#it will look like the last for sure for next drawings ~

[suashii]

— 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝑒 ౨ৎ

oliver aiku x f!reader. 1.5k wc. ﾉ nsfw ( MDNI! ) ﾉ established relationship ﾉ clothed sex ﾉ unprotected sex ﾉ fingering ﾉ petnames (pretty girl, baby) ﾉ creampie :3

It isn't often that Oliver gets home before you. It’s boring without you, he thinks while aimlessly scrolling through the apps on his phone. You’d shot him a text earlier telling him that you’d be going out with some friends for dinner but he didn’t think you’d be gone for so long. He’s starting to think that he should have just met you at that restaurant on his way home from practice when the sound of your key in the lock echoes throughout the entryway.

“I'm home,” you sing from the foyer, haphazardly kicking the uncomfortable heels off of your feet. Oliver doesn’t look up from his phone but he returns your greeting with, “welcome home. How was dinner?”

“Good,” you draw out the vowel as you approach him in the living room. His eyes are still glued to the device in his hand. This is nothing like when he gets home from practice—he usually wastes no time seeking you out after going hours without seeing you. It’s been since this morning that the two of you were last together—you thought he’d be more excited for you to be back after spending a night out. You’re tempted to pout and call him out on the lack of mind he’s paying you but, at the last moment, you decide not to.

You’re sure you’ll have his attention soon enough.

“I missed you, though,” you tell him as you round the couch, bending at the waist and resting your palms just above his knees. The newfound proximity seems to be all it takes for Oliver to finally set his phone aside. He has every intention of returning the sentiment and telling you he missed you too but the words die on his lips the moment he gets a glimpse of you.

Oliver has always made a point to let you know that he’s attracted to you beyond your looks but he’d be lying if he said that they weren’t part of your appeal. It’s hard to ignore how good you look in that crop top, nipples poking through the thin fabric that cuts off before your belly button. Below your navel is the heart-shaped buckle of your belt that’s laced through the loops of your pleated denim skirt—one short enough to turn heads, just long enough to protect your decency. Damn, he really should have met up with you after practice.

“Well, don’t you look pretty?” Oliver smiles, cradling your face and tapping your cheek with his pointer finger. Your glossy lips curl up into a grin, as if those were the words you had been waiting to hear.

You straighten up to give him a better look at you. The scent of your perfume mixed with the lingering aroma of whatever you had been drinking earlier wafts through the air as you twirl on the ball of your foot, warranting the man a 360 view. You giggle at the way he whistles with your action. “Thank you.”

You come to straddle his lap, your fingers tangling in thick locks of hair. Oliver's hands waste no time finding their way to your hips, giving you a firm squeeze. He smiles up at you, mischief swimming in his green and purple eyes. “Bet you gotta lot of compliments, hm, pretty girl?”

You hum and nod, nails scratching gently at his scalp as you slowly grind against his growing hard-on. A quiet moan pushes past your lips before you answer him. “Think the waiter had a crush on me.”

“Oh?” Oliver grins, rough palms sliding from your hips and beneath your skirt to knead the fat of your ass. “I can't blame him, I've got a helluva crush on you, too.”

The laugh bubbling up from you catches in your throat at the way your clit rubs against the tent of his pants. The jolt it sends down your spine is a physical reminder of how you’ve been thinking about this all night and you don’t have it in you to wait any longer. Your voice is just above a breathy whisper with your next words. “How about you show me just how much you like me?”

“Shit, I'd be happy to, baby.” While one hand continues massaging your behind, the other comes up to pull the thong that clothes your pussy to the side. His digits run between your puffy folds almost teasingly before he slips two inside, earning a broken moan from you.

His lips latch onto the pulse of your neck, his stubble tickling you as he sloppily sucks away at the skin. That with the rhythmic thrusting and scissoring of his fingers in your cunt make you lightheaded. There’s only one word you can mutter and it’s, “more.”

Oliver's tongue licks a stripe up your neck, the breath from his low chuckle causing the fine hairs of your neck to stand. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he taunts, fingers slipping in and out of you.

“Need you to fuck me,” you beg, tipping your head down to capture his lips in a clumsy kiss. He swallows each of your moans, nipping at your lower lip as he pulls away.

“Now how can I say no to that?” You feel empty without his fingers stuffed inside of you but can forgive the absence when he pulls down the waistband of his sweats, heavy cock slapping against his abdomen upon its release.

Oliver gives himself a few pumps, spreading the beads of precum gathered at his slit down his shaft. The breathy moan he lets out makes you all the more impatient. He must be able to sense your unwillingness to wait because he guides his cock to your heat, slowly dragging the head through your folds, your arousal coating him. Oliver's tongue runs along his teeth, lips pulling into a proud grin. “So wet for me, hm?”

You nod fervently. “Only f'you.”

He chuckles at your desperate response but he’s really just as desperate to feel you—your warmth. The teasing drags come to an end when he meets your entrance. You can feel him there, his tip slowly pushing into you with that pleasurable burn you’ve grown to recognize.

“There you go,” Oliver offers through a satisfied grunt as you sink down onto him. “Just like that, pretty girl.”

He’d usually give you a little more time to adjust but his hips seem to have a mind of their own, pulling back and bucking into you before you’ve even had the chance to take all of him. The motion draws a shocked gasp from your lungs, the kind that’s music to Oliver's ears. He wants—no, needs—to hear more.

You’re more than happy to oblige, fingers tangling in the lime tips of his hair. Your hips move on their own accord, rolling with each of Oliver's ruts. It isn’t long before the roll of your hips and the thrust of his join in a sensual dance, the lewd slapping of skin and mingled moans serving as your music.

Your head falls to the crook of oliver’s neck, spinning with exhilaration. “Feels s'good,” you manage to mumble into his skin.

“Yeah?” His fingers glide over the exposed skin of your midriff, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They drift lower, beneath the denim of your skirt to blindly search for the spot he’s sure will make you feel even better.

The pad of his thumb brushes your sensitive nub, eliciting that very same, delicious, gasp from earlier. “Oli! right there!”

He would have laughed if it weren’t for the way your walls spasmed around him at the new stimulation. It makes him throb, a shaky “fuck,” filling the air. The steady rhythm of his hips is abandoned for a hungry one more fit to chase what he’s sure is your impending orgasm.

The snap of Oliver's hips sends his length deeper, allowing him to kiss the spot that always ensures that you unravel. And with the rough circle he’s rubbing against your clit, it takes practically no time for the heat to pool in your core, for you to stand at the precipice of pleasure. “Ah! G-gonna cum!”

“Come for me then, baby.”

As though his words are your permission, you fall off the edge and into a wave of euphoria. His name is like honey on your lips as you tremble with the aftershock of your climax.

The fluttering of your walls around him is all it takes for Oliver to join you, his hips temporarily stilling with his release. You can feel each twitch of his cock as he shoots ropes of thick cum into you. The mixture of your slick and his seed drips down your thighs as he leisurely fucks himself through his high.

Your head is heavy when you lift it to meet his eye. Oliver's lips meet yours in a series of short yet sweet kisses. His fingers run up and down the curve of your back as he whispers his next words against your mouth. “That's how much I like you.

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated

[betweenstorms]

Where Silence Blooms

CHAPTER 1/2 of SKIN OF THUNDER ➼ First Chapter

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader

“There’s a quiet in the space between us, heavy as a storm yet soft as breath, pressing into places we pretend don’t exist.”

The briefing room of Task Force 141 was cold and utilitarian, much like the rest of the base. Stark walls with muted tones, and the hum of military tech filled the air. It wasn’t a place for comfort or ease—just business, like everything in their line of work. The men of 141 were scattered around the room, their presence heavy with the anticipation of their next mission, but also the tension that came with Ghost’s return after a few days of leave.

Ghost, seated at the far end of the table, felt the familiar weight of his mask against his skin. The leave had done nothing to ease the tension in his muscles; if anything, it had worsened.

Rest didn’t suit him. It felt unnatural.

Captain Price stood at the head of the table, glancing at the door occasionally, waiting for the last part of the reintegration process. Paperwork. Christ, how he hated bureaucracy, but it was necessary. The rest of the team carried on their usual banter, filling the silence with bits of dry humour. Soap, leaning back in his chair lazily, was half-listening, his Scottish brogue cutting through now and then, while Gaz was focused on his tablet, flipping through mission data.

Suddenly the door creaked open, and the light sound of heels clicking against the floor made Ghost’s hazel eyes flicker toward the entrance. You. Your bright pink shirt clashed against the dull, military backdrop, instantly drawing the eyes of every man in the room.

Bloody hell, Ghost thought, catching sight of you.

You looked young, almost too young to belong in a place like this—like a bloom in the dead of winter, out of place, too fragile for the harshness around you. Your pink shirt and heels felt like whispers of a world far removed from his, impractical for the grit and weight of this life. It irritated him more than it should have, that contrast. It gnawed at him, pulling at something buried deep. A strange mixture of frustration and... something else. He quickly buried it. Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off you, not entirely sure what it was that drew his focus. 

The chatter died down as you offered a polite smile, even though your nerves were evident in the way you clutched the folder to your chest.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greeted, your accent soft but distinct. Your eyes darted around the room before landing on Ghost, who sat quietly at the far end. Your cheeks flushed slightly as you came in, avoiding the direct stares of the men in the room—except Ghost’s. You seemed to hesitate for a second under his hazel eyes before quickly averting your gaze.

“Mornin’, lass,” Soap responded with his usual playful tone, earning a side-eye from Gaz.

Price gave you a curt nod in return. “Thanks for comin’ on such short notice. We just need to finish up some formalities for Ghost here. You’ve got the papers?”

You stepped forward, the heels of your shoes clicking softly against the linoleum floor. “Of course, Captain. I’ve got everything ready.”

As you stepped closer, something unexpected tugged at Ghost's attention, slipping through the cracks of his focus. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now, standing beside him, it was impossible to ignore—your scent. Sweet and delicate, like a field of wildflowers blooming in the quiet after a storm. It was pleasant, so much so that he found himself distracted by it. And for a fleeting moment, he let it pull him away, take him somewhere more flowery, as if the air itself had grown softer in your presence.

Ghost, unsettled, clenched his jaw tighter.

He shouldn’t be noticing these things.

He watched you carefully, the way your fingers fidgeted a bit as you opened the folder. You scattered around the documents in front of him with practiced efficiency, though your stiff movements were noticeable under the scrutiny of the team. 

“Here are the forms for your reintegration, Lieutenant Riley.”

Ghost took the forms, his gaze never leaving your face. You were far too polite and far too warm for someone dealing with men like him. He grunted in acknowledgment, the annoyance he felt in your presence still simmering beneath the surface. 

“Cheers,” he muttered, his tone short.

Soap shot Gaz a sideways smirk. “Wee bit bright in here, eh?” he muttered under his breath, nodding toward your pink dress shirt. Gaz snorted, but the two of them kept their comments to a minimum under the watchful eyes of their captain.

Ghost, signing the paperwork with methodical precision, ignored them completely. He wasn’t in the mood for Soap’s teasing.

He focused on the task at hand, though your presence seemed to press at the edges of their attention. You stepped back as if you were trying to blend into the background as he finished the last signature. It was as if you carried the weight of your own presence like a burden, too aware of your own awkwardness, too embarrassed by the simple act of being seen by them. The team was still watching you, though not with the same scrutiny Ghost reserved.

Once he finished, he handed the papers back to you, his hazel eyes locking onto yours for just a moment. You smiled nervously, taking the documents with careful hands.

“Thank you, sir,” you said, your voice softer this time, as if you could sense the tension still clinging to him. “I’ll make sure everything’s processed right away.”

Price cleared his throat, bringing the team’s attention back. “Alright, lads, let’s focus. Ghost, we’ve got a new op lined up, and we’ll need your expertise.”

He nodded, the weight of the mission already pressing you from his mind, like dust swept from the edge of a storm.

As Price began detailing the objectives, you quietly gathered your things, your movements small, deliberate, as if trying to disappear into the fabric of the room. You wanted to be invisible, but Ghost's gaze betrayed him—his eyes flicked toward you once more, drawn to the way you moved. Oh, you didn’t belong here, not in the way the rest of them did, and the contrast unsettled him in a way he couldn’t name. And yet…

As you turned to leave, his voice sliced through the room, deep and jagged, catching in the air before he even realised he had spoken.

“Hey.”

You hesitated, the air around you thickening as you turned back, uncertainty flickering in your eyes like a question left unspoken. The rest of the team, sensing the unusual dynamic, exchanged curious glances but said nothing. Soap’s smirk only widened as he nudged Gaz, who raised an eyebrow in amusement

“Thanks for your help,” Ghost said, the words feeling foreign in his mouth, but he couldn’t let you leave without acknowledging the strange pull he felt.

Your cheeks flushed, but a small, nervous smile was playing on your lips. “You’re welcome, Lieutenant Riley. Good luck with your mission.”

With that, you left the room, your heels clicking softly as the door closed behind you.

Inside the briefing room, Ghost shifted in his seat, trying to refocus on the upcoming mission. But something about you lingered. Your presence, your perfume, the way you had smiled at him like he was just another man. You had looked at him as if he were flesh and blood, as if he weren’t carved from the remnants of something broken. It unsettled him. He had no use for warmth, no place for someone like you in his world. Yet the pull was undeniable, like a thin thread woven into his inked skin, tugging at him, reminding him of you even as Price’s words washed over the room.

For a moment, Ghost wondered why he even cared. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. His world was built from blood and sweat, flesh stitched together by violence, his mind a fortress walled off from anything soft. But somehow, without him realising, you had slipped through the cracks. You were like water seeping into stone, an unwelcome intrusion, wearing down the edges he'd spent years sharpening.

And that made you dangerous.

He’d faced death a hundred times, stared into the barrel of chaos and walked away without flinching. Bullets and blood were the language he understood. Those dangers never unnerved him, never slipped beneath his mask.

But you were something else entirely.

He didn’t even know your name, yet it felt like a blade lodged deep. The absence of it cut at him, sharp and raw.

How could something so simple leave him bleeding in ways he couldn’t understand?

Ghost couldn’t pin it down, couldn’t give a name to the force you carried. You were like the summer rain in the distance, quiet but inevitable, ready to bring him to his knees without raising a hand. He had withstood war and betrayal, the tearing of flesh and the breaking of bones, but the thought of you, a softness that could undo him, felt like something that could truly bring him down. 

“Simon,” Price’s voice snapped him back to the present. “You with us?”

“Yeah,” Ghost muttered, clearing his mind.

He’d deal with the mission first.

You, and whatever the hell you represented, could wait.

“And still, the silence lingers, thick and bruised, asking for more than either of us can give.”

Skin of Thunder Chapters

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 13: Memories to share

First chapter | Previous

Also go follow @lovelivingmydreams because she's awesome and her writing is amazing. And I have no idea how I convinced her to work on this story with just one drawing.

Enjoy reading:

And then he was in the middle of a little village. Nothing like any village he’d seen before though. The way the houses were built, the clothes the people wore… It was so different from what he was used to.

A little boy rushed past him.

“Virgil hold up!!!” a young boy’s voice shouted.

“Sorry Michael!” the little boy said. “I just want to show mom the flowers before they go bad,” the little boy said to the bigger kid that was catching up to, what Roman assumed to be, his little brother. The boy who would grow up to be the High Mage of the Night Flame.

“If you pick them, they usually last longer V. Now take my hand and lets walk home together. At least pretend I’m looking after you,” Michael insisted.

Roman studied them both. The little boy’s hair looked lighter and shorter than what he was used to seeing from Virgil. Other than that he could definitely see this as a past version of him.

He looked so happy and carefree. As only children can.

“Welcome to the village of my youth.” Roman looked beside him and saw Virgil standing next to him. “It doesn’t exist anymore. Nothing bad. People just left for greener pastures and the village got forgotten to time. I went back a while ago, it’s nothing but open fields now. I still remember it like it was yesterday though,” he continued.

“I… It looks lovely,” Roman said, not sure what to make of it.

“I figured we could combine our options. Get the most out of this dream. I’ll teach you along the way,” Virgil promised before turning his attention back to the memory and speaking the way he did whenever he taught them anything.

“It was named RiverFort,” Virgil stated. “Because of the nearby river and the fort that was built by the guild on the other side… The magic guild that is. Mages were a rarity and ascended mages even more so. Which is why I often find myself older than everyone in the room combined these days,” Virgil joked. “This is Axilla, long before we really named ourselves that. The guild aided the villages within this unclaimed territory and in exchange we all provided what we could…” Virgil nodded ahead and they saw a man and a woman greet Virgil and his brother. The woman was pregnant. Little Virgil kissed his mother’s belly and handed her the flowers.

Then little Virgil went to greet his father who ruffled his hair before continuing a conversation with a gentleman in robes.

“You really got us out of a pickle there Remy. Any idea why those wolves left their territory to snatch our sheep?” Virgil’s father wondered. He seemed like a kind man. And an animal lover with the way he gave the mage’s horse an apple and pats while talking to his rider.

“Not a clue Francis. But I’ll figure it out and make sure I won’t have to come back. If I may pick up a few blankets and a traveling cloak on the way back? Have it set aside if I don’t. Emile is in the north and he’s super capable but negotiations are always a bit iffy,” he shrugged carelessly.

“You be careful too alright. By the grace of the stars, we will see you soon,” Virgil’s father insisted.

“Bye mister magic man!” Virgil said cheerfully. The mage, Remy knelt and looked at him. “Hmmm. Getting bigger huh little man? I get a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other,” he stated, booping Virgil’s nose to which the little one mock complained. Then he got on his horse.

“Bless your days in the kingdom of the sun,” he bid, and rode off towards the woods.

The family headed inside to listen to Virgil’s story about his day with his big brother.

“Remy was right. He ended up being one of my teachers. And he’d been around the block a few times by then. You’d like him,” Virgil chuckled.

Things shifted. Very briefly Roman saw a little bigger Virgil accidentally levitating a pot that was falling from a stove, much to the amazement of his parents and now two siblings. The little sister he’d mentioned before was an adorable toddler in this one.

Then Remy was back, performing a magic aptitude test, looking not surprised in the least. And then Virgil was being picked up by a carriage his mother tying a no doubt handmade scarf around his neck, the family wishing him luck and praying for the stars to guide him.

Roman noticed that the young boy and his teacher both had applied colored shadows under their eyes.

He got in the carriage, and the family and the village disappeared. Instead they were riding down a long stone rode in a bustling city. Though it didn’t seem as big as the capitol Roman remembered. Little 11 or 12 year old Virgil was looking around nervously.

“It’ll be alright squirt,” Remy, who’d apparently been his escort, assured him. “You’ll make tons of friends and have loads to write to your family about. And just think of all the ways you’ll be able to help them out when you get back for the breaks?” Remy pointed out.

Virgil nodded, still withdrawn from nerves. A stark difference to what he was like when in a familiar environment.

Roman looked at the passing buildings trying to find the academy.

“The one you know won’t be built for a while,” Virgil reminded him. Right… Was this even the current capitol?

“This is what you know as Lumen. One of the bigger cities at the time,” Virgil explained as time sped up around them and they found themselves on the edge of the city up a winding path towards a large building, nestled against the forest.

Then Virgil got out and showed to the dormitories and his room.

“There were ten kids in my group, all of varying ages,” Virgil stated as they watched him put his things away, hug his scarf tight and going outside. “And in a strange moment of bravery, I left my room to go and meet them right away,” he chuckled as they reached a playground where a lot of kids were playing. Most were around Virgil’s age, though there were a few late bloomers there too.

Little Virgil looked around and found a kid sitting by himself, reading.

Roman squinted. Was that Gustav?

“Hi,” little Virgil greeted.

The kid looked up, and Roman was a bit surprised to realize it was indeed a younger Gustav.

He also had shading under his eyes. It must have been the style at the time. It was kind of cute that Virgil still did it though.

The young arch mage looked at Virgil's offered hand curiously.

"Um... I'm Virgil."

Gustav gave Virgil a careful smile and accepted his hand. "Gustav," he said. Virgil visibly relaxed at the successful introductions.

"Can I sit with you, please? I promised my mom I'd try and make friends," he said softly.

Gustav giggled. "Well. I didn't, but I guess I don't want you to break a promise to yours," he said, making room on the bench.

"I almost forgot about this part... looking at it from this angle... I guess I get why he didn't like J and Remus all that much," Virgil mused next to Roman as little Virgil sat down and asked about the book Gustav was reading. The conversation seemed to be going well when suddenly...

"CRACK!"

"Woah!"

"Hey!?"

"Hi there," another boy greeted them. Which would've been fine if he hadn't fallen from the sky accompanied by a broken off tree branch. Right on top of Virgil.

Both were now on the ground with the new boy looking down at Virgil.

"You wanna play tag?" he asked.

"Shouldn't you start with: Are you okay? Or: I'm sorry? Or something like that!?" Gustav scolded as he pushed the new boy off from Virgil and helped him get up and dust him off. "I'm fine. Just... caught me of guard," Virgil assured both.

Gustav was not satisfied, though.

"What were you doing up there anyway? Spying on us?!" he accused.

"Napping, until you two woke me up... after that, a bit of spying," the boy admitted.

"That's a weird napping spot," Little Virgil said. Amused.

"Those are the best kinds," the boy argued.

"I like you. I'm Remus," he decided. Holding out his hand. "Virgil, and this is my friend Gustav," Virgil introduced, making Gustav hold his head up a little higher at being called friend.

"What on earth is all this commotion about?" A new boy wondered as he joined the group.

"Mister bright idea climbed a tree. Took a nap, we heard a snap, and then he bruised a knee," Gustav huffed. The group stared. And Roman chuckled. "Was that on purpose?" Virgil asked. Gustav shrugged. "Not at first," he admitted.

"Impressive," Virgil said.

"Well. I am Janus. And you all are...?" The new boy wondered.

"Virgin, Gus and Remus!" Remus screeched.

Gustav made a face. "Gustav and Virgil..." he corrected.

"You talk fancy. Who's your daddy?" Remus wondered. Making Virgil hide his face to stiffen a laugh. Gustav just rolled his eyes. Glancing at Virgil nervously.

Owch. Yeah. Roman wouldn't have liked two random kids stealing the show right when he was making a proper friend. Especially if it ended in him and said friend never getting close.

"My uncle, is high Mage Remy. Eternal lover of the smoldering heart. so my talent was spotted rather quickly. How about you three?" Janus wondered.

"My parents have like, a ton of stores so they paid for an aptitude test so I’d be out of their hair," Remus shrugged. "Jokes on them. I'll be even more of a menace when I know magic,” he added with a grin. Roman noted that both Virgil and Gustav felt a bit self-conscious now. Virgil glanced to Gustav, realized he was not alone in his worry and found courage. "My parents are tailors, and um... I caught a pot without touching when it fell. So when mister Remy... your uncle, came by to check on our village, they told him. And he checked, and now I am here," he said. Making Gustav relax.

"It's just my mother, and I. She helps one of the farmers who has no children to help him to get by. One day, I made a mess of her nice dress, and I wished it was clean, and then it was." He said, feeling more confident now that he and Virgil seemed to have more in common.

"Cool," Remus grinned.

Someone rang a bell. "Oh, class in session! Come on! You gotta sit with us!" Remus insisted dragging Virgil along, followed by a bemused Janus and a dejected Gustav. That must've stung.

"Your friends seem fun," Roman decided. It hadn't seemed like they were deliberately pushing Gustav away. But the young arch mage clearly hadn't felt comfortable around their big personalities.

"Yeah," Virgil smiled.

"Now. Your turn. Show me something about you," Virgil instructed, catching Roman of guard.

"Me?" He asked.

Virgil nodded. "Pick a memory. Focus on it. And share it like how you shared your emotions with me the past two days," he instructed.

Okay. Doable...

Roman took a breath. Focused and...

He was home. Just the sight of it nearly made him tear up. How had Virgil kept it together when showing his own. "I was prepared. You are doing great," Virgil assured him. Roman nodded gratefully and led Vigil to the play room where he and his friends were bowed over books on magic.

"And then he single handedly tamed the beast of Zimmer and sent it back into the woods!" Young Roman told his friends. Much to their amazement.

"I wish I could do something so amazing," Patton sighed.

"But we can. We just have to get into the academy," Logan stated wisely.

"Don't we have to pass an aptitude test for that?" Roman asked, more intrigued than skeptical. "Yes, but I found an old book in your parents' collection, one from before the plague, and in it, it says that magic is a skill you can learn. Like cooking and art. Talent helps, but it is not our only way to pass the test. It even has the instructions. Are you two with me? I am confident I can do it, of course, but I'd rather not be by myself," Logan said formally.

Young Roman grinned and threw an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Of course, big brains. Where do we start?" He stated. "Yay! We're going to change the world together!" Patton cheered, hugging his friends who chuckled.

"Admirable attitude. It is correct, of course. Even if you didn't have talent, which, for the record, you all do, you could learn to connect with your own mana 'the hard way' as they say."

Roman smiled at the reassurance. He had felt a bit insecure about that.

"Well, you didn't meet your friends at school so I’ll go again," Virgil offered showing a classroom with young Virgil flanked by his friends. Gustav a row behind them.

"Why are we seeing this from this perspective? The memory of the ball was like looking through your eyes," Roman suddenly realized.

"Because this talks easier. The details out of sight are filled in through reasoning. I remember Gustav was behind me and I now realize what first meeting Remus and J might've felt like for him. So I, subconsciously make assumptions based on that. We are watching an unreliable narrator. Especially when paying attention to what happens out of sight," he explained as the teacher paced in front of the room.

“So, who can tell me why we need herbs and minerals and animal parts for casting?” the teacher wondered. Looking over the crowd.

“Remus?” he pressed. Remus rolled his eyes. “So we don’t get tired when doing spells,” he said.

Janus snickered at his friend’s deadpan tone. “Care to elaborate Janus?” the teacher challenged.

Janus sat up straighter. “Spells cost energy like climbing a set of stairs would. Using the mana in outside sources when we can, keeps us from draining our own supply,” he stated.

The teacher nodded. "Why can’t we use whatever we want then? Why, by example, do we use Merick’s leaves and not aloe vera in pain relief spells and potions?" The teacher asked.

Virgil perked up a little, looked around to see if anyone else wanted to answer and carefully raised his hand.

"Yes." The teacher acknowledged.

"The mana in the plants is less flexible than the mana within ourselves. Pushing it beyond their natural form would cost us more energy than we would save. Pain is a symptom unrelated to actual damage. Aloe vera needs something to fix. Mericks leaves soothe and relax." Young Virgil stated. Roman cocked his head. Spotting a difference in their education.

"Indeed. You can learn the components needed for each individual spell or you can learn what those components actually want to accomplish with their mana. That will allow you to truly blossom as mages and push the boundaries of magic,” the teacher explained.

Gustav leaned over his desk and tapped Virgil on the shoulder. “Gotta be you, I’m starting to think you can look at a brand new plant and immediately tell what it’d be good for,” he whispered. So some time had passed. And Virgil had made an impression it seemed.

“Is that why you’re being such a suck up?” Remus teased. Gustav turned red and fell back into his chair. “Whatever, freak,” he huffed. Virgil was clearly uncomfortable caught in the middle of the argument.

“That’s enough of that,” Virgil decided.

Roman agreed and focused on a memory of his own to relive.

His own experience with his chosen field of study.

They stood in a different classroom. In a different building. Students were filing out and joking about. Logan and Patton hesitated by the door as a young Roman approached the teacher.

“Um… Sir?” he asked.

“What is it?” the teacher said, the enthusiasm for teaching Virgil’s teacher had nowhere to be found.

“Um… Well the dean said that we should talk to the teacher specializing in our chosen discipline about… Well specializing and I…”

The teacher perked up. “You want to specialize in herbology?” he asked. Surprised, skeptical, hopeful.

“Y-yes. I mean. Plants and their uses always interested me. And well… Being able to recognize them on sight seems like an important skill. So…” he explained awkwardly.

Now the teacher lit up. “Then I will do my best to teach you all I know,” he promised.

Roman turned to Virgil. “Herbology wasn’t very popular the past fifty years,” he shrugged.

“Well, they never taught you the cool parts so I’m not surprised,” Virgil shrugged.

The memory shifted to his teacher’s private office late in the evening. Young Roman was bowed over a few books, several pots of herbs set up before him.

“It is said, that in the time before the dark plague, there were herbologists who were so in tune with the mana of living beings, that they could sense the ingredients of anything they ate, even down to the exact amount of salt crystals.”

Virgil chuckled. “Slight exaggeration,” he assured him.

Roman wanted to ask him to elaborate, but he figured questions could wait for the road. Virgil might appreciate a distraction while they traveled.

“Sadly, the methods with which they achieved this ability have gotten lost after the plague,” teacher sighed wistfully.

“Sir… I don’t understand these instructions,” young Roman told his teacher.

“This healing spell calls for Mint root, but that feels wrong? In this one,” he pointed to another page, “the revitalization spell, mintroot is combined with Lilly pollen. And it just feels like the Lilly pollen would be far more effective for the healing spell?” young Roman pointed out.

Virgil looked to Roman with a bright, proud smile. “Good eye,” he praised.

Roman’s teacher looked at Roman’s notes and hummed. “I understand your concerns. But Lilly pollen is too potent to use on its own and any deterrent would render the benefit entirely useless. It is a level three after all. We can’t use catalysts in reckless abandon, that is what caused the plague,” he explained gravely. “But good eye Roman. You clearly have talent,” he praised. Young Roman smiled but didn’t look too convinced.

“Do my eyes spy a spark of rebellion?” Virgil gasped.

“I may have started using Lilly Pollen where I felt it was appropriate whenever I wasn’t supervised… I’d say don’t tell Logan but I think he’s thrown all caution to the wind since you made him great wizard mage,” Roman admitted.

“Following your own gut over a teacher’s instruction isn’t such a trivial matter though. That took courage,” Virgil complemented before taking charge of the memories again.

Leaving Roman no chance to react.

Virgil showed a few snippets of memories of him and his friends growing up at the academy. Laughing at Remus’ antics, debating ethics and technicalities with Janus. Going home and showing all that he had learned to his family and using it to help around the village.

And then they were inside a room with a familiar layout. It was round. The floor and ceiling decorated with mosaic representing the night sky, the magically glowing stars the only light source.

Virgil was sat in the middle of the room. Meditating.

Roman could hear the instructions echo in Virgil’s mind, the only sound in this silent room other than Virgil’s breathing.

“Focus on the flow of magic within you. Until it is all that is left. Let it show you your power. Do not waver. Do not turn away. Welcome it. It is part of you. Yet it also is a life all its own. Let it show you, who you are meant to be.”

Roman felt something stir inside him at those words. “That’s a better pep talk than I got,” he whispered to Virgil.

“Do I want to know?” Virgil wondered.

“Try not to die,” Roman surmised.

“… Roman, I never asked. How many Great mages has the academy produced since the plague?” Virgil asked.

“Um… Us?” Roman admitted.

“So… You outrank the council?” Virgil concluded. “Uh… I never thought about it like that… I guess?” Roman mused.

Virgil frowned but focused back on the memory. Also choosing to keep questions for the road.

The stars seemed to go out, and a purple glow appeared inside Virgil right at his heart.

Not a glow… A flame.

Virgil opened his eyes and stood up in the void. Looking for a light, an exit. Something.

He reached for his chest and touched the flame, held it in his hand, and set it free.

The magic spread into the room, creating new stars. Constellations Roman didn’t recognize, and was fairly certain Virgil didn’t know either. So it wasn’t just that he didn’t pay enough attention in astronomy class.

Young Virgil stared on in awe and stepped back in surprise as his magic fire returned to him and burst into an inferno, revealing a phoenix made of purple flames.

Virgil hesitated and bowed. The Phoenix let out a majestic cry and flew straight through Virgil, making his robes flare up and his hair blow back. It was much shorter at this time in his life, but long enough to be affected. Virgil looked behind him and he was back in the meditation room, the door glowing with his magic and opening.

His classmates streamed in.

“That was wicked cool!” Remus exclaimed as he threw an arm over Virgil’s shoulder.

“Uh… What was?” Virgil asked.

“Let’s just say for a moment I thought there’d be a phoenix permanently burned into the doors to the ascension chamber,” Janus smirked.

“Indeed. Congratulations. Virgilious, fate spinner, Mage of the dark phoenix,” their teacher allowed.

Roman looked at Virgil.

“My first nickname. Based on my ability to weave any sort of spell into fabric. Cleaning was my first one but I perfected it to a point where I could integrate three different spells into one fabric. After building a proper reputation as a high mage I got the name Night Flame,” Virgil explained.

Roman looked to the crowd and spotted Gustav standing by the edge. Observing with a closed expression.

Though past Virgil wasn’t looking directly at him so that wasn’t necessarily how he looked at the time.

Past Virgil was too busy feeling bashful about the attention and the title.

Roman felt a little bad for the young Arch mage. If things had gone just a little differently, he would’ve been part of the past few memories rather than a figure in the background.

“Gustav. I believe you were next?” The teacher stated. Now Virgil’s attention did go to him. Gustav hid some kind of expression and nodded formally.

“Watch him get a gnome,” someone whispered in the group, making a few others laugh and Gustav flush.

“What would be wrong with that? Gnomes are mischievous but creative and in tune with nature. There is no such thing as a bad guide. Only shortsighted, immature mages who probably shouldn’t be getting theirs yet,” Virgil scolded his classmates who looked sheepish at being called out like that.

“It’s alright Virgil,” Gustav said, finding his confidence. “Who knows? Maybe I will get a less popular guide. I’m not stupid, I know that is more in line with my standing,” he noted, strolling to the center of the room. “Then again,” he stated as he turned around. “Maybe I’ll be the dragon who will unite the lands under one crown. And you’ll all wish you’d tried a little harder to get my favor,” he smirked as he dropped himself into a cross legged position. “Well, most of you,” he finished.

The teacher guided the group out of the room. Virgil looked back briefly and found that Gustav had dropped the bravado and looked nervous. And then the door closed.

“We don’t need to see every ceremony. There was no dragon that year in any case. But I had learned that if I was going to ever become a high mage, I’d have to come to terms with the fact that I’d have to learn to fly. Remus tried pretty much the day after the ceremony to ascend. And Janus had started daily meditations in preparation for a serious attempt a month or two later.

I was nowhere near mentally ready to even think of that. So… I practiced.”

Roman looked up and they found themselves in a small clearing in a forest. Virgil was pacing the forest floor.

“A bird. Of course I had to be a freaking bird… That’s fine though. I can prepare. This time tomorrow I’m not going to be held back by something as silly as a fear of heights.”

Past Virgil stood still in the middle of the meadow and retrieved a feather from his satchel.

And then his form shrunk and changed. And before them stood a falcon, moving his body experimentally.

“Changing shape gets much easier once you ascend. As you might have noticed. When ascending you essentially abandon a physical form, and become magic yourself. And magic, can take any shape it needs to with ease. Before that… It feels a bit uncomfortable to shape your body in a form that is not its own,” Virgil explained.

“So, changing your looks wouldn’t be as uncomfortable as becoming an animal,” Roman concluded.

“Yeah. Depending on how much you change, but I suppose even changing yourself to an entirely different body type is more doable than becoming a different species,” Virgil agreed as his past self-made a few clumsy attempts to get up on a fallen tree to have a launch platform.

“What you see next stays between us alright?” Virgil asked.

Roman nodded. “I wasn’t going to share a second of this with anyone anyway,” Roman promised.

Virgil smiled at him and then focused on the memory again where the falcon took off. And fell out of the sky almost immediately. Roman blinked and the falcon was back on the tree.

Took of once more, and fell again.

A few more minutes went by. Though Roman never saw the impact. Just the moment that Virgil lost the fight with gravity and then he started over again.

“You fell a lot,” Roman observed.

“I was much too stubborn. Getting tired made it harder,” Virgil huffed.

The memory showed an exhausted falcon, falling asleep on the forest floor… That didn’t seem safe.

Indeed. The sky grew dark and something emerged from the bushes. A fox.

Luckily Virgil woke up just in time to doge it’s attack. He cawed in warning but the fox must’ve been very hungry or in need for some food for their cubs perhaps, because it tried to attack again. Virgil, rather than turning human, fueled by adrenaline, launched himself skyward, and this time, managed to remain there. Flying up above the treetops, elated at his success, and from the looks of it he soon found himself at home among the winds.

He flew past the forest edge and made his way into a familiar village. He returned to his human form on the pathway and was immediately greeted by his family who’d been worried since he hadn’t come home before sundown as he usually did. His father had been about to go look for him.

It was a sweet display.

Then the memory shifted to inside the home. The family was gathered and an older man and two young adults were measuring them. Much to the delight of Virgil’s little sister.

“We did well for ourselves after I figured out the self-cleaning fabric thing. So, when the time came for the introduction ball of the new great mages of that year, we decided to splurge on some new clothes. We didn’t usually do anything fancy so I had a tailor from the city come to make us all something fitting for the occasion.

And, I met the guy who taught me to… appreciate dressing up,” Virgil admitted. Fondly looking at the young man who was clearly trying not to be weird while taking a great mage’s measurements.

“What happened to the lyre player?” Roman asked curiously. Recalling what Virgil said about the first man he kissed while they were sitting at the loom.

“Oh, that was years before this. I was… Sixteen. He was part of a traveling band, but they ran into some bad luck and needed a lot of repairs, so they stayed the summer and did odd jobs to pay for their repairs and necessities and such. We… hit it off. But at the end I had duties in the city and he went back to the road,” Virgil recalled.

“How old are you at this point?” Roman wondered. Virgil had been around Roman’s age when he stopped aging. And he was a great mage in this one, so this couldn’t be too long before that.

Virgil hummed.

“Well, gosh, I haven’t thought about that for a while… But I was 18 when I became a wizard… 19 when I became a great wizard. And… Yeah about 25 when I became a mage.” Roman nodded. That wasn’t an unusual timeline.

“I think… I think I’m 27, almost 28 at this point,” he decided.

Roman observed past Virgil exchange a smile and a joke with the apprentice, making him laugh and relax. He looked cute.

They watched just a little longer. Seeing the young man start to gush animatedly about his passions and Virgil starting to get intrigued.

Then Virgil showed him his next memory.

They were in a large room, lit up with various types of magic lighting. Making for a festive atmosphere. There was music playing and there were people dancing in gorgeous suits and gowns in styles entirely unfamiliar to Roman.

So far he’d seen Virgil and the others wear robes and the casual fashion of commoners that didn’t change as much. He almost wished Virgil had shown him a local festival so he could’ve seen what they’d worn for such an occasion.

He spotted Virgil and his family. The ladies looking lovely in purple gowns with feather’s in their braids. His mother’s hair in an updo and his sisters and another woman Roman didn’t recognize in a lovely half up half down. Their gowns had high collars, tiny glass beads sewn in into the fabric to make them shimmer like the night sky. Their sleeves long and widening from the elbows down. Their skirts flowing delicately with every move. Virgil, his brother and father were all wearing a similar costume consisting of a dark purple shirt with black pants and ties. His father and brother wearing a decorative feather shoulder piece on opposite shoulders while Virgil wore one on both. All the men had the shadows under their eyes, most men at the party did. It really was a fashion trend.

They looked great, and excited to be there.

They greeted a few people at the door. Virgil was predictably dismissive of his teacher’s praises and his family’s pride. He introduced his brother Michael, his sister in law Penelope and his little sister Mariane alongside his parents, Francis and Evelyn. Once he felt there’d been enough introductions he took his sister to the dancefloor she’d been eyeing since the moment they got in.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her when he saw her look at the crowd. “It’s all in the lead. So I’ll be the one looking bad if something goes wrong.” His sister rolled her eyes and stepped on his foot on purpose, much to his amusement.

Then he took her in a spin around the room. Mariane looked like she was having the time of her life. Dressed up and dancing at a ball.

And then a handsome young man tapped Virgil on the shoulder, interrupting their dance.

The young man was a bit flushed as he took in Mariane before turning to Virgil.

“My apologies, mister Virgil. Would, either of you,” he glanced hopefully to Mariane, “Mind if I cut in?” he asked.

Virgil smirked and looked at his sister who was clearly taken aback by this turn of events.

“Mariane, this is one of Janus’ cousins, Vincent. Vincent, this is my beloved little sister Mariane. Do you mind keeping Vincent company while I look for his cousin and Remus?” Virgil asked.

Mariane shook her head. “Not at all,” she breathed. And so Virgil handed her over with care and left the floor to look for his friends.

He found them soon. Both dressed even more lavishly than Virgil was. Remus a collage of styles and suits that were all demanding attention. Janus seemed to have pieces of scaled leather incorporated in his suit. Probably showcasing their guide.

Roman noticed Gustav talking to a few noble looking men with a woman at his arm that must’ve been his mother. His suit was modest if not for the ornate pieces of jewelry added to it.

Remus and Janus praised Virgil for his suit and they talked about old times and their plans for the future. Virgil laughed with them but kept glancing at the dancefloor.

Suddenly something startled him and without a word he made his way back towards the center where Roman also spotted someone trying to cut between Vincent and Mariane. Something neither seemed interested in.

“Excuse me,” Virgil announced putting himself between the pair and the third wheel.

“… Great mage Virgil. Good evening. I merely wanted to honor your sister with a dance,” the man assured Virgil.

“The honor would be yours entirely, if she was interested, which she isn’t. Go find someone who is Philipe,” he warned.

“Ah, so you know who I am… Wouldn’t you agree that it would be in your family’s best interest to…”

“I would agree to no such thing,” Virgil interjected. And Roman could feel power build even in this memory. Clearly mister Philipe hadn’t expected that reaction.

“In fact, I think you’ll find it would be in you and your family’s best interest not to anger me any further. I would be very careful of angering the Dark Phoenix. For they are loyal and reliable and inspire such traits in those they meet. I have friends Philipe, and those friends might have more influence than you’d like,” Virgil warned.

“Virgil… You are…” Mariane said softly behind him.

“Is that a threat mage?” Philipe challenged.

“It is a promise that I am not afraid to put you in your place in front of this whole party,” Virgil growled. And around him people gathered, looking at Philipe like his judgement had already been passed. And it wasn’t favorable. Vincent had escorted Mariane to her parents and they all looked on while Virgil laid down the law.

Philipe seemed nervous now, looking around the room and seeing no support. He was about to say something else but then backed away in fear. Virgil’s building power was more obvious now, his clothes and hair flaring and moments later, it erupted with a protective fury from his being.

For a moment Virgil was completely gone. Only a shapeless mass of purple flames in his space.

“Virgil!” his family called, and as if in answer to his name, the flames took the shape of a bird, and then a man, and then Virgil reemerged from the flames. Reborn as a high mage.

[blakelysco-pilot]

These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)

From the Love Letter Series Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

The realities of Rosie's choice to reup for a second tour hit hard for Jo when Harry Crosby is granted furlough. She must learn to navigate the ugly emotions that come with the situation while simultaneously being there for Jean who is going through her own set of emotions at her husbands temporary return. With the help of friends, Jo is able to find the brighter side of it all, with a renewed hope for her future. Meanwhile, Rosie must deal with the guilt of his decision.

Read part 7 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

It comes in many forms; jealousy isn’t always the green eyed demon that’s depicted in books and movies. Sometimes, it comes as pain. As sadness. Desire, strangely enough. Jo could feel the emotions taking turns, and after they had all run their course, guilt would take over.  

The guilt that she was a terrible friend to Jean, who was over the moon with the news of Harry’s impending furlough. Her best friend who had desired no more than to be in the arms of her husband for the duration of his time away at war, was getting her wish. So then why was she having to remind herself every day to be happy for her? Because it was Harry on his way to New York, and not Rosie? Because she couldn’t understand how after devoting himself to the cause, to signing up for a second tour of duty, didn’t he also deserve a moment of reprieve in the safety of his own home. 

The last letter she had received from him had come shortly after the mail that had included news of Harry’s temporary return. It was clouded in sadness, despite his happiness for his friend. She could feel his desire to be home, the emotions palpable on the page. So much that she hadn’t told Jean of the letter. She had simply read it in the quiet of her room at night, hoping to keep her tears from falling too loudly. 

Could she stand to be here while Harry was home? To see them reuniting, softly, sweet nothings whispered to Jean in passing, her gentle laughter as Harry pulled her into a hug just because he was close. Because he could. She had decided she would leave for the duration of Harry’s furlough. She could return to her parents for the four weeks, but something in her kept saying that four weeks would crawl if she were to go home. So, she had resolved to call Juliet Thompson in the morning. Her friend upstate was still on summer holiday, and she had a feeling she could use the company as much as she could- John Brady was still being held POW, and whenever the thought crossed her mind, Jo couldn’t help but feel guilt all over again. Rosie was safe in England, and she was beyond grateful for it. 

The next morning felt like you could cut the tension with a knife. The days to Harry’s return were drawing near, and while Jo tried her best, she could feel the inevitable dark cloud looming overhead; she had begged for it to not creep in onJean’s good mood, but when she joined her friend for coffee, it seemed it was looming over both of them. 

“Sleep well?” Jean looked over from the stove where the coffee was perking, a half smile on her face. 

“Alright, all things considered.”

“Humid last night…” Jean mused. 

“Slept on top of the duvet again.” Jo half laughed, knowing even if they weren’t tiptoeing around the inevitable, she’d have been a tad grumpy over the heat. 

“Me too…” Jean turned, bringing the now finished pot to the table, placing it on the trivet. “Not even a breeze.”

“We want a breeze, we need to go back to Brooklyn, Jean.”

“That’s a hike,” she had set about pouring their coffee, hands staying busy. “Don’t know how you did it for so long before moving in here.”

Jo blanches at the mention of her living there, still not quite sure how to tell Jean that she’s going to be leaving while her husband is home. Guilt, again. 

“Jo?”

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t touched your coffee, are you okay?”

“Oh, yes…no… I’m fine.”

“Yes no?”

“Jean… I think it's best that while Harry is home, I’m not here.”

“What! Josephine, this is your home!”

“When Harry is away, yes, but your husband is coming home, Jean, and that does not require a third party awkwardly bumbling around.”

“You could never,” Jean practically cried from her seat across from Jo. “You would never be an awkward third party to me, or Bing! We both love you Jo.”

“I love you both terribly,” Jo was trying so hard to keep the tears at bay. “But he’s your husband. You both have been apart for so long, Jean. You deserve privacy.”

“But…what if he doesn’t…” Jean burst into tears, the Harry that had left for the war was someone Jean Crosby wasn’t sure she knew anymore, and it scared her. 

“Oh honey, no, don’t think that! You know Harry is so thrilled to be coming back to you, even if it is only temporary.”

“I’m not sure what to do anymore… I’m a wife but; I haven’t felt like one in so long.”

“You will both just have to take some time to get reacquainted.”

“And you? Will you go back to your parents?”

“I think I’ll call Jules first, and pay her a visit if she’s up to it.”

“Oh she’d love that!”

“Besides, the idea of four weeks at home with my parents after being here seems dreadfully boring.”

“Your mother would dote on you being home, you know that.”

“Dote or smother?” Jo raised a challenging eyebrow at her friend, their laughter somehow finding a place amongst their tears. 

“Maybe a little bit of both.” Jean agreed, knowing that Jo’s mother would undoubtedly be worried from the moment she left the house each day to the moment she came home from work. 

“We still have some time before Harry gets here,” Jo gave Jean’s hands a squeeze. “Why don’t you come with me to see Jules, and we can sneak Vika away from the hotel for a day and go shopping.”

“Wonderful!”

“We can get you all sorted out for your husband, Mrs. Crosby.” 

The phone call to Jules had been easier than Jo initially thought; already missing John Brady terribly, she understood Jo’s feelings on not wanting to encroach on Jean once Harry arrived, and was happy to have the company of a friend nearby. She was thrilled to know Jean would be accompanying Jo on the journey up, and to make the two days with Jean enjoyable for all, she had called Ruthvika and asked if the three girls could stay at the hotel, promising Vika a weekend of fun and martinis. Jules’ childhood friend had been more than happy to set up a room for the girls, and even happier to know she was included in the slumber party. This would be good; it would be a bit of sunshine after a dark cloud, laughter and friendship, and just what Jo knew she needed. 

My dearest Robbie,

My sweetheart, I miss you, and I hope you’re taking care of yourself over there. We’re in quite the heatwave here in the city, and from what you’ve told me, English summers are cooler than here at home, so with that, my love I envy you. It's not all bad, though. Jean and I have taken many trips to Coney Island on the weekends, and we brought your sister with us this last time. The fourth of July fireworks were spectacular as always, and I was so glad Jeannie was able to come with us for that. 

I’m sorry to say I haven’t seen much of her since you’ve left, and even less so after I moved in with Jean. She calls on occasion, and I know she’s keeping busy with school. Your mother says she’s trying to distract herself with you being away and so, she buries herself in her coursework. I do know how that feels. Work helps to serve as a distraction during the day, but when the day is done, and Jean and I have both gone to bed, I feel that is when I miss you most. We all miss you something terrible, and in our own different ways. 

I wanted to let you know that I’ll be heading upstate for a little while, to spend some time with Juliet and Vika. I must admit, I’m not very proud of myself, but it appears I have a bit of a jealous bug as of late, hearing that Harry is on his way home to Jean for a furlough. So, to make myself scarce and not be in their way, I’ve decided to pay a visit to Juliet for two weeks, before she has to return to her classroom to get ready for the school year ahead. I will go back to my parents for the second half of the time; I do miss them and I would love to see your mother as well. 

I think being away from Jean and Harry might be for the best. Please, don’t misunderstand, I cannot wait to meet him, he’s not only my best friend's husband but he's your best friend as well, (we won’t tell Pappy I said that) so that makes him special. But Robbie, what have we done so wrong to not be granted the same good fortune? Why is it not you coming home? You’ve sacrificed so much, giving more of yourself and your life to this damn war, and yet, they can’t let you go, can they? Haven’t you done enough? Haven’t I waited long enough? Your mother and sister, don’t they deserve to have you home too? 

I feel so guilty for feeling this way, but I can’t help but want the same happiness and excitement that Jean is feeling. I regret waiting so long to tell you I love you, Robbie. Why did we wait so long? We could have been spending time in each other's arms long before, and yet we were both too stubborn to admit how we felt. Do I sound silly? I’m sure I do, all of this griping and crying when you’re over there fighting and missing home. I should be checking on you and asking how you are, and instead I’m staining this paper with tears and going on about how envious and sad I am. 

Please, love, tell me how you really are over there, or I will have to seek out Val for the truth. Has it been terribly difficult now that the invasion has passed and the fighting is well underway? I know you’re working and fighting hard, as are the rest of our friends that are with you over there. 

Love, have you written to your mother lately? I know she’s missing you as much as I am, if not more, and would do with knowing that you’re alright. Last week she was worried they weren’t feeding you enough, and had it been anyone else who said that, I may have rolled my eyes, but the way she said it had left me in stitches, Robbie. You know how your mother can be. She comes by at least once a week with my mother to check in on me and Jean, and they bring covered dishes and baked goods that they’ve managed with the rations. I think they’re afraid Jean and I are only consuming martinis. They’re half right, and I will only admit this to you, a chocolate chip cookie does pair best with the infamous Jean Crosby martini. 

We are leaving for upstate tomorrow, so I will post this first thing on my way out the door and hope it finds you soon. I’m counting down the days until this war is behind us. Until we can begin our days next to each other, and end them the same way. There is a future waiting for us, I just wish I knew when we could begin living it. Come home to me soon. 

My heart is yours forever, with all of my love always 

Jo

They packed light; still summertime and incredibly warm, they were able to get away with comfortable sundresses, and some swimsuits. They didn’t need much when they were together- Jules had said it’s the company that counts most. Vika had been a lifesaver and secured a room at her family’s hotel for Jo and Jean for the two nights that Jean would be with them before returning home. Not one to miss out, Jules had stayed as well. Squeezing into one of the beds with Vika while Jo and Jean occupied the other, it had been a slumber party just like the night at Jean and Jo’s home. Four friends laughing until their stomachs hurt, it had taken a visit from Vika’s mother to quiet them down, Jean rushing to hide the evidence of martinis that were scattered around the room. 

It had been so much fun, that Jo had begun to forget why she had made the journey in the first place; until there were three, and they were waving Jean off from the train platform, two with tears in their eyes. The realization of not knowing when their boys would be home striking hard and fast. 

“Two weeks and you’ll be back in the city, right?” Jean looked absolutely riddled with fear as she stood with her bag on the platform, Jo doing all she could to reassure her. 

“Yes,” Jo sniffled, wiping at her eyes and trying in vain not to smudge her makeup. “I promise.”

“Please, Jo. Promise you’ll be there to meet Binger.” Jean gripped her hands so tightly, her eyes wild and nervous. The last time she had seen her so scared was when news of Bubbles’ death reached home, and worry for Harry had begun seeping in like a crack in the roof. 

“I’ll be there,” she winked. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. I’ll ring Jules once I’m back home. Bing doesn’t get in until tonight… gosh I’m so nervous!”

“You’re going to see that man and forget all about how nervous you were. Now go, before you miss your train.” 

“Jo…”

She pulled her into a hug so fast, and so fiercely, that Jo barely had a moment to catch her footing before hugging Jean back. This friendship, forged in a dark time, was more than two women finding companionship while their men were away fighting. This was sisterhood, and as an only child, Jo had never known it before. The closest person in her life had always been Rosie, and now that his role in her life had shifted, Jean had seamlessly filled in that space. 

“I will see you soon, yea?”

“Yea… yes, yes you will. I’ll have a martini waiting for you.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” Jo grinned, pulling back to give her friend a smile. “Now go on, otherwise Harry will have my head for making you late.”

“Your Robbie would never forgive him.” Jean laughed, wiping at her eyes just as the conductor hollered for All Aboard! 

As the train pulled away, Jean Crosby waving from the window of the car, Jo felt herself become utterly depleted. The sadness that she had tried to ebb away at home, not divulging all of it for fear of guilt, slammed into her full force, and had it not been for Jules and Vika wrapping her up in their arms, she’d have collapsed on the spot. 

“Come now, let’s get back to the hotel,” Vika urged her, gently steering her out of the train station and back towards the car. “Mammi can make us some chai, and we can have a rest.”

“I feel terrible…”

“Terrible, sick?”

“Terrible like I’m riddled with guilt and anger and sadness.”

She doesn’t catch Vika looking over at Jules, knowing that this is more than what Mrs. Patel’s chai can fix, because only Jules knows how she’s feeling, and only Jules can be the one to talk this through with her.  

The hotel is quiet when they arrive back, and Mrs. Patel is at the front desk, a smile on her face as she watches her daughter and friends walk in, but the smile soon fades as she sees the look on Vika’s face. 

“Did Jean get off alright?” She asks, nerves lacing her normally stoic and motherly disposition. 

“She did, Mammi,” Vika replies kindly, joining her mother at the desk while Jo and Jules take a seat on the sofa meant for guests. “Can Juliet and Josephine use the apartment for a little while? I think they…well, Jean’s husband coming home hasn’t been easy for them.”

“Of course, you take them up. I will be behind with some chai and bhel puri.”

“Thank you Mammi.”

The pair on the couch sit quietly as Vika approaches, her voice soft as she speaks to both of them, but her eyes trained on Juliet. 

“Jules, why don’t you two go up to the apartment?”

“Is that…okay with your mother?”

“It’s fine,” Vika’s eyes softened at Jules’ worry over possibly invading the Patel’s personal space, the phrase bundled in her simple question. “Mammi is going to bring up some chai and snacks.”

“Oh Vika, that’s not necessary!” Jo turned to her friend, knowing full well that the hotel needed their full attention. 

“You and Jules need a moment, and I can cover the desk while Mammi is gone.”

“Yes, now you two go right up, and I’ll follow in a moment.” Mrs. Patel is standing next to them, and suddenly it’s as if their own mothers are there, ordering them to eat. 

Nodding, Jo follows Jean upstairs to the apartment, and once inside, she takes in just what it is that makes her friend Vika who she is. The decor, the smells, the homey feel, and photos. It’s all very like Vika, and Jo somehow feels like she’s invading a space not meant for her at all, despite the protests of both Vika and her mother. 

“Jules…”

“It’s just us, Jo. You can say whatever you need to.”

“I just,” the words felt trapped, caught in her throat with no way out unless she forced them up and out into the space between them. “I’m so angry!”

“You’re angry at Rosie?”

“So angry! He should be home, he flew twenty five missions. He was safe, and The Brass pulled the rug out from under all of them!”

“So that’s what happened…”

“Everyone after him needed to fly thirty missions, but his crew was safe at twenty five. He could go home, and he didn’t… he stayed… he signed up for a second tour.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s too good, and doing the right thing is what Robert Rosenthal does, and he can’t help himself. People are dying and can’t fight for themselves, so he’s doing it for them.”

“Oh Jo…” Jules rushed towards her friend. Instantly, her arms are tight around her friend as Jo  finally allowed herself the chance to let go of everything that had been welling up. Things she knew she couldn’t say to Rosie’s mother, or her own mother. Things that somehow, right now, only Jules could understand. 

“Harry getting a furlough…” Jules started, the words dying halfway as she felt Jo shudder a deep breath. 

“When Harry got a furlough, I just… I wanted to be happy for Jean. I am happy for Jean! But I also wish it was Robbie coming home instead.”

“Honey, you’re allowed to feel angry about it,” Jules took a step back, taking Jo’s hands and giving them a gentle squeeze, leading her towards the sofa in the living room. “He’s been gone so long, and all you want to do is start a life that this war has put on hold for you, and you can’t.”

“Jean was so happy, and there I am playing pretend happy over coffee and then feeling guilty, while the poor thing, she’s so nervous that Harry won’t feel the same for her-”

“Oh I doubt that!”

“That’s what I told her,” Jo shook her head, the beginnings of a melancholy smile taking hold. “But since Bubbles’ death, Harry’s been…distant.”

“Oh you don’t think…”

“I don’t know. And if Robbie knows anything, he’s not saying.”

Jules was quiet for a moment, taking a seat on the sofa wordlessly. She seemed far off, her mind somewhere else entirely; if Jo had to wager a guess it was on a certain pilot serving the rest of his war as a prisoner in Germany. 

“I haven’t had a letter from Johnny in a few weeks…” the words are nothing more than a broken whisper. 

“Jules, honey…”

“I know that letters aren’t as frequent now that he’s,” she stopped herself from speaking the rest out loud, Jo not needing to hear it to know what she was thinking. “Olive writes, and promises updates, but I can’t help but be constantly worried.”

“When did you last hear from him?”

“The start of June, and now, August is on the horizon and I’m scared, Jo.”

She’s beside her in an instant, her arms mimicking Jules’ earlier movements, pulling her close and hugging her tight. Somehow, Jo thinks she can will all of their broken pieces back together just by being there for each other, in hopes that if they love their boys enough from a distance, it will help bring them home faster. 

“Oh Jules, I’m sure Olive would have written if anything happened.”

“I know,” she sniffled, swiping under her eyes quickly. “No news is good news and all that.”

“And bad news travels fast.” 

“Yes, you’re right,” she took a deep and shaky breath, exhaling forcefully to try and clear the fog that seemed to have settled around her. “I just… I miss him so much Jo. I don’t have to explain to you how that part of it feels.”

“We worry for different reasons but we worry just the same.” 

The door of the apartment opened then, and both girls looked up through bleary eyes as Mrs. Patel stepped into the living room. She was holding a tray from the hotel, complete with two steaming mugs of chai and a bowl filled with snacks for them. Her gaze, normally hard and all business, seemed to soften at the sight of them. Crossing the room quickly, she placed the tray down on the table beside the sofa before coming to stand in front of them. Wordlessly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a simple white handkerchief, handing it to Jules. 

“Thank you Mrs. Patel,” Juliet accepts the handkerchief and gently dabs at her eyes, careful not to get too much of her makeup on the clean, white fabric. Afraid to leave a stain, a reminder of this moment. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to get this dirty.”

“That is what the washing is for, Juliet. Go on, both of you.”

Nodding, Jules continues to wipe her tears before passing it to Jo, who is in the same state as she is. Quietly letting the pain escape like rivers down her cheeks. 

“Thank you for being so good to Ruthvika, ” Mrs. Patel speaks quietly, unsure of what she should exactly be saying, but knowing that she must offer something to her daughter's oldest friend, and now, Josephine. “Remember, we must continue to fight here every day; our own wars, they are painful, but keep hope, both of you, that they will come home to you safe.”

They were words that only a mother could speak. And because only a mother could offer that comfort, when she leaned forward to pull both girls close to her for the briefest of moments, it was the gauze over a wound that had spread so deep, neither Jo nor Jules were sure it would ever heal. Hope, it seemed, would fill the deep, painful space over time, and it would close the gap until one day, hopefully, the wound did not exist at all. 

——————————————————————————————————

It felt longer coming home from upstate this time. Jo had attributed that to not having Jean for companionship. But she was in her home, now with Harry, who had arrived in New York safely, two weeks ago. The jealousy had seemed to fizzle and sit on the backburner of her heart now. Jean deserved every moment with Harry; but Jo couldn’t help the sadness that crept in when it was quiet, knowing that Rosie was still over there.

It had been a wonderful two week reprieve with Juliet, but now Jo was back home in Brooklyn. She had called Jean to let her know that she was coming back, and was promptly given a date and time to meet her and Harry for dinner and drinks. She was excited on one hand, to finally meet not just Jean’s husband but Rosie’s closet friend. 

When the taxi pulled up to her parents home in Flatbush, she quickly paid the driver after he had pulled her suitcase from the trunk. The gentleman tipped his hat and drove off quickly, leaving her standing on the sidewalk, gaze fixed on the house. With a deep sigh, she made her way up the steps to the porch and pushed the door open. Once in the foyer, she dropped her suitcase to the floor and swiftly removed her gloves and hat, depositing them on the credenza by the door. 

“I’m back!” She called, stepping further into the house. She could hear her mother rustling around, before she appeared in the foyer with an almost frantic look in her eye.

“Josephine!” Hugging her tightly, she stepped back, appraising her daughter and sensing the sadness immediately. “Sweetheart, welcome back!”

“Thanks,” she forced a grin, thankful her mother chose not to ask if she was okay. She knew there would be minimal gossip and cocktails that night, however. “Are you okay? Mom, you look worried.”

“You have a visitor. A gentleman is waiting in the living room for you.”

“Oh god, is he, is it… did something happen to Robbie?”

“He says his name is Mr. Lewis?”

“Lewis?” the name rolled over in her mind for a moment, before it dawned on her. “Pappy!”

Jo rushed from the foyer into the living room, any ladylike behavior thrown out the window as she came skidding to a stop in the doorway. There, on the sofa, sat a man who had been described to her in numerous letters from Rosie. The only person she had ever trusted sitting in the Co-Pilot’s seat of Rosie’s fort, and in his own words Rosie’s best friend. 

“Hiya Jo!” Pappy grinned, standing from the sofa as he saw her.

“Pappy! Oh my- what are you doing here!”

“Rosie sent me,” he grinned, coming to greet her properly, the pair finally able to put names to faces, more than just a picture on Rosie’s side table on base or a name in a letter. “He thought with Croz home, you might need some cheering up.”

“You came all the way here just to cheer me up?” that couldn’t possibly be right, could it? Had Rosie sent him all this way just to keep her company for the second half of Harry Crosby’s furlough? 

“Well, you’re Rosie’s sweetheart, plus Val would give me a wallop if she knew I didn’t come see you when you needed it. She sends her regards by the way, boy, wait till you meet her! Have you met Croz yet? I’m sure he’ll want to meet you too, you’re very popular amongst the Riveters crew you know? We all-”

“Pappy, slow down!” she laughed, and for the first time in weeks, she didn’t have to force the sound from her chest. 

“Right! Sorry, but I am really glad to finally meet ya!”

“I’m so glad to meet you too.” she grinned. 

Guiding him back down to the sofa so they could talk. She just caught her mother peeking around the doorframe, a smile giving way as she noticed Jo’s own. 

“How did he even get in touch with you so quickly, the mail takes ages these days!”

“He’s a big shot Major now,” Pappy chuckled. “You know him, he finds a way.”

“He does find a way, doesn’t he…” she mused. 

“How have you been doing? Your mother said you were upstate?”

“Oh! Yes, well with Harry home, I didn’t want to impose on them by staying with Jean-”

“Oh right, I forgot about that! Rosie did tell me you had moved in with Croz’s wife!”

“Yes, a few months ago, and we took jobs on the switchboard at the War Department.”

“Look at you! That’s great!”

“It’s been a lot of fun,” Jo nodded, and she realized she rather liked talking with Pappy. “So, when Harry sent the date of his arrival, I went upstate to visit with John Brady’s girlfriend, Juliet.”

“How’s she? Must be worried sick over Brady…”

“She’s handling it as well as can be expected, but she gets letters when the mail is cooperative, and Olive sends mail to her in the inbetween.”

“Cousin Olive,” he sounds almost wistful. “I miss her…”

“Wait, she’s your cousin? Robbie never mentioned that…”

“Well, we’re both Lewis’.”

“Does that automatically make you cousins, Pappy?”

“Sure it does! Make your own family, right? That’s what we’re all doing to get by.”

“You’re right about that. And how have you been doing since coming home?”

“Oh, my Ma is fussing over me one minute and the next she’s praying I meet someone and get married so I can be her problem.”

“Well, this is New York, you never know. Your mother might get her wish.”

“Rosie would love that wouldn’t he, hell, I’d love it if I were closer.”

Pappy stayed all afternoon, happy to chat with Jo and enjoy some lunch with her and her parents, before they moved outside to sit on the front steps. It was just bordering on early evening and the kids who lived on the block were still running through the streets, soaking up every second of the summer they could. The fire hydrant on the corner was spraying water, turning her little corner of Flatbush Brooklyn into a water park. 

They had skirted around talk of the war and Rosie in detail, but now the sun was setting and Pappy would have to leave, and Jo wasn’t sure she wanted him to before she was able to ask him what she needed to. 

“Pappy, where are you staying?”

“Oh! With Rosie’s Ma actually, yea, just down the block.”

“Of course you are,” she shook her head, a smile on her face at Robbie's generous heart. “You went there first, right? Before coming here I mean.”

“Oh sure, yea I didn’t want her getting worried. She’s sweet, I see where Rosie gets it from…”

“His father was kind. Robbie gets his determination from him; but his heart, his love of jazz, the kind look in his eyes, all that comes from Mrs. Rosenthal.”

“He’s alright, Jo, you know?”

“Are you saying that to placate me, or is he really alright?”

“I mean it, he’s really alright. And he’s not alone either…”

“I don’t like the idea of him flying without you, Pappy.”

“I considered it, ya know?”

“Staying?”

“He told me to go home, in the end when I couldn’t make up my mind, he did it for me.”

“And now?”

“Some days I wish I had stayed, finished what he and I started,” Pappy pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering one to Jo first, who politely declined. “And then I think of guys like Nash and Speas who didn’t get to come home, and I think I gotta grab it while it’s hot.”

“I don’t resent you for coming home, I hope you know that.”

“Oh, I know, I wouldn’t be here if I thought you did.”

“I just always felt like he was safer with you in that plane, and you with him,” she sighed, taking the cigarette from Pappy and taking a long pull. “This damn war.”

“He’d balk at you if he saw you do that.”

“Then it’ll be our secret.” Jo grinned, passing the cigarette back to Pappy. 

They sat quietly while Pappy continued to smoke. The playful shrieks of the kids playing filled the companionable silence. She thought of a day when Rosie would be next to her, pressed shoulder to shoulder and her hand in his, possibly watching their own children play in the street. 

They had done the same when they were young. Her father and Mr. Rosenthal would pop the fire hydrant open and they would run in the cool water while the August sun beat down on the street, Rosie’s curls plastered to his forehead, his blue eyes rivaling the clear skies they played under. As they got older, he had picked up a paper route for the summers and Jo would ride on the handlebars of his bicycle, much to her mothers dismay, and help him deliver papers to the neighbors before seeking shade on the front porch of her home. Now, she was on the same porch, and the person next to her was doing their best to fill the void of her usual companion. 

————————————————————

Pappy had proved to be excellent company, not just for Jo but Mrs. Rosenthal as well. It seemed Rosie’s mother perked up quite a bit at having a young man to dote on as she would with her son. Pappy brought a sense of humor back to their block, and had Mrs. Rosenthal cooking up a storm once again, the need to feed him until her heart's content much as it was before her son left for war. 

Jo had been at the house for dinner almost every night, after spending the days taking Pappy around New York City. 

The phone had rang in the middle of breakfast, Mr. Harris stood to pick it up, allowing his wife and daughter to continue their conversation. When he stepped into the room with a smile on his face, Jo knew it was for her. 

“Josephine, it’s Jean Crosby.”

“Oh! Wonderful, thank you!”

“Jean!”

“Jo! Oh how are you, I miss you!”

“I miss you too, dear, how’s Harry?”

“Oh he’s wonderful…actually that’s why I called.”

“Oh?”

“Is tonight good?”

“Oh, tonight is great actually!”

“Wonderful! Binger will call the Stork Club and reserve a table, is that okay? I know you don’t want to go to Minton’s without-”

“The Stork Club is perfect Jean, thank you. Tell Harry to make it for four.”

“Four?”

“Yes, Pappy’s here!”

“Pappy?!”

“Yes! Robbie sent him!”

“Oh what a sweet gesture! Well I can’t wait to meet him, and I know Bing will be happy to see him.”

Jo could hear Harry Crosby in the background of the call asking Jean who their fourth was for dinner, before she told him to hush while she was on the phone. 

“What time tonight, Jean?”

“Seven thirty, unless you want to make it eight?”

“Seven thirty is fine,” Jo agreed. “I’m taking Pappy to Coney Island, but we’ll be back in plenty of time.”

“Where’s he staying?” Jean suddenly asked. “Surely not with you!”

“Oh no, with Robbie’s mother. And boy is she loving it!”

“I bet!” Jean laughed. “Well listen, I’m going to run, because Harry is looking for breakfast and I’m afraid he might burn our kitchen down if I leave him a moment longer. I’ll see you tonight dear, and I can’t wait!”

“Oh me too, Jean! Now go feed your husband, and I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up the phone she went back to join her parents at the table, her toast now a bit cold, but she wasn’t bothered. Not when she had a full day ahead of her. 

“Going out tonight?” Her mother grinned. 

“Yes, Harry’s making a reservation at the Stork Club for all of us,” she spoke from behind her coffee cup. “I’m so looking forward to finally meeting him and seeing Jean.”

“You and Jean have missed each other,” her father nodded, inserting himself into the conversation. “I could hear it in her voice when I picked up the phone.”

“I have missed her. Please, don’t think I’m not happy to be home with you both, but it's been so lovely living with her.”

“I think it’s done you a world of good with Robert gone. Naturally when he comes home, so will you, but right now, this is what’s best for you Josephine.”

“Your father’s right,” her mother placed a hand over hers, giving a gentle squeeze. “Then again, once Robert comes home, hopefully it won’t be long until you two are starting your life together.”

She was halfway through formulating a response when there was a knock at the door; using it as her escape from any more talk of her and Rosie’s future, she quickly jumped up to answer it. Pulling back the door, she found Pappy on the front porch with Mrs. Rosenthal behind him. He was dressed in civilian clothes for the first time since he had arrived, and grinning cheekily at her. 

“Heya Jo!”

“Pappy,” chuckling, she couldn’t help but shake her head as he stepped inside the foyer. “Good morning.”

He gave her a gentle hug, before allowing Mrs. Rosenthal to greet her, the older woman scooping Jo up in her arms for a hug, the two of them saying so much without saying anything at all. 

“Hello dear,” she grinned, hands still holding Jo’s shoulders as she appraised her. “Did we interrupt breakfast?”

“No more than Jean Crosby did just a moment ago.” Jo laughed, closing the door and guiding them both inside. 

“Is she getting on well with her husband at home?”

“Oh yes, it seems that she’s doing just fine.”

“Wonderful,” Mrs. Rosenthal smiled. “I’ve had some mail from Robert…”

“Oh? Is everything-”

“He’s fine, dear. Missing you, but otherwise fine.”

“Well, I miss him too,” she pouted slightly. “There’s been no mail from him.”

“The letter I got was weeks past the date at the top, so just hold out hope, yours should be on its way.”

“Don’t worry, Jo,” Pappy chimed in. “He’d never forget about ya.”

“Thanks Pappy…” she gave his arm a gentle squeeze, righting her before turning towards the kitchen. “Coffee?”

The trio entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Harris already preparing a fresh pot of coffee, her father standing to greet Pappy with a handshake before gesturing for him to have a seat while Mrs. Rosenthal took up her regular spot at their table. It was all very domestic, and not lost on Jo how lucky she was to have the family she did; both blood and chosen. 

“Pappy, we have big plans today.” She grinned, sitting back at her place to resume picking at her toast. 

“We’ve had big plans all week!” He laughed. 

“I’m taking you to Coney Island! Because everyone should be forced to ride the Cyclone at least once in their life.”

“…Forced?!”

“Well, Robbie forces me on it every year, and secretly I love it, but don’t tell him that. So now, I get to do it for you.”

“I’ve heard horror stories about that thing from Val!”

“Oh don’t be a baby, it’ll be fun! Jean Crosby even rode it with me!”

“She did?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Fine… if Jean Crosby can do it.”

All three of the parents in the room laughed as Pappy’s face blanched, the airman taking a cautionary sip of his coffee to settle his nerves. Surely, if Jean Crosby could do it… and he’d hate to have to tell Rosie he chickened out on the Cyclone. 

_________________________________

The Stork Club was bustling as Jo and Pappy walked in. He had handled an afternoon on the boardwalk like a pro, and she’d be sure to tell Rosie all about it in her next letter, but now he was back in his uniform and she was dressed for a night out and he was guiding her inside and towards the bar so she could try and locate Jean. 

“Oh! I see Croz!” Pappy was waving his arm in the direction of Harry Crosby, and when Jo turned she spotted Jean, on the arm of a handsome man, dressed in the same uniform as Pappy. 

“Croz!” 

“Pappy! Jean didn’t tell me you were the fourth!”

“Surprise,” Jean grinned, arm still looped through her husbands. “When Jo told me this morning I decided to keep it a surprise.”

“Well, this is great,” Harry beamed, giving Pappy a firm handshake, happy to see a familiar face. “What are you doing in the city?”

“Rosie sent me. He thought Jo might need a friend.”

“And now I have three.” She smiled, Jean now standing with her, the two girls’ arms linked as they watched the boys catch up. 

“Josephine,” Harry turned to her, and she just felt Jean nudge her forward to say hello. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally meet you.”

His uniform looked almost identical to the one she had sent Rosie off in at Grand Central all those months ago. Olive green shirt and jacket, tie, khaki slacks, and crush cap. Harry was sporting oak leaf pins on his lapels, along with multiple other citations and pins that he had served long into this war. She imagined that Robbie's uniform looked much the same these days, save for his flight wings indicating him a pilot, while Harry’s was a globe for navigators. 

Harry Crosby had big, brown cow eyes, and a gentle smile about him. He was every bit of how both Jean and Rosie had described him; Jean going on about how handsome he was and Rosie describing him as terribly capable but riddled with nerves. He was fiddling with his fingers, his hat tucked under his arm as he watched her step forward. Harry quickly handed his hat to Pappy and pulled her close for a hug, shocking her only slightly before she felt a sense of familiarity and comfort fall over her. 

“Thank you, Jo, ” He whispered to her before stepping back. “I can’t say it enough.”

Before she could ask what he was thanking her for, he stepped back, taking her hands and continuing to talk to her. 

“You two really have looked after each other haven’t you.”

“That’s what friends do,” she smiled. “And I should be thanking you for doing the same, Harry.”

“Oh, it’s Rosie who looks after me, really.”

“Still, you two keep an eye on each other and it just makes me feel more at ease.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual,” he grinned, releasing her hands and moving to wrap an arm around Jean’s waist. “Now, let’s go sit and we can exchange stories. Somehow I have a feeling you two girls have gotten up to quite a lot.”

Dinner was delightful, and the conversation flowed effortlessly. Friends, the really good ones,  it seemed, were the key to getting through tough times, because they would laugh with you, and let you cry on their shoulder if you needed it. Jo had done just that with both Jo and Pappy, as well as Jules and Vika earlier on. They had let her get it all out, those bottled up feelings, and she felt grateful for it. Lighter and less tense, she was able to enjoy happy moments like this. 

She was sitting next to Jean, the pair quietly conversing while Pappy and Harry spent some time catching up on the goings on at Thorpe Abbotts; it was something that both girls knew was meant for their ears only, so they took the time to chat amongst themselves. 

“Has it been alright, now that he’s home?”

“We’ve had a lot of good, long talks.” Jean nodded, sipping her martini with a slight frown. 

“What? Something wrong?”

“Mine are better.” She rolled her eyes slightly, making Jo laugh. 

“Yours are dangerous,” she corrected her friend with a gentle slap to the wrist. “But they are the best I’ve ever had.”

“But yes, Bing and I have done a lot of talking.”

“Just talking?”

“Josephine!”

“Well, he is your husband, I would hope you’ve done more than talk.”

Jean fixes her with a stare, eyebrow raised and mock challenging as she sticks her tongue out in the most Jean Crosby way possible, causing Jo to fall into a fit of laughter so loud, that both men turn to look at the girls. Jean is quick to wave them back to their own conversation, while Jo composes herself. 

“Did you have to do that?”

“Yes,” Jean grins. “It’s entirely too fun to watch you fall into stitches like that.”

“Now, tell me,” Jo rights herself again, placing a hand over Jean’s on the table. “You and Harry, you had a good talk?”

“We did. He told me about… her.”

“Oh Jean!”

“There was an affair,” she nods. “A woman in London, and while I understand he was coping with Bubbles, and then all of his friends being captured, Jo, it hurts.”

“It’s allowed to be hurtful and understandable. So much of life is.”

“He said he’s ended it, now coming home if even for a short while, he doesn’t want to see her again.”

“Oh Jean, I don’t know what to say.”

“You’ve listened for months while I cried over his distance, and that’s all I could have ever asked of you.”

“Well, then I should be thanking you too, and apologizing for being such a grump the last few weeks.”

“You were not a grump!”

“I was an absolute grouch, and it was not like me. I misplaced my feelings over Robbie being gone on your happiness.”

“Josephine…”

“Speaking of your happiness,” she grinned. “Looks like he’s trying to catch your eye.”

“Oh, Binger can wait just a second.” she pulled Jo tightly to her, the two women sharing a hug that spoke volumes. 

There was no animosity, and no one upping the other. They were best friends, getting through the hardships of war together. Harry would be gone in another few days, and so would Pappy, and they’d both go on together again. There would be days at work and dinners from the automat, weekends with Juliet and Vika up in Victor, and nights spent in the quiet of their house with just the radio on while they sipped martinis. In between all of that, there should be two men to join in the simple moments of their lives, and one day they would be there, it was only a matter of time. 

She knew, deep down, Rosie being in England was where he was supposed to be right now. If he had come home, he’d have been restless and unsettled, and neither of them could start a life properly that way. She knew that. As Jean said, we understand but we hurt, and that’s what all of this had been. Hurtful, and confusing but understanding. A part of her life that she needed to go through in order to get to the next part with the man she loved. It was just another chapter, the ticking hand on a clock, a turn around the sun. 

Pappy’s laughter pulled the two girls apart, and they found him doubled over while Harry sat patiently waiting. 

“Are you finished now?” Harry glared at him. 

“No!” Pappy wheezed, reaching for his napkin to wipe at his eyes. “Tell me again how you face planted and Tattie had to put you to bed!”

“Pappy…”

“Oh come on! Croz, that’s funny!”

“Not for the fellas who had to haul me out of Operations.”

“Who did?” Jean posed the question to him casually, already knowing the answer from Val’s letter but wanting to hear her husband admit it. 

“Rosie and Dougie…”

“Oh Dougie must have loved that!” Pappy roared with laughter again. 

“He grumbled about me being heavier than I look for a few days after I woke up.”

“Slept three days straight through the landings. Only you Croz.”

“Yeah, yeah, only me.” He shook his head, letting Pappy get his licks in while he could before turning the conversation somewhere Jo would appreciate. 

“You tell Jo about how Rosie was up in the sky humming Artie Shaw over the radio?”

“He did what!” She crowed, eyes wide in amusement knowing just how much he loved his jazz. 

“I hadn’t… that one was rough.” 

“You don’t have to,” Jo replied, understanding. “He says a lot of those early flights were rough, so-”

“No, no, if you want me to tell you I will!”

“He conveniently left out how he hummed his way back home, so…”

“It was our third mission, ever. And I won’t go into too much detail but, we ended up alone in the sky, and I guess to distract himself or us, he starts humming.”

“Artie Shaw, you said?”

“Over the radio, all of us heard it!” Pappy chuckled. 

“The Chant, right?”

“How did you! Jo!”

“I’ve known him my whole life,” she laughed. “And I know what makes him tick.”

“Well, on that note, how about a dance ladies?” Harry posed the question to both of them, but he and Jean exchanged a quick glance that Jo didn’t miss. 

Harry was at her side just as she stood, extending his hand to her just as she caught Pappy leading Jean to the dance floor, the two chatting idly. 

“Harry? No, go with your wife, I know she’s missed you.” Jo tried to convince him, but he looped her arm in his and carried on walking. 

“Promised Rosie I’d give you a good spin on the dance floor, and while I may have two left feet, a promise is a promise.” 

“Oh goodness, Harry, you can tell him we danced, it’s really alright.” She laughed, letting him lead her regardless, Pappy and Jean fumbling along next to them in a fit of their own laughter. 

Harry spun her through the upbeat songs, and took Jean in his arms during all the slow ones. They had carried on this way for quite a while, before returning to their table for a drink, both Pappy and Harry having removed their Class A jackets. How they had lasted as long as they had, especially in July, was unbelievable. The Stork Club was beginning to empty out, and as Harry and Pappy flagged down their waiter to settle the bill, Jo and Jean excused themselves to the ladies room to freshen up. With a bustling restroom filled with women reapplying lipstick and powder to their noses, both Jo and Jean were back at their table in no time. Harry and Pappy were fussing over the bill, the two of them doing quick math before placing some bills on the table just as the girls sat back down. Jean gently nudged Harry, drawing his attention to her as she gestured to his jacket with a nod of her head and a gentle smile. His eyes lit up before he reached behind to the jacket draped over the back of his chair, digging into his inside breast pocket, pulling out an envelope that Jo had become very familiar with over the course of the months Rosie had been gone. 

“Before I forgot,” Harry handed the envelope to Jo, a smile on his face. “Special delivery.”

The front of the envelope didn’t have her address on it like all the others she had received before. No, this one had Rosie’s handwriting scrawled across the front and the words My Dearest Jo to indicate that it was for her. 

“Oh Harry, he sent this with you?”

“He wanted you to have one that didn’t go through the APO review before going into transit,” Harry explained. “You didn’t think Pappy was the only surprise, did you?”

“You’ve been holding on to this the entire time you’ve been home?”

“Well, I had assumed I’d meet you a bit sooner but when Jean told me you were upstate with Juliet…”

“Harry…”

“She explained it to me, and it’s alright. I understand.”

“I shouldn’t have-”

“No, don’t say that,” Harry frowned, placing a hand over hers as Jean and Pappy looked on. “I know that me coming home wasn’t easy for you, and I know that Rosie taking on a second tour has been even harder. I hope you know we all gave him an earful when he signed those papers…”

“I’ve got it on good authority, from multiple sources.” She chuckled, swiping at her eyes to stop the tears. 

“Val.” Harry and Pappy said at the same time, the woman’s name punctuated with a laugh. 

“She keeps me informed,” Jo grinned. “Thank you, Harry.”

“For the mail?”

“For everything.” 

_________________________________

Pappy had dropped her back off at her house after they had all left the Stork Club, before bidding her goodnight and turning to go back towards the Rosenthal home. Turning towards the living room, she expected to see her mother waiting up for her, but found that both of her parents had gone up to bed. With the living room vacant, she pulled Rosie’s letter from her purse before placing it on the table, and removed her shoes before curling up on the cushions. Carefully, she slid her thumb under the back of the envelope, and pulled the paper from inside. Unfolding it, she found Rosie’s handwriting scrawled across, his message to her waiting. 

My dearest Jo,

I know that by the time you get this, Croz will already be home, and I hope he’s gotten this to you in one piece, and himself to Jean. I also hope Pappy has gotten there safely and proven good at cheering you up. I thought he might be a nice change in pace for you right now. 

Honey Pie, I’m so sorry. I’ve hurt you without even realizing how badly at first, and I don’t know how I could ever ask you to forgive me. I’ve been selfish in staying to fight, when we could be together at home, starting our life. I thought that by fighting, staying here, I was doing the job I needed to keep you safe. It was also selfish, in part, because I thought if I left, I’d be restless. And you didn’t deserve me like that. You didn’t deserve to start a life with someone who felt like he should still be in the fight. As it turns out, I’m restless here most days, thinking of what we could be doing at home. 

I’ll admit, when Croz got furlough, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Of course I’m happy for my friend, our friends if you include Jean, but part of me wondered why it wasn’t me. I’ve served twice over now, and yet somehow they can’t see fit to let me go for a few weeks. It’s rough, knowing that he gets to return to his wife, my crew is all home, and the other fellas here have their sweethearts. Sometimes seeing Ev Blakely and Dougie with Val and Olive stings, no matter how good they are and how much they make space for me in their circle. There are others who’s special someone isn’t here, and we lament on occasion, but I'm not nearly close to anyone the way I am with the fellas in Ops, and the Red Cross girls. 

I wish you were here with me, in that navy blue jumpsuit slinging coffees with Val and Olive, yelling at us all for crowding the truck, helping to wrangle Meatball until Benny DeMarco comes back. But then, I know you’re safe at home, you and Jean looking after each other, your parents and my Ma all close by. I think that’s where I find I’m more grateful to have you, sweetheart. Safe. 

I suppose I should update you on the goings on here, so that you know how our friends are doing as well. Val and Olive are just fine, keeping every fella in line and then some. It’s enjoyable to share an office with Ev Blakely; he’s mostly quiet while we work, unless Val stops by with coffee and a bit to eat for the pair of us. She often joins us for a while before going back to the Clubmobile. The same for Olive and Doug. Those two girls are never far apart, if one’s visiting so is the other. Dougie shares an office with Croz; it stresses him out. Dougie is usually very relaxed, but being office mates with Croz tends to work him up. Helen, Nash’s old sweetheart, has started corresponding with one of the fellas in the Stalag- Charlie Cruikshank. Everyone calls him Crank, but she has a special nickname for him that no one will divulge to us fellas. All I know is, she seems happy, and that’s good, because losing Nash tore her up. Red Cross Tattie is seeing Air Exec Jack Kidd- but no one is supposed to know. Jack’s not that great at locking his door. Poor Doug got an eye- and an ear- full last week. See honey, you’re not the only one who can gossip. I do alright from over here. Oh! Can’t forget Meatball- husky fur everywhere but, when it’s cold out, he’s great for staying warm. We shuffle him back and forget between our racks and the girls so that everyone gets a turn. Turns out, the dog likes sleepovers with the girls best- Val paints his nails with her red varnish! Not sure how much DeMarco is going to like that when he’s back though.

Speaking of our friend Harry, I need to apologize twice, because though I’m sure you know by now, I’ve kept this from you. It was not the easiest of positions to be in, because he trusted me, then again you have stood by Jean this entire time. There was someone in London, and I hope he’s confessed to her by now. He confided in me on New Years, and then Doug and the others saw him with her in London while on a weekend pass. I assume that’s part of what had Doug so stressed out, Croz was using the phone to make calls to her and arrange meetings when days were particularly rough. I hope you know that I would never step out on you, you’re it for me my sweet girl, and you always will be. 

I’ve often pondered what our life might be like when this is all over, Jo. It’s a pretty picture that I like to conjure up when the days are particularly dreary. You and me, in a house all our own, with a front porch to sit on, just like we do now, watching the neighborhood kids. Maybe we’ll be watching our own kids play in the street, and I’ll be the dad who’s opening the fire hydrant for them to keep cool in the summer. We’d have our friends, and maybe spend summers at the Cape with them. Go dancing at Minton’s on Saturday’s, or have Jean and Croz over for dinner. Curl up on Sunday’s and drink coffee in bed, spend the day tangled together lazily. I can’t wait for all of those days, honey. I can’t wait. 

Promise me you’ll keep your chin up, and that smile on your face. I know it’s hard now, and hopefully, Pappy’s been good company. You’ll have to let me know what adventures you two get up to while he’s there. If you do anything, I’m begging you to take him on the Cyclone. It’s a right of passage after all, and somehow, I imagine it would be quite comical. He’s a good friend, Jo, and he cares about you as much as he does me. He’ll be there to listen when you need it. 

I love you honey pie, and I’ll be home soon. I promise. Sending millions of hugs and kisses and all of my love. 

Yours forever,

Robbie

His signature and declaration of love were blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over and onto the paper. Holding his letter close to her chest, where it was free from the salty reminders of his absence, only then did she allow the tears to fall. Quiet sobs in the empty living room, praying to whoever was listening, begging, for him to come back to her. 

_________________________________

“Mail call, fellas!” 

Rosie looked up to find Tattie Spaatz in the doorway of his and Ev Blakely’s shared office, a handful of envelopes in her hands as she leaned against the doorframe. Blakely looked up, pulling the cigarette from between his lips and resting it in the ashtray on his desk before taking the offered mail from her. 

“Thanks Tat,” he nodded, passing Rosie’s over to him. “Dougie’s off with Olive so, if he’s got anything you can drop it here, his office is locked.”

“Oh, even better, thanks Ev. See you later Rosie.”

“See ya Tattie…” Rosie half waved as she walked out the door, looking up from the papers on his desk just in time to see her casually stroll into Jack Kidd’s office. 

“They’re at it again…” he shook his head, Ev’s laughter filling the silence. 

“Yeah well, whatever she’s doing got the bug out of his ass.”

“You sound like Val.”

“Who do you think said it first?” Ev grinned, picking up his mail.

“Anything good?” Rosie nodded towards the envelope in his hands, his own mail resting next to him on his desk. 

“My mother, more than likely with a few sentences for me and three pages for her future daughter in-law.”

“Aren’t all our Ma’s like that…”

Blakely didn’t respond, instead leaving Rosie to open his mail while he set to reading from his mother back in Seattle. Slipping his thumb under the back of the envelope, he pulled out a letter written in Pappy’s messy scrawl, but legible at the very least. 

Hey pal! 

How’s it going over there in East Anglia? Have you single handedly won the war yet, or did Harding tell you to save some Krauts for the rest of the crews? I’m just kidding, I know you’re up in Operations with the other guys, so hopefully the paperwork isn’t putting you to sleep yet. 

I’m back at your Ma’s house. Croz and I took the girls to the Stork Club for dinner and some dancing, and before you ask yes, I warned your girlfriend that I have two left feet. She seemed happy to go out, and I think a little relieved to meet Croz. She’s trying really hard to be brave, but pal, she’s ready for you to come home. And don’t worry, Croz delivered your letter- I left her to read it after I dropped her back off at her folks house. You weren’t kidding when you said the same block! She’s practically across the street from your Ma’s house! Oh, and thanks again for letting me stay at your place while I’m here. Your bed is pretty comfy for a big shot Major. That’s payback for having to ride the Cyclone, by the way! She dragged me on that thing, and said that if Jean Crosby could do it I could too. Didn’t have it in me to tell her no, but dear god, how could you make that girl ride it year after year! 

I don’t think I need to tell you, but just to make sure we’re all on the same page I’m going to do it anyway. Jo is amazing, and she’s so much more than how you described her. And she loves ya. I mean, she really truly loves ya! That kind of thing isn’t easy to find, so, would ya finish this damn thing and come home to her? She deserves to have at least that much. So do you.  

Anyway, take care of yourself Rosie. Give my regards to everyone still over there with ya, especially Cousin Olive. 

Your friend and Co-Pilot

Pappy Lewis

The paper fell to the desk with a sigh, Rosie’s head falling into his hands almost as fast as the paper from his grip. How could he be so stupid? Sure, Pappy was a great friend and he trusted him to be the friend Jo needed during Croz’s furlough, but Jo had a friend. She had Jean, and she had the girls here who wrote to her, and Juliet upstate. What she needed was him, and he dropped the ball. 

“God damnit…”

“Rosie? You okay pal?”

Looking up, he found Blakely putting his own mail back in its envelope, turning in his chair to face him fully. He deftly pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it quickly, focusing his attention back on him. 

“Rosie…?”

“Yea, I’m just…” he swiped a hand down his face with a groan, trying to find the words to actually make sense of it all. He couldn’t. “No, Ev. I not okay.”

“Alright, well, what’s eating at ya?” The smoke billowed from his lips as he spoke, swirling around both him and Rosie. Though he wasn’t a smoker, Rosie found it oddly comforting as it wrapped around him. 

“Pappy sent a letter. I asked him to go out and look after Jo while Croz was home, I had a feeling she wasn’t going to take his furlough all that well, and it turns out I was right.”

“Couldn’t have been easy, what, with Croz being home and you-”

“I should be home already, Ev.”

“Do you regret it? Reupping?”

“They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, right?”

“Jesus, Rosie,” Ev exhaled, turning to knock the ashes off the end of his cigarette. “What did Pappy have to say?”

“He took her to the Stork Club for dinner and dancing with Croz and Jean. She made him get on the Cyclone. I should be taking her to the club for dinner and dancing and dragging her on that damn ride.” 

“Pal, I know we all tried to talk you out of it before you went in to see Bennet, and I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you should have listened to us. It’s not going to change anything.”

“There’s a but coming,” Rosie raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve known you long enough, Blakely.”

“There is a but coming, you’re right. When you do get home, make sure that girl knows how sorry you are, and how much you love her.”

“Gonna marry her.”

“Good, put a ring on her finger. Shit, pal, if I could run away from all this with Val right now, I wouldn’t stop to question it. I’d just go.”

“I’m a bonehead. At least that’s probably the word Croz would use.” 

“Want me to call you a bonehead?”

“No, please. I feel bad enough.”

“Don’t feel bad, you can’t beat yourself up too much. You’ll never get out of your own head if you do.”

“Thanks, Ev.”

“I know I’m not Croz, but we're friends so don’t ever feel like we’re not.”

“Sometimes it's easier to talk to him,” Rosie sighed. “His wife isn’t here, Jo isn’t here, we just have that to gripe over. You and Doug…”

“I get it, Val and Olive are here, and it seems like it’s a million times easier, but I’ll tell ya what, there was a time it wasn’t.”

“Bremen?”

“Bremen, and everything before Bremen. Africa especially.”

“Biddick…”

“Yeah,” Ev sighed. “I always worried something would yank me from her too soon. Then Curt went down and I realized I could just as easily have been the one to go down, and leave her without so much as a warning. Jo doesn’t see all of this, so she’s protected. Val sees bodies carried out of the hospital, and most of her friends covered in blood when they’re pulled out of a fort, or limping into Interrogation. I wish she didn’t have to.”

“I see your point. Sometimes it’s not always greener on the other side.”

“It is, and it isn’t.”

“Jo is protected back home, just wish I was there to protect her.”

“Soon enough, Rosie. Soon enough.”

“Thanks for the chat, Ev.”

“Anytime, Pal,” Ev stood from his seat, and clapped a hand on Rosie's shoulder. “Now come on, I’ll buy you a drink at the club.”

“And Val?”

“She’ll meet us later, I think she’s up in Harding’s office working on some stuff.”

Quickly, they shut off the lights and locked the office, leaving their paperwork for the next day. Rosie stuffed Pappy’s letter into his jacket pocket, following Ev out the door and through Operations until they were outside. Neither bothered to attempt to bid Jack Kidd goodnight. 

The air was cool, and the lights that illuminated the walkways were just flickering on as they turned towards the officers club, already filling up with replacements spilling from the mess halls, and the odd crew they were friendly with. 

“You think he told Jean?” Rosie turned to catch Blakely’s gaze as the other man lit up a cigarette. Realization dawned on him when he figured out what exactly Rosie was hinting at. 

“He’d be stupid not to.”

“I only just told Jo, though I’m guessing she had an idea.”

“When did Croz tell you?”

“Remember New Year’s Eve? Before you and Dougie came into the racks with the bottle of Vat 69 I’m still not sure how you got your hands on.”

“Ohhhh yeah!” Ev grinned. “Wait! You knew from then?”

“I did…”

“He’s your guy for this stuff isn’t he…” 

“Isn’t Doug yours?” Rosie replied. 

“I’m Doug’s,” Ev laughed. “You want good advice, come to me. You want someone to tell you it’s okay to bring a donkey home from Africa, you go to Doug.”

“I will, uh, remember that.” Rosie laughed. 

He couldn’t change any of this, and his decision would be something he’d live with for the rest of his life, but support made it easier. Jo had support at home. She had her parents, and his Ma, Jean Crosby and now Juliet and Vika upstate. Rosie had Croz, and though Ev Blakely had always been a friend, he realized this was the first time the two of them had gotten deep and shared the realities of war together. He had envied the man for months that Val was here with him, not realizing just how hard it had been for the woman to watch him fly off and potentially never come back. How rough it was on him to leave her on the ground time after time. To have pulled her through the aftermath of the Africa mission, while his crew had simply stood down and been meant to watch it all unfold. 

These were the realities of this war. You missed people, you lost people, you made mistakes and you learned lessons. But, you also made friends, and sometimes if you were lucky those friends became your family. Rosie hadn’t realized it at first, but his family was growing both back home, and here at Thorpe Abbotts, and it all came down  to one person.

My dearest Jo…

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List: @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @precious-little-scoundrel @beingalive1

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[hinamie]

*catboys ur shounen protag*

[mumblesplash]

as if he needed more ways to be everywhere at once

[seagull-scribbles]

Turtles of Time

<prev [2/7] next>

[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.

[restinpeacesensei]

traditional style 💖

[fisheito]

So I was looking at waiter Yakumo and noticed that he had wavy hair. His hair straight normally so who was the one who curled his hair? DOES KLEIN EVEN HAVE CURLING IRONS???? Anyways all of this is to say please imagine Eiden helping Yakumo get ready and that involves putting those old timey curlers in Yakumo's hair before he went to bed so he can have curls the next morning

uhdisomFINMF u are making me IMAGINE!!!!!! yakumo about to apply for the job and wondering if he should present himself a certain way eiden going ;))) you look sexy with your hair pushed back ;))) (but before yakumo can stutter out his embarrassment) eiden gives him the very encouraging "but for real i think you look great as you are!! <3" then aster crashes onto the scene and announces that he will not have his servants treasured colleagues looking anything less than PEAK presentable!!!!! *whips out the old timey pink hair curlers*

[toytulini]

if you draw enough monster ocs, when you go back to drawing a human character, it feels like "sameface syndrome" everytime, by virtue of their face being. human.

[astranauticus]

Do mechanites cry?

[ngmn2002]

THIS THING THIS THING THIS THING THIS THINGGGGG!! OMG OMG OMG!!!!!! I'M DREAMING RIGHTTTTTTT???????????

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yessssssssss!!!!!!!!!!

Perfect!!!

love how they are leaning into each other so casually. how adorable! ... or is it actually Tsu who is leaning into big bro who really doesn't mind and is pleased with that, even? still adorable! I can imagine them doing that exercise... that I forgot the name of at the moment......the one where 2 take turns in bearing the weight of each other on their backs alternately….they are energetic and into sports after all, right?

Ahhhh!!!! ♪ ♫

Friends as in actual friends or music notes-friends???? If it was the first one... that's a huge information, compared to what we know about present Tsukasa..... past Tsukasa is a huge deal for real. I was confused about what Amane noted in ch 101 about "Tsukasa's classmates looking for him" ... but maybe it's actually true.....?

Oooooooooooh!!!!!!!! Cute... cute.. cuteeeeeeee!!!! he just loves little brother too much... how sweet.... maybe he also feels... jealous of those 'freinds'? hey... am I still your big bro, lil bro?

That's... uh..... what's my fiction Tsukasa doing here? I usually tend to write him this way... so cool to see him like this in canon too! you love to see a little bit of a tease little brother!!!

hmmmm..... casually stating facts.... love his expression... it sounds as if he is just stating a matter of fact using.. yes! his sing-song voice. ehhhhh...... anyway.....

cute... lovely... sweet... amazing... adorable... everythig!!!

.

He means this! he was talking about music notes-friends all along..........

Now, that we know Amane is not a good singer....

Yup, that makes sense! let me hear your voice "Mr. Not tone deaf"!!!!! pleaseeeee!!!!

Ehh... Tsu said this right? ........ wow. kind of smug. cool to see him the one going like this... I want more of him this way. past Tsu is really soemthing..... ooooooh..... Though, it all sounds like a misunderstanding on their sides... that ended up creating a funny little situation! Why should it be inside that clock though.... the location.. eh... whatever... it's cool to see them!!! That's what matters!!!

[taruruchi]

Taru in some date night threads mayhaps??? :3c

Ykw I'm not surprised this was chosen KAJSJSKD this was very fun to think about tho, thank you lc <333

As fun as it is to look for fits on pinterest, these are actually all things I've worn irl ! (Except idk abt the heels bc I lowkey forgot how they look like and I didn't wanna find them) I drew two bc 1) I like both fits and 2) the choices would depend on where they're going/what they're doing sooo

And the little doodles are there bc it looked empty then I got tired so it isn't all filled ejdkdkd

character wardrobe meme

[fr00tbats]

i so badly wanna change my pfp to boober as the old ,,, uh... umm... the old ladyyy the like... the fortune tellery ladyyy lmfao (cut to me googling how to replace that word in context lmfao)

im trying so hard to keep my fraggleposting chronological to the series and how my vids come out so i dont confuse myself or like ruin it for anyone just starting to get into it but its sooooo harddddd theres sm things i wanna talk abt that i pushed down for the s1 vid