#dougie gray

[firstlightfanfics]

hiiiiiiii

there was a new story posted the other day starring YOU and your fave guy!

[llatimeria]

Hello, my name is Sameer. I am from Gaza City🇵🇸🍉

. I need your help, please don't skip my message. My family and I are trying to get out of Gaza to a safe place after surviving several strikes during the current war. Your help, even $5 or $10, will make a difference and save our lives. Please help us by donating or sharing the link below. Thank you

Donation link ⬇️

https://www.gofundme.com/f/gtuw5-help-my-family-evacuate-to-safety

eye grabbing squirrel image to make people look at the post

[sumikatt]

added his freckles. dae-sung “dougie” campbell congratulations on becoming a main blorbo

*makes him real*

[pizzabox-box]

Haha hi good morning I woke myself up with this one I was thinking about it so hard. I may look back on this in four hours and have regrets. Hi Peppino I'm taking you up on your offer...

Noise and Doise broke apart and stumbled to opposite sides of the arena. Noise winced as he realized he was one good hit away from collapsing. That was his fault - he hadn't taken his intruder seriously until he had gotten critically wounded. Fortunately, the Doise was in a similar condition. Noise was certain that was because he had been using bombs instead of -

He spotted the rock barreling down towards his head just in the nick of time and jumped backwards. The projectile burst into a cloud of blue-gray dust from the impact, almost blinding him. He barely saw his assailant lunging towards him, narrowly avoiding the final blow. Two figures, completely covered in blood and dust, rolled out of the cloud, trying to get and stay on top of each other to finish the other off. The observers could barely tell them apart - in fact, even Noisette wasn't sure who her Noise was!

Suddenly, one of the figures was yanked off the stage by an unseen force, and with a sickening crack, his neck was broken and he was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Immediately, the uncanny tendrils that had covered the studio started to recede, releasing their captives and returning the set to its former glory, if slightly color shifted.

Noisette stepped forward, a little nervous. "Theo?" she asked, shakily. The remaining figure turned to her and sighed with relief. "Noisette, are you all right?" he exclaimed, rushing up to her. Noise and Noisette hugged, and Dougie Jones ran to his master's side and started to heal him. The rest of the cast also gathered around him, generally asking about his well-being. Noise assured them all that all he needed now was a shower, a change of clothes, and some fresh makeup, and he'd be ready to start filming again.

However, the little Noisy was acting slightly odd. He tried to call attention to the body that was lying in the dust not three yards away. Noisette picked the little creature up and hugged him. "Aww, are you worried he's gonna hurt daddy again?" she asked. "Don't worry," Noise reassured them, "I'll make sure nobody ever sees that - that - THING, ever again!" The two decided to return home to get cleaned up and recover, and left the set, with a squirming Noisy in tow.

Later that night, Peddito returned to the studio. Something still felt off about the whole situation. He inspected the blue-gray, bloody corpse carefully, trying to see if Doise could have POSSIBLY faked his death - but no. The body was real, and stone-cold dead. So what felt so wrong? He looked up - and if he could have died again, he would have from the shock.

Standing in front of him was another phantom. He wore the same clothes he had in life, permanently tinted the color of Doise's stones, cape and costume. Under his mask, his face was completely blacked out. Peddito couldn't see his expression, but he could hear him as he asked, "What... happened? Why does my head hurt so much... who are you?" Peddito tensed up and took a fighting stance. "Don't play dumb with me, Doise! You might have followed me into the afterlife, but I'll make sure you burn - "

They were interrupted by a Noisy loudly climbing in through a window. The wee beastie ran straight towards the body and started rubbing against his face, looking straight at Peddito. The phantom gently but swiftly scooped the critter up, exclaiming, "No, don't mess with that! He could still - " he stopped short. If he had had blood left to run cold, it would have. "No," he muttered, barely able to get the word out, "it can't be!"

Pulling the fresh yellow suit on, Doise laid Noise's extensive collection of makeup on the bathroom counter and looked in the mirror as he put on his disguise, laughing triumphantly. The cast, the crew, the bosses, the wife, even Peddito - he had tricked them ALL!

Blind Man's Bluff

OH THIS IS GOOD. Send shivers down my spine, dang! Doise you sneaky little motherf- Oh, Peddito you got tricked, all of you got tricked actually, oh the poor Noisey...

If you're willing to continue to continue the story I'm willing to read more 👀 It has a really interisting premise

Glad that my work inspired others! :D

He doesn't regret anything.

Conveniently your story also answers this ask that has been laying in my inbox for a while.Double thanks! :D

[sagesolsticewrites]

People Watching

Just a little Benny angst blurb in honor of Whumptober 😇 (this takes place pre-Vika meetcute!) (pls note that this is not associated with any official whumptober prompts, this month just felt fitting for something angsty)

Word count: 1k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Of course I gotta tag my besties @winniemaywebber and @blakelysco-pilot I love y’all and I have tissues ready for ya 🤭💕

Masterlist

Benny slips away from the dance floor as the band fades into a soft, slow ballad, giving Olive’s hand one last squeeze. A smile plays on his lips as he makes his way back to their table at this club Rosie had insisted they all visit, turning to see Dougie beam and twirl Olive into his arms as the beginning strains of “At Last” begin to weave through the room.

He settles back into his chair, reaching for his whiskey in the hopes it will dull the now-familiar ache growing in his chest.

He loves his friends, he does. He wouldn’t dare reproach them for the new happiness in their lives, especially given what they’d all just been through the past few years. He remembers how Brady had clutched at each letter from Jules in the Stalag like it was the most precious thing in the world, the clear worry on Olive and Val’s faces each time they’d gone up— unsure if they’d make it back down in one piece— Croz waxing poetic about his Jean any chance he could, and in the few moments he’d gotten to talk to Rosie before…

Before Bremen, he forces himself to think.

… he’d seen the longing on his face that only came with having someone precious waiting back home. 

But now he looks out at them all and the joy and relief of being home is overshadowed by a longing lodged deep in his chest.

Olive giggling at what was surely an awful joke from Dougie, practically glowing with joy.

Croz holding his wife close, looking down at her as if he can’t quite believe she’s real.

Rosie, barely audible as he whisks Jo around the floor, teasing her about if he’ll be replaced as cookie taste tester this year, too.

An emerald sparkling on Val’s hand, matching the joyful gleam in her eyes as Blakely pulls her impossibly closer, leaning down to whisper something in her ear that has her smile growing three sizes.

Brady listening, enthralled, as Juliet chatters animatedly in his arms, undoubtedly continuing their earlier discussion about… well, he wasn’t quite sure to be honest. John had confided that he wasn’t either, but “my girl’s so smart, Benny,” he’d said, eyes wide with wonder, and Benny knew that he’d be happy to listen to Juliet ramble for the rest of his life.

The ache in Benny’s chest grows, and so does the dark cloud hanging over him that’s been his constant companion since he’d returned stateside as he watches his friends, feeling the distinct lack of someone to sweep into his arms and onto the dance floor.

Any girl would be happy to dance with him, he knew. A soldier, a returning war hero— he could see quite a few young ladies eyeing him as they had been since they’d arrived, having noticed that he was the only one of their little gang to enter without a girl on his arm. He wouldn’t have been opposed— getting to be the dashing soldier to whisk a wallflower onto the dance floor and give her a night she wouldn’t forget, who didn’t want that?— but as nice as that would’ve been, it wasn’t going to ease the persistent longing in his heart..

Benny wanted the connections his friends had; the love that only came with knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your life with that person. He wanted to watch someone walk down the aisle to him, carry her over the threshold of their white picket fence home where they’d raise a gaggle of children and eventually grow old and gray and happy together.

He thought he’d had that before. Hell, he thought he’d had that with Olive before he’d realized the Brit was more like a little sister to him than anything.

But where did that leave him now? Sat alone in a corner, looking wistfully over the dance floor while his friends were looking forward to finally starting their lives together.

He takes a long drink, hoping the burn of the whiskey will ease— or at least distract him from— the pain lingering in his chest. 

Who’d want him?

That voice in the back of his mind that had only grown louder since he’d arrived home wasn’t afraid to speak his fears aloud.

He’d be sought out for a dance or two, but beyond that? A girlfriend, a future wife, a life? Would anyone be willing to deal with everything he’d bring with him into a relationship— Bremen, the Stalag, the whole damn war itself? Not anyone that hadn’t known him before, like Jules with Brady, Jo with Rosie, Jean with Croz, but he was sadly bereft of convenient female childhood friends. Anyone who’d been in the thick of it with him was out of the question; Olive certainly was, as was Val, and even Tatty and Helen had paired off already.

He was alone.

Until he dealt with his demons and made himself a suitable life partner for some unlucky girl— which, let’s face it, was going to take more time than he cared to estimate— he’d be alone. The lost eleventh wheel tagging along after his friends, drifting off to the sidelines for every slow song that played.

The darkness grows deeper around him as he considers that potential future…

Until he’s jolted back to reality to the sound of polite applause as the song winds to a close, and he forces a smile as his friends make their way back to the corner of the room.

They settle back into their seats— a steady seating pattern of boy-girl boy-girl around the table until Benny interrupts, nestled between Olive and Blakely— and as Dougie leans over to ask Juliet something, Olive sees her chance.

“You okay, Benny?”

“Of course, Ol,” Benny grins easily, the shadow over his face falling away so quickly she thinks she must have imagined it. “Just thinking about Meatball— I hope my ma’s not feeding him too much, he’s gonna get spoiled.”

A collective good-natured groan rises from the table.

“Quit it with the dog, DeMarco!”

“We all love him but please come up with new topics, we’re begging ya.”

“Just bring him to the wedding, why don’t ya, Benny. It’s alright, we’ve accepted he’s your plus one for life.”

Plus one for life, Benny thinks with a heavy internal sigh, sounds about right.

[osmanthusoolong]

“Any move to limit the placement of bike lanes seems likely to prove contentious with the cycling community and with environmental advocates. Tim Gray, the executive director of Environmental Defence, said a move to restrict bike-lane placement would be "deeply regressive" and take Ontario in the wrong direction.

"Any kind of return to a time when our only transportation option was cars would be a huge, huge mistake," he said.

He also fears the dangers that could result from cyclists who would not have dedicated lanes to ride in.

"It means dead people," he said.

Matti Siemiatycki, professor of geography and planning at the University of Toronto, offered a similar assessment if such a policy were enacted.

"That's an extreme measure that will have very little — if any — impact, on traffic, but it could have a huge impact on cyclist safety," he said, noting that six cyclists have been killed in Toronto this year.”

…

“Siemiatycki said "this government has signalled that the car is king," pointing to prior steps the governing Progressive Conservatives (PCs) have taken to ease costs for drivers.

He sees the PCs as making a clear play for the votes of motorists, and believes the policy would also appeal to many drivers frustrated with congestion on the roads.”

Sure, people will die needlessly, and sure, it won’t actually solve any problems, but it does mean that Dougie can get in some hippie-punching to appease the bloodthirsty dumbfucks that are his supporters, so obviously it’s a great plan.

@allthecanadianpolitics

[londonfog-chan]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Rite Here, Rite Now Part 1

This two shot fic is dedicated to that poor soul on TikTok getting shitty comments about a headcanon of Eddie liking Ghost. Fandom has become so damn toxic bro. Who cares about what an imaginary character likes or dislikes?? We are cringe, we are legion. We make out of pocket headcanons sometimes. Like come on, Eddie might “theoretically” dislike Mary On A Cross specifically for various reasons, but I could see him having some favorites. You can’t say he would entirely hate Ghost when fucking Year Zero and Mummy Dust exist. Or the whole of Prequelle as an album. I had to laugh at one person saying he liked Avenged Sevenfold (it didn’t exist in the 80’s and neither did Ghost like we are literally arguing about shit he wouldn’t have known about be so serious rn). But I digress. I’ve even gotten a couple hateful comments on a fun little TikTok I made and I honestly have just been deleting them and blocking. Don’t even want to deal with people’s bullshit anymore. Please enjoy this spite fic and continue writing and having fun babes. Go against the flow and make Eddie proud.

Part 1 (You are Here), Part 2

***

Every member of Corroded Coffin could tell when you arrived to a function. Eddie knew the sound of your car like a cat that knows when its owner is home, and he’d be waiting outside the school to greet you first. That and the car make and model. Someone always called it if not Eddie. He’d been off his game today though, definitely the excited nerves. Jeff called out your 1979 Volkswagen Beetle heading up the driveway by slugging Eddie hard on the bicep, Gareth and Dougie immediately following up with calling “no tag backs” as they rushed to hit each other and Eddie like a bunch of middle schoolers. Eddie almost got nailed by Dougie’s beefy fist until he nimbly dodged out of the way, cradling his prized Warlock like it was a newborn.

“God dammit, easy asshole!” Eddie laughed. “Don’t be hitting my baby! I need her intact if I’m going to impress our songstress.”

“Trust me Ed, she doesn’t need more impressing. You had her in a tizzy when you asked her to write a song for you. I wonder what she came up with.” Gareth said, leaning forward so his hands were settled on both his high and medium toms, he was watching your approach intently with a gleam in his eye. “She didn’t even make it to campaign on Friday. Must have really been in the zone.”

You parked the car against the side of the driveway, emerging looking as though you’d just swallowed a whole mouthful of cry baby sour gum. Your lips were pressed tightly together, clutching your fat Trapper Keeper to your chest as you approached the group.

“Hey sweetheart!” Eddie called, waving you over enthusiastically. “You okay?”

“Eddie… God it’s so bad… It’s worse than I thought.” You said, grimacing.

God you looked delicious. He couldn’t help himself but to stare and smile like a dope. With each step your flowing gray skirt swished enticingly side to side, and with a bit of pride Eddie noticed you were wearing the Twisted Sister shirt he’d distressed for you, looking like an adorable snack of a metalhead with your black clothes, black opaque tights and dirty Chucks.

Eddie’s smile faltered only slightly when he heard your self depreciation.

“Oh come on, can’t be that bad. Not with those grades you’ve got in English. Let me see…”

“Fuck no! No seriously… it’s worse than you think.” You insisted, shaking your head and pulling away from his outstretched hand, “It’s so… God dammit! What the hell was I thinking…?”

Gareth, Jeff and Dougie left their instruments to approach you, Eddie putting both hands on your shoulders to comfort you.

“Hey, hey… come on, don’t be like that.” He said, smile gone and a more serious look on his face. “I get it, I really do. It comes with the territory of writing your own songs. Trust me, I’ve done it for years. You won’t pick it up overnight, and whatever you think is weak we can work on it together. I’m a DM honey, I can have my pen out faster than you can blink and help redraft as many times as it takes.”

“Oh… god dammit… okay, fine…”

You reluctantly handed Eddie the trapper keeper, the velcro making a harsh rip as he pulled it open to the first page where your lyrics neatly sat waiting for him to peruse. Eddie’s eyebrow raised when he saw the title, “Square Hammer”, outlined in red ink.

“ ‘Square Hammer’? … Huh… I like it, that’s good.” Eddie nodded, and continued to read on.

The lyrics were certainly unique to say the least. It was obvious you’d tried to go with a theme based on the prompt he’d given you: something that oozes the brooding dark metal he envisioned Corroded Coffin would croon to thousands of fans. You certainly had an affinity for the macabre, and he knew he could trust you with everything he wanted in his vision. Then again you could have written the cheesiest, poppy trash in the world and he would have loved it. He was extremely biased, far too sweet on you for his own good. But these weren’t bad at all. The lyrics reminded him of old Hollywood vampire movies, echoing the work of Doctor Faustus with the thematic element in the song. The voice of the lyrics seemed to be coming from an otherworldly entity, one summoned to offer power and prestige to the listener.

And Eddie was obsessed with every word the further he read on.

“Woah, woah…”

His eyes widened with every sentence he read.

“Holy shit…”

Powers clandestine, solving a crooked rhyme… Every line, no matter how simple, packed a lot when combined in the collective.

Eddie finally looked up at you, completely bewildered.

“You wrote this by yourself?!” He croaked.

You were embarrassed to hell, curling in on yourself and looking like you wanted to die.

“Ye… yeah… I… When you asked me to write for you, I got really stuck on what I wanted to do. But I remember you mentioned Black Sabbath was one of your first covers, and then I couldn’t get the image of the coffin out of my head because, you know, “Corroded Coffin”… and then we were reading Faustus in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class and I thought since you asked me to do you this favor and Faustus is all about favors…-“

You were rambling. Not even paying attention to Eddie’s continually growing grin. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet the longer you ranted on, until his untamable outburst silenced you.

“THIS IS AMAZING!” Eddie was screaming, scaring the shit out of everyone. “Holy fuck sweetheart! Are you bullshitting me?! This is… fuck! We’ve been stressing for new material for next month’s gig at The Hideout and you just gave it to us on a silver platter?! Jesus H.!”

“Bwha-?!”

“Check this out…!” Eddie turned away to show his friends while you quietly protested, unable to speak as he passed the paper around. The guys crowded around, each one shouting out when they saw a favorite part, “hammering the nails into the sacred coffin” quickly became a favorite, because they immediately began trying to work out how they could fit the lyrics to sound.

“All we gotta do is work out a melody and we’re in business baby!” Eddie said. “This is bitchin’!”

“But it doesn’t even make any sense!” You argued. “Like seriously? The entrance to the shrine part does not fucking fit, I only wrote it because I couldn’t come up with a better rhyme with clandestine!”

“Who cares?” Eddie cried. “It’s badass as hell! The imagery is absolutely savage… ‘Hiding from the night, sacrificing nothing’, and don’t let me forget about the little tongue in cheek line you added about hammering nails into a sacred coffin!”

“It’s fucking great!” Echoed Jeff.

“You should be proud. You managed to take our style and give it a unique spin, that’s not something anyone can do.” Eddie praised. “God dammit… I’d have been a millionaire by now if I could write like this.”

“You… you really liked those parts?” You asked cautiously.

“Of course I did sweetheart! This is real metal shit right here. And the part with the ‘crooked rhyme’? That really captured the creep factor I was looking for. Shit… what’s more metal than summoning a demon for a deal? That’s exactly what Corroded Coffin needs in its material. I love this little brain of yours!”

“Don’t forget Ed!” Dougie cut in. “ ‘Are you ready to swear right here right now before the devil’?!”

“Bitchin’! Keep this up, and I’m gonna wanna make you write all of Corroded Coffin’s songs from now on!” Eddie beamed happily.

“We gotta get the melody worked out!” Jeff said, “Any ideas? I could come up with a few…”

The boys began gabbing together, Eddie unable to help himself as he began to strum his precious 1984 BC Warlock, his black beauty. Without a doubt he could already envision how he could make his baby purr for you, impress you, take you out finally.

And then you changed his world forever.

“… I had an idea for a melody already…” you said quietly.

All eyes turned to you. The guys were thunderstruck.

“Seriously?! Lyrics and a melody?! You’re spoiling the shit out of me sweetheart! Jeff, let her borrow your…-“

“No… no I… I don’t know how to play guitar…” you said, cutting off Eddie sheepishly, “But I… I brought my Casio with me…”

“Where is it?!”

“In the trunk of my bug…”

“Well go get it! Show me whatcha got sweetheart!”

Eddie followed you to the front of the Volkswagen. Everyone always thought the front trunk was the coolest shit ever and he was no exception. The cool car only added to the many things he liked about you. You took out the obnoxiously large keyboard and the stand, fumbling to close the trunk until Eddie stepped in with an “easy… I got it”, slamming the trunk shut and helping you lift the Casio like a gentleman. You were shaking, vibrating with embarrassment so hard that Eddie had to help you plug everything in and adjust the sound, hovering and reaching over you on purpose hoping you’d notice and feel his burn for you.

“Alright sweetheart? Show us what you’ve got.”

You turned on the Casio and fingered the keys gently, warming up with a few chords as you tried to soothe the shaking in your fingers. Fiddling with the settings, you stalled as long as you could while the boys waited patiently. Once you found the setting you wanted, you went for it.

It was like a demon had possessed your body. The melody was quick, but it packed a hell of a punch. It was in the key of D minor, and you had ironically chosen what sounded like a combination of 1960’s psychedelic sticky rhodes and Transylvanian organ to achieve the effect you wanted. The sound overall was eerie, yet enchantingly fun all at the same time. And your singing! You were singing softly under your breath, rocking yourself to the melody on the tips of your worn out sneakers, and you had quite the set of pipes! Despite your shot nerves, you’d clearly come up with something truly special that no one else in the entire world could have conceived of.

It wasn’t the traditional metal Eddie had in mind, more avant-garde, theatrical even. Whereas he had expected a sound more like Black Sabbath, you played something not out of place at a theater performance of Dracula. But this sound… there was something that nagged him about it. It was a sound that Eddie could imagine playing to arenas of screaming, adoring fans.

“Gentlemen… that’s our fucking song!” Eddie cried, “That’s our song, it’s a goddamned masterpiece!”

The Casio halted, and your mouth was hanging open mid play.

“What?! How-…” you began.

“I can already hear the riff, Ed what do you think of following with standard tuning instead of going to D minor?” Jeff picked up his Gibson and began to play, mimicking what he heard on your Casio by ear. “If you move it, the sound is way off from what I’m envisioning. But if you keep it at standard you leave it easier on the fingers with the couple of open notes when you start stretching.”

“Yeah, yeah! If you tune it down it’s going to sound off with her playing when you hit the chords.” Eddie agreed, immediately looking back at you. “Play it one more time sweetheart?”

You cautiously complied, going through the melody one more time as Jeff began to follow with you. Eddie was completely absorbed in your music, listening to both you and Jeff play and following along quietly. The warlock in his hands eventually couldn’t be helped, humming to life when he started playing a chord at a time by ear. As he played, he kept you repeating the melody over and over, both Eddie and Jeff deep in concentration on the sound. It was getting almost exhausting trying to continually repeat the sound until they got it right.

“D minor.” Eddie said, playing a note.

“Then she does B flat there.” Jeff played.

“A minor.” They said in unison.

“C. And that’s what I’m thinking your rhythm guitar can do, meanwhile, I’ll keep the root of the chords for the riff so I can follow her keys.” Eddie said, and he began to perfectly copy your melody. “Okay sweetheart, just one more time… and then let’s bring everything together.”

[riddles-n-games]

You know what we’ve been really missing out on? A dance headcanon. It may have crossed your mind at some point or you have never thought of it, but trust me you actually have, so here you go and you’re welcome.

We’ve certainly gotten sprinkles (read: karaoke scene, I mean, we were about to get FED and bam Grayson pity party) of such things throughout the series but not in any outright way as is the case with many of the things that could give us more background on the Hawthorne brothers. (Why you holding out on us JLB??? Huh?!) Anyways, here. Read.

Nash-He does line dancing, I mean, you should have seen that one coming. He's basically the country star of his family and he owns it to the fullest; he's literally one of Taylor Swift's back up dancers for goodness' sake. Nash's favorite version of line dance is square dancing and being the sweetheart he is, he will go to retirement homes on dance nights and be one of the choreographers or partners to help the old folks who want to dance. Of course, when there's a festival, that's when he really gets down. But, this might surprise you; he's also had a stint with hip hop and he's pretty darn good at it. He can do the dougie for sure. In fact, he got so good at hip hop that he also started adding his own style to it and gave it his country flare at freestyle competitions (Jamie and Xander's minds were blown, at first, before the big brother cool wore off that is but they were still impressed🤭).

Grayson-All of them learned how to do ballroom dancing (mainly waltz) but someone had to be the best of them, too. Enter Grayson Hawthorne. He is certainly the go-to brother for these types of dances but he excels at tango and waltz which also give him his greatest enjoyment. Certainly, at school events, he was always sought after during the slow songs and was always leading man for the school's ballroom team. It was the one chance the ladies were allowed to swoon without a certain redhead ruining everything. Though he competed nationally and worldwide, he preferred the simple entry level competitions for the sake of the peace. It was also more fun. He also challenged himself by learning flamenco and he was enamored by it, loving the fast steps and quick changes from one thing to another. However, his grandfather wanted him to push it further since he was already pursuing the dance so he wanted him to do competitions and as much as he put his heart and soul into it, Gray hated doing competitions when he wanted to do this for fun. After his grandfather died, he quit comps and stopped dancing flamenco for a while but his brothers (read: Xander) have been encouraging him to take it up again as a fun hobby. He's been warming up to the idea.

Jameson-Should it really come as a surprise that this boy can tap dance? Because, yes, he can and he is damn proud of it. It’s a favorite party trick of his to pull on the dance floor or in the middle of the club and he’s always tearing it up. He also loves Irish stepdance and after watching the famous Riverdance live, Jameson was obsessed. That was how he and Xander ended up being trained by the very Riverdance company itself and they trained for two years until Xan no longer expressed interest but Jamie got good enough that he even went on tour with them. Also, he's been expanding his repertoire with street dancing, mambo, and most recently disco due to a certain someone's obsession with the 70s.

Xander-Despite Gray being the undisputed king of ballroom in the family, his youngest brother still takes to the swing better than anyone. He has been the most enthusiastic about it and loves the energy which matches him well in every aspect of the dance. Unlike his brother, competing never really bothered him and this is actually one of the things that he gets him into a perfectionist complex. He was a junior world champ on two occasions and now is teaching Max how to do it. On the more casual side of casual side of things, he also knows how to shag which is one of his favorite things to do on little dates with Maxine when they aren't going anywhere. And, of course, being the most sporadic of his brothers, Xander always shocks people when he tells them he also has done ballet. He never got to become a principal dancer as a junior dancer but he did get to do a few pas de deux and was a soloist when he was with the Texas Ballet Theater. His favorite ballets are The Nutcracker and Don Quixote; he appreciates Swan Lake but hates the unhappy versions.

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 5

part one part two part three part four

masterlist olive's playlist

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

“Whatcha readin’?”

John Brady stands a few meters away from where Olive is sat, deep in her crumpled and aged copy of her favorite Shakespeare play. She quickly snaps it shut, expecting to be left alone for a little while longer after tiptoeing out of the Red Cross Hut, rising earlier than she anticipated. The gray morning sky had a tint of yellow to it, the sunrise surprisingly warm on her face. It was a sense of warmth and calm belonging she hadn't felt in years and she wanted to savor the moment. Creeping into the Officer’s Club with her book, curling up in one of the large armchairs on offer, she had hoped for a few more moments of peace before the day began. Sensing Brady was having a similar issue, standing there, packing his pipe, she blinks up at him and smiles. 

“The Tempest. In my opinion, the best Shakespeare ever wrote. You know his work?”

“Boy, do I!” He replies gleefully, lighting the pipe that's now in his mouth and shaking the match to extinguish it. “It's my girl's favorite, too!”

“No way! Get outta here. That's amazing.”

“She sure is,” he puffs at the pipe, his eyes glazing over at the wistful mention of her. “She's a schoolteacher. Teaches English to high school kids and she gets so excited at the time of year when the curriculum allows her to share her love of William.” 

“I like the sound of her already. What's her name?”

He smiles, a plume of smoke leaving his lips. “Jules. Juliet.”

“Juliet?” Olive replies, smiling softly at the  apparent coincidence. “As in ‘of the sun’?” 

“The very same,” he responds as he begins to turn on his heel. 

“You'd better tell her about this in your next letter to her, Brady,” she jokingly scolds. “I need someone to read my Shakespeare essays and reviews. She sounds perfect for the job.”

“Oh, she'd love that,” he laughs. 

“No need to be sarky now, John,” she says sullenly, eyes now back on the page she left off from.

“Never!” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I'm being serious. She'd love that. Give me whatever you want her to read.” 

“Bet!”

“I'll pass some good passages on to Dougie, see if he'll give it a try.” 

“John,” she smiles, eyes twinkling. “Please try.”

—

Tattie rushes in an hour later, her eyes widened with stress as she applies her red lipstick on the move, somehow managing to get the shape perfect without a mirror. “I'm so late,” she moans, walking around the club like a headless chicken. “And so hungover. Olive, be a doll and go start setting up the–”

“Already did, Tat. Coffee hot and ready for our boys.”

“The donuts are in–”

“Yep. Got those too. Sitting pretty on their trays, napkins right next to them. Don't worry, I got it covered.”

“You're a darling. I'll buy you a drink at the club tonight to say thanks.”

“Perfect!”

—

Today being a non-mission day did not mean the girls weren't busy. Right as Val and Helen got to the truck, surprised to see Olive so bright eyed and awake - “it'll be the four coffees I've gulped in the past two hours” - the boys came to the truck thick and fast. First was Brady and his crew, M'lle Zig Zig, all wanting their second breakfast of coffee and donuts, Olive and Brady giving one another a knowing nod as she passed him his cup. Next were Bucky and the Mugwump crew, Bucky somehow even more amped for the morning than Olive was, his loud voice booming across base so far that the girls were almost sure the loud noise would have the inhabitants of the local village out of bed thinking it was some type of foghorn pulling them out of their slumber. Not far behind were Buck and Demarco, the crew of Our Baby. 

“Hi, Ol,” Benny says, softly. “Good morning.”

“Benny,” she smiles, handing him a coffee before he's even asked. “And where is the most special guy of all?” A single bark comes from next to Benny, Meatball panting at his side. Olive exits the truck to greet him, knowing that if she invited him up, that would be it for the donuts - nobody was a fan of dog hair sprinkle variety.

“You mind watching him? I know it's only a practice, but I still don't wanna risk it.”

“Sure, Benny. We'll hang out, terrorize Kenny at some point, get him good and tired.”

“Yeah, Kenny needs that,” Benny smirks. 

“You know what I mean,” shoving him playfully. “Be safe, okay?” 

“Yeah, Ol. Always.” 

—

Meatball was getting restless as a few stragglers made their way to the hardstand after visiting the Clubmobile. Despite being tied up, he was trying his best to run, his little face all sad when he realized he wasn't able to roam. 

“You got it from here, Val? That dog is chomping at the bit for a run around.”

“Absolutely, Ollie,” she nods, opening her copy of Screen Stories at the page she'd left off from yesterday. “Anything to make sure those donuts stay Meatball hair free.”

“Thanks, chicken. Be right back. Helen?” She turns to Helen, her beautiful dark hair pulled expertly under a headscarf. “You wanna come too?”

“Please!”

The two begin making their own way over to the hardstand, Meatball pulling keenly at the lead to hurry his companions along, seemingly excited for some carefree recreation time. 

“Morning, ladies!” Ev Blakely comes towards them, brown leather jacket and aviators. Olive giggles, knowing exactly how weak at the knees Val was about to be at the sight of her man in his gear. Dragging behind was the man that had the very same effect on Olive, his hair perfectly slicked back, his sheepskin jacket perfectly fitted on his broad shoulders.

“Helen,” he greets. 

“Dougie,” she replies, a slight wink to Olive as she takes her cue to depart. 

Looking around to make sure nobody is watching, he takes Olive in his arms. “Hi, pretty.”

“Hi, Dougie. Good morning.”

“Good morning indeed,” he winks, kissing the corner of her mouth. “You look beautiful as always.” 

“Stop,” she giggles. “You're looking pretty good yourself.”

“Don't we make a fine pair, doll?”

“We sure do, darling.”

A screech interrupts the moment, Meatball taking off like a shot the second he spots Kenny, sending Helen flying through the air. 

“I'd better go rescue my girl, there.”

“But I wanna stay with my girl here,” he murmurs, winking.

“Your girl, huh?” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Very presumptuous. You haven't even asked me.”

“D'you want me to?”

The answer burns up in her body, the yes wanting to spill out so fast that it almost makes her nauseous. She isn't one to be so forthright, forcing the agreeable answer down as fast as it tries to escape her lips. 

“Maybe,” she instead teases, looking up at him flirtatiously through her lashes. “Please be safe, Dougie.”

“It's only a practice, doll.”

“Nevertheless,” she murmurs, her hand stroking his cheek. “I need you to come back to me.”

—

A familiar rumble distracts Meatball, the ball flying past his face as Kenny throws it across the airfield. 

“Meatball!” He yells, trying to get the dog's attention. “Get it, boy!” He stands, stuck to the spot, waiting for Kenny to throw the ball that's already been chucked meters away. 

“I don't got it, dummy! I threw it thatta way. You weren't lookin’!” 

“Aw, leave my pal alone,” Olive pouts, scritching Meatball under the chin. “Here, look,” she says, standing up again. She balls her hand into an almost-fist, an invisible spherical shape in the palm of it. “Go get it,” she yells as she throws the ‘ball’, Meatball taking off like a shot in the direction in which Kenny had thrown the real ball previously.

“Jeez, that darn dog.”

Olive laughs, before turning to the landscape, the sky a cloudless blue with fields rolling along underneath it. The rumble getting louder, Olive shields her eyes with her hand as Meatball brings the ball back to Helen, who instantly screams at the sight miles from them. 

A plane comes hurtling out of the sky, the trees catching fire instantly, a loud BANG heard over the noise of the Land Girls screaming in horror. 

“Holy shit,” Olive gasps, her heart caught in her throat, her body suddenly clammy all over. Helen walks over and grips her hand, her breathing equally as shaky. 

“Get outta here, girls,” Kenny urges, throwing himself into a Jeep.

“No way, Lemmons.”

“I'll come find ya if–” 

“Don't say it.”

“Olive. I'll come find ya, kay?” She simply nods, somehow not able to formulate a coherent thought. With Helen by her side, she feels her hand being tugged on. 

“We'd better get back to the truck,” she says, ushering Olive along. “It'll be okay, doll. Promise. Now, one foot in front of the other please.” Taking Meatball's leash, Olive lets Helen lead her.

Both breaking into a sprint with Meatball running slightly ahead as they approached the Clubmobile, unopened boxes all around it, they manage to catch up with Val and Tattie who had sped back in Tattie’s Jeep. 

“What the hell happened out there?” Olive yells over the sound of the running engine. 

“Baynard, he uh… him and his crew they…”

“Fuck sake! That was them?”

“Yea, it was them.” Val steps out of the jeep, leaning against it with a heavy sigh. Olive begins to walk towards her, gesturing for Meatball to stay put. 

“We just saw them this morning…” Helen remembers, head on the Clubmobile in sadness. 

Val can only nod, not quite able to speak yet due to the shock. A moment of silence is shared between them, Olive trying her best to breathe and calm down. Tears prick at her eyes and threaten to spill out onto her face, and she blinks them back with all her might. “Be a tough girl,” she whispers to herself. “Tough girls don't cry.” 

Helen removes herself from the side of the Clubmobile and walks towards Val, who, still leaning on the Jeep, remains in shock and unblinking until Helen's words bring her back to them. 

“Val? You alright?”

“Yea… just, scared shitless if I’m being honest.”

“Oh honey, I know…”

“Could have been either of them, Helen,” she says sadly, talking of Ev and Curt. "And I’m not keen on being alone.”

“Oh chicken, you’ll never be alone. You’ve got us.” Olive says, joining the two girls, taking Val’s free hand in hers, offering the same comfort as Helen.

“I need to get used to being called chicken as a term of endearment.” Val laughs as her head weakly drops to Olive's shoulder.

“There we go,” she grins. “Feeling better?”

Val nods reluctantly, as she pushes herself up off Jeep to finally stand, walking towards the abandoned boxes. Gesturing for the other girls to give her a hand, she suddenly freezes, that all too familiar scowl appearing between those perfectly outlined eyebrows.

“Meatbal! No!” The three girls look over to where the yell came from and see Tattie, hands on her hips in frustration, the scowl on her face almost rivaling Val’s as Meatball rips into one of the boxes, bouncing on his paws with excitement to try and hold it down as the cardboard escapes from him at every bite.

“I’m gonna kill DeMarco,” Tattie sighs, arms crossed. “Olive, tell your man to train his damn dog!”

“Not my man, Tat,” she replies, feeling Tattie’s pointed look burning into her as her back is turned. 

“Either way,” she sighs, her expression suddenly softer. “Someone needs to tell him.”

—

After a long day, the girls showered and got ready for an evening at the club. Finally taking some lessons from Val and Helen, Olive had, for the first time, managed to set her hair into soft curls with minimal help. While they had set, the girls had insisted on doing her makeup, transforming her into the soft, pink-cheeked girl she was beginning to fall in love with. Val insisted on filling in Olive’s brows and Helen had taken over the lashes, carefully daubing the ink on them with painstaking concentration, her tongue sticking out as she did so. 

“There,” Helen had sighed, closing the mascara box with a soft snap. “Absolutely perfect.” After getting herself ready first, Helen had arranged to meet her other girls at the club later on, keen to soothe the woes of a long day with Tattie as soon as she possibly could. 

Exiting the hut half an hour after Helen, Val and Olive found themselves surprised to see Curt waiting for them, leaning on the building ever so cooly. He had a playful grin about his face, Val rolling her eyes and groaning the second she saw his expression. Olive giggled as he approached them, Curt giving her a wink.

“Can I walk ya to the club, Val?”

“You can; I’m hard pressed to ask what you want, Curt.”

“Honest to God, I just wanna walk ya.”

“Curt?”

“Helen told me you were a bit rattled after today, and I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

Val stops walking, and gives her friend a soft smile. Taking Olive’s hand for a second, she gives her the same smile. “Olive, I’ll catch up.”

“Okay,” she nods, still smiling. “I’ll save your seat!”

Olive begins the short walk to the club from where they had been standing, and sees Benny outside with Meatball, beaming as he sees her.

“Good evening,” he says, loosening his grip on Meatball’s leash as she approaches. 

“Hey, Benny,” she replies, bending down to greet Meatball too. “Hi, buddy, what’s up? Ready for a dance? You owe me one for tearing up all those boxes this morning.”

“Oh, shit. He did what?”

“Tore up a whole box of paper cups. Tattie went ballistic and had a sour face for the rest of the day. You should probably buy her a drink to soften her up a little.”

“Y-yeah, probably a good idea,” he responds, holding the door open for her. “After you, Miss Olive.”

“Thanks, doll.” 

As she walks into the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the club, she spots Dougie right away, standing at the bar with Everett. He’s so handsome that it takes her breath away, feeling herself get a little lightheaded as he senses her eyes on him, smiling sweetly at her as he stubs out his cigarette. 

“Uhm, excuse me for a second, Benny,” she says as she begins to make her way towards the direction of the ladies room.

“Sure. What’ll it be this evening?”

“The usual. Thanks, Benny,” she smiles, his kindness causing a pang of guilt to build up in her stomach, her eyes suddenly pricking with tears as she walks away. 

—

“Get a fucking grip, Ollie,” she says to herself as she hides in a cubicle for a few moments, centering herself the way her drama teacher had taught her. Filling her lungs with air and feeling them deflate, the built up anxiety drifting out of her with each breath. The panic, however, is still there, and the guilt is practically choking her, as two large tears drop onto her lap, taking her by surprise. Benny being such a kind, sweet man, being so genuine - any girl would be lucky to have a man like that. Her thoughts, however, quickly turn back to Dougie; the way the world practically stops turning whenever he looks at her, the way he makes her belly laugh at every opportunity. How he makes her weak at the knees, how he touches her subtly as if it’s their little secret. Realizing she had been in the bathroom a lot longer than anticipated, she washes her hands hurriedly and makes her exit. 

Just outside the door stands Dougie, two glasses in his hand. 

“You sure took your time.”

“God forbid a woman take some time alone,” she giggles, looking down at his hands. “That one for me?” She asks hopefully, the liquid within the glass looking familiar. He nods, handing it to her. 

“It is. Bought it as I came in. And luckily, that wasn’t long before you strolled in with our friend DeMarco.”

“Oh, it’s like that is it?”

“Maybe.” He takes the steps that are separating them and wraps his free arm around her waist. “I really wanna fucking kiss you right now,” he murmurs near her ear. “Can I?” 

Wanting nothing more than to finally feel his mouth on hers, the way she knows it would make her toes curl in delight and give her goosebumps over her entire body, she eyes up their surroundings and shakes her head.

“Not in front of the bathroom, James. Pick a better spot.” He sighs, resting his head on her shoulder. She nuzzles into him, her free hand tickling the back of his neck. “We’d better go,” she whispers sadly, not wanting to let go of him. 

“Don’t wanna,” he purrs into her, nuzzling into her neck now. 

“Dougie,” she pleads, reluctantly moving her shoulder. 

“Fine,” he sighs, his hand now on her face. “You better dance with me later.”

“Deal.” He walks away, leaving her there alone, which she is grateful for. Finding a lone spot right by the bathroom, she downs the drink given to her, the feeling of the alcohol rushing through her veins catching her by surprise. With one more deep breath, she makes her way back to the club where she knows her friends are waiting on her, stopping at the bar to drop off her empty glass.

Stopping is a mistake - within a moment, Olive feels herself accosted by not just Benny and Dougie, but Curt, too. Feeling incredibly overwhelmed, Olive looks around to find her friends gathered around their usual table, Val and Ev gazing into one another’s eyes as if nobody in the room - nor the world - exists. 

It’s Helen that catches Olive’s eye first, Olive’s panicked gaze causing her to stand from her seat suddenly. Murmuring something to Val, she breaks her gaze from her man to stand up, pushing her chair back as she does so. 

“Okay, boys, that’s enough,” she scolds as she pushes through the small crowd to get to Olive’s side. Olive, thankful for the rescue, clings to Val’s hand without a second thought, Val rubbing the back of her friend’s hand in comfort. “I have two very thirsty friends,” she says, referring to Helen and Tattie while staring right at Curt, “waiting on you at the table.”

“I was just–”

“Helen and Tattie are waiting,” she reinstates, a furrow fixed on him that makes him look like he’s about to jump out of his skin. It works, of course, as he hurriedly gets the barkeep’s attention, ordering two rum and cokes and a whiskey for himself. 

“You two,” She turns to Douglass and DeMarco, that furrow still fixed between her brows. “If you’d like to talk to Olive, come and sit with us.” Olive feels her hand being squeezed in comfort  as she remains silent, the panic attack still swelling within her chest. 

“Oh, uh…” Dougie stutters, struggling to come up with an excuse.

“The table, Dougie,” she grins, the smile relaxing the furrow and showing her beautiful teeth. “Benny,” she turns to him now, who is bent down, petting Meatball, trying to avoid the confrontation. “You and Meatball are welcome to join us.”

Taking Olive by the arm, Val gets them back to the table in a flash. Olive smiles, shaking her head and finally able to formulate a coherent sentence.

“You could rule the world, Valencia DiRosano.”

“No,” she laughs, her eyes slightly wrinkling at the edges with glee. “But I could certainly whip these fellas into shape.” 

They all crowded around the table, snagging extra chairs from other groups with a pretty smile to make room for them all. Four Red Cross girls, three pilots, a bombardier and a dog, all sat around a small table, looking every part a hodgepodge group. Val had got up from her chair and sat in Ev’s lap as he’d patted his knee with a twinkle in his eye, Meatball instantly jumping into the empty chair the very second she had stood up from it. That got a laugh from the whole group, as he perched on the chair with his paws on the table, quite the distinguished gentleman; the most gentlemanly at the table, Olive thought, as Curt regaled a tale loudly of an event from old times that of course included Val and a blonde that she described as “practically garbage.” Everett holding her in his lap as he laughed, Curt’s voice getting more animated and louder to keep the attention on him.

“I ain’t never seen anything like it,” he reiterates, his arms flopping as he does so. “One minute she’s across the room, and the next, she’s got this girl by the elbow, hauling her out like–”

“Trash, Curt. Because, she was trash,” she sniggers, her words overlapping his in a rushed frenzy. Olive hears Benny chuckling to the right of her. 

“So, we know who to call when we need a quick exit, then, is that it?”

“Call Tattie,” Val laughs, taking a sip of her drink. “She’s just as good as I am!”

“Oh, please!” Tattie replies from across the table. “You’re the muscle. You managed to tame Kidd of that God awful scowl he’s been wearing for weeks.”

“That’s Egan’s fault,” Helen says with a sigh. “Went and got himself demoted,” she says, mostly to Olive who has a confused look on her face. 

“How exactly do you get demoted from Air Exec?” Dougie ponders to Olive’s left as he lights himself another cigarette. Olive stares at him as he does so, the first small breath of smoke leaving his mouth as he talks. Without thinking, Olive reaches over and plucks it from pretty fingers, grinning all the while before placing it in her mouth and taking a drag. “Hey!” he teases, hand going to her lips to grab it back. She hands it back after only one inhale, feeling Benny’s sad eyes on her back as it all takes place. 

“You lot up for a group shot?” A man, stood with a camera around his neck walks up to the gang.

“Absolutely!” Tattie grins, having everyone get into place so they fit. She has Benny place Meatball up front, already doing his best pose with his tongue hanging out in happiness. Val stays put on Blakely’s lap, her arm around his neck and his on her waist. In a swift movement, Dougie pulls Olive onto his lap, looking like the cat that got the cream.

“Hi,” she giggles, trying to sit pretty, his blue eyes following her every movement. Curt had somehow squeezed himself in too, between Helen and Tattie with Benny close by.

“Alright, you guys. On three!”

—

To Olive’s surprise, Curt holds a hand out to Helen. “Humor a poor sap with a dance?”

Not hearing what else is said, Olive sees Helen take his hand as he guides her from her chair to the dancefloor. Olive sees a nod pass between Val and Tattie as Tattie stands, tugging at Dougie’s hand. “Come on, you. Let’s stretch our legs, hmm?”

“Sure, Tattie…” his eyes quickly glazing over as Benny offers Olive his hand. 

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

The music swells all around them, Olive and Dougie making eye contact as they dance with their respective partners.

“You know,” she begins, Benny swaying with her gently. “We’re spending this time together and I still know so little about you. Tell me about yourself.”

“Well,” he starts, his expression full of thought. “I lived in Chicago before I enlisted. I decided to enlist in 1940.”

“Wow,” Olive replies, taken aback. “Earlier than a lot of these boys.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods. “I was just determined to serve my country. I knew something was coming even before Pearl Harbor, and I wanted to make sure I could be a part of it.”

“That’s very brave, Benny. Stuff like that doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Just doing my job, Olive,” he says with a shrug. “It’s what we’re all doing.”

At that moment, Olive feels herself being softly pushed into another partner, Tattie signaling Benny to dance with her. 

“Oh, I see what she’s up to.”

“It was my idea.”

“Yeah, no shit, Dougie. Color me surprised.” Nevertheless, she feels herself smile at him, both of their eyes softening as they look at one another. She suddenly realizes what happens between Val and Everett. At this moment, nobody else in this room - nor the world - exists. It’s just her and James, swaying to a slow love song, his hand in hers and the other on her waist. She closes her eyes for a second, a slow breath leaving her pursed lips. 

“You okay?” Dougie asks, his voice etched with concern.

“Yes, doll,” she replies, her hands going around his neck. 

“You’re lookin’ at me like I’ve hung the moon in the sky or somethin’,” he grins.

“Because I think, maybe you have.” She lets her head fall to his shoulder, him planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

“Is this a better spot?” he asks, his lips brushing against her nose as he leans his neck down slightly. Coming back up to face him, a worried expression on her face, she shakes her head once again.

“I’d love nothing more than to have you kiss me, Dougie–”

“Then let me.”

“Not in front of Benny, darling. That’s not fair.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, his eyes downcast. “But you want me to, right?”

“I do. I absolutely do. It’s killing me to have to deny myself that. But I’m not here to hurt people, nor make them upset. Can you understand that?”

“I can,” he smiles, sadly. “You’re so fucking sweet, Ol. Just adorable.”

“Sweet on you,” she replies, her lips pressed to his cheek. 

“Ah, shit,” he murmurs, his eyes focused on something above the door. Benny walks over, patting him on the shoulder. “Gotta go, buddy.”

“Yeah, Benny. Be right there.”

Olive turns and sees the familiar red light beaming over the club, the band finishing suddenly in the middle of their song. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” She says, her voice suddenly tightening. 

“I know. I can hardly wait.” Clearing his throat, he leans in again and finds her ear. “Goodnight, goodnight. Parting is such sweet sorrow.” Olive pulls away, brows furrowed in amazement and confusion.

“You’ve been talking to Brady, huh?”

“Come on, Ol. He said his girl likes this one, so I thought I’d try it, too. Finish it.” Olive laughs at the sudden seriousness on his face, his blue eyes suddenly resembling Meatball’s. She breathes, trying to compose herself.

“That I shall say goodnight till it be morrow. There. Happy now?”

“See, wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You’re insufferable, James Douglass.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s why you like me.” 

[wexhappyxfew]

when all else fails

(a/n): here it is! a Silver Bullets ensemble piece featuring all of the lovely ladies that man the B-17 Silver Bullets that is mentioned so very often. let's just say....adjusting to a new pilot after losing one that did so much in terms of care - is hard. but having each other, makes it a bit easier. (featuring also: frank, the orange cat that meatball chases when warranted).

"How many times has he mentioned that the God-forsaken cat loves him?" muttered Paulina as she came and settled herself into the chair besides Carrie, shaking her head and lacing her fingers together like an elaborate pie crust.

"Dougie'll probably keep saying it," Carrie offered and then nodded at Marianne, who was sat in her own chair, working her way through another beer, "Frank doing okay?" Marianne shrugged and glanced at the orange cat, curled up at her feet, licking at his paw, eyes half-opened as he lounged on the wooden ground of the flying club.

"Looks like he's as fine as he'll ever be," Marianne said, "Dougie snuck him a thing of cheese earlier, so….let's just say, he's content." Carrie snickered as Paulina glanced down at the little ball of orange.

"Remind me how you're going to get him home again? Strapping him up in Silver Bullets, his own mask to fit his whiskers, a parachute made out of napkins?" Paulina offered and Marianne chuckled.

"I'll just ask Benny, he got Meatball over here, I'll be damned if I can strangle Frank into a harness, but it'll happen," Marianne said, "plus, he's a big sky enthusiastic." Carrie raised a brow. Paulina blinked.

"Come again?" murmured Carrie.

"He climbs up the trees, ya know? Entertains the kids. Jumps outta them, too. Crazy son-of-a-gun. There's a reason he's got nine lives, well…probably five now." Marianne said with a sigh, like an exasperated mother, "I blame Meatball."

"Why are we blaming Meatball?" a new voice said, entering the picture, the bright-eyed silhouette of Margie Harlowe coming up to them, Kennedy Farley in tow - like sunshine and gray skies clashing together in the middle of summer, but somehow making it work.

"He chases Frank around," muttered Marianne, "therefore, Frank has it out for him. Don't think Benny would agree but." Kennedy glanced downwards.

"A real wild-eyed killer there, Mar." Kennedy murmured and Marianne grumbled.

"He's just a softie on the outside that's all," Marianne said and Carrie chuckled.

"I can promise you, if I wave a thing of cheese in front of him, he's done for, there's no fighting with Meatball," Carrie said, patting Marianne on the shoulder and she all but sighed.

"It's alright, Frank, I'd be the same way," Paulina called down to Frank - who sat wildly unbothered, "swear to ya, you could wake me from a dead-sleep."

"Any of you meet the new pilot?" Margie asked, sweeping her eyes through the current group of four staring her in the face, "Alright, what's with the blank looks?"

"Don't think we're the ones you should be asking," Carrie said quietly, "you think Francis is gonna lose it? We know what happened when Harding tried with the other pilot…..Francis couldn't stand her."

"That's because that Captain Atchinson was nothing but a stuck up twit with a stick up her ass," Kennedy offered, "told me three times about how to load my goddamn .50 cal - last time I ever went up with her telling me what to do. I know how to load a gun, sweetheart."

"Bunch of bullshit, too," Paulina said, "you know she told me I had to at least eat proper in front of the guys. Does she not realize most of these guys saw me on my death bed when we arrived in Greenland? Puking my guts up as I pathetically begged for Major Cleven to take me to the grave. That was the least of my worries-"

"Well, our new pilot is not Captain Atchinson - she's actually really sweet, level-headed, can hold her own." Margie said butting in, "You all oughta introduce yourselves, stop hiding."

"Gotta name?" Marianne asked, a bit more hopeful than the others.

"Annie Bradshaw." Margie said, a hint of a smile on her lips, "She was in Fort Des Moines, but she's been a pilot for a bit. I got Benny to spill about her to me a bit. Supposedly she was going to fly AT-6s before coming here, so I guess we can consider ourselves lucky." Someone coughed.

"We'd be lucky if Birdie was still here." Carrie murmured quietly and a collective silence came over the group.

"Alright, what's with the sour faces?" Bessie, beloved navigator of Silver Bullets, said coming with a fresh drink - beer in the bottle - and Vivian and Judy in tow, the three new sets of eyes wandering about the current display of grief that seemed to wash in like waves.

"Don't tell me," Vivian said, arm linked through Judy's, eyes narrowed, "Major Egan made another one of his bad jokes and Pauli ain't having it."

"It ain't that, Viv, but feels close enough to be just like it," Paulina mumbled from her seat and shrugged, before leaning her head on her hand, "meet the new pilot?" The group glanced towards the trio and found somewhat blank looks on all their faces as well.

"Saw her." Judy offered, a bit more enthusiastically than the others, "She's a pretty thing. Didn't say anything though. It was from afar; I was trying to keep Dougie company, poor guy got turned down. I offered him an emotionally-filled pat on the shoulder."

"You really are the sweetest out of us all," Margie said with a smile towards Judy - who grinned like she always did - one that still looked youthful and full of a life now past.

"Was he trying for Helen again?" Carrie asked, her voice a bit more stiff than it had been previously and Bessie shrugged.

"A pretty poor attempt, I'll give him that," Bessie offered, in that comforting voice of hers that never seemed to let anyone down even in the worst of times.

"That or he's going on about the damn cat." Paulina groaned, receiving a shove from Marianne, "Sorry, sorry-" she glanced down at Frank, "sorry Frank, we love ya, I promise."

"So," Bessie started, glancing around the group, "anyone else willing to make the first move or should I bite the bullet. Again, might I add."

"I'll come with you," Judy offered, "she seems real sweet, I tell ya." Bessie smiled and glanced towards the group. Silence.

"Listen, listen, I'll come," Kennedy offered, "nothing a little New England charm can't do."

"New England charm?" Paulina crooned.

"Very experimentalist of you." Carrie said with a smirk and Kennedy rolled her eyes.

"I don't see anyone else jumping to their feet," Kennedy said, placing her hands on her hips with a raised brow, "imagine that was you! Comin' in here and your first introduction is Major Egan - Jesus Christ he probably scared her off-"

"I don't have to imagine," Paulina said with a sour look on her face, "if Birdie were here, we wouldn't be having to start this all over again."

"Yeah, well, Birdie ain't here, Pauli." Kennedy said. It was tough love. A tough realization that was a hard pill to swallow and something no one wanted to have to face.

None of them had really been flying since - Francis had done a practice run with Benny, but had come puking out of the plane and that had been that. Sometimes on walks around base, there was a presence about Silver Bullets that was almost sickening. It was like trying to face a fear none of them wanted to actually have to face. Getting in Silver Bullets without Birdie there. Because how much could you trust the next person to look out for the group and do much, if not the same or more?

"Well, what a surprise," Francis Montez said, swaggering over, a tired look on her face, an even more exasperated smile growing on her lips, "go on, what's happened now. Who are we bettin' on now?"

"No one, Lieutenant, except maybe the new pilot," Judy offered with a shake of her head, "you meet her yet?" Francis' face fell flat and she glanced around the group and shrugged.

"Ran into her, was on the move, didn't have much to say yet," Francis said, her words awkward and spaced uncomfortably. A few of the women exchanged side-eye glances or random coughs or sniffs.

Everyone knew Francis was struggling the most with it all - losing Birdie like they did. Just like that. Having her stuff back at the base, having to send it home to her folks, having to write out the letters and mail it out. Having to even think or say anything regarding it all. No one wanted to express any emotion towards a new pilot, or try to replace Birdie in anyway - it's why this whole new pilot shindig hurt just a little more than they all thought. They knew Birdie would never be replaced, but sometimes it felt like it was replacing her. Francis had been the one to see it and live it. She felt it the most it seemed - and showed it.

"You doing okay, Lieutenant?" Marianne asked quietly, a few worried glances going towards Silver Bullets' copilot - the drawn in expression on her face that fought with whatever inner emotions she was feeling more and more, the dark circles under her eyes, her gaunt cheeks. Francis Montez seemed to take on the weight of the world and let it stay on her shoulders for as long as she could handle; she hadn't fallen down yet.

"Fine," Francis said and then settled onto the open chair beside Carrie, "so, who's gonna make the first move? Or well, let me rephrase, who should be the one to make the first move?"

"I vote Margie." Paulina said, with a raised hand as she sipped her beer, "Margie or Vivian, someone who walks around like it's always sunny outside or something, ya know?"

"Flattering, Pauli, truly," Margie said, and Vivian offered a graceful smile with a nod.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Pauli, you really do butter me up," Vivian said, "but I think this is a Margie Harlowe situation at its finest." Margie grinned and crossed her arms and glanced around.

"You guys shouldn't have."

"Take the compliment, Margie," murmured Carrie. Margie smirked.

"She here?" Margie asked out loud.

"Supposedly Brady invited her."

"She blonde?"

"Blonde, more dirty-blonde, but nice dirty-blonde, shorter-side."

"That her?"

Everyone followed Carrie's finger and line of sight and found the new pilot, Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw, moving towards the bar, leaning up against it smoothly and ordering a drink and then looking around, her movements fluid, calculated and purposeful, her presence not entirely overwhelming and the look on her face a mix - calm, cool, collected about herself. Someone you probably didn't want to mess with unless you had it coming.

"Yep, that's her," Judy said, "Margie you should go for it." Margie turned to the group, took a gracious bow, cracked her knuckles like some professional sports star and then turned away.

"Watch and learn, ladies," Margie said and then plowed forward.

"There she goes," Kennedy said with a chuckle, "our Margie, whodda thought huh?"

"Whodda thought what?"

"Volunteering herself like that," Kennedy offered, "going into the line of fire. She's better than me."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Francis said, "Whatcha trying to say?" Kennedy glanced over her shoulder just as Margie stuck out her hand to shake and then glanced back at the group of women and Frank, who now was cuddled in Judy's arms.

"Harding's been trying to get a pilot in for days after Atchinson was booted. Supposedly, he didn't let anyone even meet us until he was sure, especially after what happened before." Kennedy said, "Egan let me in on it, Mr. Chatterbox. Anyway, it seems legit. The entire thing. And she made it through all their levels of inspection, interviews, questioning, all of it. She's good." The group seemed to gravitate to looking towards Francis, attempting to judge her facial expressions before coming to a consensus.

"Francis?" Bessie offered. Francis was quiet for a moment, then leaned forward and took the beer bottle in her hand.

"I won't say anything until she's up there flying Silver Bullets."

[ktredshoes]

Oooh, tell me about Walk the Earth with Eyes Turned Skyward: Everett Blakely x Grace Linden (OFC)

Love the title

Thanks for the ask, Bee!

The plot can be summarized like this: Grace Linden of the Red Cross Aero Club at Thorpe Abbotts has fallen for pilot Everett Blakely, who is charming, handsome...and very much married. On the other hand, he may be faithful to his wife, but he's still got eyes...

Featuring the irrepressible James Douglass, who's got a crush of his own on Grace.

As for the title, I'm still working on making sure the story lives up to it!

Here's a snippet:

The weekly dances at the officers’ club were, hands down, at the top of the list of Grace’s favorite activities at Thorpe Abbotts. Though she had never thought of herself as a very good dancer, she had enthusiasm, and that went a long way – conversational skills and charm went the rest. Touch, spin, step, sway, change partners, and again.

Jim Douglass was the most enthusiastic of partners and clamored for her attention whenever possible. She tried not to let on how much she liked to tease him when he begged another dance, insisting he was a terrible partner whenever he approached, making him earn her assent – then enjoying herself thoroughly when he kept up a steady stream of chatter while he twirled her across the floor. Doug had a joke or an opinion about everything, and she always felt thoroughly entertained after a dance with him.

One night when she got tired of having her feet stepped on, and Doug wasn’t available, she still really wanted to dance, so on the off-chance, she recklessly asked Ev Blakely for a spin ‘round the floor. “No, no,” he tried to beg off, “Don’t ask me, is Dougie too tired?” But her persistence and the infectious hilarity of her mood finally wore him down, and he followed her to the floor led by her fingertips on his forearm. The band was playing something incredibly catchy by Glen Gray, and when they stepped out, she had no idea what to expect.

Taglist: @precious-little-scoundrel @ginabaker1666 @winniemaywebber @basilone @shoshiwrites @mercurygray @junojelli

[firstlightfanfics]

Hey!

Long time, no Tumbl.

Just letting everyone know that I have a newer version of the site at: firstlightfanfics.com

[bisluthq]

When it comes to the *alleged* Taylor hook ups, how do you generally differentiate between tabloid fodder and people she ACTUALLY dated to some capacity? Also, why the fuck are people SO set on Matthew Gray Gubler and Alexander Skarsgård as "confirmed" things? Those are honestly two that I'm like the least sure of.

Alex Skarsgard is not a thing at all. They worked together on a movie where they didn't even share any scenes, the only pics of them are at group dinners with the rest of the cast, he was partnered at the time, she was like obsessed with Jeff Bridges on set (not romantically lmfaooo but like in terms of asking him about how to be a better actress and shit) and spent most of her time hanging out with him (per Jeff Bridges and other people involved) and she was also spotted flirting with Brenton Thwaites (who's a lot more age appropriate lmao and actually kinda more her type) and I don't think anything happened there either but Brenton's gf hated the absolute fuck out of her so I do think there was yk flirty vibes going on. The only reason people say it's a thing is because the WD MV is set on a film set in Africa and they filmed The Giver in Cape Town but like lmao working in Cape Town really (I would know) looks nothing like that vibe and she's explicitly said it was inspired by old Hollywood and her grandma and I guess Alex Skarsgard is "so tall, and handsome as hell" but so are many, many men and she's said the song is about her very pessimistic stance on relationships at the time and how everything's gonna end and nobody's going to take it seriously (see Douglas Booth lol who is also so tall and handsome as hell and had more of a WD storyline with her BUT I don't think the song is "about" him either).

MGG went to her Fourth of July party and they were rumoured to be talking. She supposedly reached out to him, they talked, he demonstrably went to her party, then it didn't go much further. I kinda buy they may have talked for a bit and like seen where it went idk but it was obviously not super serious ever.

In terms of how to tell bs from stuff with credibility, I look at the following things personally: 1) does the TL line up? Like were both people single/mostly single at the time? Were they in the same places, so is it even possible? 2) ideally, are there pics of them together (my best is blurry potato pics lol because that means they were trying to go unnoticed) and are these 1:1 or small hangs (so for example Dougie and Taylor sitting with Lena at a Fun. concert only really caught by other concertgoers or Hozier and her walking out a restaurant with just her security - if it's a big group of people then odds are they're all just friends lol because why bring your situationship to a HUGE hang?) 3) if there aren't pics of them together, who else has talked about this and what have they said? And what have they themselves said? Like I buy the Evan thing because of the expose of him mentioning it right? And that said it wasn't deep either and never a formal relationship. 5) on that same note, are they still friends lmao? Like Garrett and her aren't (well they were through Joe for a bit there but they don't have their own friendship as far as we can tell, despite both being close to Tim and Faith and having hung 1:1 in 2011). Hozier and her also aren't (despite hanging 1:1 for a while in like 2014). Douglas and her def aren't. If you were casually hanging with someone a bit and then you stop hanging with them and there are rumours you were hooking up, I don't think they did anything wrong but you probably - after realising you don't want to date them - don't see much point in hanging out 6) again, what have other people said and what have they themselves said? Like one of the reasons I truthered Tatty 1.0 is he'd said he'd been to most of her houses. Weird thing to do if you're just sorta friendly especially since they stopped being friendly when she got with Calvin. Or like Ashley Tisdale mentioning Martin and Taylor lol like weird thing for Ash to make up for no reason.

Basically exercise media literacy and common sense and also check the dates and see if it's even possible or if it's contradicted by a whole bunch of other stuff.

And my thing is also the simplest explanation is usually the best: so for Alex Skarsgard to "work", we have to tie ourselves into pretzels for it to be a possibility. Theoretically weird shit is possible, but it's highly unlikely. For her to have gone on a few dates with Garrett in 2011 when both were in Nash and were set up by mutuals and given she was sad about Jake and they were both single and the rumour mill says like they tried but just weren't really hitting it off like that makes perfect sense. So yeah. Kinda assess each thing case by case.

[epiceneandroid]

day 2 (sorry for being so late :sob:): mspec...my favorite day since i am...an mspec...(specfically bi, pan, bipan, pomo, and a bipan cenelian)

i've been really obsessed with project sekai lately so i went all out on the project sekai headcanoning with (the rather stereotypical headcanon of) pan emu and (the contrary to popular stereotypes) bipan kanade...the rest are three fighting game Favorites and one comics fave i really like who i think being omni would suit her...shela sexton escapade you are one of my favorite characters ever and charlie jane anders is a good writer

image descriptions under the cut:

[image description: nine pride icons of various mspec sexualities. the first two icons are of shermie from king of fighters. she is a redheaded white woman with bangs fully covering her eyes, with fair skin, a white and purple suit that reveals her cleavage, and a white a-line skirt in a lattice-like pattern. the second image of her doesn't have any color. in the first image, she is making a casual expression. in the second image, she is making a dazed expression. behind her in the first two images is the bi flag, which is a pride flag with an uneven large pink top stripe, a small purple middle stripe and an uneven large blue bottom stripe. the next three images are of emu ohtori from project sekai. she is a pink haired japanese xip with pink eyes, pale skin, her hair cut into a bob with a partial hime cut, and is wearing various outfits. in the first image, she is wearing a pink and gray school uniform with a white and gray collar and a red bow. in the word bubbles, the text reads in black "i'm pan!". in the second image, she is wearing a pink t-shirt and black overalls. she is waving hi at the viewer, and beside her is a varying assortment of treats. in the last image, she is wearing a pink, black, and yellow dress with yellow bunny ears, a pink bow, black and brown heart ribbons, and a brown ribbon near the pink bow. she is also wearing a yellow bow on the black lacy overalls she is wearing, and has a white and pink lacy bib. she is smiling and jumping. behind her is the pan flag, a three stripe even striped flag with one pink stripe on top, one yellow stripe in the middle, and one blue stripe on bottom. the next image is of elena from street fighter. she is a medium-dark skinned black girl with white hair, a white cloth top and bottom, and she is wearing blue, red, and yellow bracelets on her arms and legs, while she wears gold colored bangles near her feet. she is jumping up triumphantly, smiling broadly. behind her is the polysexual flag, an evenly three striped flag with a pink top stripe, a green middle stripe, and a blue bottom stripe. next is an image of shela sexton, also known as escapade, from the marvel series "new mutants". she is a white girl with red hair with blueish tints to it from the shading, and she has green eyes and no lipstick. she is wearing a blue jacket and a yellow jumpsuit. she is smiling confidently with a little pink decorative symbol appearing near her. behind her is a mostly covered up omnisexual flag, with a light pink top stripe, a bright pink first from the top stripe, a navy blue middle stripe, a perwinkle third from the top stripe, and a light blue bottom stripe. next image is kanade yoisaki from project sekai. she is a pale skinned japanese epicene with stringy white hair, a dark grayish-blue hoodie, red and black headphones, and khaki shorts. she is working at a soundsystem with a piano and a computer and is sitting in a computer chair. she is making a serious expression. behind her is the bipan flag, a four striped flag with a pink top stripe, a purple second stripe, a yellow third stripe, and a blue fourth stripe. the last image is of yuri sakazaki from king of fighters. she is a tanned skin japanese girl with brown hair parted at the middle, brown eyes, a red haramaki, a blue t-shirt and leggings, a white karate dougi over top of it, and blue gloves. she is pulling her left eye back and sticking her tongue out. behind her is the mspec flag. it is a six striped flag with a purple top stripe, a pink second stripe, an orange third stripe, a yellow fourth stripe, a green fifth stripe, and a blue sixth stripe. end image description]

[rooting-for-the-anti--hero]

MUSE BREAKDOWN

CROSSOVERS: Leo

DEMONS:  Vegreth

KINDERGARTENERS: Crystal

CRAIG’S GANG: Clyde, Tweek

EMO KIDS: Dylan, Harker

NEW KIDS: Jace, Jonah

STAN’S GANG: Butters, Cartman

BRITISH KIDS: Estella, Gregory, Pip

GOTHS: Firkle, Karen, Pete

MORMONS: Amanda, David, Gary

HOUNDS OF TINDALOS: Libra, Tempus, Terrestris

ASIAN GIRLS: Heather Nashimura, Kelly Joo, Lisa Akimoto, TBN

RAISINS: Cadillac, Ferrari, Infiniti, Mercedes, Porsche

NON-SPVS VAMPS: Ardalion, Dzianis, Faddei, Oksana, Puddin’

WEREWOLVES: Drusus, Mother Hortencia, Israfel, Lycidas, Mika, Shades

SOUTH PARK VAMPIRE SOCIETY: AJ, Delilah, Fisher, Georgi, Bloodrayne, Larry

ADULTS: Big Gay Al, Chef, Darryl, Father Maxi, Jesus, Liane, Lily, PC Principal, Spontaneous Bootay, Stuart

FANKID FANKIDS: Calia, Cordi, Zeke, Ore, Isa, Keegan, Leora, Lil, Ozzy, Prim, Tiff, Torm, Zen

ALTERNATE VERSE!FANKIDS: Ris, Ares, Tems, Vynny, Dray, Gissie, Les, Lowell, Luci, Mags, Malia, Michelle, Priya

NPCs: Aiden, Arkadiusz, Carol, Charlotte, Christie, Crofton, Dennis, Filmore, Jameson, Jeremy, Mr. Kim, Marie, Nor'Thollia, Quaid, Sawyer

OTHER: Benji, Bridon, Eliza, Dougie, Fosse, Kevin, Kyle, Lizzy, Mimsy, Nathan, Tammy, Trent, Wendyl

ACTIVE FANKIDS: Alma, Arthur, Aster, Ringer, Brander, Brandy, Dalvoreth, Ritchie, Ember, Fauna, Gil, Gray, Greer, Etha, Lyndon, Maserati, Mason, Lili, Mona, Royce, Val, Wilt

INACTIVE FANKIDS: Acey, Colton, Delta, Dervos, Elysium, Enya, Eris, Gavyn, Gossamer, Harkon, Harper, Ianira, Kellen, Marishka, Parker, Perseus, Prince, Ransley, Remi, Requiem, Santos, Satcher, Sibyl, Umbra, Velika, Zephyr

[gazellefamily]

SOLITARY MAN (2009) “Reviewed this at dawn of Gazelle Netflix Reviews but rewatch last night was revelatory. Now having seen the majority of Dougie’s filmography I declare it the most concentrated essential oil of Dougie. He doesn’t just make dizz mistakes: he’s a straight-up sex-addict scumbag pathetically macking on every young bird he sees at college keg parties. Even the 18-year old daughter (Clownface Poots) of his already younger girlfriend (MarLouPar). And more top birds Gill Jacobs, Thirlby, Sizzlin’ Sarandon, Office Pam are all here. And bonus trope: he teaches virgin Jeisenberg how to get laid (natch). It’s dark Dougie. The graying of the embodiment of the American Male Phallus and all that entails.” -Sonny Gazelle