#lestweforget5

[mercurygray]

For the build-a-fic prompt list: can I request 6, Q, 𓆉/𓅨 for Fred or 12, B, 𓃓 for Cordelia, please? Thank you!

--lestweforget5

Thanks for the prompt @lestweforget5! I've had this idea in my head for a while regarding the Shot Down AU, which you can read the first part of here. I just needed a little nudge (and a day off) to get it down on paper.

12: “try and eat, if you can. it’ll make you feel better.” B: grief 𓃓 : at work, far later than you should be

Trigger warnings: A non-graphic conversation discussing a (possible) sexual assault.

If she was younger, she'd have tried to hide under this blanket they'd given her, if she could. But hiding wasn't going to help much here, even if the fear was just the same as when you were five. Worse, even. She knew how bad it was - and she had a pretty good idea of how much worse it could get.

Cord pulled the wool closer around her shoulders, still trying to take everything in. The last week had been a bit of a blur, too many split second decisions and faces and changes of scenery and none of it anything that made sense. And finally a leather chair in a nicely appointed office, and a well-turned out officer with beautifully combed hair, offering her a cigarette and asking, with a smile, the same question everyone kept asking every single time they saw her - what is a nice American girl like you doing here?

Here - a field near the Weser river, a police station, with a sergeant making urgent calls to his superiors, wondering what to do, the polished office of the Luftwaffe adjutant, being presented a beautiful open silver cigarette case, a prisoner of war camp for downed American airmen. And everywhere she went, everyone staring in a way she could never hope to hide from.

The car had dropped her at the front gate, one of the guards opening the door for her like this was a state dinner and not a stalag. (The officer in the front seat was still smiling. She was going to hate that smile forever.)

A familiar voice from along the fence. "Callaway? Cord Callaway? Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing here?"

She hadn't known whether to collapse or cry. One familiar thing was all she needed, even if it wasn't the familiar thing she longed for. (It had been silly, to think he'd be here. It was a big war.) "Same thing as you, Crank."

Some wiseass along the fence line straightened up. "Is that a girl?"

"Christ almighty." Crank read the crowd and quickly grabbed her arm, quickly throwing his hat over her head. "Let's get you out of here."

Here - a small bunk room with an unfinished wooden table, several benches, and a small stove giving off very little heat, surrounded by men she had, until an hour ago, only been able to hope she'd see again. The curtains were drawn and Benny DeMarco was fussing with a pot of water on the stove trying to make a cup of tea and everyone was silently shuffling around trying to take up as little space as possible.

Everyone except Bucky, anyway.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting, or if she'd even been expecting anything at all. But he'd come breezing in asking about new arrivals, his temple swollen and purple, stopped cold when he saw her, and then turned on his heel and walked straight back out. The last time she'd seen him had been in a hotel room in Knightsbridge, naked and smiling at her across a pair of very flat pillows, begging one last kiss, joking that it should have been him that was leaving for work, that he'd find something to do with himself until she came back, that his train was a late one and they'd have time for dinner.

They didn't have time for dinner. After work had never come - only a note about something coming up, and an earlier train, and now, again, she had so many questions. Why did you leave why didn't you stay what happened to your face Bucky what have they done to you does it hurt why won't you speak to me look at me stay with me where are you going God what have I done.

Another group of faces appeared in the door, and Cord stood up on instinct, seeing the silver eagle on a garrison cap and the way the others followed him into the room, her arm snapping just so.

"At ease." He almost looked impressed. "I'm Colonel Clark - I'm the ranking officer here. I'm here to welcome you to Stalag Luft Three."

"Lieutenant Cordelia Callaway, sir."

Clark nodded and looked around at the others. "Usually we get a little bit more advance notice when there are new arrivals expected, but I think given the circumstances they may have wanted a surprise. I think these gentlemen all know that usually you'd start in the leadership block for processing."

"I thought it'd be better to get her straight inside, sir," Crank said, standing up. "Before the others started something."

Colonel Clark nodded. "Probably wise. I understand you all know each other."

"That's right, sir." That was Gale. "She's one of our traffic control officers, back at home."

"That may be, but it doesn't explain what she was doing on a plane." Clark's patience sounded thin.

"She was a pilot before the war, sir, a derby - "

"-And is she going to speak for herself at some point here, or are you gentlemen just going to keep talking for her? I assume she has her own voice." Clark fixed Cordelia with a clear-eyed gaze, and when he spoke again, directly to her this time, his voice was softer. "I seem to recall there was a Callaway at Wright Patterson for some time. An engineer in their advanced aeronautics research division. Had a daughter who also flew some speed tests."

"That was me, sir. Wilson Callaway is my father."

"They're not stupid, so I assume they asked you about all that already."

Cord swallowed, remembering the long, long wait in the cell, the whispers outside the door. You're not on any of the flight rosters for the plane you were found with, Miss Callaway. How are we to know you are not a spy? There is an article in the Dayton paper about a Cordelia Callaway joining up, and how her father is proud. I am to assume this is you. We are aware of Wilson Callaway's work on alloys - his latest paper was a triumph. A shame it could not be published as it should have been in the better scientific journals. I wonder what kind of father lets his daughter do such dangerous work. But then girls are more expendable than boys.

"Yes, sir." She could feel the temperature in the room drop the same way it dropped when someone talked about classified intelligence sources or Norden bombsights. "I …haven't been involved in my father's research for a while now. Anything I know is old news."

"Do you want to tell me what you were thinking assigning yourself to a gunner position on a bombing run when the official policy is that women don't fly combat missions?"

"I wasn't, sir." The truth, cold and real. "Thinking. And I wasn't tail gunning." That was true, too, and it felt important that he know that. The Germans hadn't been interested in that. "I was front seat. A man was sick and got sent in, and Jacobs didn't want to fly with the guy they were going to send instead. And I wanted to do something, sir." Her voice hitched. "Ten days ago, all my friends were dead."

Clark nodded. "Did anyone touch you during interrogation? Sexually advance or assault you in any way?"

"Jesus, Colonel." Demarco's voice was biting.

"I have to ask so it can be reported to the proper authorities, Captain, " Clark shot back, "And I need to be direct. If something has happened the Red Cross and the Army will want to know." His voice came back down a level. "Please answer the question, Lieutenant."

Everyone was still staring, but no one knew where to look. Cord swallowed and looked the senior officer square in the eye. "No one touched me, Colonel, or assaulted me." A couple of them touched themselves, but not me. I don't speak German but I know what a dirty joke sounds like. And I think by now I know the word for whore. "The worst they did directly is to not address me by my rank, even though I was wearing insignia. And they talked about taking away my uniform, but decided against it. I think it was too much work to find me a skirt."

"They don't think much of women in trousers here," Clark allowed. "Well, I don't have to tell you you've put us in one hell of a position, Lieutenant. There isn't a procedure for this, or accommodation. The Army might have gotten facilities for you but what I have here I have to share among a thousand men. There is no privacy, no guarantee of safety, and no locked doors. When they left you at that gate they made their position on the subject pretty clear - they don't care."

"We've got her, sir." Gale's voice was all calm waters. How did he do that so well?

Clark nodded and glanced around the room. "I'll have a runner come back later to fill out a card for the Red Cross, so your father will be notified. And we'll get you a cup, utensils, see what we can do about some warmer clothes. The others can fill you in on food and sleeping arrangements and the latrine rotation."

He and his group left, and the room seemed to sigh. Cord still didn't want to look at anyone, the question itself still invasive, vulnerable. Did anyone touch you? Were you assaulted?

"Someone say there was a baseball game later?" DeMarco's voice sounded too bright, and the others were too quick to join him, almost the entire room shuffling back outside until it was just her and one other person. (They had been exchanging glances, above her head, a silent consensus that she needed to be alone.) A hunk of what might have been bread appeared at her elbow, grayish-brown and uninviting. "Eat something," Gale suggested, once the room was empty. "You'll feel better. They do that to everyone who comes in."

"Ask about being raped?"

"Well, that …is a new one," Gale allowed. Cord was all tension and coil, angry, frightened, still trying to fight and also to hide. I'm an officer and I know how this works, Gale. I listened to Red's lectures even when I knew I wouldn't need them. I know I'm supposed to be able to tell the Colonel the last disposition of the war in England. I know I'm supposed to have news, that he's supposed to ask me if I learned anything while I was outside, if I had any papers with me, if they learned anything from what I said. But he hardly asked me anything.

And the man who said he loved me didn't ask me anything at all. Maybe he'd forgotten that, the way he'd whispered into her hair as she was falling asleep- I love you so much. But she hadn't forgotten. Hell, it was half the reason she was here. "Gale, what happened to Bucky?"

He took a breath. "I'll let him tell you," he said, as casual as he could be. "There's some tea, here, if you -"

"He's not going to tell me, he wouldn't even look at me." Wouldn't even stay in the same damn room.

The pilot sighed. "Give him time, Cord. It's…a lot to take in. It'll take a few days. Right now he's…angry."

"Angry at me."

"He was angry when he got here," Gale assured her. "He's angry at himself. He's good at that - you know that." He glanced at the stove, moved the kettle off to the side. "We'll make it work, Cord. You know we will. Now eat that, and when you're done eating I'll… give you a tour."

When they returned from their walk the room had changed - games put away and plates out on the table for dinner. At one place there was a knitted cap, laid out carefully, like a talisman. "Bucky thought you could use that," Frank offered, glancing over the top of his book. "Until we can cut your hair, anyway. Said you could have his bunk, too - 'cause it's got a view of the door."

Cord traced the lines of the knitting, and glanced over at the bunk she'd been told earlier was Bucky's, the wooden frame just those few precious inches longer than the rest. The blanket she'd been using earlier was already there, neatly folded. The man himself, of course, was nowhere in sight. How small the world gets - a knitted hat, a hotel bed. Why do you think I got into that plane, Bucky? It was the only way I could say I love you back.

[sagesolsticewrites]

Can I request ⁶⁾ sour lemon candies for whichever of your girls sparks joy today?

--lestweforget5

(Also, I accidentally unfollowed you momentarily trying to hit the ask button, which is why my main will be showing in your notifications as a new follower. Sigh ... I really wish Tumblr would change the order of buttons...)

Thank you so much for the request darling! Decided this one worked really well for my Jules 🥰

from this prompt list! inbox is open if y’all would like to request any!

It was the fourth blissful day of their honeymoon, and after spending the previous days sequestered in their little lakeside cabin making the most of their privacy, the newlywed Bradys had finally ventured out into town.

It was a tiny place, really nothing more than one main avenue lined with little shops and boutiques, but Juliet was sure nothing could be better than walking arm in arm down a sunny street with her husband, matching gold bands sparkling on their left hands.

She beams as they pass a little candy shop, and John follows her inside without a moment’s hesitation. It’s a tiny, sweet place, brightly colored ribbon candies and delicate chocolates displayed on trays around the shop. Her hand slips from John’s as she moves to inspect a tray of caramels, making small talk with one of the employees standing with a smile behind the counter— a kind-looking lady just a bit older than her mother, who gives her a knowing smile as she mentions they’re on their honeymoon.

“Well, it looks like you’ve picked a good one,” she smiles, nodding to something over her shoulder.

Juliet turns to see John waking over with a bright smile, a small bag of yellow candies clutched in his hand.

“What’s that?” She laughs, accepting the cellophane-wrapped candies as the bag is placed in her hand.

“Just try one.”

With a wry smile, she picks one out, popping the bright yellow treat into her mouth.

“Oh!” She laughs, mouth puckering as the tartness hits. It fades quickly though, leaving a sweet, citrusy tang for her to enjoy.

“It’s—”

“Lemon,” her husband smiles.

Lemon like her mother’s lemon cake, the one she’d beg for every birthday. The same lemon cake they’d had at their reception, decorated with thick cream frosting. She’d tasted it on him each time they had kissed during the party, a tart sweetness dancing on his tongue.

“Thank you, Johnny,” she smiles, “They’re wonderful.”

His reply of “Not as wonderful as you,” has her blushing happily as they leave the store, fingers intertwined.

“Do you want one?” She asks, holding the candies out for him to take before she grabs another for herself.

“I’m alright, honey,” he grins, a gleam in his bright blue eyes. Before she can ask what he’s up to, he dips to capture her lips in a deep kiss, tongue sweeping briefly into her mouth before he pulls away, taking her breath with him.

“They do taste very good though,” he winks, and heat flares in her cheeks as she tries to catch her breath, unable to fight the smile growing on her face.

She gives his hand a squeeze as they begin walking again, and she fights down the butterflies fluttering to life in her belly as she murmurs softly,

“I think I’ve had enough sightseeing for one day, Johnny.”

He catches her meaning instantly, and soon enough they’re both racing back to the car, sun on her face, sweet lemon on her tongue, and John Brady’s hand in hers.

[blakelysco-pilot]

From the oc ask list, can I please ask for

#7 favorite animal? why?

#25 how good/bad is their hearing? what about their eyesight?

#32 do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?

Thank you!

--lestweforget5

Hi friend! Thank you for these- I always love seeing you in my ask box! oc asks 💗 inbox is still open for more

favorite animal? why?

I think it's fairly obvious that Val's favorite animal is Meatball lol. He's more than just Demarco's dog when he arrives at Thorpe Abbotts, and especially after Benny goes down, Meatball becomes a sort of therapy dog for the girls. It doesn't hurt that he enjoys sleepovers in the Red Cross hut more than sleepovers with the boys in the Officers Hut and not just because Val paints his nails Victory Red and calls him the goodest boy (when he's not chewing on Helen's pantyhose).

I had never thought of Jo as much of a pet/animal person, but there is a moment when she considers a dog as practice before her and Rosie have children after the war. She insists he needs practice in taking care of another living thing, and they can't keep borrowing their friends kids for this, so, she suggests a dog.

how good/bad is their hearing? what about their eyesight?

If it wasn't already obvious, neither Jo nor Val misses a beat. Especially when it comes to Ev and Rosie lol. They know all.

do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?

Val is very superstitions- we see it with the red bracelets she gifts the boys before their mission to Norway (there will be more of that coming soon) but her biggest habit is that she cleans- repeatedly- when nervous. Until Ev is back on the ground she will scrub the same spot on the counter ten times out of sheer need to keep her mind and hands occupied. This carries on after the war is over, which is something Ev will try, in vain, to break her of now that they're both home and safe.

Jo smokes when she's stressed. She was never a smoker until the war started, and it takes a lot to get her to smoke at all, which we saw when she snagged Pappy's cigarette from him in the last chapter of Love Letters and he says that Rosie would balk at her if he was here (it's hers and Pappy's secret, he won't tell). And he doesn't tell- it's during a particularly rough patch after the war, with their fixer upper home, that he finds her smoking, but more on that later.

[winniemaywebber]

For the WIP guessing game, can I ask for "bracelet" and "sun"?

I'm looking forward to the next chapter of Honeysuckle Rose!

--lestweforget5

hi my friend! unfortunately I don't have either of those yet 🥺 but have a little snippet nonetheless!

Val watches Olive wince again as she takes another pull of the cigarette before tapping the ash into an ashtray she’d set out in front of her upon the oak desk. “Why must you do that, Ol? You smoke too!” “Do what?” She asks, confused. “Look at me like that when I smoke in the office - Chicky smokes like a chimney in here too! And in the bar.” “Oh…OH!” Olive realizes, shaking her head. “I’m still not used to seeing people smoke indoors, is all.” “Explain.” “Well, where I’m from, they banned it some years ago–” “Smoking?!” Val interjects before Olive can finish her thought. “Gosh, no,” Olive replies. “Smoking indoors.” “I’d lose my mind, doll.”

[itstheheebiejeebies]

Our Baby In E1 and E4

Biddick's Wild Cargo In E2

No name on Blakely's plane here (it's the Just-a-Snappin') but it has bombs painted on just below his window In E2

Alice From Dallas in E3

I Can't quite make this one out E3 and E4 (Likely Mugwump, ID by @lestweforget5 )

Brady's Unnamed Plane in E5 (meant to be M'lle Zig Zig)

Rosie's Riveters In E6 and E7

Aw-R-Go in E5

Royal Flush in E5

"She's Gonna" in E5

Unnamed Plane in E7

Unnamed Plane in E8

Margo in E8

Mike in E9

Unnamed Plane in E9

Hundred Proof in E9

If you would like to be tagged when I post them or have a scene or character you’d like to see screencaps of send me an ask. If you use them you don’t have to credit me but it would be nice if you could tag me so I can see what you did with them. all of my edits and screencaps can be found here

Full MotA Episode caps can be found here

Taglist: @bcofl0ve @montied @impalachick

@flashnthunder you were asking for stuff with nose art

[wexhappyxfew]

From Prompt List #3, can I please request [ TO THE THREAT ]: " is there a problem over here? " for Judy and Rosie OR [ TO THE THREAT ]: " right, either you leave or i kick you out. your choice" for Carrie and Douglass?

Thank you! I always enjoy reading your Silver Bullets stories!

-lestweforget5

HI AND HELLO MY FRIEND @lestweforget5 !!!!!!!!! thank you SO MUCH for sending this in!!! and thank you so so much for the love for Silver Bullets! they are truly my pride and joy to write and knowing they were just as enjoyed just makes me <333333 for this, i decided to write the carrie x dougie piece and prompt because someone requested the judy x rosie piece with the SAME prompt and so that will be coming out eventually!!! i wanted to write it either way and so i was very happy sent that in, too! be on the lookout for that soon! ANYWAY! please enjoy this carrie x dougie piece that cracked open the energy of carrie of being the eldest sibling + daughter, overachiever, stubborn, and emotionally bottled-up person she is <3 carrie achterberg you will always be famous (and loved)!!!

it's in the jar

(a/n): carrie achterberg, forever my stubborn, sweet pea who just wants to be cared for and loved! please enjoy this piece that focuses in a bit more on carrie and her character, alongside james douglass who clearly and evidently cares for carrie achterberg more than anything :) carrie x dougie u will always be famous! plz enjoy! and thank you again! <333

"And if you'da seen it," Carrie whispered to herself, her mind suddenly a hundred miles up in the sky, Silver Bullets swinging side to side, bullets and ammo ricocheting off the side, smearing up through the bitter cold against the metal, "you would've thought that I'da been dead." Carrie threw a small pebble, hearing the quick pattering sound it made into the jar she had placed at the base of the chair where she sat when she was Bombardier; Lieutenant Achterberg.

Now, instead, she was just Carrie.

"Then," Carrie whispered quietly, aiming the next small pebble in her hand carefully, "Krauts going right by. Boom, boom, BOOM. One after the next. Never did I see my life flash faster than I did in those 10 seconds." She aimed and watched as the pebble landed again in the jar.

That's what you get training to shoot and score with nothing but a Norden bombsight for months.

"10 seconds," Carrie whispered, holding up the next pebble, "all it took for Margie Harlowe to take the hit, knocked unconscious." The screams filled her mind as she sat there frozen, pebble in hand, her voice echoing off the walls of the inside of the nose of Silver Bullets like a paralyzing echo, a hollow one.

A shiver ran down her spine as she sat there, before aiming and harshly smacking the pebble into the jar, the patter-patter of the pebble making its way inside. Carrie picked up another, the texture smooth between her fingers as she adjusted and took aim.

"She's in the Med-Bay, unconscious," Carrie whispered, trying to maintain composure of herself, "almost reminded me of Birdie Faulkner. Almost." Almost, Carrie thought quietly. Except Margie's alive, Birdie's not. She aimed, fired and BOOM. The pebble was inside the jar again.

"But we were still in the air, ya know? Even with Margie hit above, knocked flat-out unconscious, we still had a mission to complete. The bullet sprays - like a sheet of ice hitting fire. Splaying out across the wide berth of Silver Bullets," Carrie said quietly, holding up another pebble, "you'da thought that we were going to di-"

"You thought what?" Carrie froze, whipping her head around, eyes narrowed, ablaze with light to find James Douglass there. She anxiously thumbed the pebble in between her fingers before clenching her jaw, turning and launching the pebble, which sailed right inside the jar. Then she glanced back at Dougie.

"What are you doing here?"

"This where you hide out after missions?" he asked her, ignoring her obvious question she had posed in the first place.

"Hide out?" she managed out with a scoff, turning in her crossed-legged form to pick up another pebble, "I don't hide out. I escape the chatter, Dougie. The noise, if you will." She glanced over her shoulder, glanced at him up and down, hands on his hips, smirk on his face, eyes softly staring at her own. A right sight if you were to ask her.

"How the hell did you know I was here?"

"Carlisle." Carrie raised a brow and Dougie chuckled.

Oh Bessie Carlisle, what the hell.

"Oh." Carrie said quietly, picking up another pebble and launching it forward, watching it knock inside the jar with a clink. The air was tense, almost like Dougie expected her to say something - but she didn't want to say anything. Trying to calm down from that was already enough. She didn't have any reason to perturb Dougie. Not like she tried to in the first place anyway.

Carrie slowly glanced back over her shoulder. Dougie was still standing there, quiet look on his face, like processing her words wasn't enough. Like he had to find out more. She didn't want him to find out more.

"Uh….something you need?" she asked awkwardly, feeling bad at the flash of guilt in his gaze, "Help with something or…..to talk-"

"No." Dougie said with a shake of the head and a nod, "Just…..wondering what you were up to."

"Yeah." Carrie said, her mood dimming as she sat there, equally remembering what she was doing, too. The screams, the blank stares, the blood. Carrie blinked. She looked at him again.

"Also was wondering if you wanted to come hang with some of the guys. Get your mind off Harlowe for a minute and well….outta this bucket of bolts." Carrie's lip quirked upwards the slightest bit. Inclusion was one of the things that would warm her heart every time, someone realizing that obviously she wasn't okay, but wanting to make the effort to make sure she was okay or could get her half-way there.

"I'm afraid I won't be much fun tonight, Dougie, but," Carrie offered a slight smile and a nod, "I appreciate the offer." Dougie put on a smile and nodded before sticking his hands in his pockets and nodding at her.

"It's all good, I get it," he said quietly, "shit like that sticks with you." Carrie nodded. It fell quiet and suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be consumed by the silence herself. She cleared her throat.

"Right," Carrie said quietly, eyeing him up and down there in the doorway to the nose of the plane, "well, either you leave or I kick you out." She met his gaze before turning it back towards the nose. "Your choice." Dougie let out a low whistle.

"My choice, huh?" he said, slowly making his way into the nose of the plane, knocking gentle on the metal bolts inside of her that Ken had screwed in that one time before a mission, "What are friends for then?" Carrie sent him a look, before slowly turning her head forward again.

"Care to explain the whole jar thing?" Carrie glanced at him quickly again. "And why you're alone in here?" Carrie fell quiet for a few moments, considering his words and her own thoughts. She let out a quiet sigh, thumbing the pebble over in between her fingers again.

"Well," Carrie started, "usually I get through about 10 pebbles before I realize I can process what happened. Each pebble that goes by, I talk about something that happened, something that jumped out at me. Margie's injury, for example. I speak about it. Let myself hear it, see it. Then, I throw the pebble away. Into the jar. And I don't take it out… ever. And then that memory is gone. Shoved away in a jar, covered by all those pebbles, all those memories. All gone."

There was something in Dougie's eye as he looked to her and she suddenly felt much more self-conscious then ever under his gaze. Her cheeks warmed and she brushed a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear before looking at him.

"Don't act like it's a dumb way to cope, I know how fast liquor and beer seem to disappear around here." she said quietly. But Dougie let out a quiet chuckle and for once there was no jeer, or teasing comment or anything of the sort. Just an acknowledgment, a chuckle, a nod and a look.

"And it seems to work?" Dougie asked her and she glanced over her shoulder at him and nodded. She watched as he took in her words and stepped closer, before settling down on the metal ground beside her, criss-crossed, their upbent knees nearly touching as he sat there next to her. He looked at her and she offered him a quiet, reserved look.

Carrie figured she had to look a sight. After interrogation, she hadn't gone anywhere except straight back to Silver Bullets, hiding up in the nose of the plane to try and forget. Her B3 looked nearly charred in a few places, her blonde hair greasy, possibly tangled and in a poor looking bun, smoke and grease stains on her face, near her eyes and along her forehead - her entire body ached, with exhaustion and hunger - and her mind hurt to even conjure a coherent thought. She sighed.

"It's hard," Carrie said quietly, watching as she tossed the pebble forward, hearing it clatter into the jar, "watching Margie like that. Seeing the other girl's faces. It sucked." Carrie sent another pebble forward, the clank satisfying enough for her to breathe. She looked at Dougie, who watched quietly - rather invested at that.

"Yeah," Dougie said softly, looking down and glancing at the jar set beneath her chair, "no one wants to talk about it either. But it hurts everyone. Ya know?" Carrie stiffly nodded before glancing over at him.

"Here," she said, offering him a pebble, "have a go." He watched her as she offered him a small smile. "You are a bombardier after all. Helps to have some aim." Dougie grinned at her words and looked at the jar. He aimed it for a moment, staring at the jar intensely before glancing over at her.

"I thought we were going to die up there today." he said quietly, before aiming the pebble again, more confidently and letting it sail into the jar a clink following. Carrie watched him for a moment, his eyes staring off forward towards the jar in a distant way she couldn't describe. And she felt her heart sag a bit at the sight. She felt bad. Instead, she picked up a pebble, quickly took aim and launched it forward.

"Me too." she said as a tiny clink followed. She glanced over as Dougie met her gaze and offered a small smile his way. He managed a small one back. For a second, they just watched one another's eyes - and Dougie did have a tender enough gaze to make the ice melt it seemed. Carrie let a small laugh escape past her lips as she looked away and down at the pile of stones at her feet.

"What?" she heard Dougie ask with a small chuckle as she picked up a few stones, wordlessly handing him a few before holding a few herself.

"A few of the stones in various jars were because of you." she said with a smirk, glancing his way, watching as awe seemed to fall upon his features. And she couldn't help but laugh a bit more."Don't act so surprised, Dougie, there were plenty of reasons to throw some pebbles in the jar," she said sending him a grin, "be lucky you never have to hear 'em."

"I never get to hear them? Oh, c'mon, Bergie, give me a laugh," he said, "what could I have said to earn a pebble in the jar?" Carrie raised a brow.

"Please tell me you're joking." she said.

"What?"

"Exhibit A," Carrie said, taking a pebble, making quite the show of holding it up in front of her before taking aim at the jar, "today Dougie sat beside and man, you should've seen his face when I told him a few of the reasons some pebbles are in the jar are because of him. I told, you must be joking and he just proceeded to stare." Then, she took aim and let the pebble sail into the jar, a tiny clink following.

Then, she looked over at Dougie, whose face was a mixture of something she couldn't quite make out - surprise, awe, maybe slightly dazed? Carrie chuckled as she uncurled her legs from their stiff, crisscross position and stood to her feet, removing the tiny pebble and turning to him.

"Wanna have another go?" she asked him, looking down at him as the setting sunbathed the front of his face in a honey-gold, shining through the nose of Silver Bullets in quite a glorious way, "Feel free to have a go at whatever you want." Dougie watched her.

"Why the hell you remove the pebble?" he asked her, smiling a bit, "Thought that sorta stuff went in the jar and never came out. Ya know, things you wanted to forget." Carrie smirked and shook her head.

"Nah, I don't want to forget that." she said laughing at the slightly surprised face he wore as she settled down next to him again, bumping her knee against his own, before turning to him, "Seriously, even if it's something stupid, it relieves some stress. It could be anything." Dougie just watched her and she took the moment to reach forward, uncurl his hand and put the pebble in his palm. Then, she nodded.

"Have at it." she said, quirking out a grin. Dougie watched her for a moment before looking towards the jar.

The silence, accompanied by their breathing, filled with tiny front nose of Silver Bullets, and it was enough to possibly have driven her crazy - but there was something comforting about sitting here, beside Dougie, in the silence. In what was to be after a day like that. He took aim and then let out a breath.

"Hearing Silver Bullets got hit scared the shit outta me." he said quietly and Carrie's smile slowly fell - she could feel the corners of her lips slowly drop, her heart beginning to pound faster, and her palms growing sweaty. Suddenly, sitting next to Dougie made her eyes water.

"Blakely had come running, threw open the doors, mentioned something or other about a plane being hit pretty badly, some wounded on board and that it was Silver Bullets. Couldn't help the fact that my mind went to the worst." Dougie said quietly, licking his lips before adjusting his shoulders and looking at the jar again, "Thought she was dead."

And with that, he launched the pebble forward and it landed perfectly inside the jar.

Then, it was silent.

This was the first time in ages where she was sat with Dougie and it was dead silent.

Slowly, Carrie pulled her eyes from the jar and glanced over at Dougie who sat there, jaw clenched, fists balled at the curves of his knees.

"Dougie-"

"It's in the jar." Dougie said, pushing himself rather suddenly to his feet and wiping off his pants, "Just….glad everyone else is okay." Carrie looked up at him, watching as he adjusted his crusher cap to his head and then grabbed the white scarf he'd placed by Bessie's navigator chair.

"Wait. Dougie, wait-" Carrie said, pulling herself to her feet as he wrapped the scarf around, "I…..I thought…."

"We didn't know who had gotten hit, just that someone was wounded," Dougie said, glancing her way, "so hearing it was Margie, it was a lot. That's all. Especially after Faulkner. That shit stays with you." Then, Dougie fixed his cap and looked at her deeply.

"I thought it was you." he said, and then turned and jumped down right out of the plane. Carrie stood still, completely frozen for a moment, before shaking her head.

No, no, no.

He didn't get to just leave while saying that. To her. Carrie grabbed her crusher cap, shoving it on her head and jumped down out of the plane, feet landing on the tarmac. The wind had picked up since she had holed up inside the plane nose.

Turning her head, she watched Dougie walking away back towards the nissen huts and stood up, righting herself before hurrying after him.

"Dougie!" she called after him, "Dougie!" He didn't stop at her words and with the flurry of emotion in her body right now, everything inside her wanted to scream at him to stop and turn around and look at her. But that small child inside of her told he'd walk away. Everyone always walked away. Her eyes welled with tears that she tried to blink away.

"James!" she yelled and it seemed that caused him to stop, back straightening as he turned towards her, face set as he looked at her - where she was rapidly approaching him, casting her to gaze upwards at him as she stopped in front of him.

Breathing a bit heavier than she had wanted, she looked at him, his eyes narrowed, gaze darkened and anxiety swirling. She sucked in a breath.

"What the hell was that?" she managed out, watching him intently, trying to untangle and undo him in anyway, "You thought-"

"It's in the jar." Dougie said again, firmer this time, "It's over."

"No." Carrie said quickly, hanging onto every word from that second in the nose of Silver Bullets, "You thought…it was me? Why?" Her words were left out in the open, lingering in the air between them, the question unwrapped, awaiting an answer.

Dougie just watched her, his eyes searching hers as they flicked back and forth in her gaze, his head tilted, that crusher cap crooked on top his head again.

James Douglass had never openly voiced any sort of emotion towards her that didn't start with a joke and end with a smirk. And to be fair, neither had she. She had never thought of anything more than what their bickering and teasing was - something good natured, something to get you through the war. Carrie blinked.

"Dougie…." she started quietly, but instead he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her fully.

"Can I ask you something?" he said quietly, catching her completely off-guard. Carrie watched him, her heart continuing to pound - Dougie's eyes continuing to watch her - and she nodded.

"What is it?"

"Do you think I don't care about you?"

Now it was her turn to be silent.

Carrie stared at him.

Something inside of her wanted to cry.

"I…" Carrie started quietly, her throat choking up as she shut her mouth and cleared her throat, "I'm not…." She couldn't get her words out. Between him staring at her like that, her mind playing tricks on her, and her thoughts running wild, she couldn't even get herself to speak. He watched her as she cleared her throat.

"Not like that." she managed out, looking up at him as her eyes watered, letting out a shaky breath. There was so much said in the unsaid and with each passing second, the more her emotions were taking hold of her.

She thought of Margie in that moment - not only a crew member, and someone who had been there from the beginning, but a friend. Someone who was like a sister. Almost and nearly dead.

She thought of Birdie Faulkner, who had gotten this whole crew together in the first place - the whole reason she was here now - who was now dead and gone.

She thought of her family - back home in New York - her parents constantly gone, her siblings constantly asking for her, the long nights spent studying late at night, making up for lost time during the day. The times she had to skip school, get out of work early just to help her siblings - all the mouths that needed to be fed, the time that needed to be spent with to make sure they wouldn't end up like her, like Carrie.

How much she had put out and no one had cared.

Until she came to the Silver Bullets crew.

Until she'd been with other women who had felt pain just like she had.

Carrie's eyes welled with tears and she couldn't help but feel her chin shake and her lip wobble as Dougie watched her. She let out a weak whimper before sniffling and putting down her head to shake away the emotion.

"I'm sorry." she managed out, voice high-pitched.

"You don't have to apologize for anything." Dougie said quietly as she shook her head.

"I shouldn't be crying like this-"

"It's okay, Carrie."

"I'm sorry-"

"Carrie." Dougie said quietly, looking down at her with a tender look, "You don't have to say sorry." She looked at him, a few stray tears crawling down her cheeks as she nodded.

"Here." Dougie said, pulling the white scarf from his neck and handing it to her as she wiped at her eyes.

"Thanks." she managed out, sniffling as she took in the soft scent of the scarf - God, it smelled like him. So much like him. Even if he was standing right here. Him, that cologne he always wore - him.

"I'm serious though." Dougie said, nodding, before chuckling slightly - whether it was his nerves or how close they were standing, "I thought it was you. Couldn't help it. I hear the words Silver Bullets and there you are in my mind." Carrie looked up at him, managing the tiniest hint of a smile and laughed slightly, a stray tear falling down her cheek.

"It's just been a lot, that's all," she managed out, her voice struggling to break again, "especially after Birdie. And now Margie." Carrie squeezed her eyes shut, and wiped at her eyes, sniffling. Dougie placed a hand on her shoulder, softly rubbing his thumb against the exposed part of her neck, before looking to her.

"It's in the jar, Carrie." he said quietly, "Right?" She looked up at him. Then, she broke out in a smile, before a small, watery laugh escaped her lips. Lightly, she smacked the feather-light scarf at him before chuckling again.

"What?" he said with a chuckle, "It got you laughing, didn't it?" She looked up at him and managed to hold the smile for a bit longer.

"Yeah," she said quietly, "thanks for that." They grew quiet and he watched her, nodding.

"Come get some dinner, alright?" he said and she nodded. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she glanced up at him with a small smile. Pulling her into his side, he grinned at her.

"C'mon, Bergie, who else would I be able to crack a joke with and get my own balls broken with at the same time?"

"Oh shut the fuck up." Carrie said with a chuckle as Dougie grinned.

"Nah, nah, I'm being serious, who else, huh? Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"She'd only break your balls and then some." Dougie laughed, before looking at her with a small grin.

"C'mon," he said as they began walking towards the mess hall, "I'll buy you a drink after." Carrie smirked.

"What a gentleman." she whispered with a snicker.

"Remind me about the last time I bought you a drink-"

"Oh don't you even DARE start with that, Dougie-"

"I have every opportunity to take it back-"

"Dougie!" He looked at her with a grin. Her eyes softened.

"Thanks again." she said quietly, for caring.

Softly, without much of a word, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of her head underneath her lopsided crusher cap, before continuing to walk forward beside her.

"Thank you." she whispered under her breath, side of her head warm where his lips had just pressed - small, hardly even a peck, but enough for her body to go hot, her mind to scramble. Thank you for caring, she wanted to say, for me, about me, with me.

Thank you for caring for me.

[therealslimshakespeare]

https://www.tumblr.com/precious-little-scoundrel/752482293108686848/do-you-think-youd-ever-write-for-hambone

"Hammy has grown on me so much, I honestly love that fella and I’m terribly fond of his Gerry. Her accounts of marrying him and after the war are heartbreaking and beautiful."

Do you have any links/book titles you could share re these accounts you mentioned? I'd be really interested in reading them. Thanks!

I love your Those Who Can universe, BTW. I'm writing my own Integrated AU, and I'm getting some helpful historical references and general inspiration from your stories and all the lovely asks.

-- lestweforget5

Oh I love giving links, thanks for the chance, I do know I’ll also forget to add all the ones I wish.

Everyone please feel free to add on.

Ok so, the one I mentioned and got to sneak some peaks at while in process is by dear @steph-speaks and is just the absolute loveliest growth story in a teacup of yumminess. Linked here

Another I just read today and found utterly delightful is this one- by @probably-not-a-rocketscientist

And perhaps my favorite just in terms of both an authentic feeling character study of Hamilton and also the general setting, the thought processes, the contentions, the loyalty between crews etc, is by my babe @mercyedes and is on AO3, linked here. 💋

My own tiny and sleazy contribution to musings on hambone is here.

[wheresmydolly]

Tag Game :)

Rules: reblog with your four favorite albums of all time or just right now and tag a friend or more!

thanks @honey-im-hotdog for the tag! doing this on my alt instead of my main

Paul Weller - Hit Parade

Kneecap - Fine Art

McFLY - Radio:Active

Ella Fitzgerald - Ella Wishes You A Swinging Christmas

tagging: @fangirlwithasweettooth @giiiinabaker @hephaestn @ptvstvrrr @lestweforget5 @butterfly9012 @derry-rain & whoever else wants to play along 🥰

[bastet55]

FYI: If you're an HBO War/Masters of the Air blog and you don't know me but I'm booping you, you probably know my sideblog, lestweforget5.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

For the ask game you reblogged, can I ask

#7 -- favorite animal? why?

#28 -- how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

#32 -- do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?

for whichever of your lovely girls you would especially enjoy screaming about when you read this?

--lestweforget5

thank you, love!! I've decided to go with Kit for this one <3

7. favorite animal? why?

Kit's 100% a dog person. She's giving off a weird vibe 24/7 and honestly, most animals do not like her. Something about dogs and their capacity for unconditional love really appeals to her (she has abandonment issues. that's it)

28. how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

Kit's big on physical touch once she's established a good relationship with someone and feels comfortable. She's always throwing an arm around a crewmate's shoulders or giving Bucky an affectionate shove, and it's incredibly reassuring for her to receive that in return, although she'd never ask for it. It's very easy to know when Kit dislikes you. She's doesn't try to hide it - there are a lot of icy stares and curt dialogue, and if she particularly dislikes you for whatever reason, she's not afraid to get physical. Kit's got a right hook to rival Susie Lamb's, that's for sure

32. do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?

Kit is 100% the person who laughs at her own jokes harder than anyone else. She also counts on her fingers because she's a high-school dropout and maths is hard ok??? I think of her as one of those people who's constantly too warm. Everyone else could be wrapped up head to toe, but if she's wearing anything more than a single layer you can trust she'll be sweating buckets

OC ASKS

[luminouslywriting]

Very sorry you're having a rough couple of days. I'm recovering from outpatient surgery yesterday myself and in bed thinking MOTA thoughts, so I'm virtually sharing my soft blankets and tea and sending a commiserative hug. ❤️

(I'm not always good at leaving comments, but I'm a long time reader of your MOTA stories and an enjoyer of your MOTA headcanons, especially your Brady ones.)

--lestweforget5 (my MOTA sideblog, hence the Anon)

Hi sweetheart :) I seriously love you for reaching out! I hope that you're recovering well and feeling better! Hang in there okay?? Drink some tea, get some rest, and treat yourself so well!

And thank you so much! You're literally the sweetest!

[mercurygray]

Could I request #15 gratefulness or #22 steaming mugs for Fred and Brady, please? Thank you!! I always enjoy your stories.

--lestweforget5

After every mission, she waits - studies every face, tallies every scar. Captain. Sergeant. Donut for you? Here, Lieutenant, take this. Sergeant. Sergeant, grab that there. She wants to see them all, of course, but she wants one face more than all the others.

If anyone was really listening, maybe they'd hear it each time - the relief in her voice. "John."

If anyone was listening they'd hear it in his voice, too. "Fred."

He takes the cup with both hands, and his fingers close around hers, steam curling upwards from the surface. His gloves are stuffed into his pockets now, but his fingers are still cold from being up in that unpressurized cabin at ten thousand feet, and for a brief moment she is only his, sharing warmth, sharing comfort.

He loosens his hands, she lets the cup go, and he goes on, into interrogation. Her fingers are still cold from his, but her heart, at least, is warm again, and the little bird that roosts in her chest has settled still.

thanks for the prompt, @lestweforget5! I hope you don't mind this is short.

[sagesolsticewrites]

🌹

--lestweforget5

Hi darling!

Meatball’s ears perk up as they near the lobby, and Benny pulls him to a halt just inside the hallway as a voice reaches his ears.

“Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me,

anyone else but me,

anyone else but me…”

for every "🌹" received in my inbox i'll post one random sentence of a random WIP i'm currently writing

[blakelysco-pilot]

🌹

--lestweforget5

hi chickie! 🥰

“Are you two behaving?” He looked down at them much like a parent would, but a teasing smile on his face.

“Yeah!” They chorused, hoping it was convincing enough.

“Alright, well, go on, I think Miss Olive has something for you.”

send me a 🌹and I’ll share a line from a wip

[winniemaywebber]

For the oc asks, can I ask

#22 -- do they sleep well at night?

#31 -- do they like receiving gifts? giving gifts? what is their ideal gift?

for Olive and Jean, please? Thanks!

--lestweforget5

hi darling! thank you so much for these!

from this oc ask list - as always, inbox is open for more!

Do they sleep well at night?

All the nervous energy throughout the day when Croz is in England actually knocks Jean out every night and she sleeps soundly, surprisingly. Poor darling is exhausted, waiting for him and waiting on news, worrying about him especially after Bubbles' death 💔

Olive sleeps like dogshit. Depending on where she is, she gets maybe a few hours of sleep a night to keep up with her ruse. I'm excited for the day where she can sleep soundly in one place. Bless her heart 🥺

Do they like receiving gifts? Giving gifts? What is their ideal gift?

Jean loves to recieve gifts. Especially the little ones Croz picks up when he runs errands or the bigger ones on special occasions. She loves giving gifts just as much too!

Olive is more of a giver - she feels like she puts people out when it comes to herself receiving a gift but absolutely adores watching people's faces light up when they love a gift she has given to them. Olive needs to get used to receiving things from the group, especially Dougie 🤭

[wexhappyxfew]

I'd like to ask about "Rosie and Judy = 3-Parter in the Middle of Nowhere-Russia/Germany." It is making me think 👀🥺 thoughts.

lestweforget5

HI AND HELLO!!!!! thank you so much for stopping by the askbox!!! i appreciate it so so much!!! :) AND -- thank you for THIS SPECIFIC ONE!!!! *equally* thinking many (SOBS) thoughts about this specific piece as well because (what can I say) angst/whump/hurt/comfort makes the world go 'round when i write ships and couples so.....

HERE I do some rambling about this specific 3-parter piece series. I also share a snippet hehe! <3

BUT -- I definitely have some more snippets and rambling I can happily do!!! :)

I mention a bit about how Judy's past is a major influence on her sense-of-self along with how she approaches the world around her, so please enjoy this snippet!

The next time she woke was in a canvas tent - she could tell because of the scent. Despite being across an ocean, canvas still smelled the same and reminded her of home. Nights out under the stars, staring out towards darkened mountain tops, chasing fireflies, giggling and laughing, enjoying her father's raspy song voice in the midst of a shooting star, eating fresh honey her mother had canned. Days where childhood had seemed endless and limitless and she'd been so lost in the midst of it all to see the worry and stress on her parents' faces, know the truth about their situation, the lack of money - but there'd been happiness still. They'd still brought home what happiness they could've had and Judy had felt that. Canvas would always bring her back. Along with the smell of fire wood.

I think this 3-parter will highlight the past a lot (in reference to Judy's youth as the FIRST mention of the past, in reference to the actual crash of the plane as the SECOND mention of the past, and in reference to the last conversation she had with Rosie as the THIRD mention of the past) all of which are important moments and equally people/things in her life that made her who she is. AND SO WITH THAT -- I also want to mention that (and have since mentioned) that angst is my absolute most favorite thing EVER....so please....enjoy a snippet of that too hehe :)

"Rosie?" she managed out, her voice hoarse and strained, a wet cough following, followed by a searing pain that shot through the right side of her head. More hushed voices - evident confusion - despite her lack of understanding, she could make out the tone. Confusion. Distance. Hesitance. The more she got her eyes to open, blinking rapidly to get her whereabouts, she realized that not only were faces watching her intently, but the tips of each gun were pointed right at her. Judy let out another strangled cry as slowly lifted her hands away from her body, a groan escaping her lips at the pain in her right arm - it was enough to be blinding and numbing enough for her eyes to roll back in her head and her to pass out for a few moments. Coming back to it, she could hear the voices again, lost in translation, evident confusion. What was going on? Where was she? Why wasn't she in the plane? Where was Rosie? Judy strained to keep her gaze focused. "Rosie?" she tried again, only catching the frantic voices and evident glances of the soldiers above her, "Where….where's Rosie?"

BRB CRYING. Asking for Rosie, completely confused, a bit helpless, trying to keep it together without wanting to completely lose her mind (Judy Rybinski are you ME?????). Incredibly excited to intertwine this short-story of finding each other again in this mess sorta vibe and just yeah. THEM <33333

THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN!!!!!! Excited to continue both progressing and continuing to develop this! <3

ask about my WIPS! [here]