods, his blue eyes suddenly swimming. “Never, ever. However long you want me for, at least.”

“Oh, I'm planning on a really long time.”

“Good,” she smiles, pulling him closer to kiss her. “I'm yours. Okay? And when you feel ready, you can tell me the whole story.”

“Okay.” The deep breath he seems to have been holding escapes him, Olive seeing his chest collapse a little with relief. He smiles at her, gently stroking her face. “Hey, you think we can sneak in and do some more reading?”

“No chance of that, darling,” she says, nodding towards the group still outside. “But I’m sure we can read here for a little bit. Maybe a bedtime story, hm?” She grins at him, and he catches a cheeky glint in her deep brown eyes as she kisses him, open mouthed and firm. He gently pushes her against the wall, her opening her legs slightly to accommodate his lean body pressing on hers. Gentle moans pass between their mouths as they kiss, pushing their tongues together, trying to find a moment to breathe. His hand gently strokes down her neck, her eyes squeezing further shut to bite off a groan that’s trying to escape from her throat. It’s when he softly presses his fingers on the area he is holding that the moan crawls from her mouth and into his, him laughing on her lips in return. 

“You’re fresh, James Douglass,” she murmurs, his lips capturing hers again as the hand eases its grip. She finds his bottom lip with her tongue and gently nibbles, her hands finding themselves in his hair, softly gripping his hair and mussing it, the pomade slightly sticky upon her fingertips. She doesn’t care. All she cares about is the man in front of her, his mouth moving and working upon hers as if he never wanted to kiss another woman this way ever again. She shivers at his touch, the hairs all over her body standing on end as he plants soft kisses on her jawline and neck, making Olive quietly moan, her warm breath condensating in the dark, starry evening. 

“Can we say goodnight like this all the time?” he mumbles into her skin, his tongue finding her jugular. 

“Yes please,” she whines, her hips bucking into him as she goes to grab him once again. “And good morning, good afternoon, good evening…” her voice drifts off as he presses his lips to hers again, silencing her. He teasingly breaks away as she gasps, sighing in frustration. She catches sight of him in the moonlight and cackles for a second, his kiss-swollen lips covered in her lipstick. A familiar voice booms over the whole base, shocking the couple slightly. “The light was on. Everyone get back to your racks,” followed by a very stern  “James Douglass. Bed. NOW!”

“I’m beginning to think we need to find better hiding spots,” Olive says, rolling her eyes.

“Come on,” he whispers, pulling her off the wall. “They’ll be wondering where we got to.”

“Oh, I think they’ll know. Come here, love,” she says, pulling a spare handkerchief from her pocket. “You need this.”

“Do I look pretty?” he pouts, leaning forward to get her to clean his face. 

“Always, doll,” she reassures, touching his nose with her own. “There,” she nods, not a smear of lipstick to be seen. “They’ll never suspect a thing!”

The two round the corner, still giggling from their little tryst as they catch Val smiling sweetly at them. She gives them a little wave as she makes her way into the hut, leaving the door open for Olive. The lull of the night surrounds them as they quietly bid one another goodnight. A sweet kiss planted on her lips makes her toes curl. He kisses her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and touches her nose with his one final time. No words are spoken; it’s as if nothing else needs to be said, the actions seeming to do the talking. She watches as he turns and walks away into the night, Olive finding herself thanking the stars above for bringing her here.

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @archival-hogwash @lestweforget5 @butterfly9012

[lamialamia]

Mota ep 7 rewatch thoughts

I'm catching up! I'm watching BoB ep 1 right after this.

So, here's the rambling:

I'm not gonna talk about the affair plot line because I'm gonna write up my analysis post later anyway.

TwoBucks in that stalag is all kind of funny and sad. Babushka!Buck exists for one episode only and yet already iconic.

The mail! Wow what a scene. I forgot how obviously jealous Bucky was of that one mail form Marge. Like here the thing

Before him, there was another guy getting 3 mails, one of which is from his mother. But only after Gale get the mail from his fiancee did Buck react verbally and very bitterly. What is this??!?!?! How can read this scene as anything but Bucky pathetically yearning for his best friend???

This episode has too much narration. Probably the most narration in all nine episodes and thus, for me it feel really weak.

I mean, instead of telling me about how morale on base is bad and everyone is tired and stressed... why can't we spend some time with the mechanics crew and the doctors/nurses on base? Both these groups of personnel have consistent re-appearances and they are led by 2 characters have shown to be there since episode 1 (Ken Lemmons and the Doctor Man With The Pipe)

Having the mechanics and the emt react to how they don't even know who is flying what plane, who has been shot down, who is in the med wing,... that kind of stuff would be so good!!!

I like Bennett. You know he's a solid when he fly with the boys immediately on a proven dangerous mission.

Rosie upping is still such a good scene. I don't know. Maybe Nate Mann is just that charismatic, but his reasons are because of the men who "got the rules changed mid-game" and how if he is gone, there might be dead rookie in his spot... that's the good stuff.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Rosie: What do we do when life gives us lemons??

Replacement: Make lemonade?

Rosie: No!

Replacement: ...what

Rosie: Ken, what do I do when life gives me lemons??

Ken: Well, I sure hope you kiss him.

Rosie: Yes!

(One aggressively dramatic kiss later)

Rosie (mussed): By the way, new guy, your answer wasn't wrong. It was just wrong for me.

Replacement: ...help

Pappy: Rosie, you forgot the part where you actually introduce Lemmons.

Rosie: Oh, no. Guess we'll have to try again.

Ken (also mussed): dang.

[homestuck-stories]

[DID anon again hi]

I got thinking about john meeting the alters.

Personally I have quite a bit of them (20+,,,) but I cant help but think about him meeting my rabbit alter. How cute they would be interacting and all. Cause rabbit is very friendly and would probably think john is adorable.

Or him meeting our protector whos a big guard dog/wolf who would likely see john as a good friend and would front to defend him if someone was bothering him.

Or its maybe a blurry day, no one knows who's up here but john is just happy to hang out with whoever no matter what. Cause he loves them all.

Im just very soft thinking about this....

Also hi uh gonna sign my asks with ♡Fox

(And regarding your last response, yes we did like the depiction ♡♡♡)

Let's go with that then! y/n: your name r/n: Rabbit name p/n: Protector's name. --------------------------- You woke up. Finally awake! A nice day was coming and you knew it was gonna be better. You were gonna meet John at last. After a few encounters where you were looking "behind the window", now you could interact with him. You showered, cleaned your bedroom while getting dressed and then went to look for John. He was on his house, waiting for you so... You arrived and knocked the door. You were able to hear how he came down the stairs to see you and, with him opening the door, you noticed how nervous you were now. Frick, you even wanted to run away because he was so special for your system... —Hey, y/n! How are you? Are you okay? You seem to sweat a lot. Haha, don't worry, Vriska is not here in case you are scared. Ah, yes. The spider troll. That woman made you have chills, and not good ones. —H-huh, no. No. I wanted to talk with you a little bit. Haha. Your nervous laugh came out and John looked at you a little bit confused, until you said. —Oh, sorry. Forgot to say. Ahm... r/n fronting. I'm... I'm sorry, I hope you don't care meeting with me! You started tapping the floor, trying to stay as happy as you should because you were gonna meet someone new. Instead, it's a little bit dífficult since you are as nervous as someone can be. —Ooh. I've heard a lot about you! Don't worry, it's okay. I wanted to meet you a lot. You and p/n seem to be nice people to meet! You can sense p/n agreeing with John and y/n laughing a bit since p/n showed a little bit of pride after John's interaction talking about you both. —Haha, thanks! You are so nice with us always... I wanted to meet you and... Give you a hug! When you realized, you were already almost over him, hugging him. You enjoyed a lot physical interaction, especially when it was related to hugging someone. —... Oh. That's so nice! And you smell really good, r/n! I like your perfume. You blushed and then saw John step aside the entrance. You entered the house and followed him until you were both on the kitchen. He was making some tea and asked. —Do you like honey and lemmon tea? I know y/n prefers green tea but I don't know what you want. —Oh. Don't worry! I like whatever you can give me, better if it's sweet. John smiled and started pouring some of the tea on a cup. You could smell it and... Oh. You started coughing because some of the steam went into your mouth and made your breathing a little bit hard. —Sorry! Are you okay? I hope I didn't mess up with this... John seemed a little bit worried but you weren't. You knew it was an accident, so you said. —Yeah, I'm okay, I'm okay. Why don't we sit down and talk? —Okay, I'm glad that you are okay. John sat in front of you and, with a little smile, you offered your hand to him and said. —I want to talk about the other day. That kiss that you gave y/n... Do you think I could taste it? And, with John blushing, your first date with John started. Another first for him to collect. ------------------------ I hope you liked it! If you have any other request, or your friend does (since I'm writing their request later), you already know that you can send it!

[jonathankatwhatever]

Still 30 Dec 2024. Had a not good sushi meal and don’t feel so great but I know that’s also because I worked so hard on abdominal compressions at the gym. I think the most difficult was the lateral elliptical, bending over with butt back so the weight is suspended and it’s like you’re riding a bike sitting without a seat, but with a side-to-side movement.

We can translate category theory basics into SBE. Fits easily to the 1-0-1(//)0-1-0.

Picking this up on 31 Dec 2024. A category contains 2 classes, one of objects and one of morphisms, and every morphism has 2 objects, a before and after, which they call source and target. That notation says there’s an action and it’s observed through the choice inherent in the selection of a source. The notation we’ve developed allows both that Observer perspective and the subjective experience of the Actor.

It’s now 1 Jan 2025. Not in the best mood and I don’t know why. Watching The Twilight Zone: a plane is somewhere ‘else’ and it’s treated as a group experience, when the math says it can’t be, that these are individual Things outside of the D3-4Space they share. This D3-4Space is crucial to understand.

Maybe working is what I need. It always helps, even when I’m screwing up my D3-4 existence’s choices. D3-4Space is not the same as a Thing field. The math of it is kind of complicated in my head so I’ll distract myself until it comes around.

I shoulder pressed 178, more than I have ever done. Seated. I had to drop the seat to 2 to get enough leverage to do it, but I did it. I can do 158 at 4, closer to the bar. Or handles. I’ve been doing a lateral elliptical. The workout is terrific. I am finding all sorts of cool movements, like how to skate or ski with a glide leg or a follow leg, to either side, at varying widths so I can explore the angles of alignment and extension. I really enjoy suspending my weight back, like I’m sitting slightly, like on skates or a bike but without the skates or the bike so there’s more effort involved. Amazing how freely the legs can churn. That has led to a number of realizations about the carriage choices available to reduce strain in motion, including how they become available, including how I realized that as a process.

I also had the most interesting experience. Love Story came on while I was on the elliptical, which was weird because a bit had been occurring in which Romeo appeared, including the simple but too obvious for me to get until now Rome and the o ending, which is like I’m Rome.

Watching the first I Dream of Jeanie. It’s fascinating. Larry Hagman is doing Jack Lemmon, while Barbara Eden is a combination of siren, psycho and a moonstruck teen. At one point, she stands like Peter Pan. They then have her mirror another actress, as a brunette.

The math has to wait. It’s 2AM. Not the same as a Thing field because Things connect as iObjects. Spirits in the material world. George Harrison’s it’s only me, it’s not my mind. I’m a whisker away.

———-

I forgot the rest: the line tis the East and Juliet is the son appeared to me, making a connection to belief and thus the story is about betrayal o belief in the son, who is love in the sense of saving, of salvation as the highest love, so belief in the love of Juliet as the son, as the embodiment, becomes more than love, becomes eternal.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Mira protection squad rise up….dw just pull out the picture of Karasu in your wallet and just say ummm I’ve got a bf..!! /j but fr stay safe!!! It’s crazy how this still happens everywhere like leave people alone!!!

I’m crying the word count alone still has me REELING like omg….guys this is not a fic atp this could be a whole novel….

Ok wait but continuing I forgot to mention this is such a minor thing but THE TAJ MAHAL OUT OF HAIR??? I did not need that visual either oh my god

And not to worry! I turned back pretty fast I’d only gotten to the part where Karasu calls to talk about being captain and then I was really like ummm wait a minute….so all good!!! I fr was piecing together the story up till that point like “oooh ok in college….ok somehow we made a deal with Karasu got it…” LMAO my fault for running to read without actually reading properly before I started the actual fic portion!!

Ugh baby Karasu is so squishy…I can just imagine pinching his cheeks shdgsjshs speaking of that line where y/n is walking with him after his first game as captain and she compares his baby face to his current face “all angles and gloom and doom” LMAOOO ok but that swimming scene>>>> their bond >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

YAYOYUKI guys it’s just the quadruple Y ship Y to the fourth power LMAO I’m imagining yuki in that meme reaction pic with the person with their arms in the area and their chains breaking LMAOOO

NO IT WORKED SOOOO WELL!!! Honestly I think you’re the master of this like writing characters in love but they don’t know they’re actually in love yet…so good….chefs kiss…..but omg yeah with Aoyama!!! I loved how that was in the story too and you could feel the difference between their relationships!! I’m ngl though I’m not even deep in the fandom or even content in general but whenever I read Aoyama I kept thinking of the dude from mha LMAOOOO I know Aoyama isn’t a super u bc Lemmon last name but that was the first face that popped into my mind shsgsgshsh

The bfb sisters >>>>> ok but so real kaneshiro PLEASE give us NAMES this just reminds me of Barou’s LN too where his sisters are literally referred to as “the 1 year old” and “the 0 year old” like BRO JUST GIVE THEM NAMES!!!! I do really enjoy how we get to see both sides though!!! Like both being friends with the younger and older sister, very refreshing getting to read about both sides!!

NO BECAUSE I ALMOST SCREAMED HAHAHA like bro carried you to your apartment in the middle of the night, gave you water and food, cleaned you up and REMOVED YOUR MAKEUP and oops, to the streets he goes /hj….I also thought y/n hitting otoya up to ring her in was funny LOL I honestly live for the little interactions with other characters I love how it builds a whole little universe within the fic world!

Where would Karasu nation be without you…and OMG MORE KARASU REQS??? Guys Karasu nation is GROWING all thanks to you o7 gotta take a Karasu intermission LMAO but speaking of if there’s anything in the Hiori LN you want reinterpreted…don’t be shy..LOL I had it TLd but I think the wording needs some refining because it was definitely clunkier than the ones I did recently LMAO

Oooo omg plane ride again!! Manifesting no motion sickness to the airport..!!!! And no we knew in our hearts that you were cooking in silence….we trust….

-Karasu anon

LMAOOO WHIPPING OUT A BADLY EDITED PHOTO OF ME NEXT TO KARASU LIKE “so sorry but i’m actually married 🙄 yeah it’s a committed relationship so go away 🥱” JFJDJS i’m dead 😭 nah fr i don’t understand how it’s such a problem STILL but oh well 😐

apparently according to google a novel is anything above 40k words SO TECHNICALLY i did write an entire novel abt karasu based on a song from victorious 😭 that is the most ridiculous sentence i think i’ve ever formulated JFKSJFJSK what even…it’s what my man deserves though 💖

OH MY GOD THE TAJ MAHAL OUT OF HAIR it was actually a reference to this disney xd show that my brother, my best friend, and i watched as kids called lab rats and at one point one of the characters makes a “buckinghair palace” and is planning on making a “taj mahair” it was a very random reference LMAOAOA but i like throwing things in like that to make the world seem richer?? like i could’ve just had otoya say that his sister had a bad roommate but adding in that specific (and gross) detail just made it seem like there’s things going on in the background even when the reader isn’t there if that makes sense

LMAOO i can fr see how that would be confusing 😭 the 41.6k words really got to you huh 😰

HAHAHA no but y/n is so real for that because imagine you’re used to adorable squishy baby karasu and then all of a sudden BAM he’s all chiseled and gorgeous?? but you’re “not attracted” to him because he’s “like your brother” so you can’t even appreciate that part 😩💔

PLSSS yayoyuki my otp all those y’s mean they’re meant for each other 🤩 LMAOOO yukimiya breathing a sigh of relief that he’s actually chill for once

AHHH YESSS MY FAV TROPE i love when characters don’t understand their feelings it’s truly so much fun because it’s such a good way to create tension without feeling forced or annoying…yesss the way y/n and aoyama are chill but you can FEEL how she doesn’t love him but then her with karasu even though she doesn’t realize it the love they share just seeps into every interaction they have 🥹 PLSSS icl i know nothing abt mha and would prefer to keep it that way 😰 to be honest i just went on the japanese census and picked one of the earlier names on the list which happened to be aoyama (because it starts with an a i suppose)…no reference intended there

kaneshiro so allergic to women he won’t even give them names 😔💔 literally the only girls with names are isagi and bachira’s moms + anri 😭 i can never write a bllk fic without ocs because i NEED female friendships in my stories!! and agreed that it was rlly fun to see the difference in liking your friend’s older brother versus the younger brother as there are different associated stigmas and whatnot that come about from it

KARASU SAID “right let me just be the ideal bf real quick” AND GOT THE BOOT FOR IT 🥲 i can’t even blame him for kissing her/confessing at that point because wdym he went through all of that and then told you he’d never had a girlfriend because he was in love with someone who’d never love him back and you have the audacity to say “damn who would ever say no to you??” 😭⁉️ he’s more patient than me fr…okay but lowkey it’s so funny to me that he saw y/n when he was four years old and he IMMEDIATELY locked tf in…like THAT was the ONLY GIRL he wanted from that moment on 😩

otoya was so much fun to write in this au 😭 like the way he’s so nonchalant and all…he knows exactly what’s going on because he’s good w girls but he has 0 interest in getting involved because he needs to protect his peace!! like i said w the taj mahal thing i love throwing in little moments that make it seem like the characters all have their own lives separate from the plot…for example the “crazy girl” from otoya’s group project that he mentions very easily could be a love interest for him if you think abt it ☝🏻 like “crazy girl” just wants a good grade and slacker otoya thinks he can flirt his way out of doing any work but she’s having NONE of it and they end up falling in love based on that?? can you imagine he’s like two minutes late to the meeting and she’s like “where were you 😐” and he’s like “my roommate’s older sister’s best friend was showing me where to get non-keurig coffee” and she doesn’t even believe him because she’s heard many dumbass excuses in her life and that is the worst one yet 😭 idk that’s just a random example but it’s just fun for me to throw in those random little threads!! i think like you said it really helps to build a universe within the story and make the plot as well as all of the characters feel more whole and well rounded as opposed to flat and one dimensional 🤩

at this point i think i’m basically a karasu account LMAOO nobody remembers my roots as a nagi fan anymore 😟 yes i have a couple of reqs for him which is rlly exciting!! eek i’ve been having trouble getting into the hiori mindset but i NEED TO because those two reqs are from my 500 follower milestone event which was ages agooo like they’re literally from JUNE 😭 ugh trust i will cook when i get the chance though!!

YESS PRAYING NO MOTION SICKNESS!! we still have a little less than a week left before we leave so going to relax and enjoy the vibes but tbh i am excited to return to america…the glorious land of ubiquitous air conditioning and everyone wearing deodorant…LMAO 😭🙏🏻

[contagious-addiction]

Realized I forgot to share some Mt Lemmon pics I took when I went hiking with my mom when she came to visit

[makahimetenshi]

Perfect connection Arthur Maxson x Female Sole Survivor Fallout 4 Fanfic

THIS IS NOT A LEMMON CHAPTER, but theres gonna be more lemmon chapters on this fics. Mostly to make their relationship more intense and passionate. This one would be between chapter 11-12 of the original fic

If you are very very very delighted with one fic and want a continuation I didn’t write or post you can donate me at least $5 bucks, most of this fics have next chapters I don’t finish because lack of motivation but hey a $5 is a $5, I see a few reviews and comments that fics that are abandoned months laters receive comments of wanting to know what happens next. Here it is, I finished my handling with you all, enjoy the fic

Having a homemade breakfast was a dream for Arthur Maxson, never dream with the possibility oh having his own eggs and bacon by his prewar American wife.

Well it wasn’t bacon exactly, more like dog meat cut very very thinn, and it wasn’t his wife, but that could be changed someday…

Nora wont eat breakfast, but would cook so he can rate the food she mades, trying to cook with wasteland things wasn’t easy, the smell was horrible  in the pan and even the thought of trying to eat something make her stomach ich, gross, but he eat that food and she whished for him to have a warm meal prepared after working all day, so she made the sacrifice to cook…without even tasting a bit.

Arthur would feel bad about it, most of the time they don’t share meals but stay together talking like they would, she had his back. It wasn’t difficult to follow a recipe so there was no way to fuck up a meal without even taste it, her dishes taste quite good in his opinion of just being a simple taster, if he say it was good, she gained confidence and do more.

-You have that call today? –ask Nora leaving a smooch on his cheek  placing the plate in front of him.

God this feels good.

-Yeah, not easy people to deal with –said the elder picking his fork to start eating his mierluk eggs

-Youll do great –she said hugging him by the neck, leaving smooches on his cheek and ears as he eat, goshhefeltsohappyandplenty.

They stay like that for a few seconds until Nora leave to start washing the pan in the sink, the man keep eating until he was full and satisfied, never over eating, don’t allow himself to that, food left behind was always saved for emergencys or leftovers for dinner.

-Delicious as always –scrambled mierluk eggs, nothing special, but love was the secret ingredient and if he encourage her to cook maybe eventually she would eat. The man step up leaving the plate with left overs on the table and leave a kiss on her neck- see you later

-Have a great honey –ohgoshhewishedtobelovedbacksomuch.

This was his place to comeback, at her side. This was the happiest he has ever been.

Maybe 15 minutes laters he come back to his quarters, searching for something he forgot, hopping to find Nora around but instead he was received with an awful acid smell on the air and some crying from the bathroom, worried he moved there just to find Nora looking at him back surprised and scared. Sitting on the floor close to the toilet, eyes red, cheeks wet from tears and mouth dirty.

Is this what he was wishing for so long…?

-Nora? –he asked and she came out her trance, cleaning her eyes with her arms trying to quickly recompose, but Arthur come down to sit at her side picking her arms- easy easy –he tried to reassure her, she looked very agitated and from the smell and liquids in her mouth is clear that she has been puking- what happened?

-N-Nothing! –she said nervous, voice broken, trying to not look at pathetic and awful- what are you doing here? –goddamnwhyishehere

-I forgot something and came back to pick it, what is wrong? You can tell me –he was worried shit, she was trembling and nervous, surely mostly about being discovered but…-Nora you can tell me-again, for a moment she stay in silence, not wanting to answer but…

She hesitated, lips trembling, then look at him.

-I tried to eat –she simply said, and then realized how stupid it sounded, then look away.

Oh. Arthur thought.

-And it make you sick from the stomach? –he asked trying to not sound judgmental, if he said that her food was good when he ate it and she was the problem it would be bad, she wanted to talk and it would close her. They had very few opportunities of opening and talk and this was one about a subject that really concerns Arthur.

-I tried, to eat –she clarified- I didn’t even swallow down- the man look confused and she covered her face with her arms, the elder started to caress her back.

-Its okay –he said trying to push away the shame.

-Its not, I saw your leftovers and think that if you eat it maybe it wasn’t so bad, maybe a bit after so much work cooking and washing the pan would be worth it, just a bit, I chewed on the eggs…and chew…and chew more…then I have to run to the toilet and puke, a lot, then I come back to the table and I see the meat I cut to make the bacon and I remember the dog I had with Nate that run away and…

Clearly she had an eating disorder.

-Don’t worry –he said sitting at her side and hugging her, she was trembling but he could tell this was something she needed out of her chest.

-I hate this –he heard-I remember the time I ended up eating human meat thinking it was crispy bacon…-Arthur look at her sad, leaving a smooch on her ear- I miss my life

-Nora you are not sick or anything don’t worry –he tried to reassure her caressing her shoulders- its just psychological, you didn’t swallow or digest it, there’s no way you are intoxicated –obviously her crying wasn’t about that, but he couldn’t do anything about her nostalgia.

-I miss my home, I miss the food, I miss the cars –he wanted to correct her with the fact that there was functioning cars in the wastelands but he didn’t- I miss the couch on second hand I bought with Nate because we wanted that specific design…

-Did it taste bad? –she raised her head to look at him-the eggs

-I don’t know, I don’t remember, I chewed, tried and then felt the urge to puke –yeah, psychological.

Not an allergy, chewing doesn’t instantly cause vomit for allergies.

-Its okay –it wasn’t really, healing a psychological disorder wasn’t easy and this was affecting her a lot- we will find the way-for her health and life to improve

-I must sound so stupid-not stupid, concerning.

-You think you can drink water now? Or your stomach is too woozy?

Nora took a moment to answer, looking at the nothing.

-I can try.

Good because staying right next to the vomited toilet wasn’t doing any favor for any of them.

-What about tooth paste? You think you can wash your teeth’s? –she denied with the head instantly- okay, no problem, lets go to the bed yeah? –nodded, Arthur stand up and take her hands up, Nora raised feeling a light headache but still walk besides him.

The man sat her in bed and open a can of water, of course Nora knew she had to drink slowly, he picked up a wet towel and clear around  her lips and cheeks while she drink down.

-Why are you here? –what a nasty way to say it, Arthur sighted and look at her dress, it wasn’t vomited, good.

-I came to pick something for the call and…-fuck his eyes open at the realization that he miss completely the call, how long they been here? Maybe twenty minutes? Damn its late now to run and have that call excursing himself and…looking at the woman in front of him, she needed him- its okay

Nora visibly panicked- no its not! Don’t worry about me and go! –it wasn’t a good idea to leave now, he sat at her side and took her hand with his eyes closed, she worries about him and his paper in the brotherhood and…gosh he loved that, she cared, actually cared- Arthur go I idnt want to…

-You did nothing wrong –one of his thumbs caressed her hand- I forgot my notes and now its late, ill deal with the consequences later

Shit that wasn’t a good choice of words, she panicked more

-Consequences? Ohnononon go I don’t want you to have problems and…

Arthur kissed her in the lips, crashing their mouths together but nothing more, if he touches or hold her she surely would get more nervous and that wasn’t necessary. When they separated after a while he watch into her eyes.

-Well find the way, for everything, yeah? –she nodded and hug him, melting instantly on his chest, smelling on his scent.

-Sorry to keep you here –when his arms wrapped around her back she felt so in peace, nerviosism not exactly fading away but relaxing her body and limbs

-You are not keeping me here, I want to stay at your side –at hearing that her nails clawed on his coat surprising the man.

-Then please not leave

-I wont- despite saying that Arthur smiled bittery, what was she talking about? She is always the one leaving

[lizardtracks]

Snowshoes in the desert

Southern Arizona encompasses part of the basin and range region. This huge swath of topography nearly defines the American southwest, stretching north to the Colorado and Columbia Plateaus and west to the Sierra Nevadas. It continues east through southern New Mexico as far as the Rio Grande’s Big Bend. The defining feature are broad flat basins interspersed with abrupt jutting mountains. It would take a geologist to explain the underlying tectonic plate mechanics. So I won’t attempt it here. I just want to say that it is this topography that produces the Sonoran Desert’s “sky islands.”

The sky islands are just what they sound like. The abrupt mountains produce huge elevation changes. These changes alter rainfall and temperature enough to create a staggering diversity of life zones. A drive up Tucson’s Mt. Lemmon highway** into the Santa Catalina Mountains takes you from from an arboreal desert all the way to the Hudsonian zone, with small alpine pockets near the very top.

One of my favorite sky islands is the Santa Rita range about 30 miles south. While you can drive up Mt. Lemmon, getting to the peak of the Santa Rita’s 9400’ Old Baldy is done on foot. The reward for your trudge, hike, or climb—depending on your bent—are views that, on a clear day, let you see other mountain peaks nearly 100 miles distant.

Yesterday I trekked up Old Baldy for a completely different reason: I wanted to snowshoe. Okay, you’re right. No one really wants to snowshoe. What we want to do is play in the snow. And if that snow is more than calf deep snowshoeing keeps us from lurching around like schizophrenics. My idea was that our incredibly wet winter, coupled with a snowfall just days ago that brought frozen rain down to 2000’, would be enough to ensure an opportunity. And looking at the north face of Baldy from Tucson it all seemed a good bet.

So I borrowed a pair of snowshoes from a friend who volunteers for search and rescue and headed out.

My arrival at Josephine Saddle via the Super Trail didn’t portend a good outcome. I had donned my micro spikes once for any icy stretch maybe fifty yards long. But I was hiking in my shirtsleeves and there was a scant, and patchy, two inches of snow. Undaunted, I continued on the Super Trail around the mountain’s southwest flank.

For sure it is counterintuitive to go the the hotter drier side when there is clearly snow on the cool, shadowy north route. But the Old Baldy trail up the north face has its problems. One is that it ascends 2700’ in just 2 1/2 miles. The other is that everybody and his cousin uses Old Baldy. The trail would not have loose snow. The snow would be packed, in many places nearly to ice.

My idea was that with all the snow that had fallen, it could not possibly have melted off even on the warmer side of the mountain. And, since fewer people use that route, any snow was less likely to be packed. I was definitely right about it not being packed. In the shade, before the trail turned west, very few tracks went ahead of mine. And I was right about the melt off. What I forgot about was evaporation. Huge amounts of snow don’t melt. It evaporates. That’s what had happened. And with it my dream of snowshoeing evaporated as well.

I trudged upward anyway. It was a great day to be in the Santa Rita’s. And it was an excellent day to be on the Super Trail. At the 8700’ level on a cooler face I finally encountered knee-deep snow. I strapped on the snowshoes. But the smooth steady ascent of Super Trail also changed at that point. It climbed more steeply. And also intersected a precipitous slope. If it was a good place to snowshoe, it was a bad place to learn to snowshoe. I swished along for about a quarter mile before deciding to turn around and enjoy the hike down.

The photo above shows the frustration. The trail is clear and dry. Everywhere else is calf-deep, knee-deep, hip-deep snow. But it was hard to be annoyed. The cool snowy mountains were beautiful. The Super Trail was as empty as I’d hope it to be. I got in a 14-mile hike. And I did get to snowshoe even if was just a tiny bit. All in all, a pretty good day.

**You may also see it referred to on maps as Catalina Highway, or hear people call it by its actual name the Hitchcock Highway.

[alouiadina]

Adding to this because I can:

The list of the end ships are now: Clegan, Crubbles, Rosielemmons Curt x Dickie, JackHarding, Dougley, Brady x DeMarco

Ken starts out with three siblings. An older sister and a young set of twins, or two younger siblings that are around less than a year apart to two years apart.

Rosie has a sister. He and the group he starts out with go to get her when the whole thing starts, followed by Dickie and Nash going to find their family/siblings. Some/most of them are dead or do die pretty much immediately, if at all, or maybe later in the story. They somehow acquire some guns and knifes from their houses, as well as some of their clothing.

I've decided that Bubbles is a nurse at the hospital. He's one of the nurses that's attending to Jean due to her birth complications. She survives, miraculously, and Bubbles goes to do some checkups on the baby. While he's away with the baby, the hospital goes into chaos. Harry checks out the hallway, seeing people running, screaming about being bit. He thinks it's some crazy homeless man, until a doctor comes in with a wheelchair for Jean, saying something about a medical outbreak. Bubbles isn't back with their son, the doctor basically tells them to forget about the baby and let him die, and that they should just save themselves. Harry says fuck that and tries to protect his wife while going to get their kid. They do end up running into Bubbles, who may also have another nurse along with the Cleven's. They learn the baby is fine, and they go to leave the hospital. They witness as the doctor that told Harry and jean to let their baby die get turned.

Jean starts getting sick. Harry does his best to look after his son. Marge helps, but not as much as Bubbles does. Harry starts feeling feelings one night when looking after Stephen (his son/the baby). He thinks it's like the feelings he had for Sandra, stress and availability, y'know. There's maybe some internalized homophobia. Jean, being the supportive wife she is, in a very serious talk about her fast coming end of life, she tells him that if he seeks love and comfort from bubbles, she completely understands. And before she does die, she asks to hold Stephen one last time.

On the Lemmons farm, Winks wants to go visit his family, see if they're okay, but the general consensus is that it might not be safe to go. When Rosie's group (this includes Douglass and DeMarco), they finally agree to go to the Herrmann farm with the extra people and protection. They go, and find that Winks family is dead/are zombies. He gets surprised by his sister or dad or something, getting bit and pushed down the stairs in the process, Ken witnessing the whole thing. Curt ends up killing whoever bit and pushed Winks, and Winks ends up coming back and going after Ken, who has to kill his best friend. Rosie has to carry Ken back to the Lemmons farm due to Ken being in shock. Curt tries to give him the "I understand" talk, but Ken isn't having it, and yells at curt. Curt yells back about watching his friends die and then becoming homeless after being discharged.

In Bucky's group, they go to Bucky's house first to depressingly find his wife and other daughter have been turned. He gets really depressed after killing the both of them, basically ignoring his other daughter. Blakely and Brady look after her and Blakely's daughter while Bucky is how he is until it's time to leave. They run into people Like Quinn, Bailey, Babyface, and Hambone.

The hospital group run into people like Smokey, and the doctor that was at the flak house, as they were other doctors who were fleeing the hospital.

The hospital group gets to the farm first, followed shortly by the aquarium group. Dickie and Curt, Douglass and Blakely, as well as DeMarco and Brady somehow pair off. Idk how Gale and Bucky work out just yet.

Edit: Fuck, I forgot that Chick has a daughter. Her name is also Helen. She is/was a teenager, and a kid from a previous relationship. I love the idea of Jack meeting Chick's daughter, no matter what the situation is, and just doing his best to get her to like him.

MotA Zombie AU

So, a bit ago I posted something about workshopping a zombie au with someone. I now feel like elaborating on my idea in hopes someone will see it and maybe, possibly want to flesh it out/write it with me.

So, the idea came to me after remembering this Star Trek Zombie au fan fiction All The Loveless Land by pastmydancingdays on ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/3795652/chapters/8450587)

It's been a while since I last read it, but the basic set up is that sometime after the zombie apocalypse, this woman(?) is interviewing Kirk and the people who would eventually be on the Enterprise after being rescued from Earth. It also has alternating pov.

Anyway, here's the idea(s):

Wrap around: Modern au. Jack and Harding (along with a few other military personnel) live near the wall that was built around the only safe states in the US (that aren't Hawaii or Alaska). The last people that came through the wall came through like 2 years before (Quinn and the guy he was with whose name I can't remember) They live together on base, and they're having a lazy morning in bed when they get called up because a group of survivors had shown up at the wall. They meet the survivors in the infirmary while they're getting checked for bite marks and any disease/sickness they might have contracted in the five years they spent out in the quarantine zone. Jack and Harding both seem a bit appalled that there are children, one or two missing a limb and one or two looking younger than five. They're all dehydrated and one of the group seems to have heat stroke, another of the group never leaving his side. When trying to separate one of the group members to interview them (probably Bucky) they get antsy/ standoff-ish, making Jack and Harding come to understand that they have to wait until they're mostly okay. When that happens, Jack and Harding take them separately, but not to separately, to interview them.

Five years ago:

Bucky- He and Josephine are married and have two children, a five year old and a one year old. He had been honorably discharged from the military the year before. He's on a school trip with his eldest daughter at the aquarium when it happens.

Buck- He and Marge are at the hospital when it happens. They've been married for a year, and she's pregnant (though idk how far along she is.)

(Idk which ship is going to have the one with heat stroke, and idk if one or both of Curt/Dickie will survive)

Crosby- Is also at the hospital, maybe the same hospital, but his wife just gave birth to their son. She is having some difficulty after the birth.

Bubbles- I haven't put much thought into where he is (maybe we don't focus where he is at the start, maybe just briefly mention it) Maybe he's one of the nurses at the hospital, or maybe he's Bucky's daughters teacher.

Ken- In a car in Arkansas with winks trying to loose his virginity to Winks, who's either his friend or boyfriend. Someone interrupts them (maybe Curt), or they hear it on the radio as an emergency broadcast.

Rosie- At his law firm, in a meeting with Dickie about something, idk what yet. Maybe a lawsuit or something.

Dickie- in a meeting with Rosie

Curt- I feel like after being honorably discharged (bc maybe he was shot down or something), he managed to end up homeless in Arkansas because his family wouldn't take him in and he did know Bucky in the Air Force, but didn't want to impose on him or his family bc Bucky has a family at home. He either somehow manages to meet up with Bucky and his daughter as they're trying to go back to Josephine and daughter #2, or he interrupts Ken and Winks' car time running away from a zombie

And maybe there are others from the 100th in the group, but I don't want to jump around too much with the POV. And the idea is for each chapter to have both halves of each ship from the past, and maybe some cute domestic moments between Jack and Harding in the wrap around parts.

If it wasn't clear, the main ships are: Clegan, Crubbles, Rosielemmons Curt x Dickie, JackHarding

edit: They're all also the same age as they are in the show in when the apocalypse starts. Bucky and Josephine just got married relatively young (22-23 ish).

[herbirdglitter]

My little sister won’t watch old movies because there are no gay people in them, which is a) wrong and b) stupid. At least half of those actors were as gay as the day is long and as for the films, well where does she think we got queercoding from? The only reason we as a community know how to read queer subtext so well is because of old films and the vast amount of it they had.

20s movies are the gayest things you ever seen since the Hayss code hadn’t been enacted yet,

Then after that we get decades of clearly gay actors, comedians such as George and Gracie, the Marx Brothers, and the What’s My Line panelists all making making gay jokes in some of the most popular content in the US, and filmmakers mastering the art of queercoding.

Then come the 60s where some of the most famous, well loved actors of the time (Marilyn Monroe, Jack Lemmon, Tony Kurtis) where in very high profile movie, where the creators conveniently forgot to send the movie in to be checked by the sensors, and we got the trans and bisexual masterpiece that is Some Like It Hot, featuring two men who dress up in drag, one of them likes just a little too much, a wealthy millionaire who falls in love with one of them as a woman, and the shenanigans that ensue.

The masses loved it and it played was a huge part in getting the Hays code abolished, as well as being widely regarded as one of the funniest movies of all time.

History is important kids, and interesting and a lot of those movies were really really good. There’s a reason they call it the golden age of Hollywood.

I know it’s a good thing that kids today don’t have to learn to read subtext because most of them have actual canon characters, but it’s important to learn about our history and again, some of those movies are really fucking good and there are gay people in it so why won’t you fucking watch old movies with me you little twerp

[fuckyeahwomenfilmdirectors]

i just found out that hidden figures was directed by a white guy, which is sort of disappointing. i was wondering if you could recommend some cool directors who are black women? (besides ava duvernay and regina king) thank you!!

Oh thank you for this great question! There are more amazing directors who are black women working than ever before and they really don't get enough love:

My modern indie darlings:

Victoria Mahoney director of Yelling to the Sky , Channing Godfrey Peoples (who did the underrated and beautiful Miss Juneteenth), Shatara Michelle Ford director of Test Pattern (this really tiny and powerful indie that really blew me away recently). Garrett Bradley who works in documentaries and whose movie Time was nominated for an Oscar, Mati Diop (Atlantics).

More mainstream directors:

Dee Rees (Pariah, Mudbound and Bessie are all excellent), Stella Meghie who has been called a black Nancy Meyers. Really loved her debut Jean of the Joneses, Amma Asante (who did Belle, duh). Gina Prince-Bythewood (all her movies are great but I particularly love Beyond the Lights), Angela Robinson (D.E.B.S. is great! Watch D.E.B.S.)

Older directors and by older I mean women who directed movies pre- 2000, most of these women are still alive and not that old:

Safi Faye (her movies are really hard to track down but if you can find it Mossane is beautiful), Kathleen Collins (Losing Ground, the background of how this movie was lost and then "found" is worthy of a movie itself), Julie Dash (Daughters of the Dust), Cheryl Dunye (The Watermelon Woman, a cinema lover's dream of a movie), Kasi Lemmons (Eve's Bayou), Leslie Harris (Just Another Girl on the I.R.T.), Darnell Martin (I Like It Like That).

Anyway these are just a few to get you started, I'm sure I forgot a ton of great ones. Support black women in film! So many gems that will blow your mind!