#mota brainrot

[redbelles]

due to our shared ongoing brainrot: what's a thing that gave you the most brainworms in masters of the air? 👀

since i've already given an insane little spiel about the flying fortress here, i will spare you the ever-present aviation brainworms and go with, uh— curt biddick.

like i'm so sorry but the way barry keoghan portrays him makes me insane, actually?

"let’s knock one off, and drop bombs on those nazi fucks, and we get to go home early," the confidence, the swagger, the little teasing joke about buck sitting in his lap if he didn't preemptively give up the left seat, the genuine concern for bucky but the willingness to hit him nonetheless, "i'm irish," the near-debilitating relief when he realizes the rest of the formation is slowing down so he can keep pace, the fucking little spoon in-joke, the characteristically astute question being played for laughs but it is an astute question! why the fuck are they going to africa! and then, god—

the fog spooks him. it's always spooked him. he heads over to talk to buck on the pretense of finding out how buck and his crew are doing, but it's so, so clear he's looking for reassurance. that he's reaffirming to himself that this clusterfuck of a mission is going to be worth it—that they'll do some real damage—even as it's brutally clear that the critical element of timing is already blown to hell. the way all that fear falls away the instant he's in the air, because he's responsible for his crew. "we're losing her" "no we're not!" he's going to keep his goddamn crew alive. his insistence that he can bring her down safely, even when it doesn't matter. when it would be easier, and safer, and smarter to bail out. dickie's going to die whether or not curt manages the gentlest landing in the world, but fuck, he has to try. he can't not try. it's such a vicious contrast to quinn's choice when babyface is trapped in the ball turret, and it breaks my fucking heart.

all this is nuanced by the fact that curt's story is one of the narrative changes masters of the air made— curt biddick did not die trying to set his plane down so his dying co-pilot could have a shot at survival. in reality, curt biddick burned to death holding his fortress level so that the rest of the crew could safely bail out. he was known as a hard luck pilot, though, and i think the changes successfully walk the very fine line of serving the narrative (see: parallel with quinn and babyface) while simultaneously honoring the spirit of the events being portrayed.

you know that i knew that the regensburg-schweinfurt raid was a shitshow and that i was prepared to watch people die, but god, curt's death still hit me like a ton of bricks. it's so well done, and the acting is phenomenal from start to finish. curt biddick, the man that you were. barry keoghan, the man that you are.

anyway! thank u for the ask! hope u like the fuckin' essay you got in response!

inbox me one (1) thing you want to know about me

[headfullmanythots]

[avonne-writes]

Avonne with 1 hour sleep at the airport:

Me with a now-9-hour time difference waiting for @avonne-writes to wake up and react to the deluge of mota messages I’ve been sending over all day

[lvckylvx]

Pitching this idea to you: What if I wrote that mota biker gang AU with Gale as the biker gang member and Bucky as a veterinarian who treated Meatball once. Bucky is immediately smitten by Gale and unintentionally gets involved with the dangerous world of outlaw biker gangs.

[johnslittlespoon]

thinking about how we all talk about gale's rocky family life for obvious reasons– between him and john, he's the only one who we really hear talk about his family in the show.

what about what we can infer from john's silence about his family?

as far as we can assume, he had living family who just... didn't write him the whole year and a half he was a pow in germany?

(if we pull from real info for backstory/writing purposes, he had two sisters and a mom, and a dad who died a few years before the war. factor in the endless archived newspaper articles of the other men's families speaking about them, sharing news of their pow status, writing back and forth to the pows, sending gifts and pictures...)

radio silence for john.

it must've been such an isolating feeling, knowing he had family back home who didn't care enough to write to him, wondering whether they even asked after him, if they read the newspaper to find out how their son/brother was doing overseas. having to see the others receive packages when they wrote home asking for certain things, getting to look forward to letters from loved ones and having something to occupy them through the emptiest days.

i'm sure it made gale's chest hurt too, knowing he'd never get a letter from his parents, but he at least had marge to write to, something to get him through the endless mundanity. john had nothing. (well, he had the motivation of getting gale back home safe, but beyond that?)

was he just not close with his family in the mota–verse? or did his parents treat him unkindly the way gale's did? was he the black sheep of the family? as much as he said he enlisted because he wanted to fly and join the fight, was it also to get away from whatever was wrong back home?

so many unanswered questions, so much angst drabble potential, so many hugs needed for that poor boy. </3

[nicks-disks]

Masters of the Air? More like Masters of the Gay

not that it's any different from the original but you know what I mean

[pinksiames]

Twin and I are back at it again @clevenhq

FRAT AU

Gale and John who go to the same university who met while rushing for the same fraternity!! (Who would guess!!)

Gale is going to school for finance mostly because his dad made him, but decided to join a frat so he had something else to focus on. Despite not drinking he can be a pretty good time at parties even if he only really goes to make sure John doesn’t somehow end up plastered too bad

John on the other hand is going to school for business, but also to mainly party and fuck as many bitches as he can (it’s just Gale) he’s a huge dude bro, the brainrot is severe with him (tells Gale he’s got a level 10 gyatt once they started fucking around) but he’s a huge teddy bear

The frat they joined is basically PC Delta from South Park

The brainrot continues into the bedroom when Gale and John are going at it and Gale threatens to give him blue balls if he keeps doing it (John keeps calling his dick the drake worm and tells Gale he’s doing tricks on it when gales riding him)

It’s so bad Gale has to go ranting to Rosie and curt about it “dude he kept calling me his Wifu and I don’t know if I can keep this up” curt and Rosie are already on the floor sobbing cause what the fuck is that (they then proceed to make fun of John cause who calls their bf their big titty goth mommy in bed)

Gale likes to do Dutch braids during the summer and puts his caps on backwards but found out he liked them being pulled cause John wouldn’t stop messing with him and pulling on em 😔😔

[ihearteugeneroe]

im having so many feelings about john and gale in the new episode and i NEED to share them. buckle up guys this is a long one because this last episode was angsty for these two and i love psychoanalysis

HUGEEE MOTA SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!

first and foremost, john is absolutely not okay. like i know we have seen this so many times already because he’s been on a mental decline since episode six but it’s gotten worse. the beginning scenes where him and gale fetch the water and gale tries to create some playful banter only to receive a mostly silent john is scary, especially because he knows that man is a chatterbox that can’t shut up to save his life. something has changed and gale knows, but gale doesn’t push it.

second of all, the topic of marge. nobody would ever make fun of a guy getting a letter from his girl because that’s the only source of joy they get inside the hell of a pow camp. but the way john seems almost annoyed by it, as if it is personally inconveniencing him is so noticeable. now one could argue it’s just because he doesn’t have a girl back home, but i don’t think he cares even a little bit about that. john has realized that his home is wherever gale is. which brings me to my third topic.

the scene where gale tells john he asked marg to marry him. the fact that he doesn’t even say those exact words, but rather “popped the question and she said yes”. god, the tension in that scene was goddamn near unbearable. john is entirely stoic which is concerning knowing that he is a man of emotion who feels things on an entirely different level than most men. something is turning within his brain and his way of congratulating gale was so robotic and almost calculated. i feel like a part of him kind of froze in that moment. i mean, he likely knew they would never get anywhere serious because hell this is the 1940s in the middle of a war but still. his buck is no longer his. and who does he have besides buck?

which brings me to one of my final points: john is realizing he doesn’t have anybody. that scene between them where he mentioned he never got letters because he didn’t set it up right, and was so concerned gale would only know this version of him and not his old self. i don’t think anything gale could’ve said would help, but it was nice that he tried at least… john’s whole world is gale, but gale has his world back in america. he has a home. he has something to return to and someone to love when he’s out of this mess. all john is going to return home to is his own loneliness and severe ptsd. john is a feeler and he feels things deeply and painfully, like a knife in the belly, especially when it comes to gale. the man he’s in love with has a woman to return to, and he might as well just be a legend that gale tells his kids about someday. but to john, gale is everything. he will never forget.

anyways this episode for them was VERY angsty and it’s late and i’m tired so this is kind of all over the place but i wanted to share my main thoughts. thank you for reading if you got this far i’ll probably continue my rant tomorrow depending on if this actually gets any traction LMAO i still don’t know how tumblr works.

[quick-catton]

girlboy ollie for the timeline ! (◠‿◠✿)🎀🩷🍭

[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.

[redbelles]

UNO REVERSE FAVE BUCK X BUCKY MOMENT

okay okay everything you said in your response but also:

"we're getting through this" "says the gambler" "well, if i'm gonna bet on anything, i'm gonna bet on us, buck"

like???? hello???? the fondness in gale's tone—even as the whole situation is stirring up old bitter memories, even as he's sitting there faced with the inescapable fact that his closest friend has his father's vices—absolutely kills me. and bucky, unwavering, because of course he's going to bet on the two of them. how could he not? he relents when buck confesses what his dad was (is?) like and that seems to be the end of it, but god, god, then buck comes in with a fucking steel chair: "we lead our boys through it." as if, betting man or not, he's all in. as if he doesn't have a single goddamn doubt about it. two b-17s left? it'll be john and gale.

and of course, this echoes throughout the rest of the show: in africa after the regensburg-schweinfurt mission, in the stalag, in the fucking train car—

anyway!!!!! i simply cannot handle it!!!!!!

inbox me one (1) thing you want to know about me

[polifandom]

so i was brainrotting with @wwasted the other day about high schooler john who falls in love with his best friend's dad, gale.

i do not have time currently to dive fully into it, since im working on a long ass fic with my good friend taty, but i thought id give you guys some of the brainrot:

1.

"How did you turn out like that?" Bucky says, to the open air around them. He and Johnny are back in his backyard for the third time that week, sweat gathered around their backs as their try to regain strength for another baseball match.

"Whatchu talking 'bout?" Johnny asks, panting between words.

Bucky looks back at the open window of his friends house, looking for movement inside the kitchen and giving up after long enough of not finding any.

"Dunno. Just, you know, your dad-" He says, after a while, but Brady interrupts him.

"Not this again, John. Aren't you, like, straight? Plus, my dad is 37."

Bucky groans, sitting up, "Me being straight is beside the point. Plus, thirty-seven isn't even that old!"

Johnny ignores him as he stands up, grabbing the bat from where it lay on the grass and moving back to the open area of his backyard.

"Shut up, Bucky. Let's just play."

2.

It's the fifth time his son's friend has entered his garage in the last 30 minutes, and it's really getting ridiculous by this point.

"Can I come in?" he asks, coming in.

Gale gives him an amused look, turning so he's leaning on his desk – the lanky frame of Bucky, his son's best friend, staring back at him.

When he says nothing, Gale relents on entertaining whatever it is that he needs now.

"Can I help you, Bucky?"

John scratches the back of his head, as if the boy has got any shame on him. "Was just wondering where the kitchen is..."

Gale can't help the laugh that escapes his mouth, arms crossed over his front like he can't believe this is real.

Like he can't believe he's actually entertaining the kid.

"John, you've been to my home a million times. I'm sure you can find the kitchen just fine."

3.

"Johnny, what's up with your friend?" Gale asks, looking as his son swallows another mouthful without barely chewing. "Also, will you chew your food, please? You're already halfway done."

"Dad, leave me alone, I'm 17," Johnny says, food on his mouth as he does. He swallows the half bitten pieces of meat. "And Bucky has been all sorts of weird lately, forreal. He's such a fucking weirdo sometimes."

Gale bites back another comment of the speed his son's eating to favor saying, "How's he weird?"

"Well, for one, he's just become like obsessed with you all of a sudden. I don't get him bro-"

"Not your bro-"

Brady ignores it, "Last week he was head over heals obsessed with some freak girl, and now it's you. At least you he's not gonna do anything about it, thank god. Lil was already embarrassing enough."

Gale doesn’t mention that Bucky had, in fact, made advances on him all week – or at least tried to. It's better if his son doesn't know – for his sake, of course. Not because there's anything to hide.

No, of course not. Gale would never.

[johnslittlespoon]

i just finished the prologue of the mota book and i don't know how i haven't seen a single post talking about how after john and gale's stalag reunion, they were then separated for another four months.

my heart is aching so bad. imagine being reunited (after almost three weeks, oct 8–26th) and having that tiny feeling of 'everything is going to be okay' and then being ripped apart again for four fucking months. 120 more days of not being able to be at each other's sides.

[valstarsandgalaxies]

’I can't tell him the truth. I can't tell him how i feel. It'd ruin everything and it wouldn't even matter at the end.’ He's getting married. He's getting married and it's not John, who will be standing opposite him. It hurts him just to think about it. It won't be John. And in his most desperate moment, he said: "I even thought you could be my best man." It wasn't a question, but it was. Basically what he was trying to say was 'Bucky, even if you're not the one I'm marrying, i need you there. I need you with me, so i could at least imagine it's you.' He's not sure, if that meaning is clear though. He feels sick. Sick from the cowardly decisions he made earlier. He loved John more than anything and still it wasn't enough for him to actually choose him. When that clicks in his head, he can't even look at himself. His body hurts, his heart hurts and he did it all to himself. But he'd rather have this pain and John as his best friend than not having John at all as if he confessed and John didn't feel the same way. It's weird, maybe he'll even find comfort in all of it.

"I'll be your best man." John said and hadn't really realised what that actually meant. It meant standing at the altar with Gale, but he won't be the one Gale's marrying. It meant that he'll have to watch Gale marry someone else and that John will only become secondary to him. It meant that whatever he thought they had before wasn't there and it's ending. He thinks back to the time when they lay together in John's bunk at the stalag, cause it was incredibly cold. They weren't the only ones, that's why it felt so safe somehow. It almost felt like a start of something more. At least that was what John thought. A few days later, Gale revealed to him this truth of him getting married and he realised that that situation was merely a composition to deal with the cold. Gale never joins him in his bunk again.

It was weird. Telling John while he was lying in his bunk. It almost felt like they were lying there together. Like John's arms were around Gale and Gale's arm around John. Like every part of their body is touching and things were different. But they weren't. John felt so far away and he felt himself backing up, going further from him. He was slowly going the other way and for the first time John wasn't chasing him. That was also new. John wasn't chasing him. Why? Why did he not run towards Gale like always? He supposes one gets tired of chasing after somebody who is only going further away from them. Your legs start to hurt after a while and you see no result. He understands that John gave up. He understands, but he wishes he didn't. Maybe someday that'd give him the courage. But he couldn't ask that from John.

John wants nothing more than to go back to the way things used to be with Gale. Them being close all the time, no one thinking anything suspicious about them. He wants to go back before all the terrible things have happened. He wishes more than anything that Gale would have come to London with him. He can't stop himself, but thinks how different things would have been. Maybe they wouldn't even be here, in the stalag. Maybe they'd still be in England, at Thorpe Abbotts. Or maybe they'd be dead. It's hard not to think about the time they could've had in London though. It'd only add to the amazing memories he had with Gale. It never happened though. But he still tries to cling to all he has. All the precious memories with Buck. His Buck. He's not sure Buck is his anymore though. And that thought hurts.

[eternallytired17]

Possible MOTA Bridgerton AU

Unbeknownst to the rest of the Ton, Gale Cleven, the Duke of Thorpe Abbotts, and the Viscount, Lord John Egan, are in the midst of a secret relationship. At one of the most important balls of the social season, John is his usual flirty self with all the Lords and Ladies in attendance, which Gale takes great offence to.

After a delightful evening of covertly pressing Gale’s buttons, John sneaks off to the host’s prized hedge maze, knowing that the Duke won’t be too far behind.

The Viscount is prepared to take his punishment...

[kasugayamaisforlovers]

He wears his love around his neck. (2,645 words)

Chapters: 1/X

Fandom: Master of the Air

Summary: A collection of character studies on our elusive Major Gale Cleven. I started writing about Gale and now it’s becoming a whole long tangle of character study vignettes. I’ll post them as they come to me but please enjoy installment one: speculations on Gale’s relationship with Marge.

Read it on A03