#jo valencia

[blakelysco-pilot]

The Very Thought of You

From the Love Letter Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

As the highly regarded twenty-fifth mission approaches for Rosie and his crew, he's faced with startling realities that may change the course of his future. While Jo is back home, waiting patiently for his return, she receives news that she wasn't expecting from someone even more unexpected, that 'tests their relationship even more.

Read part 5 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

The officers club was, for the first time in a few weeks, filled. The new replacement officers were enjoying the whiskey, music and watching the Red Cross girls as they flitted around the room. Harry and Rosie were tucked away in a corner by the fireplace, nursing their drinks as they watched the fresh faced kids that had just shipped out, eager to join the fight, try and navigate their surroundings. Rosie wondered how they would fare- remembering the first night his crew had been in this very room. The atmosphere had been vastly different, a celebration of Captain Glenn Dye’s twenty-fifth mission. The faces of the original crews that had flown in from Greenland were intimidating. He had panicked so badly upon meeting Major’s Cleven and Egan that he had divulged to them that he and his crew had trained and flown in their skivvies. Pappy still hadn’t let him live it down, and he had a very strong feeling that once he was back stateside, Jo would end up hearing all about it from Croz. 

The irony wasn’t lost on him, sitting there now, his twenty-fifth on the horizon, one of the few people here now, who had been in the room months prior. Of the rest, so many were gone; he would wager that a good deal more men had died in this war, while the rest were being held as POWs in the Stalag. The two Majors, now no longer at Thorpe Abbotts; it was Rosie and Croz who were the old timers, along with James Douglass, Everett Blakely and Jack Kidd. It stirred up a cornucopia of emotions as he tried not to think about the possibility of what the next flight would bring. He was so lost in his own mind he didn’t see the three replacements at the bar, didn’t hear them talking about him specifically, nor did he hear Kidd setting them straight, 

“So, are you going to request Florida or Texas for your assignment?” Croz’s voice brought him out of his own head, eyes finding those of his friend. 

“I’ve already been to Texas, before my tour,” Rosie nodded, thinking back to those hot days of training in Laredo. “Training pilots in Florida just sounds better.”

“What I wouldn’t give to train pilots somewhere sunny after a year in this pea soup.” Croz sighed, leaning back in his chair. 

“Ah, your time will come.”

“But that’s the problem with being kicked up to operations. I hardly get to fly anymore.”

He was about to reply when the red light went on, the men around him sighing in disappointment of a night cut short. Glasses coming to rest on the bar and on tables, Rosie made to move as well, before Croz’s hand came to his shoulder, pushing him back into his seat. 

“Your crew’s on stand down for this one.” 

“Oh…”

“So, Florida huh?  Tell me you’re at least going home for a few days before.”

“Ma would be on the first train down if I didn’t.” He huffed out a laugh. The image of his Jewish mother from Brooklyn pushing her way through officers and The Brass in Florida just to give him a smack on the back of the head for not going home first brought a smile to his face. Mostly because he knew she’d do it too. 

“Just your Ma?”

He feels his cheeks warm instantly at Croz’s indirect mention of Jo, and realizes that it’s quite literally on the horizon. The day’s are trickling down to near zero before he’ll see her again and it makes excitement and nerves bloom in his stomach like the annual floral show at Brooklyn’s Botanical Gardens. The thing’s he’s said to her in writing, moments of bravery shared on paper, those are all quite rapidly approaching reality. He’ll soon be able to hold her in his arms, and finally have her in all the ways he’s dreamed of for so long. 

“When did you hear from her last?” 

“Hmm?”

“Jo. When did you last hear from her?”

“About two weeks ago. Said she was going upstate for a few days with Jean to visit with Brady’s girlfriend, Juliet.”

“Yea, Jean mentioned that in her last letter. I think it’s good for all of them, especially with Brady being stuck where he is…”

“They’re all just stuck there,” Rosie’s mind wandered back to those first three missions, all the esteemed pilots that had come before him, sitting out the war in a German POW camp while he was a hair’s breadth from home. “They’ve got to be going stir crazy.”

“At least they’re together, from what I’ve heard,” Croz pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought of his friends. “Brady writes to Juliet, who writes to Olive, who updates all of us.”

“Chain mail,” Rosie chuckled. “Val writes to Jo, who sends things from home in exchange for updates on how we’re both really doing.”

“I think it’s neat that they all talk, indirectly or otherwise.”

He was about to reply when the chair opposite him was suddenly occupied, a bright red smile turned on him and Harry. Valencia grinning at them, her usual French 75 in one hand, a cigarette between two fingers of the other. Settling her drink on the small table to her left, she leaned back in the chair, taking a slow drag of her cigarette. 

“Evening Val,” Harry offered a wave over to her. “You by yourself tonight?”

“Croz,” She returned his greeting before shifting her gaze to Rosie. “Rosie. Not alone, just waiting for Everett to get back. Wanted to say hi.”

“Well, you’re both welcome to join us.” Harry gestured to the empty chair next to Val. 

“Thank you, but I think we’re heading out in a bit,” Val focused back on Rosie before speaking again. “I got a letter, and lipstick, from Jo last week. She’s a real sweetheart Rosenthal. I hope you plan on marrying her once you’re back.”

Rosie couldn’t help laughing at Val’s serious expression; she was known around base as the feisty Red Cross girl, so to see her be so serious was actually quite funny to him. 

“I plan on it, Valencia, I promise.”

“Good; I owe her a letter. I know she mentioned taking a trip upstate with Jean to visit Benny’s girl, I want to hear all about that.”

“Thanks for being a friend to her, Val. I know she enjoys your letters, and I appreciate it. A lot.”

“No need to thank me,” Val stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray next to her drink. “Us Brooklyn girls need to stick together. Jean too, Croz. I owe her a letter as well.” 

“I have a feeling the three of you are going to be thick as thieves once we all get home.” Harry chuckled. 

“We might be already.”

“Are you?”

“I can’t give away all our secrets, Croz.” She winked. 

Draining her drink, she stood, offering both men a wave as she caught up with Ev Blakely and the pair exited the Officers Club together. 

“We’re in trouble…” Harry sighed with a shake of his head, Rosie readily agreeing with him 

—--------------------------------------------------

“Thank you!”

Jo handed the cab driver a few bills, the man placing her suitcase on the sidewalk next to her feet before closing the trunk. He wordlessly got back in his car and pulled away from the curb, leaving her in front of her house. She picked up the suitcase, heels clicking rhythmically on the sidewalk as she ascended the front steps of the house. She made quick work of the front door, the air still carrying a bit of winter’s chill if the sun wasn’t out, and entered the house. She could hear the radio on in the living room, the sound of the nightly news report and her parents talking. 

“Hi! I’m back!”

“We’re in here dear!” Her mother called out to her. 

Leaving her suitcase by the door, Jo quickly shrugged out of her coat, leaving her hat and gloves on the credenza by the door, coat on the hook. The house was warm and sent a cozy shiver up her spine, a feeling of contentment after a day of travel seeping through her bones. Her father was in his chair next to the radio, her mother on the sofa with her needlepoint in her lap as they dutifully listened to news from the frontlines. 

“Josephine, welcome home!” Her father grinned, offering her a smile as she leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. “How was upstate?”

“Oh it was so beautiful,” She took the seat next to her mother on the couch, greeting her the same way she did her father. “So much quieter than the city.”

“How was Juliet? Did she seem okay when you girls were there?”

“She seemed as okay as could be, considering where poor John Brady is.” 

“Poor thing, she must be worried sick.”

“She gets letters from him, though not as frequently as when he was in England. I think she takes comfort that he’s with so many of the men from his squadron and not alone.”

“Well, you and Jean did a nice thing going up there to spend her week off with her.” 

“It was a nice couple of days, and her parents were so welcoming.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Mrs. Harris gave her daughter's hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you hungry? There’s leftovers on the stove for you if you want.”

“Jean and I ate on the train, but I’ll cover it and put it away for you before I go up.”

“Oh, thank you honey. I left your mail on the vanity in your room.”

“Thank you mom,” Standing from the couch, Jo made a quick stop in the kitchen to put the leftovers away, before picking the suitcase up that she’d left by the door. “I’m going up, goodnight!”

“Goodnight Josephine,” Her father called back. “We’re glad you’re back safely.”

With a smile, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, the exhaustion from the day catching up with her. Her smile widened as she thought of the possibility of a letter from Robbie waiting for her in her room, something to read while she curled up under the covers. She liked the idea of his words acting as a bedtime story, and often found herself reading over old letters of his before bed at night; the last thing on her mind every night were his bright blue eyes and the promises that they made to each other. 

Closing the door behind her, she dropped the suitcase to the floor- tomorrow’s problem- and quickly crossed the room to see what was waiting for her on the vanity. She made quick work of changing into her nightgown, resolving to wash her face after reading her mail. She picked up both envelopes, and sat back on the bed, tucking her feet underneath her as she got comfortable. She grinned at Valencia’s elaborate cursive on the front of the first envelope. Her pen pal from Thorpe Abbotts; Val was a Red Cross girl who had become a friend of Robbie’s, and most importantly, a fellow Brooklyn girl.  

“Miss Val, what have you got to tell me today…” Jo murmured under her breath with a grin. 

She could always count on the woman to give her the facts of how Robbie was faring over there, and if he was truly looking after himself. She loved the little stories she would share about nights in the Officers club, or the weekend pass she took with her sweetheart, Ev. Val would send photos along if she could snag them from their friend on base,Joe, who was the regimental photographer. It would give Jo a sense of security, to know he was doing fine, that he had friends there, and a routine. He’d told her that Val brought a taste of home to the base, and he couldn’t wait to introduce them when they all finally came home. 

Sliding her thumb under the seal of the envelope, she quickly pulled the paper from its safe keeping. Unfolding it, she sat down on the bed and began to read. 

Hello Chickie! 

It’s been quite a moment since I’ve gotten to write you, and I hope by now you’re back safely from your adventure with Jean to visit Brady’s sweet Juliet. I want to hear all about how Upstate was. I’ve never gotten up that way myself, I’m a city girl through and through, but if you enjoyed yourself then maybe we should all plan a visit up that way as a group once this war is over and we’ve made it back stateside. I’m pretty sure I could convince Everett to take any vacation after this war! 

I saw your Rosie this evening in the club. He and Croz looked deep in thought when I joined them. Though as of late they’re always deep in thought. I think with Rosie approaching the coveted twenty-five, they’ve allowed themselves a moment to think of the future. I do worry that Harry without Rosie will be difficult on poor Croz; he’s lost so much already with Bubbles being gone, and the rest of the fellas stuck in Germany. But, Rosie should not skip out on the opportunity to get back home. We’re all rooting for him, Jo, and know that he’ll be well on his way back to you sooner than you think. 

I’ll certainly miss him and his crew around base- they brought a new happiness after so many of our fellas went down and were captured. Pappy may fight Croz to be best man at your wedding whenever that happens. Soon I hope! 

Before I forget, thank you for sending along that lipstick! Victory Red is so hard to come by over here these days. The town in East Anglia doesn’t have too many options, and I’m lucky I can get a pair of pantyhose when I need them. Meatball played tug of war with poor Helen’s last good pair a few days ago. The phrase Bad Dog is not one I thought we’d be using so frequently during the war. But boy, does that dog love Rosie. I wouldn’t be surprised if he looks to get a dog for you both once he’s back. 

Looking forward to hearing from you soon, Jo, and hope all is well back home in our favorite borough. I look forward to taking a walk through Brooklyn with you soon, and having a cocktail at the Automat over lunch. Stay well, my friend, and keep that chin up! 

Your friend, 

Val

Jo read the letter over again, chuckling at the thought of Meatball being so attached to Robbie, but also being such a menace of a pup that he destroyed pantyhose thinking it was playtime. She knew his twenty-fifth mission was on the horizon, if not happening imminently, and she was both worried and excited. She’d seen articles in the paper about the Bombers that were being lost and destroyed over German airspace, and knew that Robbie was in the thick of it. It made her sick with worry every time she opened a newspaper or listened to the radio. She knew he was capable, lord did she know, because he was still there. Still in the fight. But until he was home with her, safe, in her arms, she would continue to worry with every passing day. 

Putting the letter back in its envelope, she placed it next to her on the bed before picking up the second piece of mail. It was addressed to her in a handwriting she didn’t recognize, with a US Army Air Force postal stamp over the upper right hand corner. Her stomach immediately dropped, knowing what came in these random envelopes. There was no one else on base who would write to her, at least she assumed so. With a deep breath, and a silent prayer, she slid her finger under the back flap of the envelope, as she did with the first, and carefully slid the paper from its confines. Cautiously, as if it might bite her, she unfolded the paper and began to read what she felt in her gut was bad news. 

Hi Josephine! 

I thought I should introduce myself first. It’s me, Pappy! I’ve heard a lot about you from Rosie and wanted to send along a message because I’m sure by now, you’ve heard the news. 

Tears immediately springing to her eyes, Jo heaved a deep breath, prepared to read the absolute worst. Her Robbie was hurt, or worse… and his co-pilot, bless him, wanted to be the one to break the news himself. 

Please, don’t be too cross with him. He’s only doing what he feels in his heart is right. Rosie’s a fighter through and through with a heart of gold. He sees people being persecuted, and feels this unyielding need to fight for them because they can’t fight for themselves. His words, not mine. He’s good with the words, that one, so I’m sure he’s explained it to you a lot better than I ever could. But, remember, he loves you. We all can see how much, and he’d want nothing more than to be home with you. And he will be, soon I’m sure of it. 

Looking forward to meeting you one day! He’s really talked you up, and I’m sure all of it is true! I think it’s really neat that you’re best friends with Crosby’s wife! He’s a nervous wreck, that guy, but at least he has Rosie, and Rosie has him now that the rest of us are headed home. May have to come down to fisticuffs for the spot of best man when you two tie the knot, though. 

Keep well, Jo. He’ll be back before you know it! 

All the best,

Pappy Lewis 

A letter from Pappy? And to ask her not to be cross? And what hadn’t she heard that apparently Robbie had already told her? She’d resolved to believe that he wasn’t injured, or worse, because Pappy wouldn’t have sounded so enthusiastic in his greeting, however she felt more lost than she had when Robbie had first shipped out. With nothing to go on, she stood from the bed, slipped on her robe and shoved her feet into her slippers, before grabbing both letters and racing down the stairs. 

“Josephine!” Her mother hollered as she flew into the living room, stopping only when she was next to the phone. “Slow down, what’s wrong?”

Before she could respond, her mother noticed the letters crushed into her hand, and the nervous expression on her face, coming to stand next to her. 

“Josephine… what happened?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never gotten mail from Robbie’s co-pilot Pappy, ever, and now he’s sending me a letter telling me not to be upset and Robbie’s only doing what he knows is right… I’m just confused!”

“So he’s not…”

“No, I don’t think so. Pappy said he’d be home before I know it but, it still doesn’t make any sense.”

Picking up the receiver, she dialed the familiar line until the operator connected her call. She waited for the telltale voice on the other end to announce she’d reached the Crosby Residence. For the only person who could talk her down at this hour. 

“Jean…” Her voice wavered, and she tried, oh how she tried to breath through the tears stinging the back of her eyes, the nerves swirling in the pit of her stomach, but the shaky sound of her own voice sounded from her end of the receiver making Jean Crosby think the worst. 

Her friend was at the Harris home in record time, the two women sitting up in the living room, late into the night. Long after Jo’s parents had retired to bed. The tea had gone cold, and the girls had read and reread Pappy’s letter half a dozen times before finally letting it drop to the coffee table. The paper was crumpled from being passed back and forth, and the envelope was nowhere to be found. 

“He’s… I think he’s gone and done something entirely stupid.” Jo breathed, standing from the couch to pull a bottle from the small bar in the corner. 

“If you start drinking now, we’ll never get to the bottom of this.” Jean scolded her softly. 

“What am I getting to the bottom of, though! Pappy didn’t say what he did, just, that I can’t be mad.”

“Which has made you mad.”

“Of course it has! Stupid boy. His mother raised a stupid, stupid boy!”

“Jo, honey; you don’t mean that.”

Sinking down onto the couch, Jo allowed herself for just a moment to think that maybe Jean was right. That maybe Robbie wasn’t a stupid boy, but someone who was just hellbent on always doing the right thing. 

“I don’t know what I mean…”

“I’m sure he’s written to explain it.”

“God, I hope so.”

“He wouldn’t not tell you something important,” Jean soothed, wrapping her friend up in a hug. “He loves you.”

For the first time, Jo let the sob that had been building in her chest out into the quiet of the room. The tears spilling forth as her friend tucked her ever so gently against her shoulder, doing the best she could to help her find comfort in what was still such an unknown situation. 

“Then why does it feel like he’s not coming home…” 

Mrs. Harris found her daughter, and Jean Crosby asleep on the couch when she came down the next morning. Head to foot, they had haphazardly thrown the blanket from the back of the couch over themselves, and fallen into what she imagined was a restless sleep for her daughter. She knew how it felt; when Josephine’s father had been away at war, Josephine only a little girl, she remembered waiting on letters and praying none of them harbored bad news. Now her daughter was doing the same and she prayed for her, and for the sweet boy from down the street who had stolen her heart and taken it to war with him. 

Setting upon making coffee, she left the pot on the stove to percolate before making her way into the living room to wake the two girls. 

“Josephine, dear…” Gently shaking her at the shoulder, she watched as her eyes tightened before fully opening to the light in the room. “Come on now, come have some coffee and a bite to eat.”

“M’not hungry.” She murmured, pressing her face deeper into the couch cushion. 

“You’re turning down coffee?”

“…no?”

“Good, now come on. You slept in your makeup and you’re all over my throw pillows.” 

As Jo moved to sit up, Mrs. Harris gave Jean a light shake, the other woman quickly roused from her light sleep. 

“Oh gosh… I fell asleep on your couch.”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Mrs. Harris chided her as only a mother could. “Now come on, both of you. Coffee and some breakfast.”

It was a quiet morning at the table, Jo and Jean sat in near silence while Mrs. Harris tried to make small talk with her husband. Neither were ignorant to the fact that Jo was hurting and didn’t have any answers. Both remained grateful for Jean Crosby and the friendship she offered to Jo- the two had found each other in dark times and it was refreshing to see something so lovely in a time of war. 

A knock at the door had all four heads turning at the sound, confusion on their faces as Mr. Harris gestured for them to remain at the table, while he went to see who would be calling so early. Josephine perked up slightly at the sound of Mrs. Rosenthal’s voice floated through the hallway before she was joining them at the table. 

“Mrs. Rosenthal…”

“Sorry to call on you all so early, I wanted to make sure you were alright, dear.”

“You know, I’m not sure, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to be alright with.”

“You haven’t gotten his letter?”

As she was about to reply, her father entered the kitchen, envelope in hand and relief on his face as he handed it over to Josephine. She immediately recognized Rosie’s handwriting scrawled across the front. 

“Where did you find that!’

“It was caught under the rug in the entryway,” He sighed. “Must have gotten stuck when you came in last night.”

“Christ!” She cursed, tearing into the envelope with a ferocity that shocked her mother, and had Jean laughing from her spot next to her. 

Unfolding the paper, Rosie’s familiar writing met her eyes and she sighed with relief. Nerves and fear still swirled low in her stomach, but less so at having his letter in her hands. 

My sweetest Jo, 

I miss you terribly. I know that’s not much of a way to start a letter, but it’s the truth. I miss you more and more each passing day, honey, and long to be back with you. 

This is not an easy letter for me to write, so please, try and understand that I’m not doing this for the wrong reasons. I’ve completed my twenty fifth mission, and I’ve reached the required number of flights to be discharged. I know you’re reading this and wondering what’s so uneasy about all of this. The day that I completed my tour, The Brass raised the number of missions required to complete a tour from twenty five to thirty. We found all of this out, unfortunately, in the Officers Club during what would have been a really nice evening celebrating with the crew and other fellas. 

The crew and I, we’re not required to stay for an additional five, they considered us safe from the new numbers. But sweetheart, it’s so hard for me to watch my friends, and replacement men come in, and have to try and beat higher odds. There’s still a fight to be fought, and a war that’s persecuting people who cannot fight for themselves. How can I just sit by while fresh faced, green, pilots come in and attempt to fly by the seat of their pants. It wouldn’t be right, and it would prolong the fight. You know I don’t like bullies, never have and never will. 

I’ve reenlisted for another tour, and have been promoted to Major. I know, you’re mad. I know Ma will be mad as well, and I understand if you stay mad. But please, I promise I will fight to help end this war so that I can come home to you. I hope you can forgive me for prolonging the start of our life together, and see the reasons for what they are. I just…I want to save the people who cannot save themselves. 

I love you, so terribly, Jo, that every day I find that I love you more than the last. I’m simply existing here, until I can finally take you in my arms and call you mine. I will continue to count down the days, my sweetest girl, and I hope you are too. You’ve got my heart, always, Jo. And I promise to return home, with yours, safely, very soon. 

All of my love, and millions of hugs and kisses.

Robbie 

Jo heaved a deep, ragged breath, before placing the letter down on the kitchen table. She wordlessly slid the paper over to Jean, the other woman looking between Jo and the paper as if the words might have jumped off the page and slapped her into stunned silence. 

“He’s reenlisted.” Jo spoke, the words almost inaudible, her throat thick with what could only be described as sadness. 

The anger that Rosie predicted might come, was not there. Only sadness, that he held such a strong moral compass inside of him, that he couldn’t bear to see the job left unfinished. His need to be there for others, something she knew long before he had even enlisted, had outweighed his longing and desire to come home. To be with his family, to be with her, and make good on all of the promises that he made. 

“Josephine…” 

When she looked up, her mother was no longer sitting to her right, but it was Mrs. Rosenthal. Her parents and Jean had left the room, leaving her alone with the woman she considered as much a mother as her own. Her eyes bore the same sadness that she felt, and when she didn’t think she could stand it anymore, she collapsed against her in tears, and wept. She wept for his mother, his sister, herself, for Robbie, for all the people who continued to suffer and lose during this unforgiving war. For the men who felt such duty to their country that they would remain overseas long after their time had come to go home. For the mothers, sisters, wives and sweethearts who just longed for the missing piece in their life to come home. 

“He’s doing what he thinks is right, dearest.”

“Damn him for being so good.” She cried. The tears trailed hot down her cheeks. “He’s so good! And he’s so, so stupid!”

“I know, sweetheart,” Consoling the girl she already thought part of her family, Mrs. Rosenthal’s tears fell in sync with Jo’s. “I raised a boy I’m proud of, you should be too, but hell if he’s not thick headed sometimes.”

Pulling back, Jo quickly wiped at her eyes, the tears mixed with the previous day's mascara causing black streaks to decorate her face. Eyes bloodshot and nose fire engine red, she nodded furiously in agreement with Rosie’s mother. Of course she was immensely proud of him, he had gone to England and done amazing, brave things, to keep people safe. She’d be a fool not to be proud of him. But the pain of being so close to that dream they both shared, oh that pain ripped through her with the fury of a river wild. Uncontrollable and on a path all its own, with no actual destination and nothing to stop it. It just kept running its course. 

“You know him, Josephine. You know that once Robert gets something in his head, nothing can change his mind.”

“Stubborn…”

“He is very stubborn,” Mrs. Rosenthal chuckled, handing the girl next to her a tissue to clean up with. “But he also worships you, and wants to protect you. So, he continues to fight.”

“I miss him so much, ” She sucked in a ragged breath before continuing. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel.”

“I feel what a mother is supposed to feel. I worry, and I pray, and I repeat the process over again day after day.”

“Then we will worry, and pray for him together. I think if both of us do it, he’ll come back safely.”

“Yes, he will,” Rosie’s mother gave a smile that Jo knew was forced. She gave the same ones when people asked her about Rosie. “And you keep writing to him. Those letters, he looks forward to them more than mine.”

“That can’t be true…”

“A mother knows these things.” 

If what Rosie’s mother said was true, then she should have been able to formulate something, anything to write to him. But as she sat at the desk in her bedroom that night, no tears left to cry and the blank sheet of paper in front of her, she found that the words were not coming as easily as she had hoped. What was she supposed to say? What was he expecting her to say? Did he expect a response from her, or was he banking on her being angry with him? It seemed silly to her to be in a fight, of sorts, when she was here and he was all the way over there. With all her might, she put pen to paper and hoped that she could formulate her thoughts properly, and convey her feelings in a way that might make him understand that she wasn’t angry. Simply put, she was sad. 

My dearest Robbie, 

I must admit, I’m finding it very hard to write this letter. I’ve been trying to find the words to put down on paper all day, and now it’s bedtime and I can’t bring myself to find sleep just yet. It’s no secret that you’re always on my mind, my love, and today has been no exception. I was quite surprised to come home from upstate to a letter from Pappy. I think I was more surprised that his letter was asking me not to be too upset with you. I spent all of last night trying to figure out what it was that I was not supposed to be upset about. When your mother called over at breakfast today, I knew it had to be something serious. My father found your letter in the foyer, stuck under the carpet by the door. It has been, to say the very least, a very exhausting day. 

Robbie, I’ve known you for so long, yet it took your mother to remind me that once you set your mind to something, there is quite literally no talking you out of it. It’s one of the endearing qualities that I love so much about you. Your determination to always do the right thing, and a moral compass that always points in the right direction. Don’t think for one second that I’m not proud of you for completing your twenty fifth mission safely. Please know that I’m proud of you for reenlisting, though it may not be my favorite of your decisions. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, though. But I think I can be proud and sad at the same time- never mad. How could I be mad at you for doing something you feel deep in your bones is the right thing? 

Please, tell me, will Pappy and the boys be staying with you? Have they decided to reenlist as well, or will they be going home? I must admit, you flying without Pappy by your side is such an odd idea to me. I don’t know that I will ever trust someone so entirely to be your right hand man in the sky. The Bald Eagle and the Legal Eagle- yes, I know of your nicknames for each other- are a pair, and should not be separated. As is the case for me and you, we are a pair that should not, and will not be separated. 

I promise you, I will be here waiting for you while you fight for those who cannot stand up and fight for themselves. I find sadness in that we must postpone the start of our future together, and continue to share this love on paper, with an ocean between us. I was looking forward to meeting you at Minton’s darling, and I know that absence makes the heart grow fonder, which can only mean that my heart is so very fond of you Robbie, and my love for you grows every single day. 

I love you so much, Robert Rosenthal. New York feels empty without you. I will be here waiting, counting the days until there are no more keeping us apart. 

Yours forever and always, with all of my love 

Jo 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rosie was exiting the hut that served as the barber shop on base, the cool English air a welcome change as spring seemed to be settling in at Thorpe Abbotts. Rosie had been making it a point to spend time with each of the Riveter’s crew before they were sent home and today it was Bailey, the navigator keen on getting a haircut before the journey home. Around them, Officers and Enlisted Men passed them on their bikes, each one saluting the newly appointed Major as he walked by. 

“Jeez, you’re the top dog now.” Bailey’s thick Long Island accent broke the silence around them. 

“No, that would be Colonel Bennett,” Rosie rolled his eyes. “I’m just Rosie from Brooklyn who happens to know how to fly a plane.”

“Bullshit,” Bailey laughed, giving him a half hearted shove. “You’re Major Rosenthal now, and your new crew is going to fall at your feet.”

“I don’t want anyone falling at my feet.”

“Nash isn’t here to make the lewd comment so, you’re off the hook.” Bailey shook his head.

The indirect mention of Jo caused Rosie to tense up. He hadn’t heard back from her after sending his letter with what he could only describe as bad news for her. He wouldn’t blame her if she called this thing between them off, no matter how many times his crew tried to convince him she would do no such thing. 

“Still nothing back?”

“Not yet,” He sighed. “Can’t say I'd blame her either. I pretty much threw a wrench in our plans without so much as discussing it.”

“You did what you had to do. What you thought was right.”

“But did I?”

“You’re not second guessing yourself now, are you? It’s a bit too late for that, pal.’

“No, I know staying in the fight is the right thing to do, but isn't going home to her also the right thing to do?”

Bailey was silent a minute,  thoughts of his own wife back home surely moving to the forefront of his mind. Rosie had made it clear to each member of his crew that he didn’t expect them, nor would he blame them, if they took the out and went home after twenty five. They had all earned it as much as he had, and he wanted them to do what was best in their eyes. Pappy had waffled on it for a few days, until ultimately Rosie had decided for him that he should go home and be with his family. So now he would await a new crew, green Airmen who had yet to even see combat, and he prayed every day that he was enough to keep them alive. 

“You are doing the right thing, you know” Bailey spoke up again. “It might feel funny for a bit, but we’re all damn proud to have been on your crew. And we’re damn proud of you for seeing this through.”

“Since when are you the sentimental type?” Rosie turned to look at him, the shorter man trying to hide the emotion on his face. 

“Shut up and take the compliment, alright?”

“Alright, alright, I hear ya.”

“Good, now let's go. Almost chow time.” 

As they made their way to the Officers mess, Pappy was waiting outside the doors for them, a smug smile on his face, hands stuffed in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. 

“Why do you look like you just got done having the best time of your life?”

“I hate to agree with him, but you do look entirely too happy for someone about to eat whatever they’re serving for dinner.” Rosie chuckled.

“Oh, no reason,” Pappy smiled, nudging Rosie in the shoulder. “Just delivering the most coveted piece of mail since March to one, Major Rosenthal.” Pappy pulled the envelope from his pocket, and Rosie could hardly believe his eyes as Jo’s cursive adorned the front. 

“How long have you had that!” Rosie swiped it from him, immediately tearing into it. He couldn’t be bothered with privacy or waiting to read it when he was alone. 

“Helen dropped the mail off while you were getting a shave.” Pappy grinned. 

Nodding, Rosie let his eyes fall on the paper, the letter much longer than what he was expecting. He had been expecting a brief note to stop writing, or something along the lines of how much she hated him, and never wanted to see him again. But what he saw on the page was a declaration of love, of how proud she was of him, and one sentence that caused him to stand up straight and fix his co-pilot with the wildest of eyes. 

“Pappy… you didn’t…”

“Don’t worry, I introduced myself properly.” The co-pilot grinned. 

Bailey immediately burst out laughing, knowing just how worried Rosie had been about Jo’s response, and now knowing that the poor girl knew from Pappy before Rosie, he couldn’t contain his laughter as he watched Rosie pull at his normally immaculate curls, blue eyes wild with disbelief. Just as Rosie made to turn on him, they spotted Harry Crosby strolling up to them, his own envelope in his hand and a sour look on his face. 

“Croz?” 

“Jean is mad at me because I didn’t stop you.” 

While one navigator heaved a deep sigh, brows furrowed in confusion at his own wife, the other continued his raucous laughter, the sound echoing around them as they stood outside the mess hall. 

“I’m glad you two are going home. Pains in my neck.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll miss us and you know it!” Pappy chuckled, Bailey’s laughter seemingly contagious. 

“Oh sure, I’ll definitely miss this.” Rosie rolled his eyes, sharing a look with Crosby as they entered the hut, leaving the two laughing Riveter’s outside. After dinner, he’d spend a moment in his hut, and put paper to pen, and talk to his sweetheart. 

My Dearest Jo… 

Read part 7 HERE

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! A big huge thank you to @hephaestn for the stunning new mood board.

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @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

[jossarisfoto]

Valencia | Traditie, Cultuur en een Vleugje Magie

Donderdag, 16 juni 2016 | De laatste dag van onze onvergetelijke vakantie in het prachtige Valencia. Met gemengde gevoelens van opwinding en een vleugje weemoed, bereidden we ons voor op een dag vol culturele hoogtepunten en eeuwenoude tradities. Het Watertribunaal: Een Levend Stukje Geschiedenis Onze dag begon met grote verwachtingen voor een bijzonder evenement dat al meer dan 1000 jaar…

[neonbutchery]

LLISTA D'ORGANITZACIONS I INICIATIVES PRO-PALESTINA ALS PAÏSOS CATALANS, ACTUALITZADA (MAIG 2024)

com tumblr és una plataforma angloparlant, la majoria de les notícies que circulen són de moviments i mobilitzacions als estats units, canadà, anglaterra, i altres països anglos. i encara que està molt bé construïr solidaritat interacional i assabentar-se del que passa a altres indrets del món, cal no perdre la vista sobre les accions i els esdeveniments que ens cauen molt més a prop.

han passat uns mesos després de la primera llista que vaig fer, i per sort, l'activisme pro-palestí segueix creixent als països catalans, amb manifestacions, col·loquis i xerrades, i ara, les primeres acampades estudiantils. on jo he trobat més convocatòries és a través d'instagram, però si coneixeu algun altre recurs digueu-m'ho.

ASSOCIACIONS GENERALS

Comunitat Palestina de Catalunya. porten molts anys fent activisme i estan molt actius a xarxes socials. de fet, la majoria dels enllaços en aquesta llista vénen d'ells. INSTAGRAM / TELEGRAM / TWITTER

Comunidad Palestina de Valencia (en català i castellà) - FACEBOOK

Associació Catalana de Jueus i Palestins - JUNTS

Coalició Prou Complicitat - INSTAGRAM / TWITTER

Samidoun España (no és exclusiu dels PPCC, però penja moltes accions i convocatòries que si que ho són). INSTAGRAM / FACEBOOK

Casa Palestina Catalunya - TELEGRAM / FACEBOOK / WHATSAPP

BDS (Boycott, Divest, Sanction)

BDS - Pàgina oficial (en castellà)

Llista de productes, serveis i empreses per boicotejar que col·laboren amb l'ocupació israeliana i estan presents als PPCC

Directori BDS Catalunya (‼ pot no estar actualitzat ‼)

BDS - Red Solidaria Contra la Ocupación en Palestina. Perfil general de les organitzacions BDS a l'estat espanyol (en castellà)

BDS País Valencià. TWITTER / INSTAGRAM / FACEBOOK / TELEGRAM

BDS Girona

BDS Castelló

BDS Bages / Catalunya Central

BDS Alacant

🏕 ACAMPADES ESTUDIANTILS 🏕

Universitat de València - Acampada Palestina UV. Accepten a qualsevol persona que vulgui unir-se, i també donacions de diners o de menjar. TELEGRAM - TWITTER

@useless-catalanfacts podries tornar a difondre això? Moltes gràcies!

Llista més exhaustiva d'associacions regionals a sota d'aquest separador.

CATALUNYA

BARCELONA CIUTAT

Comitè de Solidaritat amb Palestina de Sants-Montjuïc

UAB Acció per Palestina

Comitè Solidaritat Palestina Facultat Dret UB

Comitè de Solidaritat amb Palestina del Campus Diagonal

Comitè estudiantil de solidaritat amb el poble palestí

PROVÍNCIA DE BARCELONA

Penedès amb Palestina - LINKTREE

RipoPalestina (Ripollet)

Molins amb Palestina (Molins de Rei)

L'Hospitalet amb Palestina

El Montserratí X Palestina

SUMUD Palestina (Santa Coloma de Gramenet) - FACEBOOK

PROVÍNCIA DE TARRAGONA

Terres de l'Ebre amb Palestina

PROVÍNCIA DE LLEIDA

Comitè en Solidaritat amb Palestina de Lleida

PROVÍNCIA DE GIRONA

Pla de l'Estany amb Palestina

La Garrotxa amb Palestina

Ripoll amb Palestina

ALTRES

PalestinaCatCentral

ILLES BALEARS

Mallorca per Palestina

Plataforma de Solidaritat amb el Poble Palestí d'Eivissa

PAÍS VALÈNCIA

Estudiants per Palestina

[youchangedmedestiel]

Crazy ex-natural

Okay, hear me out.

I had an idea of a crossover between Supernatural and Crazy ex-girlfriend (one is definitely more popular than the other), where Dean would play Rebecca's role:

Dean met Benny when they were young, around 16 years old. They saw each other for the first time at that summer camp back in the days, which was called Purgatory. It was a kind of military camp where Dean's father, John, sent him to put him back on track before the next school year. Dean chose his own track and it was Benny. They started the kind of relationship Dean never knew before. They had a lot of fun and Dean was probably in love. That's why bumping into him here, among all the other streets of New York, where Dean is having a life crisis right now, seems to be a sign of fate.

A fate that Dean decides to follow. He drops his job at the major law firm, and moves to California, more specifically to West Covina, where Benny had always lived with his family and friends.

Dean joins a little law firm here and finds a new flat. He meets new people, one barmaid named Crowley that seems sarcastic but funny and kinda cute, a coworker named Charlie who probably will become his best friend, but Benny is nowhere to find for now.

... TO BE CONTINUED (maybe ?)

Like I don't know if people would be interested in this story. Dean would play the role of Rebecca Bunch in Crazy ex-girlfriend and then you'll have:

Benny = Josh

Charlie = Paula

Crowley = Greg

Cas = Nathaniel

John = Rebecca's mom

Chuck = Nathaniel's dad

Garth = White Josh

Rowena = Hector

Jo = Valencia

Sam = Heather

Gabriel = Darryl

[winniemaywebber]

hi winnie! for build a fic prompt, can i request this for jean or olive (whoever you feel like ):

1) a broken-down elevator

E) ankle

꒰ 𓅟 ꒱ “don’t bullshit me, i can hear your heart pounding.”

thank you ❤️❤️

hi friend! I'm sorry this took so darn long. I hope you enjoy it! I loved writing it <3 one of my new faves for sure.

Olive puts the final touches to her hair and make up, nervously glancing at herself in the hotel vanity. 

“Don’t you look as beautiful as ever?” Dougie compliments, sitting up in bed. 

“Thank you, darling,” she murmurs back in reply, her voice shaking slightly. She tries to hide it, clearing her throat and taking her eyes away from her reflection. He catches it instantly, Olive seeing Dougie’s head cocking from the corner of her eye.

“What’s up, doll?” “I don’t–I don’t know, actually. It’s a really important day and I just find myself extremely anxious.” “You’ll be fine once you get with the girls. Who’s going today?” “There’s Val and I,” she begins, counting on her fingers. “Jo, Jules, Vika…and Jean.” “There it is,” Dougie says, a triumphant tone to his voice as if he’d cracked open some cold case. “It’s Jean Crosby.” “And what about Jean Crosby?”

She stares James down, knowing he knows the truth yet wanting him to spit it out. She bites her lip anxiously, breaking the eye contact. “I don’t think Jean is all too keen on me, Dougie.”

“What makes you think that?” “We’ve barely said two words to each other - rather, she’s barely said two words to me.” She pauses for a second, contemplating her next verbalized thought. “It’s okay for her not to like me, it just sucks, y’know? I really wanted us to be friends,” Olive says, heat rising up her throat. “Especially because you and Croz are such good buddies. It would be perfect, but–” “Croz has always said she takes a moment to warm up to new people, honey girl.” “I know, I know,” she replies, her tone trying to brush him off. “But she’s warmed up to Valencia just fine.” “They have more in common, and Val was writing to Josephine for years; no wonder Jean feels like she knows her.” “Do you just have an answer for everything I say?” “Yes,” he says cockily, winking at her from the bed. “Now, put that worried face away. Gimme a smooch before you go, that’s it.”

***

“Jeanie Bug!” Harry Crosby calls from downstairs. “The cab’ll be here in a minute. Are you almost ready?” “Yes, Binger!” she yells in reply, wincing at her high strung tone. Grabbing her purse from her vanity, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before beginning to descend the stairs. “Here and ready,” she says, stuffing her feet into her black kitten heels. “How do I look?” “Lovely as ever, my little wife.”

Croz looks her over, taking in her ever present beauty before really registering her emotion. “You look nervous, darling. What’s the matter?” “Oh, nothing,” she replies, placing the shoe horn back in its drawer. “Just one of those days.” “Hmm,” Harry murmurs, slightly narrowing his eyes at her. “Don’t believe you.” “Believe what you want, Mr Crosby. I’m fine.” “Sure. Well, have fun. I’m sure you’re looking forward to seeing everyone.” He sees his wife wince, his eyes widening as he realizes he’s getting to the reason for her nervousness. “Not sure everyone’s looking forward to seeing me, Bing.” “Ah!” He says. “You mean English?” “Yes!” Jean relaxes instantly at his answer, shoulders sagging as if the weight of the anxiety had just left them.  “I don't think she's exactly raving about me, Bing”

“Give her time. Her life has just changed, gone totally upside down. She'll come around.”

“I hope it's sooner rather than later. I'd hate for her to think that I'm not welcoming her.”

“I know Olive. She doesn't think that. She's just a little subdued. You should have seen her those first few days with us. She was quiet as a mouse unless someone spoke to her first!”

“I don’t think I believe that.” She sighs at herself for her assumption, realizing at once that she’s being extremely unfair.

“Just try, okay? For Dougie…and for me.”

“Yes, dear,” she replies, teeth gritted.

“It’ll be okay. It’s just you're very intimidating sometimes”

“Binger!”

“Hey…I like it,” he says, kissing her softly as they hear the cab pull up outside.

“See you for lunch, Mrs Croz.”

***

The girls had all greeted each other with such gusto that they had acquired a few nasty stares from passersby, but they paid them no mind. Jean and Olive had exchanged a wry smile at one another, an attempt to remain polite under all the uncertainty.

“Come on, I’m excited!” Valencia commands in her Brooklyn drawl. She drags Olive by the hand, Olive scrambling to pull whoever is behind her by the hand too. It happens to be Jean Crosby, the two of them staring at one another blankly as the awkwardness began to rise. 

“Sorry, Mrs Croz,” Olive says, her voice small. 

“Quite alright, Olive,” she replies, not making eye contact as she speaks. “Before we begin wading ankle deep in wedding dresses, Val,” she says, pulling her gloves off. “I need to use the facilities.” “Me, too, actually,” Olive nods. “We’ll meet you up there. What floor is it on?” “Five,” Jules says, nodding towards the elevator at the opposite end of the store. “Far too many stairs, girlies. Take the elevator.”

***

“Ready?” Olive asks Jean as she wipes her hands dry.

“Yep,” she replies, her tone as dry as her hands. “All ready.”

The two silently make their way over to the elevator Jules had directed them to earlier, Olive pressing the button before Jean and their hands scrambling. They both clear their throat, trying to force themselves through the tension. Stepping on to the plush carpet of the elevator, and pressing their selected floor, the pair ascend in silence. Until…

Bang. Clank.

The elevator comes to a sudden stop, the squeak of brakes piercing their eardrums.

“Well, shit,” Olive whispers. She tries pressing the button to open the doors again, even risking ruining her new manicure to prise the doors open manually.

“Leave it, Olive,” Jean says sternly. “We’re stuck here until they realize.” “Fuck,” Olive replies, eyes darting at her surroundings. She looks to her right at her companion, taking in her ashen face and damp brow, her chest rising and falling with a quickness.

“You alright?” “Yes, Olive.” Jean nods, trying to reassure her. In fact, she can feel the walls of the elevator closing in on her, boxing her in to this tiny space and feels like she’s beginning to suffocate. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here with you. Breathe,” Olive soothes. “Not good with tight spaces?”

“I’m fine, Olive,” she snaps, the panic causing anger to spill out.

“Don’t bullshit me, Mrs Croz. I can hear your heart pounding from here.”

At Olive’s final remark, Jean leans against the wall, unsteady on her feet. Olive sees Jean’s ankle begin to give way, her body barely able to hold her up.

“Oh jeez, Mrs Crosby. Sit down, doll.” Jean obliges, finally listening to Olive. “There we go. Just breathe, okay?” Olive crouches down, takes her hand and strokes it with her thumb, trying her best to comfort her. “Slowly and deeply. Like this,” she demonstrates, ensuring Jean follows her instructions and looks into her eyes.

“Got a feeling this might be your worst nightmare, Jean,” Olive says once Jean’s breathing has returned to almost normal.

“What makes you say that?” she says, voice still a little tight but chest looser nonetheless. 

“Stuck in a small space, broken down elevator. And it’s me you’re stuck with, of all people.”

“Come again?” Jean questions, face falling in confusion. A breath sticks in Olive’s throat, the words hiding behind it. 

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Olive says, timidly, sitting herself down next to Jean.There’s a silence in the air, Jean trying to figure out how to respond.

“Oh, Olive,” she sighs. “Of course I like you. We just haven’t had a chance to spend time together - just us - yet.” “Now we have,” Olive laughs. “What a story to tell the girls, huh?” “Yes, now we have. And the guys, too.” Another pause, Jean’s head falling to Olive’s shoulder. “Bing will be relieved.” Olive giggles in response. “So will James.”

The friends feel the elevator shoot down and back up in quick succession, the pair of them screaming and laughing at the shock of it. The doors open with a ding, finally at their destination.

“What took you so long?” Vika laughs, carrying five veils upon her arm. “And why are you sat down?” “We got stuck!” “Oh, Jesus,” Jo murmurs, shooting a look towards Val. “Everything okay?” she asks, directing the question to Jean and Olive.

“Everything’s great,” Olive replies softly, standing and realizing that their hands are still entwined.

“I had good company, girls. She’s a doll. Now…where do you need us to start?”

[urperfectcinnamonroll07]

Do's and Don'ts

Hello everyone! I'm not really that new to Tumblr, so I do know how this whole thing works. I just kinda deleted my old acc, and made this one for a fresh start so yeah:)

You can find my Masterlist here!

Do's

Fluff

Angst

Smut

Platonic

Girl x girl

Gender nuetral reader/non binary reader

Platonic age gaps

PLATONIC family pieces (like, brother x sister, sister x sister, platonic stuff yk)

Don'ts

Rape

Huge age gaps (from four years apart and up)

Incest

Yandre/Tsundre

Character x animal/furry kinda thing

Kidnapping (unless it is part of a story and the kidnapper is platonic e.g. the grabber x platonic!reader etc)

A scenario in which the reader dies

Spirit x Reader (like a ghost kind of spirit, because that's js weird)

Specific AU's (e.g. Mafia!Seungcheol x reader. In general I js think it's a no)

anything anal (just no)

People who I write for:

Seventeen

All members

Alice In Borderland

Shuntaro Chishiya

Yuzuha Usagi

Ryohei Arisu

Kuina

Ann

Suguru Niragi

Ginji Kyuma

Daikichi Karube

Mira

Aguni

Akane Heiya

Kotoko Shiga

Sunato Banda

Kōdai Tatta

Oki Yaba

All Of Us Are Dead

Lee Su-hyeok

Choi Nam-ra

Lee Cheong-san

Nam On-jo

Yoon Gwi-nam

Park Mi-jin

Jang Ha-ri

Jang Woo-jin

Min Eun-ji

Han Gyeong-su

Yang Dae-su

Stray Kids

All members

BTS

All members

Blackpink

All members

Any Kpop groups

Squid Game

Kang Sae-byeok

Seong Gi-hun

Hwang Jun ho

Abdul Ali

Front Man

Cho Sang woo

Twisted Series

Alex Volkov

Rhys Larsen

Josh Chen

Christian Harper

Ava Chen

Bridget Von Aschenberg

Jules Ambrose

Stella Alonso

King of Sin Series

Dante Russo

Kai Young

Dominic Davenport

Xavier Castillo

Vivian Lau

Isabella Valencia

Alessandra Davenport

Sloane Kensington

There might be more added to this, but I will try to make a Masterlist sometime soon. So cya, and have a lovely day. Don't forget to drink water and eat something, love you all!

[mitchellcoolboy123]

jar of flies [versainz] - interlude headcanons

read chapter 1 here on ao3

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

so sorry for the lack of an update !!! life is crazy so i hope the miscellaneous art was a decent taster while i write. that being said, no update still (lol sorry) but here’s some headcanons i was thinking of lately. new chapter will be out soon hopefully and it will be longer than the last maybe,,,

ps dont take the rpf too seriously this is still for funsies

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

the paternal issue

max and carlos are two sides of the same coin; one is being eaten alive by the media for his surname while the other is being praised for his surname. expectation breathes down the backs of both their necks. do they agree with the narrative being thrown at them?

Carlos definitely feels the effects of such a weighted name. Afterall, he is quite literally named after his father. To him, this isn’t negative. Carlos carries his name like a badge of honor. He loves his dad and his mission in Formula 1 is to make his dad proud. Being compared to such a great driver definitely puts a lot of pressure on him, especially when that's his dad. Though their series are different, the pressure to live up to that glory is present. While Senior has told him multiple times not to let it get to him and that his love won't change no matter what happens, Carlos still wants to keep the name pure. At the end of the day, being named after his father is a huge honor that Carlos wouldn't even trade for the world. Growing up his dad was his hero and following vaguely in his footsteps was his destiny.

Max carrying the Verstappen name is just another hurdle thrown at him by life. He can't change what happened in the past but he can affect what happens in the future. This burden has followed him throughout karting and single-seaters so he is prepared for any predatory question a lazy journalist could throw at him. Max is still his father's son and there's nothing he can do about his name. He learned to ignore the thoughts of others and has grown some pretty thick skin. The whole discussion around "Verstappen" is all just tabloid drama to him. He's Max, not Jos. His time has yet to come in Formula 1 and when it does, he will make sure people remember his deeds and not his fathers. One day "Verstappen" will signify glory instead of shame.

[ … ]

soulmates… who knew?!

so, everyone has a soulmate and maybe even a vague idea of who they are through a tether of emotions and sometimes their heartbeat or breathing. but why do some people tend to immediately know upon meeting and some dont?

Carlos is, quite frankly, oblivious. He likes Max but he doesn’t think he’s his soulmate. That would be a pretty huge jump in cognitive thinking for a kid he just met and likes. In his mind, his soulmate is a tall, beautiful tanned girl from Valencia with dark, waist length hair and light amber eyes. He thinks Max is cute and his slightly endearing yet off-putting way of staring when he doesn’t think Carlos is looking is sweet but not soulmate material. If Carlos were to be honest, he doesn’t know much about his soulmate nor does he think about them a lot. He often got random pangs of pain as if he had randomly bruised and sometimes he felt a fiery desire to persevere no matter what. The connection between that and his soulmate was never made though. Sometimes he was clumsy and if he didn’t want to win he wouldn’t be karting. Afterall, he had all the love he needed with his family and friends. His soulmate wasn’t on the front of his mind when the affection he needed in the moment surrounded him.

Max knew immediately that Carlos was his soulmate. While he tried to deny if, deep down he knew. Carlos had always been with him, Max just didn't know it at the time. He had always felt the deep rooted kindness and melancholy he radiated. To him, this was normal, but this early connection was quite rare. The connection he gained to Carlos was due to Max searching for a sense of affection in nearly everyone he met as a child. He had been separated from his mom and sister at a young age, his father didn't exact fill the role as a dad, and Max didn't have many friends. As a result, he was able to tune into Carlos early to feel the overwhelming amount of love he gushed for everyone. As he got older, he became slightly obsessed with the idea of his soulmate. It was a topic he thought about the most and even searched every new person he met to verify if they were or weren't his soulmate. Of course, he never found his answer until winter testing in Abu Dhabi.

[ … ]

the red bull racing dilemma

bringing in two rookies to figure out who gets to join a midfield-ing main team off the high of vettel's championship runs was certainly a choice. between a twenty-one y/o and a seventeen y/o, the choice seems pretty clear from the beginning... but do they agree?

Carlos is quite confident that he'll get the promotion. He has an age advantage which ultimately means more driving experience. While he likes Max, he thinks he's too impulsive and not something the bigger team would want. Carlos likes Max and hopes they can keep things civil. They are each others first teammates and he hopes he can hold this relationship close while they travel through their careers in this sport. If things don't turn out that way, he can only hope they can mend their relationship later down the road. At the end of the day, he is just happy that he isn't the guy who's about to get fired on the main team...

Max knows that RBR seat is his. He tends to take a bit of a morally gray approach to how he wants his season to go. Obviously, his mental state is a bit all over the place and his obsessiveness about Carlos does not help. He hates and loves Carlos at the same time. He wants to rip his teammate down and help him succeed. He thinks Carlos will ruin him but he just can't stay away. Maybe he doesn't think the seat will come to him that easily. If he could have it his way, he would rip apart the current RBR line up so he could hand a seat to Carlos on a silver platter. But he can't and he needs to get on the main team. A sacrifice will need to be made and Max knows that will likely be his teammate.

[thevalencianroyals]

meet 15 year old jo and addie ♡

\transcript ~

Académie Rochambeau - North of Franceism - 16 years ago

[Josephine] Who’s that?

[Friend] Who? 

[Josephine] Her, over there. The one everyone is scared to talk to. 

[Adelaide] Oh, Adelaide. Her Royal Highness. *chuckles* The Princess Royal of Valencia. 

[Josephine] That’s the Princess?!

[Adelaide] Yup. 

[Josephine] Do you know her?

[Adelaide] Not really…she came to the academy about a week ago.

[Josephine] Why isn’t anyone talking to her?

[Adelaide] Mmh…I don’t know. She’s pretty quiet. Keeps to herself. 

---

[Josephine] If you’re nervous, there’s no need to be. 

[Adelaide] Excuse me?

[Josephine] Our ballet teacher, Madame DuPont, is actually really nice. 

[Adelaide] Oh. Okay. Thanks for telling me. 

[Josephine] I'm Josephine.

[Adelaide] I’m Adelaide. 

[Josephine] Oh, right— Your Royal Highness— 

[Adelaide] You don’t have to call me that. Really--I’d prefer it if you didn’t.

[Josephine] Right. Sorry. So how do you like the academy so far?

[Adelaide] It’s…fine…

[Adelaide] *deep sigh* I don’t know…I’m a little…homesick…and scared. I haven’t been more than a couple days away from my family. And I don’t know anyone here. But everyone knows me apparently. 

*chuckles*

[Josephine] It goes away, you know. That feeling. 

[Adelaide] Which one?

[Josephine] The fear.

[Adelaide] And the sadness?

[Josephine] You get used to it.

[Adelaide] Thank you, Josephine.

[Josephine] You can call me Jo. All my friends call me Jo.

[guillemelgat]

Hey hello I made a thing! As perhaps a few of you know, I have spent the last half a year being completely unhinged about Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey-Maturin books, and I’ve always been particularly interested in the character Stephen Maturin and his relationship to Catalonia. I saw that there was a lack of stuff about this part of his identity, and, being me, I felt the need to fill it in the only way I could: compiling music and yelling about it for thirty pages. Hence this playlist.

You really don’t need to know anything about these books to listen to this playlist. You also don’t need to know anything about Catalan (I hope). Catalonia and the Catalan Countries in general (including Valencia, the Balearic Islands, and parts of southern France, Aragon, and Sardinia) have a really interesting musical and literary tradition, and I wanted to make that more accessible, so I put together a few songs I liked, translated them, and wrote a bit about each of their significance, including the most important cultural tidbits I could. Some things don’t translate super well, and I hope my Catalan followers will forgive me for trying to adapt them more for English-speaking audiences than perhaps would be preferable; I usually don’t choose to do that, but in this case I wanted to open the door, and not to intimidate people.

Now that that’s out of the way, here is a link to the PDF of the liner notes (graphic design is my passion, as they say): https://drive.google.com/file/d/1MUpRM84W8aypznEIrt0eA1jG5OxaRZvz/view?usp=sharing

Under the cut I’ve included the ephimera and unnecessary commentary that you know and love, feel free to read or ignore it as you will

These roughly follow the order of the songs and are varying levels of seriousness

If you like "Sant Joan, feu-lo ben gran" then I'd highly recommend listening to the whole Tornaveus album. I almost included the “Stabat Mater de Sudanell” and the “Goigs de Sant Julià de Lòria”, which are both from western Catalonia, and they also have more cançons de pandero, in perhaps a slightly more traditional style. A lot of the other songs have interesting cultural commentary in them, especially on feminist topics, and they’re very well-researched because literally one of the members of the group is basically the ethnomusicologist of Catalan music at the moment. Anyways, if people would like the liner notes perhaps next time I’m home I’ll scan them, they’re in Catalan and English and very well-written. Also note the legendary Lluís Llach song which has been turned into a polyphonic piece lol (and I did not include the “Goigs de la Nostra Senyora de la Llibertat” but tbh that might have been a mistake on my part) (Blorbo side note that I think this fits Stephen’s childhood very well which is mostly why I chose it)

“L’Hereu Riera” is one of my favorite Catalan folk songs I love it so much and if you want to hear the Catalan version (as opposed to the Valencian one included here) and see the dance and also see a cobla, I am including a link to this version by Germà Negre which is tragically not on Spotify. I chose the Valencian one because (1) Al Tall and (2) I think it fits The Blorbo better (specifically I was thinking of his fiancée who dies before Book One who idk if anyone ever remembers shdjfhskf). That being said, Stephen would probably know the Catalan one (and almost certainly not the Valencian one). Also, on a memey-er note, Hereu Riera bisexual king and literal icon <3 love how he has to remind his girlfriend on her deathbed that actually he'd technically be interested in both her sisters AND her brothers if he wasn't so into her that he never wanted to marry anyone else

I literally did put in Roger Mas just so there would be at least one person with a Lleidan accent, #diversity win

Many points about the “Cançó de pandero de l’Urgell” and “Jo no canto per la veu” so here we go:

I put these two songs in mostly because I got very obsessed with the cançó de pandero from Alcarràs (which is a great movie that came out last year about a farming family in a village near Lleida that is winning all the awards atm). Anyways, since Carla Simón has been too busy winning things to put up the gotdam soundtrack, I did a bit of digging and it turns out that it was written for the movie?? By her brother??? It's excellent and very anticapitalist and you can listen to it here and see the trailer for Alcarràs all in one! (Includes English subtitles)

The original “Canto per un amic meu que per mi daria la vida” is probably from a Valencian cant de batre, although I could not get any confirmation on that. But regardless everyone should listen to Pep Botifarra's version of it, which I would literally marry if it had a physical form it’s so so good. (I posted it here back in ye olden days but it's been long enough I think I can post it again)

Valencian music side note because I can’t stop myself: the second pair of verses in the "Cançó de pandero de l'Urgell" (starting with “vos esteu ben acotxada…”) are sung by Miquel Gil, who is a very famous Valencian traditional singer, anyways you should listen to this version of him singing “Del Sud” by Obrint Pas (you want to go down a Valencian music rabbit hole so so bad)

I firmly believe that Stephen would canonically be obsessed with Ausiàs March, and the fact that he has not yet recited any of his poems is Patrick O’Brian’s biggest failing in my eyes. Anyways I have more thoughts but I’m saving them for other posts shdfjsd

If you read this before listening to the playlist please just listen to "El testament d'Amèlia" and follow along with the lyrics in real time before reading the blurb, it's such a good experience to let that song hit you as it comes. I won't say more than that but you'll get it when you get it. (Also obligatory listen to Marala they're so good <3)

From the Càntut album, I also quite like the songs "El pomeró" and "El divino vull cantar", and Càntut in general is an incredible resource, it's a database of folk song field recordings from northeastern Catalonia.

Brief pause to scream about the fact that Maria Arnal and Marcel Bagés WERE ON NPR??? AND NO ONE TOLD ME???? Anyways link in the sources section, also they're great and you should listen to their whole discography

As the #1 Roba Estesa stan blog on Tumblr, listen to Roba Estesa. And Ebri Knight. And El Diluvi.

I chose this version of "La presó de Lleida" because I like it but here's a more traditional one sung by Joan Manel Serrat, another Catalan legend. Here's another one in Catalan rumba style with Sílvia Pérez Cruz singing, the sound is a bit wonky but it's also one of my favorites. The Valencian version of this song is called "La presó de Tibi" and El Diluvi have done a very explicitly anti-monarchical rendition of it (the Balearic one is "La presó de Nàpols").

I'm sorry for never putting the Sílvia Pérez Cruz version of "Corrandes d'exili" but if you want it here it is. Also note that the statue of the Virgin in the poem is a reference to the Virgin of Montserrat, it literally all goes back to her shfjkshdf (also apologies for being very bad at Christianity and Catholicism, if I mistranslated things let me know)

HOO BOY SARDANA TIME

Okay so I have a whole essay to deliver on this that I've been holding inside for the past like two months or so, I apologize in advance for my excessive pedantry on the topic.

In Master and Commander, Stephen delivers this speech:

"‘Then I must tell you that on Sunday mornings it is the custom, in that country, for people of all ages and conditions to dance, on coming out of church: so I was dancing with Ramon Mateu i Cadafalch in the square before the cathedral church of Tarragona, where I had gone to hear the Palestrina Missa Brevis. The dance is a particular dance, a round called the sardana.’"

I hate to be a hater but it is very, very unlikely that anyone would have been dancing a sardana as far south as Tarragona in this time period. The sardana as the symbol of equality and brotherhood emerged in the Renaixença and would not yet have been a thing; Stephen could well have heard sardanas in Ullastret, but they would have been a more typical folk dance, and not anything like the way they're described in the book. It's very ironic, then, that they've become THE Catalan music style for Aubreyad readers, but hopefully this playlist can change that a bit :)

(also sorry for being a sardana-hater on main, someone bring me to dance a sardana and maybe I'll feel better)

Songs that didn't make the cut: La cançó del lladre, Rossinyol que vas a França, La balanguera, La gavina - I'm always happy for more recs!

Originally, this list was also going to include songs in Irish; I quickly realized that I was in over my head with that one, but the working list of songs is here (may be subject to changes so save songs elsewhere if you like them!). Also I would add "Fé Bhláth" by Imelda May and Kíla if it was on Spotify but alas it is not; and "Amhrán na Leabhar" which I have not had time to add but was kindly recommended by someone. I'd love it if someone was interested in actually doing a proper playlist for Irish though—it's a gap in my knowledge that I'd love to start filling.

Aaaaaaand that's a wrap. I hope. Final comment to say thank you to everyone who voted in the cover image poll, turns out you all won :) (Pirineus did win and take the cover of the liner notes though)

[jovalencia]

rip jo valencia you would have loved chappell roan

[dncinginthemccnlight]

Closed starter: Isolde and Joanna (@hcrexcellency)

The party was dizzying, a dazzling array of lights and sounds, a festival like had not been seen since the beginning of their time in France. Finally, it seemed like the mood had lifted. Still, as seemed to always be the case, the joy came at a cost and now the rulers of the Holy Roman Empire, those who had done so much damage, were free. Not only that, but there were rumors that Javier was planning to marry Valencia. Isolde pressed a hand to her forehead as she paced around her room, thoughts crashing through her brain like a torrential downpour, each thought like the incessant beating of the drops of rain against the stone of the castle at home. Trying to shake away the lump in her throat, she made her way to Joanna's room, knocking on the door before peeking inside.

"Jo?" she murmured, her voice hoarse. "I came to see you because I wanted to check on how you were after the party. I saw you dancing with Reuben and wanted to ask how everything went afterwards." If anyone might be able to cheer her, to pull her from her dreary mood, it was Jo.

[blakelysco-pilot]

being shocked that they eat something in a peculiar way (like the whole how to eat a kitkat debate)

or

getting annoyed when they decide to wash dishes right when the other gets in the shower, making their water cold unexpectedly

for whichever couple sparks your inspiration!

-lestweforget5

Thank you so much for the ask, friend! I combined both of your choices. I hope you like it!

Prompts from this list if you’d like to request one. My ask box is open💗

The smell of coffee was the first to rouse him from sleep. Blue eyes blinking away the cobwebs of his dreams, Rosie turned in bed ready to continue his morning with his wife in his arms, but found that Jo’s side of the bed was empty. The sheets pulled up neatly, he could only guess she had gone downstairs some time ago. With a heavy sigh, he let himself remain under the covers a few moments longer before the scent of the coffee became too alluring. Stuffing his feet into his slippers and pulling on his robe, he quickly padded from the bedroom, stopping only when he met Ev Blakely in the hallway.

“Rosie…”

“Ev,” Rosie nodded, peering behind him to see if his wife was in tow. “Val get up early too?”

“Explains the coffee.” He gestured down the stairs, letting Rosie go ahead of him.

The cottage that the two couples had rented in Martha’s Vineyard was bathed in sunlight as the men made their way downstairs. It had been Jo and Val’s idea, a getaway before the end of the summer to get out of the city. It hadn’t taken much persuading on the girls part to get their husbands to agree to a few days off. Still in the honeymoon phase, both men had gladly conceded to their wives request for a couples trip.

Entering the kitchen, they found both women wrapped up in their robes, hair still tied up in their scarves, puttering around. Jo was pouring coffee, watching toast on the griddle, and Val was in front of the stove moving something around in a frying pan.

“Look who’s up,” Val hadn’t even looked up from her task, “Good morning sleeping beauties.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” Blakely crossed the kitchen quickly, dropping a kiss to his wife’s lips, his eyes lighting up as he saw what she was cooking. “I’d gripe about you leaving me in bed, but you’re making eggs in purgatory!”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Absolutely,” He winked, gratefully accepting the coffee that Jo had poured for him. “Thanks, Jo.”

“Oh you’re welcome. I know I’m no Red Cross gal, but I hope it will suffice.”

Jo carried two mugs across to Rosie, who was still standing in the entrance to the kitchen, watching his wife and their friends start their day. She held hers in one hand, gently passing the other off to him with a smile and a good morning kiss.

“Missed you when I got up…” Rosie pouted, blue eyes twinkling in mischief.

“You were sound asleep, I couldn’t bear to wake you.”

“You’re forgiven,” He grinned. “You made me coffee.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet!” She winked, gently pinching his side before moving back to check on the toast.

“Sit down you two, breakfast is almost done.” Val peeked over her shoulder at them, gesturing to the two seats they had occupied the night before when they all sat down for dinner.

“What did you say she was making?” Rosie posed the question to Blakely over the top of his coffee cup, watching as the other man’s eyes lit up.

“Eggs in purgatory,” Rosie wasn’t sure, but he could almost see Blakely’s mouth watering. “I never had it until I met her mother, and it’s the best breakfast ever.”

“Eggs in…purgatory?!”

“It’s fried eggs in tomato sauce, with Parmesan cheese, some parsley, and a little red pepper.”

“Eggs in tomato sauce!?” Rosie looked between his two friends, Jo leaning over the table to place a basket filled with toast between the boys. “Val, not everything needs to be cooked in tomato sauce.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.” She grinned, bringing the frying pan over to the table and setting it on a trivet.

“And yes, it does,” Blakely immediately reached for the serving spoon, first dishing up to the girls before feeding himself and Rosie. “Come on, Rosie, live a little!”

“Eggs in tomato sauce…” Rosie shook his head with a laugh, picking up his fork. His wife and friends looked on as he took a tentative first bite.

“Honey?” Jo looked over at him, waiting for any kind of reaction.

“Pass me that toast, would ya, Blakely…” Was the only response around another mouthful of eggs.

____________________

“You girls go on, we’ll clean up breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” Jo looked at her husband skeptically, knowing that Rosie never voluntarily did the dishes unless his mother was in the room.

“Yes, go on,” He ushered her out of the kitchen with a kiss. “Least I can do after giving Val’s cooking the third degree.”

“Then why am I on dish duty too?” Ev looked at his friend from where he was pouring another cup of coffee for Val.

“Shut up,” Rosie rolled his eyes, watching as Blakely handed Val her coffee and sent her on her way. “Get a towel, you’re gonna dry these.”

“No wonder Pappy went home after you reupped. Bossy.” Ev grumbled, and both girls could be heard laughing as they climbed the stairs to their respective bedrooms to begin getting ready for the day.

Both men began shuffling plates and cups off the table and into the sink to soak, listening carefully for the sound of their respective bedroom doors closing after their wives. With the now empty frying pan on the counter, waiting to be scrubbed, Rosie turned to Everett who had dutifully picked up a dish towel.

“Does Val know?”

“About the vineyard and lunch?” Ev rolled his eyes as if to prove their secret was safe. “Not a thing.”

“Neither does Jo.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t suggest it, didn’t she come here with her parents as a kid?”

“Oh yea,” Rosie laughed, turning back towards the sink. “She hated it.”

“Then why…”

“Beats me,” Rosie shrugged. “But I was happy to pack up and get away for a few days.”

“You can say that again.” Ev sighed, rolling his shoulders.

“No, seriously. She caught me sleeping at the kitchen table last week, a case file under my head like a damn pillow.”

The men, both fully engrossed in their chatter, hadn't heard the showers upstairs turn on in their respective bedrooms. So when Rosie turned the sink on, and let the hot water run for a moment, it hadn’t occurred to him where that hot water was coming from.

“Alright pal, let’s get these dishes-“

“ROBERT!”

“EVERETT!”

“On second thought…”

“Yea, let’s uh, let’s just go…”

“Mhmm, right behind ya pal!”

[jossarisfoto]

Valencia | Ontdekking van Oceanogràfic en Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciències

Woensdag 15 juni 2016 | Valencia, een stad die de perfecte balans vindt tussen geschiedenis en moderniteit, biedt bezoekers een unieke ervaring die alle zintuigen prikkelt. Op een stralende woensdag 15 juni 2016 stond een bezoek aan een van Europa’s meest indrukwekkende aquaria op het programma: het Oceanogràfic. Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciències: Een Architectonisch Wonder Voordat we ons…

[cucullas]

- Mes, que diràn a Barcelona ? Ara bé. Sem a Barcelona o a Russilló ? El Barcelonès diu : jo parlo ; el Valencia diu : yo parle ; el Mallorqui diu : jo parl : el Russillonès diu : jo parli. Qui te ra-hó ? Jo pensi que tots quatre ne tenen, y que cum n'es d'aixo n'es d'allo. - Y donchs, també cairà escriure Canigu al lloc de Canigó ? Perqué no ? Canigu, qui vol dir : Montanya blanca, [...] y perqué convé an als fills del Monseny de pronunciar Canigó, ai xo vol pas dir que nosaltres, qui sem nascuts y qui vivim en Ia falda o al peu d'aqueixa montanya, siguem obligats de fer com ells. Qui sab millor que'ls fills mateixos del Canigú'l nom del gegant llur pare ?

Estève Caseponse (1850-1932) in the introduction of Contes Vallespirechs (1931) about why he doesn’t write “on the manner of Perpinyá” or “following the rules of Barcelona” when writing his Tales of the Vallespir. 

“- But what will be said in Barcelona? 

Now, are we in Barcelona or in the Rousillon? A Barcelonese says: jo parlo; a Valencian says: yo parle; a Mallorcan says: jo parl, and a man of the Rousillon says: jo parli. Who is right? I think the four of them are and that here and there things are different. 

- So, do we also have to write Canigu instand of Canigó?

Why not? Canigu means: White mountain and just because pronouncing Canigó suits the children of Monseny (mountain near Barcelona), that doesn’t mean that us, who were born and who live in its slope or at its foot have to do the same. Who knows better than the children of the Canigu themselves what is the name of the giant they call Father?”

[labrecha]

Sin Medalla Culmina Equipo Mixto de Tiro con Arco en JO

Sin Medalla Culmina Equipo Mixto de #TiroconArco en #JuegosOlímícos #París2024. #AlejandraValencia y #MatíasGrande

París / Agosto 2 de 2024.- La dupla mexicana, Alejandra Valencia y Matías Grande quedaron eliminados en cuartos de final por equipos mixtos de los Juegos Olímpicos, al caer ante los alemanes 1 a 5 puntos. Los mexicanos no pudieron refrendar el bronce que ganaron en Tokyo 2020 y ahora, en París 2024 fueron eliminados en cuartos de final. La dupla alemana conformada por Michelle Kroppen y Florian…

[winniemaywebber]

Ooh, 15 a lone silver earring for either?

hi friend! thanks so much for this. You've got the whole gang at Thorpe Abbotts in this one 🤭

(from this prompt list and my inbox is open for more!)

under the cut to save space <3

The return of Harry Crosby had been a big one - the gang welcoming him back with open arms from his furlough, with plenty of whiskey in celebration of his news: his beloved Jean was pregnant, his four companions cheering at the news. Once things had quietened down, the night had taken a turn. They'd sat in silence in the Officer's Club, Croz being the first to talk after a long sip of whiskey.

“So, nothing of Rosie?”

“Nothing, pal,” Dougie replied quietly, staring into his glass. “You know we'd have told you the moment–”

“I know,” Croz replies, accidentally cutting his friend off. Dougie shakes his head to show it didn't upset him, reaching down to take Olive’s hand.

“I've been writing to Jo. Weekly, as usual. It's hard, Croz. I barely know what to say.” They all see Val’s eyes fill with tears, a rare occurrence. “I'm trying to keep her spirits up but it's…it's tough.”

“I saw. I know she's grateful for you doing that, trying to help her through. She has Jean by her side and you in writing.”

“All of us,” Ev joins, beginning to raise his glass. “She has all of us, because all of us have each other now. A toast,” he pauses, clearing his throat before speaking again. “To Rosie. May he return to us in one damn piece.”

“To Rosie.”

***

“Ollie,” Dougie sleepily whispers, nuzzling into her to stay warm. “You've gotta go before Red catches you.”

“Mhm,” she responds, eyes still closed. “Quit snuggling so I can even think about getting up.”

“I can't seem to stop,” he laughs. “You're stuck here.”

“Good to know you'd take being chewed out by Red and the Colonel just for extra snuggle time.”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.”

“Hey, Ol?” a voice calls from the other side of the hut.

“Yeah, Val?”

“There's a silver earring on Croz’s nightstand.”

“What's wrong with that?” Olive asks, finally sitting up. “You don't think–”

“I do think! He's been back in the country for less than a week, his wife is pregnant and he's…”

“You really think he'd start all that again after being with his wife for a month?”

“He's a man, Olive.”

“Hey!” both their men complain simultaneously, Dougie placing a hand on his chest in mock angst. “Ouch!”

“She's not wrong, James.”

“Look, are either of you sure it isn't yours? You could've left it here by mistake one of the times you've been in here.”

“Doug, I wouldn't wear this,” Val says, having made her way to its location and picking it up.

“Right. And I only wear gold so it sure as hell isn't mine.”

“Do you really only wear gold?” Dougie asks, his eyebrows stitched together in confusion.

“Be so for real right now, honey. How have you never noticed that?”

“I, errrm…anyway, this earring.”

“Good job you're cute,” Olive murmurs, pinching his cheek.

The group all join Val at the nightstand, all beginning to squabble.

“Maude, you sure it isn't yours?” Ev yawns, scratching at his head as he stretches.

“Everett Ernest, I answered that question a few minutes ago if you'd open your darn ears!” Olive lightly swings at him, the back of her hand making contact with the side of his head as they break into what can only be described as siblings play fighting, slapping gently at one another.

“What on Earth is going on in here, kids?” Harry Crosby saunters in, the remains of his scrambled egg on his mouth in a spot he'd missed when wiping, his voice breaking through the childlike arguments. “Been practicing my dad voice. Getting pretty good, huh?”

“Harry Crosby!” Valencia yells, pointing her freshly manicured nail at him. She turns, picking up the earring and holds it out in front of her. “What is this? You've been back not even a week!”

“Yeah, Croz. That's just not good, pal.”

“What are you all talking about?” Croz asks, hands on his hips as he tries to answer Dougie's remark. “The earring?”

“Yeah!” Olive says, taking it from Val and placing it in his hand. “Val saw it. If you're pissing about again, Harry…”

“Good God, no! I ended all that before I left. The earring,” he says, closing his hand around it as his face softens, “is Jean’s. It got caught up in one of my undershirts and I packed it by mistake.”

“Oh!” They group say, the relief palpable. “So, it's not–”

“No! Like I said, it's over. Jean knows. I know where I belong, too.”

“Aw, Croz,” Dougie says, patting his friend on the shoulder. “That's sweet, pal.”

“Yeah. Her earring is on my nightstand so it feels like I'm at home. She leaves everything everywhere. Gives me a little comfort while we wait for all this to be over.”

Olive pushes through the others to get to Croz, and hugs him tightly. “Glad to have you back, mate.”

“Glad to be back.”

He turns to Dougie, and nods in his direction. “Come on, bud. We've got a phone call waiting for us.”